chapter 4

Ziva gave a little squeal of pure frustration as her computer shut down completely. She had an odd seal rotating in the middle of her computer with a scroll running under it. She read the scrolling words with irritation and confusion. It was easily translated from the official legalese as 'You've been blocked and you are so screwed'. She stood up, grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

She made it as far as the elevator before Director Vance called her. "Miss David, a moment."

"What? I have ..." She trailed off as the elevator doors opened and four SEALs came out right on time.

"Ma'am, we have to ask you to come with us." All four were eyeing her like she was a steak and they were hungry.

"And if I don't wish to?" Ziva knew that, no matter how good she was, she was no match for four highly trained, huge, muscular men; each one out-weighed her by a factor of at least three.

"Don't want to make a fight of it here in the squad room, but we will. And, if you make us fight you, you'll have to have thrown the first punch." The man looked like he didn't care one way or another.

Something Tony had said years ago popped into her head; 'A man who hits a woman is no man. A woman who hits a man, gives up the protection of her sex.' She decided not to put these grim-faced men to the test.

"Very well. I will come with you." She handed her bag to the SEAL who reached for it.

Another SEAL eyed her up. "You're armed, and that was not a question. Do we have to pat you down, or will you be honest?"

Vance interfered at that moment. "I'll send a lady from another team with you to interrogation. She'll pat Miss David down for you." he eyed Ziva sourly. "You are, in case you were in any doubts, in very deep shit."

Ziva glowered at him then the SEALs. "Well? Shall we? Or are we going to stand around, debating?"

The team lead just jerked his head, "This way."

Ziva snarked, "I am well aware of the way to interrogation." She then stormed off in that direction, leaving the SEALs to follow, or not, as they pleased.

Vance called an Agent from a secondary team, named Angela Davis, to come and pat Ziva down.

Her reply was to be expected, "What? Me? Are you sure? I mean, she'll rip my head off. I asked her a perfectly civil question and she called me names."

Vance rubbed his face, "Yes, I'm sure. She won't be a problem, she's under guard. Please come now."

Angela came to interrogation.

She wasn't a small woman by any means; in fact she was nearly 6 feet tall and weighed in at about 160 — she wasn't admitting to more, thank you. But she was sure that Ziva was a better fighter than she was and didn't want a confrontation with her.

She was met at the door to the interrogation room by a SEAL in blacks who smiled at her, all gleaming white teeth and said, "Glad to see you, ma'am. This way please." He led her into the room and eyed Ziva for a moment then asked, "Is this lady acceptable?"

Ziva glanced up, barked, "Fine," and started putting weapons on the table. She lined them up then said, "That is everything. I swear."

The SEAL looked impressed, "Man, that's a load. Ma'am, if you would." He stepped out.

Angela eyed the mirrored window, then Ziva. "OK, let's do this and be done with it."

Ziva just stood still as Angela ran her hands over her arms, legs, back and chest. "Done. Thank you, Ziva."

Ziva gave her a puzzled look. "What for?"

"For not being difficult about this. I don't know what's going on and I don't want to. Good day." Angela got herself out of the room with a relieved sigh. A SEAL took her place quickly.

Director Vance thanked her and left her to go about her business. She made it to the break room before her knees went weak. The gossip mill went wild over her disclosures. She didn't care that, perhaps, things should have been a secret. No one had told her it was, so she told her story, sticking strictly to the facts.

Meanwhile, the SEAL collected a Sig Sauer, a Colt Bulldog .32, a pair of handcuffs, a SOG Trident folder, and an AJ Russell Sting. He looked impressed.

"I expect to get those back after this ... stupidity is over." Ziva clutched the inventory sheet angrily.

"We'll see. You'll for sure get back everything that's not NCIS-issue. Excuse me." And, with that, he left. He was glad he didn't have to deal further. All he had to do was collect and secure her weapons, then help stand guard.

Another of the SEALs took his place at once.

Ziva sat down with her back to the window, her usual place. She was quite sure that she would be asked to move as soon as someone came in to question her about whatever it was they had questions about.

While all this was going on, Leon Vance had the chief of his Cyber Crimes Division going over everything Tim had discovered with a fine tooth comb. This made the man grumble, under his breath, "I don't know why I have to do this. If McGee found it, the intel is as good as gold. Especially since it's a member of his own team."

Vance heard him and answered, "Because I need confirmation from outside his team and, granted you're no McGee, you're the best in the Division."

