Sunday, May 23, 2010

Without much actual furniture moving, the house swap took less time the next day than Tony had thought. They put Jethro out back while they were moving Ziva's furniture in, then loaded theirs up and fled the house before Jethro could realize he wasn't leaving with them.

It didn't take them long to get everything unloaded at the apartment, then Gibbs, Damon, Vance and Jimmy left. Once Tony and Tim had everything moved into the correct space, Tony shooed Tim away to the spare room.

"That's what's going to be the nursery, McDad," he said. "At least that's what we're going to have to tell people until the adoption is final and we can swap everything back around. So better go figure out what we need." He waved a hand at the boxes and garment bags strewn across the bed. "I'll take care of this mess."

Tim just nodded and yawned as he walked out, and Tony checked the time. If he finished up quickly, they could have an early dinner and be to bed in time to get at least 10 hours of sleep. Then they could go back to cartel-hunting.

He started with the clothes for the drawers, putting them away quickly. Tony's socks didn't all fit in Ziva's old dresser, so he took one of Tim's sock drawers.

Then he started in on the closets, glad for once that Ziva had chosen an apartment with a large closet, though that wasn't her style. He had a feeling she used the extra space for her undercover wardrobe, the items that were very un-Ziva that he knew she had in case she ever had to flee. Even after everything she owned had been destroyed when Mossad blew up her apartment to destroy what Rivken had done, Tony knew she had built a new wardrobe, one he suspected was designed in case Eli ever decided Ziva needed to return and make yet another aliyah. He'd seen her out once at the mall purchasing clothes he could never seen her wearing, back during her first few months as a probie. That extra space would be perfect for all his suits and Tim's blazers and jackets. And maybe he could persuade Ziva that she did not need to worry about running again, not now that she was an American and a full-time agent. Eli couldn't hurt her, and the rest of them would make sure nothing from her Mossad past came back to chase her away.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

Sarah and Abby walked in the door to her brothers' house — no, her house now — to find her bed in pieces on the living room floor.

Damon popped his head out of what was now his room. "I'll have that out of your way in a minute," he said. "I was putting my clothes away first."

Sarah looked at the twin bed she had brought from Ziva's apartment to Damon's frame. He was taller than her — as tall as Tim and Tony — and he had more muscles than even Jimmy.

"You can't sleep there," she said. "The bed upstairs is a queen-sized bed — you should take that one."

Damon shook his head. "The bed's bigger than my bunk was," he said. "When Heatherton's wife was pregnant with their little girl, he said she was always moving around the last few months to get comfortable. This bed doesn't give you enough space to move."

"Yeah, but my feet won't be hanging off it." Sarah looked from the bed to Damon and back to the bed. "You're about two inches too tall to fit comfortably on this bed."

"I'm taking it," Damon said. "You can't move the bed upstairs even if you wanted to — if I take this one, you have to use the one upstairs. I'm not sleeping up there — that's the ladies section of the house, except for when I need to shower."

Sarah flushed at the idea of seeing Damon dripping wet in a towel and decided retreat was her best bet. "Fine," she said, walking toward the stairs and leaving Abby downstairs. She heard the front door shut a minute later and figured Abby had left.

Only was she safe in what was now her room did she let her mind drift back to the image of a wet, half-naked Damon. This was crazy. She liked Damon, sure, but he was Ziva's. Even if they weren't officially dating, they would be. She knew that, Damon and Ziva knew that. She was pretty sure even Gibbs knew that, though Tim always said Gibbs knew everything, so maybe that wasn't such a big test. Sarah shook off the images in her brain and started unpacking her clothes. At least she hadn't unpacked most of them yet from when she moved out of the dorms, so it hadn't taken her long to pack that morning. And the ones that were in boxes could just stay there — they wouldn't fit anyway. She made a face at the mirror that hung on the wall. The house had more space and a bigger bed than the apartment, but somehow Sarah felt even more trapped in what was going on.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

Damon waited until Sarah was upstairs and Abby was gone. When Ziva didn't come out of the kitchen, he decided to retreat to his new room and put together the bed frame. The colors were fine with him and he hadn't been fibbing to Sarah. He really didn't mind the smaller bed. A bigger one would be more comfortable, sure, but having that kind of temptation off the living room when Ziva was living here was a recipe for trouble. He hadn't bothered making a move. Ziva knew he was waiting on her, and he knew she wasn't going to hold back once she had decided. He could be patient until then. For now, he was happy just being her friend. She was a good one, somebody who had helped him before when he needed it. Now he was able to return the favor, and he appreciated it.

