A/N This begins with Ziva, but not to worry, the second half is Tony and McGee banter. I did actually pare down Ziva's thoughts as much as I could so you could get on to the good stuff!

Reflection & Deflection

It was during a walk after work to a local deli when she stopped in her tracks.

Tony had seemed more introspective of late, and Ziva David was not blind to this seriousness that seeped through the comical veneer more often than not. She also was aware that he could independently support the local CVS with how many pills she had seen him take in a day. She noted him rotating various kinds of OTC painkillers every few hours ever since his assignment ended, and it no longer could be attributed to the concussion. She would never let on that she knew exactly what and how many pills he was taking, just as long as it was kept to safe combinations and dosages.

In the past weeks, Tony's inclination to work independently had waned and he had inserted himself socially back into the team. If she had to define the changes she observed, she would say he was more intentional rather than just going with the natural flow of post-traumatic team relationship restoration ala Team Gibbs. He rarely went to grab their take away lunches without asking her or Tim to accompany him. When it was Ziva by his side it was hard to keep a conversation on him, as though he was hungry to hear her speak. Normally conversations stayed light and at least tangentially case related but there were times he asked about Ray, just "Ray," not "CI-Ray," "Her Ray of Sunshine" or any other nickname. He did not even seem to inject that Alpha male dominant tone of superiority that permeated conversations of Ray in the past. In fact his tone had taken on a somewhat . . . resigned camaraderie.

That thought was what caused her to forgo dinner. Something was wrong. Even though she and Tony were never and item, he had always been protective, even possessive of her, courting her in a sense, although they both knew it was flirting and friendship at the core.

He was letting her go.

She felt her chest constrict and could go no farther. She found a bench to collect her thoughts. Was he sick? Were the headaches due to more than stress? Or was he simply . . . loosening his grip and allowing her, even encouraging her, to pursue a life without him intimately involved in it?

After an hour's reflection of past events she finally admitted with brutal lucidity that Ray was what she chose to focus on all summer. She had needed to anchor her thoughts so that they were not all consumed by the danger she felt enveloping her partner, the distance between them and the despair at knowing all the missed chances would never amount to anything. She had wanted to believe that she had been amorously captivated with Ray this whole time but she had been deceiving herself by supposing her deepest affections lay outside the bullpen.

Ziva had persisted in denying herself such clarity, maybe due to her pride wanting to spare her from yet another failed relationship. Perhaps it was resignation. Ray was a good man, but not dependable and she deserved to be abandoned now and then, even if it was agency imposed.

The deli was denied its patroness and the bench stayed warm until well after the sun turned its back on the pensive woman. Her feelings for Ray were now fully dissected and she knew she needed to act. Despite what was happening with Tony, Ray deserved to be at liberty to move on. He would not necessarily know of his change in circumstance for some time, but she did the most sensitive thing she could by spending the remainder of the evening writing a letter with honest wishes for his future happiness, addressed to his office at the CIA, knowing it would find him in the field eventually.

She posted it with a monumental degree of relief.

The next day an altered Agent David arrived at work. Gibbs even surreptitiously glanced at her left hand to see if the sudden peace stemmed from the fulfillment of the empty promise of months past. There was no ring, which each man had independently noted before the gruff battle cry of, "Grab your gear" was uttered. Back to dead marines and evidence. Tony fidgeted all morning and seemed to be slightly irritable and definitely sarcastic. He knew a day might come when he would have to offer his best wishes for her compromised future and her glowiness (and her expression warranted the genesis of such a word) could only be foreshadowing of that dreaded event. He did want to be happy for her in theory, but he honestly had not accepted the possibility that Ray would ever actually come through for her and so he found himself unprepared and edgy.

McGee was observant and more objective than Tony. He noticed the serenity engulfing his friend, but he also noticed the lack of monosyllabic names being dropped in connection with her smile. He weathered the anxiety oozing out of Tony while trying to absorb some of Ziva's unusual calm. By lunch when Tim offered to make the run, he asked Tony to join him. Reluctantly, the senior agent agreed.

Once they left the confines of NCIS Tim blurted out, "Tony, just ask her already."

He slowed his steps, gave a half laughing reply of "I don't know what you're talking about. By 'her' I can only assume you mean our little Batgirl, McRobin, but riddle me this, what am I supposed to be asking?"

McGee wisely ignored the fact that he was being referred to as a sidekick yet again and resisted the urge to point out the Gibbs would be Batman in that scenario and Tony most resembled the Joker, especially with the frequency of his "Jack" impressions, which Tim had to admit were pretty good. Out of respect on that last thought alone he sensibly continued, "Of course I mean Ziva. There's obviously something going on," and he added enjoying the torment he saw on his friend's face, "so just do us all a favor and ask her already before you blow a gasket."

Switching genres, Tim delivered his line as if on cue from an overdone rom-com, then absently wondered why the lead women are never happy Goths with tats and pigtails. Maybe quirky sidekicks should have a genre of their own.

In a brief moment of candor the smile faded and Tony looked fragile. "What if I just want one more day before knowing that she's made her choice?" He ran a hand through his hair and left it at the back of his neck and the levity returned. "You realize that Gibbs will be insufferable. Do you remember what happened the last time we had to try and replace her? Yeah, Gibbs will not be happy about this if she's decided to pack up and run off with the Miami Heat."

Tim looked at him with all the patience he had amassed from being surrounded by insecure friends with abandonment issues and said with a restrained hint of condescension, "Gibbs will be insufferable. Right, Tony."

"Well, McSensitive, won't you be sad if she goes? I bet you'd cry your little eyes out while you were doing double the grunt work on your own. But don't worry, I'll give you extra Probie snacks."

Ignoring Tony's immature deflection, Tim replied, "Yes, Tony, I would miss her. She's a close friend and we've been through a lot, including abuse from you. However, until she's ready to tell us what is going on I am not going to worry, and neither should you." With that Tim opened the door to the Chinese restaurant and their conversation was suspended.

Tim counted after they emerged from the shop, 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi 3 Mississippi 4 Miss-

"Why don't you ask her about it since you're such good buddies?" McGee did not expect to get to 10, but he thought Tony would be able to hold out at least 5 seconds. He smiled at the predictability of his friend.

"I admit I am curious, but I am going to wait for her to bring it up, whatever 'it' is. I have noticed that she has not mentioned Ray all day so I would not be surprised if it has something to do with him." More than ten seconds passed, but less than fifteen.

"Huh," and a furrowed brow was the only response he received before Tony's phone rang. "Looks like Gibbs sent out the bat signal. Move those skinny little legs of yours, McSidekick." He glanced Tim up and down then admitted, "I'm a little creeped out that I just pictured you in tights."

"You do realize that Gibbs would be Batman, right?" Even McGee had his limits.