This resulted in hunched shoulders and a rattle of typing. "Okay, okay. On it."

Vance waited patiently while his man did what needed to be done. When he started to speak, Director Vance nodded once then said, "Spare me the details. All I need to know is, did she violate any laws, endanger any ops or operatives, or leave NCIS open to censure."

Division Head James Franklin nodded. "Oh, man, did she ever. I'll email you a list; should I send it to Legal, too?"

"I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out why? Why would she endanger DiNozzo? What does she gain?"

"Well, my opinion, for what it's worth, is, she can't stand a mystery. She did an assessment for Mossad before she came to the US and it was ... 'wrong' is mild for how off it was. She might just want to do that job right. Why? I don't know. Maybe you should turn this whole mess over to the psych guys for an eval." He turned back to his keyboard, satisfied that he'd done his job to the best of his ability and started working on something else.

Leon Vance looked at the back of Agent Franklin's head for a moment, then called Max. After hanging up he went to his office to send all the files to Max for a look.

.
Abby hugged Tim, carefully asking first, then returned to her keyboard, announcing, "Great! We got her. What was she doing? I don't get it. Why would she be checking Tony's financials? Nosey much. And what else? His medical records back as far as she could find. And his education. Well..." Abby started to read the file, mumbling, "Okay, let's see what ... Oh! My! God! Tim, look."

McGee looked up from the trace he was running to find out where Ziva had sent the intel. "What, Abby? Just a sec." He clicked enter and turned to look at the screen of his NCIS laptop.

Abby tapped one fingernail on the edge of the keyboard until McGee turned to her. "Okay, all done, what is it?"

Abby just pointed to the screen. "Look. Mr. I-have-a-degree-from-MIT."

McGee sighed. "I apologized for that remark two days after I made it. So ... Oh, shit."

Abby nodded. "Yeah."

The list of Tony's Bachelor and Masters degrees wasn't all that long. But it included; Forensics (MS), Phys Ed (BA), Criminal Justice (BS) Ballistics (BS) Mechanical Engineering (BS), Electrical and Computer Engineering (BS), Military Strategy and Tactics (MS) and Ordinance Design (MS) and several pendings.

McGee looked at his sleeping friend then sighed, "How the hell did he manage all that?"

Tony mumbled, "Work smarter, not harder. Lot of down time in the Rockpile and I don't sleep that much. Plus, a lot of those degrees share classes. I never had to take anything twice. So ..." he rolled over and went back to sleep.

McGee gave Abby a slightly sheepish look. "I never took a class twice either but my degrees are in two completely different disciplines. His are interlocking. That doesn't diminish his accomplishments in the least. Taking classes in a war zone." He shook his head in amazement. "Not a chance. I'd never learn a thing."

Abby agreed then said, "I'm all for a Caf-Pow. I've only had one." at Tim's incredulous look she grumbled, "I did promise." She brightened, "So ... Coffee?"

"Please. And something sweet." Tim returned to his computer to check on a few things.

Abby gathered her things and headed out.

Tony grumbled, "Noisy assholes."

Tim snorted and snarked, "And you'd be totally quiet if I was in that bed."

"Well, no, probably not." Tony fumbled for the control on the bed and managed to find it dangling off the edge. "Wonder why these damn things are always just out of reach?"

Tim chuckled, "Probably just to annoy everyone."

"Where's Abby going?"

"Snack run. She'll bring you something. I could call her if you want something specific." Tim waved his phone at Tony.

"No, she'll bring me something good. Whatcha workin' on?"

"Ziva has been acting really odd lately, in case you haven't noticed. She's been on her computer, running searches and I wondered what she was working on. So I snooped a bit. I think she's really overstepped her bounds this time. She was trying to find out what you do on your ops." Tim scowled at his computer, something was hinky still.

Tony rubbed his face with one hand. "Man, that's not good on an epic scale. She is really in trouble. Most of my ops are classed 'burn before reading, shoot yourself in the head after'. If she actually manages to penetrate even the first layer of encryptions, she's committed at least two felonies, maybe more. And, with her connections to Mossad? Now I have a headache."

Tim put his computer aside. "Head. Coffee wants out." He entered the bathroom and closed the door, then opened it to say, "Do not do anything the Boss won't like." Tony gave him the bird before he closed the door.

Tony lay back to consider this new mess Ziva had caused. After a few moments he decided that Ziva was a big girl, all grown up ninja assassin chick, and could handle her own messes. He was done trying to protect her; he'd done his best while she was getting acclimated to the US. She didn't seem to manage to learn. She'd do ok for a while then backslide. He mumbled, "Sad. Really, really sad. I'm done," then something from the open door to the corridor caught his attention.