As he finished the bed, he looked around the small room, noticing how much cleaner it was than the dump where he'd been staying before this. Once he manhandled the mattress and box spring into place, it was even neater. He hadn't been sorry to say goodbye to the short-term rental room or to the junkies and hookers that filled the building. It had been cheap, but dangerous. This was a different kind of danger, one he was used to. The cartel wouldn't get to Sarah or Ziva while he was around.

Damon walked the room, checking locks on the windows. Once he finished that, he swept the ground floor for threats. It was empty, but he could see that Ziva had unpacked the kitchen supplies. Whatever was in the oven smelled good, even if it was heating up the kitchen. He checked the stove timer — still 30 minutes to go.

The backyard was reasonably secure, but the front door was easily accessible, even with the deadbolt. As the sky darkened, Damon noticed the streetlight outside was flickering. He decided to leave his door open at night so that he would hear any potential disturbance and be able to stop it.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

When her two new housemates had started arguing about which bed would go where, Ziva decided now was the perfect time to unpack the kitchen. She set about unwrapping and wiping down each dish with a damp cloth before putting it away. This kitchen had more cabinet space, but Ziva kept the setup as close to what she had used in her old apartment as possible.

She lifted the plates one at a time, aligning the edges perfectly before adding the next. The glasses became soldiers in precise rows awaiting inspection. Once the dishes all were put away, Ziva checked their supplies before taking down the ingredients for a simple casserole. The dish was quick to assemble and she would not need to bother with precise measurements and dirtying many dishes in preparation. It would be quick, yet nourishing.

She finished assembly and slid the baking dish into the oven, setting the stove's timer for fifty minutes.

Ziva listened, but the bed discussion seemed finally to be over. Nobody had started dismantling the larger bed in Sarah's new room, so Damon must have won that discussion. Ziva, selfishly, was glad. The next few months would be difficult enough. Seeing Sarah squeezed onto the more-narrow sleeping surface, or the sight of the larger bed through the doorway in Damon's room would be a constant reminder. She knew her brain, now that she had heard them argue about it, would not be able to untangle the two images — one would always remind her of the other. And that one would always remind her how difficult the next several months would be. She would not — could not — do anything differently than she had done up until now. But she knew that would not stop the memories of Somalia from returning. They already had begun, and she knew they would only continue until this was resolved. She moved quickly through the house, glad both her housemates were in their bedrooms so she did not have to talk to them.

Ziva shut the door to her new room — the one that had been Tony and McGee's — and lay down on the bed. She was not physically tired, not really. Even though she no longer did the level of conditioning the Kidon unit had required, she kept up a stricter regimen than the rest of the team. It had begun as a way to reassert her control last year, and now she considered it a necessary way to keep her body in prime condition. She would never have the raw strength or power that Tony or Damon could call on, that Gibbs once had had. She never would have the length of stride McGee had, or his long reach. But she was fast and flexible, and she would make sure her body was a powerful tool.

But as she lay there, she let her mind rest for just a minute. Damon was downstairs. Sarah was in her new room, no doubt. Ziva had not realized how difficult it would be to act the part, to stay on watch and to keep herself in check. Her mind was exhausted. She had lost her ability to play a role at all times after so many years away from Mossad and its demands.

Now, with two housemates, she would have no space to stop playing the role. She could not allow either one of them to realize what memories she refused to share. One would not understand. The other, she was afraid, would understand all too well.