"He's so sick. I just want to give him this one thing." A woman's voice said,

I know. But there's great hope. The kidney is working and doing more and more. It's just a matter of time." This voice was a man.

"But ... I'm afraid he's giving up." The woman sounded near tears.

Tony wondered what the sick child wanted; it took seconds to find out.

"All he wants is to meet a real SEAL."

The man voice sounded sad. "I have no idea where we'd find one willing to spend time with a kid. They've got more important things to do."

Tony cleared his throat sharply and called, "No, I don't. Come in."

Two surprised faces peeked into the room. "Excuse me?"

Tony motioned with his free hand, the other being strapped to a board to keep him from pulling out the IV by accident. "Come in. I don't feel like yelling across the room. Hurts my ribs."

The man and woman entered a bit hesitantly but came over to the edge of the bed when Tony motioned again.

"You're a SEAL?" The woman didn't look skeptical, only curious.

Tony turned on his brilliant grin and replied, "I know I don't look much like one right now, but yeah, I am."

Tim emerged from the head just then and looked at the couple with confusion. "Hello?"

Tony nodded to Tim. "Overheard a conversation they were having." He turned back to the couple. "Now, start at the top. Tim, take notes please." Tim picked his pad up from the side table and got ready.

The story was simple. The man was from Make A Wish Foundation. The woman was the single mother of a very sick young boy, only 8 years old, and all she wanted was to grant his birthday wish. He wanted to meet a SEAL. He knew he couldn't leave the hospital but he couldn't understand why one couldn't come to him.

Mrs Marsh finished, "So Jonny is going to have to ... er ... suck it up and deal."

Tim shook his head at Tony, knowing it wasn't going to do any good.

"I'll go see him myself, and bring my team." He eyed Tim for a moment then conceded, "If the doctor says I can."

Mrs Marsh put one hand to her mouth, dropped it, then exclaimed, "Oh! How selfish of me. Here you are hurt and I'm just blithering on."

Tony smiled again. "No. That's fine. I just have a couple of broken ribs and a broken clavicle."

"Don't forget the punctured lung. And here comes the breathing treatment."

Tony groaned. "Man, I hate that thing. It hurts."

Mrs. Marsh giggled a bit. "Jonny says the same thing. But how can just breathing in and out hurt?"

The respiratory therapist took that question and ran with it. "Well, see, one, the machine provides positive resistance on the in- and exhale. And it makes steam, which also produces some discomfort. Now ..." the therapist looked at her clipboard and sighed, "Sir, I trust you are not going to pull rank on me?"

Tony sat the bed up and reached for the mouthpiece. "No, won't do any good. I've already got orders from my CO. Just make a note on your med orders that I don't take opiates of any kind, ever."

"Ok, got it." The therapist prepared to wait out the ten-minute treatment.

Tim pulled Mrs Marsh and Mr Lynch aside telling them, "Come with me. I'll need some information. I'll set everything up and we'll get Jonny his wish. If Dr. Pitt will allow it, Tony will come. If not, I'll see if one, or more, of Tony's team will do it. Failing that, I'll get in touch with the East Coast command. We'll make this happen, one way or another."

He settled in to find out everything the boy wanted and what his doctor would allow.

He finished his notes quickly, agreed with Mrs Marsh that he needed to speak directly to Jonny's doctor, shook hands with Mr Lynch and agreed to call him ASAP and went off to deal.

It only took him an hour or two to set everything up. He returned to Tony's room to find Abby gone and Cosmo and Dean playing cards with Tony. They were using the tiny rolling table and Dean was accusing Tony of sneaking looks at his cards.

Tony snorted rudely. "Not. You're just a whiny little looser. Bitch."

"Fuck you, AJ. I'm only loosing because you're cheating. Pig."

Tony replied to that comment by making grunting noises.

Cosmo just put his cards down, announced, "Royal Flush. Read 'em and weep. And you're both whiny little bitches."

Tim sighed, he didn't understand why talking to each other like that was ok. He just knew that it was. "Okay, break it up. You know you're going to scare the nurses. So... Tony. I got all the particulars on Jonny Marsh. He can't leave the hospital because he's hooked up to a kidney machine right now. His operation was a success and the kidney is beginning normal function. He'll be okay, in about three months. If he doesn't give up. But ... well, he's been sick so long that he has just about done exactly that."

Cosmo asked a good question. "What about his other kidney?"

"No, it was atrophied at birth. They took it out when they did the transplant. It was getting necrotic." Tim shook his head. "If he can just hold out until the new kidney takes over, he'll be fine. All he'll have to do is take medication to keep from rejecting it. Two pills a day. The bad part is, he's got a bronchial infection on top of everything else and he's just really miserable right now."

Tim turned hopeful eyes to the two other SEALs. "Will you go see him too? All he wants is to meet a SEAL, if I can get the whole team to see him ... well, it couldn't hurt."

Cosmo snorted softly, "You have to ask?"

"It's polite."

Dean made a rude noise. "Digimon. Seriously?"

"Ok, I'll put you both down. I'll call Remy and ask him."

Tony nodded. "He'll be up for it. Someone needs to get my uniform and ... not sure what all."

Tim looked at Tony for a moment then blinked; he'd obviously had an idea. "Maybe not. His mom says that he wants to be like a SEAL because they never get sick or hurt. I think you should show him that that's not true. That SEALs do get hurt or sick. It's how they deal that counts."

Tony thought about that for a moment then agreed. "Yeah, I see your point. Ok, but Dean, Cosmo and Remy need to wear their blacks. And get him some stuff." He looked at Cosmo. "You know ... a cap or utility cover, a shemagh, a rank patch of some kind. And, go to the NEX and get him some PT gear."

Cosmo nodded. "I'll get right on it. As soon as I'm relieved of DiNozzo watch."

Tony gave him a hairy eyeball but subsided when Cosmo just eyed him right back. He huffed in irritation then groaned as his ribs told him that was not such a good idea.

Due to their high level of physical health, most SEALs healed with near superhuman speed. But they did need to take time to get back to full health. Tony had been ignoring his body for months, so he was paying the price. As Gibbs had told him, 'There's only so many spoons in the jar, keep takin' 'em out at this rate, you'll have nothing left when you need it.' He knew he had to cut back and rest, so he did. It amused him to no end that everyone was waiting for him to escape, or be difficult.

He slept through Dean and Cosmo's watch, only waking when Gibbs patted his foot and asked, "You up for something to eat?"

Tony rubbed his eyes, looking like a two year old waking up from a nap, and managed to focus on Gibbs and Remy. "Mmmm, something smells like real food. What is it?"

"Meat ball sub from that place you like." Gibbs set the sandwich on the rolling tray and sat down. "Eat it before it gets cold."

Tony picked it up and was just about to take a bite when a new nurse scurried in to do the 'health check' thing. "Oh, no, you don't." She reached out to snatch the sandwich out of Tony's hand.

This resulted in a case of food guarding that startled Gibbs. "Off! Mine!" Tony got his shoulder between the nurse's grab and his sandwich. Remy got between Tony and the nurse.

Gibbs watched this odd ballet for a moment. The nurse made a snatch at the sandwich, Tony got between her and the food and Remy got between the nurse and Tony. He finally bellowed, "TEN HUT!"

The nurse snapped to, never mind that she was a Captain, and Gibbs, technically, had no rank.

He eyed her up then nodded to Remy, who was also at attention. "At ease, Master Chief Petty Officer Devereaux." Remy relaxed to 'at ease' while the Captain remained at attention. "As you were, Master Chief." Remy returned to his chair to watch the fun.

Gibbs turned to the Captain to demand, "As for you, Captain Shanks. What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Sir! Patients are not allowed unauthorized foods, sir." The Captain rolled her eyes at Gibbs, trying to see who he was.

Tony ordered, "Eyes front, Captain."

Gibbs nodded to him then demanded, "Have you read his chart?"

"Sir! No, sir. But..."

"I sit on mine, Captain. Obviously, you think with yours. Otherwise you would know that Lieutenant-Commander DiNozzo is allowed any foods. No restrictions. Dismissed." Gibbs hadn't lost his 'DI bark' even though he'd never been one.

The Captain scurried out the door to read Tony's chart.

Gibbs turned back to Tony. "Ok, mind explaining that little bit of ... whatever that was."

Tony took a bite of his sandwich then explained around it. "Don't tend to feed POW's much. Waste of resources."

Gibbs gave Remy a horrified look then muttered, "Well, shit."

Remy agreed saying, "Well, they do tend to get a little rough."

Tony swallowed then added, "Fifteen yard penalty."

Remy nodded sagely, "Right, per offense."

Tony thought about that through two more huge bites. "Um ... That'd put 'em in the Alps somewhere."

"Just about." Remy nodded to Gibbs, who felt a bit blind-sided. "Don't sweat it. All over. We're ... ok. Maybe even fine."

Tony agreed, "Yeah. And workin' on good."

Gibbs gave up. They obviously didn't want to discuss it and far be it from him to force the issue.

The tension was relieved by the Head of Nurses, who demanded, "Not that I blame any of you but who was terrorizing my nurse?"

Tony promptly threw Gibbs under the proverbial bus. "Him."

Gibbs shot him a dirty look but 'fessed up. "She was trying to take his food. We're having enough trouble keeping weight on him without her taking his food away. And, how the hell you expect anyone to get well, eating that crap, is beyond me."

The Major just snickered. "Marine?" Gibbs nodded. "Well, take it up with Nutrition. As for me, I'd rather eat an MRE. And I made sure that everyone knows that Lieutenant Commander DiNozzo is allowed anything he can keep down."

Tony thought about that for a moment then asked, "Sort of off subject but ... you've got a kid here. Jonny Marsh, kidney transplant. I was wondering what he could have brought in, something sorta special. It's his birthday ... tomorrow?"

The Major thought for a moment then admitted, "I don't know anything about him. Why do you ask?"

So Tony explained about his wish and that he and his team were going to grant it.

"Ok, I'll see what I can find out. If he's far enough along, he shouldn't have too many restrictions. Only salt and artificial sweeteners. Anything hard for kidneys, or kidney in this case, to process. Be back ASAP."

She returned quickly to say that his favorite foods were grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup and chocolate ice cream. All of which he could have, wanted but wouldn't eat the hospital version of. Tony announced that he didn't blame him. They'd deal.

.

Ziva sat in the interrogation room, glowering at Max. "I've done nothing wrong. I only was curious."

Max noted two things. Ziva was defensive, her crossed arms and back leaning stance proved that. And her English had gone to shit. She always wound up using Hebrew syntax when she was upset.

"I see. And, satisfying your curiosity justifies attempting to crack the SEALs' computer systems?" Max could look very stern when he wanted, and he wanted. He was concerned that someone who had gone to a great deal of trouble to distance herself from her homeland and former comrades might have fooled them all. The security leak was either huge or nonexistent.

"No ... I suppose not. But ... it seemed ..." Ziva rubbed her forehead. Her head was splitting again.

"Agent David, is there a problem?" Max eyed Ziva. She had dark circles under her eyes; signs of strain puckered the lids. Her mouth was set in a grim line that didn't look good on her pretty face.

"No! No problem. I just have another headache." Ziva wasn't sure where all this was going, she just knew it wasn't good for her.

Max made another note then jumped as someone slammed a door down the corridor. Ziva, on the other hand, groped for a weapon she didn't have while ducking under the table. She actually made it under it before she realized there was no threat.

Max watched Ziva as she reclaimed her chair, red faced. "Well, I see." He closed his file folder and got up. "Excuse me." He left, leaving Ziva to wonder what that was all about.

Director Vance, who had been watching through the glass, met Max in the corridor. "What is your verdict?"

"PTSD. It's manifesting in various ways. One, the need to correct her profile on ... er ... Agent? DiNozzo. Two, she's jumpy, not sleeping, suffering from indeterminate stress. I'm not sure what else. But I will say that she's not fit for duty. Perhaps she'll never be fit for field duty again." Max managed an expression of mixed sorrow and disgust.

Vance chewed his toothpick for a moment. "Where did it come from? She had counseling after the Somalia incident. But ... I don't know. Did she fool her therapist?"

Max thought about that for a moment. "I don't think so. But PTSD can be triggered months or years after the incident. Everyone says she's been acting 'weird' since that raid a couple of months ago. Something then might have triggered this. We'll just have to put her in therapy and see."

Vance took his toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at Max. "I want you to handle it yourself. Put her on restricted duty. Filing or something, until we're sure she's not a security risk. Then ... we'll see."

Max nodded. "That's good. I don't think NCIS will have to let her go, I hope not. It doesn't look good for one. For another, we owe her. She's worked here for years, given the best she had to give. It's not her fault. We need to do our best for her."

Vance agreed. "You're right. And right now, our best is to take her out of the field and get her into therapy. If the therapy works, do you think she'll be able to go back into the field?"

Max shook his head. "No idea. We'll just have to wait and see, like I said." He sighed, finished filling out the paperwork and handed it to Vance. "Sign here. And here."

Vance signed.

.

Gibbs nodded to Dean and Cosmo as they left. They'd stayed past the end of their shift, just chewing the fat and playing cards. It was now 10pm and Tony was visibly drooping.

"DiNozzo, go to sleep."

"Ok, Boss. If Tim comes in, wake me. It's important." Tony fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

Gibbs wasn't the least bit offended; he'd done the same thing to his battle buddies many times. He did wonder what business Tim had with Tony but decided to wait until Tim came in to find out.

Remy announced, "Coffee run," and wandered out.

.

Tim McGee spent the afternoon making all the arrangements to get Tony from his bed to Jonny's. It wasn't as difficult as he'd thought it might be. All he needed was the boy's mother's approval, which he had. And a little help from Make A Wish, in the form of keeping the boy amused while they sneaked Tony down. The cake and ice cream were easy— Dean would pick them up from the bakery and grocery store on his way in. Cosmo was going to get all the 'goodies' at the base, and the NEX.

Now, all he had to do was tell Tony. He glanced at his watch. It was late, but he'd had to squeeze a quick trip to Cyber Crimes in as well. He knew Ziva was in trouble but he couldn't help her. All he could do was obey Vance's orders to keep things on the low down, there was enough gossip as it was. He'd turned all his records over to the Director, erased his copies and returned to the hospital. He was pretty sure Gibbs was going to kill him. But, he'd had to choose, and he had.

.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was nobody's fool. He knew that something was off the second his phone rang. This was not the time for someone to be calling him for a social chat. The fact that Leon Vance had called him from his personal phone, instead of the office phone, was a dead giveaway.

"Leon."

"Gibbs, bad news." Director Vance knew Gibbs was going to have a fit so he stopped to collect his thoughts. "It's Ziva David."

"What happened? Is she okay?" Gibbs felt his heart contract.

"Physically. But she's in trouble."

"Okay, do I have to come back to the Yard and drag it out of you by main force?" Gibbs was getting impatient.

Leon Vance got himself together and told Gibbs the whole story, ending, "I'm doing my best for her. I know you don't think I care, but I really do. My job is always a balancing act, this time there's no question but what NCIS will do its very best for her. But she's out of the field. Probably permanently."

Gibbs rubbed his face. "PTSD? Well, fuck. Okay. What do you need me to do?"

"Just don't cause a huge scene, trying to save her bacon. It's already burnt. Max is going to take her on personally. I've spoken with him a bit and he wants her away from DC. There's a couple of nice places we send burnout cases to. I'm giving her a choice. You'll be kept apprised of her condition and allowed to speak to her and visit as soon as Max says it won't put her recovery back."

Gibbs thought about it for a moment then just said, "Okay. I'll tell the rest of my team. You handle Ducky and Palmer?" He made the last a question.

"Yes. I'll do that. There will have to be some sort of general announcement as well." Vance wasn't in any mood for that sort of thing but it was his duty.

"I'd let the spin doctors handle that, if I were you." Gibbs didn't like the Publicity Department much, but they had a job, let them do it.

"Very well. I'll give someone a heads up. Memo tomorrow, that sort of thing." He looked up, Ducky was at the door. "Dr Mallard is here." Vance pulled a Gibbs and just hung up his phone.

He dealt quickly. Dr Mallard was unhappy but said that he'd known something was going on with Miss David. He was, after all, a trained forensic psychologist.

Jimmy Palmer sighed. "Well, damn. I knew something was wrong. Director?"

"Yes, Mr Palmer." Leon waited for some accusation.

"Is there anything that I, personally, could have done?" The concern on the young man's face was plain, open and honest.

"No. It's doubtful that she'll accept the help she needs this time. All we can do is offer and hope. You would have helped if you'd known she needed it. I know this. But she has to be ready to admit that something is wrong." This was his greatest concern. If Ziva didn't believe she needed help, she wouldn't accept it. And, after the 30-day psych evaluation, they had two options; release her, or charge her. He didn't want to do either.

Ducky nattered on for a few moments before he realized that no one was listening to him. He didn't get upset, he was used to it. And, he realized, his story about a man he'd known in the early '80's wasn't really germane. He decided to be least in sight. "Mr Palmer, I have some things I need to do downstairs. Mr Director." He nodded to Vance then tugged Jimmy gently out the door. "Come along, Mr Palmer, I'm sure the Director has a great deal to do."

They returned to Autopsy for tea and commiseration. Ducky finally managed to get Jimmy to realize that he really couldn't have known. Ziva was much too good at dissembling.

"Now, Mr Palmer, please realize that we both did what we knew how to do. We'll be better served to support her team while they deal. More tea?" He offered Jimmy more tea, which he accepted.

"I'll do my best. But ... what about Tony and his team? I think they like Ziva."

"Jethro will deal with all that. Relax."

They settled to drink tea and await the upcoming storm.

.

Gibbs eyed his phone for a moment, then forcefully prevented himself from throwing it at the wall.

Tony's voice distracted him. "Boss?"

"I'll tell you when I tell the others. I don't want to go through this twice." He started dialing.

"Ok, Boss. Just ... is it bad?" Tony braced himself to hear that Tim had been shot or something.

"It's not good, but no life-in-the-balance stuff." Gibbs' tone of voice reassured Tony more than the words.

Tim showed up in five minutes with Abby close behind him. Cosmo and Dean ambled back in a few minutes after that. Remy called to say he'd be there soon. He was in the lobby on his way to the elevators.

The second Remy entered the door, with his coffee tray in hand, he began to whine. "Damn it, AJ. I didn't get enough to go around. Why didn't you call and tell me there were extra."

Tony barked, "Shut it, LeBeau. Got problems."

Remy shut up at once, handed out the coffees he'd brought and then leaned against the wall.

Gibbs accepted his coffee with a soft 'thanks'. He waited until everyone was set and settled then announced, "Ok. No interruptions until I'm done. I don't know much, Tim knows some more." He then told them everything he knew about Ziva and her mess.

Dean frowned for a moment then announced, "Well, she's got a raging case of PTSD, or I miss my guess. She'll get off on reduced mental capacity. But she'll never get a high clearance again. Can't trust that she won't relapse. AJ?"

Tony looked so weary that Gibbs actually took a step towards him, Remy put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "I could call SecNav, but I don't think it'll do any good. Vance has probably already covered that. Suggestions?"

Cosmo shook his head. "Let NCIS heal its own."

The rest of the group agreed, in various forms. Abby didn't say anything, as she was, typically Abby, in tears.

Tony jerked his head at Tim who settled down beside her to calm her down.

"Ok, people, general consensus is: we can't help, keep an eye on the situation and get in touch when allowed. Agreed?"

Nods and 'yes'es from around the room tabled more discussion.

Tony leaned back against his pillows, hurt evident on his face. Tim got up and went to grip his shoulder gently. Gibbs took the other side and picked up his hand. Abby carefully settled on the bed, curled up by Tony's side.

The rest of the group gave them a bit of time to deal.

Gibbs finally sighed and announced, "Okay, enough with the ... whatever. Tim?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"What's going on?"

Tony took this opportunity to explain about Jonny Marsh and what they were doing for him.

Gibbs nodded. "Okay, need any help?"

"All we can get, Boss."

It didn't take long for Tim to explain things to everyone. He concluded by saying, "So, all the arrangements are made. All we have to do is carry it out. I've sent everyone an email with their chores in it. Abby, I've put you in charge of getting balloons and streamers. No funny hats, please. Remy is getting Jonny a utility cover and a Dixie-cup." He turned to Remy. "Anything else?"

Remy nodded, a big grin on his face. "I got him a set of dog-tags made up. Got all the info from his records. And a set of PT's. Hope the kid looks good in mustard yellow." He grimaced, every SEAL hated the standard issue yellow t-shirt and blue shorts.

Abby couldn't help it, she poked Dean and stage whispered, "What's a Dixie-cup?"

"Squid lid. White canvas bowl hat. POGs call 'em 'sailor hats'." Dean liked Abby so he poked her in the ribs to make her giggle.

Abby obediently giggled, then she asked, "Ok. So what's a POG?"

"People Other than Grunts. Never-been-shot-at sort." Gibbs tugged at Abby. "Off the bed, before you mess DiNozzo up again."

Abby pouted but got off. "Ok. Tony ..." She turned to Tony. "You know I never meant to hurt you."

Tony nodded. "I know. And that's the last time you say that. You've apologized enough. Guilt doesn't suit you, Abs." He turned to Gibbs. "Leave it, Boss. Enough is enough."

Gibbs eyed Abby for a moment then agreed, "Ok. Just makin' sure she's got it. I do not want her to get a formal, or fired. Got me?"

They finished discussing the arrangements for the next day, then Gibbs sent everyone home, telling them all, "Go home. Rest. That kid'll wear us all out."

Remy snorted, "He's what? Like ten?"

"Yeah, he's ten." Gibbs shook his head. "Even a sick kid that age has more questions than an inquisitor. Go."

They all headed out to get some rest, except for Gibbs and Remy. They were on DiNozzo Watch.

Tony didn't even argue when the respiratory therapist brought in her 'devil machine' and gave him the mouthpiece. He just sucked it up and did as ordered. The therapist didn't realize that Tony outranked her by about six pay grades. She was just glad that the legendary LCMD DiNozzo was being cooperative, for once.

.

Five AM came early enough without the banging and clatter of shift change. Gibbs rubbed his eyes and stretched; the recliner was more comfortable than a sniper's nest, but Gibbs admitted that he wasn't 30 anymore.

Tony woke to the noise as well and grumbled, "How the hell do they expect sick people to get better when they make noise at fucking oh-dark-whatever in the damn morning. Rest my ass; I get more rest on a damn stakeout."

Gibbs was inclined to agree with him, Remy did; loudly, profanely and with anecdotes.

Tony replied to that by snarling, "LeBeau, shut the fuck up. I'm tryin' to sleep here."

Remy observed him for a moment then shrugged, "You're not goin' back to sleep. You've slept yourself out several times over. You know damn good an' well that you get bitchy when you oversleep."

Tony just rolled over and gave him a bird over his shoulder for his trouble.

"No, you got the wrong equipment, besides, you're ugly." Remy flopped back in his recliner and grumbled about the lack of breakfast.

Gibbs decided that 5 am wasn't too early to go in search of 'real' coffee. "Goin' for coffee. Want?"

Remy nodded. "Thanks."

Tony also nodded. "With crap, please."

Gibbs snorted but left without comment. He was well aware that Tony had some tricks to remind himself of where he was. Coffee with 'crap', in other words, hazelnut creamer and sugar, he was home; coffee black, he was in the Box. Gibbs had had a few of those tricks himself.

His return was met with loud complaints from Tony.

"NO! I am not eating that shit. It's not even real. I hate instant oatmeal worse than regular. It looks like shit and tastes like wallpaper paste. Take it away."

Then Remy's voice chimed in, "If you're so eager to have him eat it ... try it yourself. If you can choke down a whole bowl of that baby crap, AJ will eat it too."

Gibbs walked in just in time to keep the new morning nurse from trying to spoon feed Tony.

"Out! I'll see that he has something he'll actually eat." The nurse tried to argue but Gibbs just talked over her. "He's got orders that say he can have anything he wants. He doesn't want that. I wouldn't feed the food in this squat to my dog. If I had a dog. Out!" This time the nurse left, grumbling that she was just trying to do her job. Gibbs called after her, "I appreciate that. Just do it elsewhere."

He called Abby to find out when she was coming, realizing after the fact that it was still way too early for the late-rising Goth. Her reply had been more than a bit incoherent and consisted of the information that he was a 'bad, bad man' and she wasn't getting up until 8am or later.

His call to Tim got better results. Tim promised to bring breakfast burritos and coffee as he needed to come to the hospital to finish the arrangements for the party.

He looked up to see Jimmy Palmer giving a loudly complaining Tony a quick once over.

He waited until Palmer had politely told Tony. "AJ, you're acting like a two-year-old. Sit up." Tony grumbled but did as he was told; mostly because Gibbs gave him a hairy eyeball over Jimmy's shoulder.

Jimmy smiled at Tony, rambling absently to keep his mind off the exam. "You know, Gremlins, not the ones in the movie, but the original World War Two ones, are actually rather dangerous. They get in machinery and make it malfunction. They create chaos and disaster whereever they go. Not that I do, but ... I think, if I had to, I could do some damage. I kinda like the nickname Gremlin; although the Autopsy part is a bit ... odd."

Remy ignored the ramble after making sure their nickname for him didn't offend Jimmy.

Jimmy finished what he was doing and turned around. "Well, he's as good as can be expected. The breathing treatments are clearing up the congestion, his ribs are healing well and his collarbone too. I'd suggest he get more calcium as people his age tend to scavenge other bone for the materials to mend the broken one." He grinned at Tony. "I'd suggest double doses of such meds as ice cream and milk shakes. Cheese. That sort of thing."

Tony grinned back. "What about Ducky? Where's he?"

Jimmy laughed. "He sent me. He said he's much too old to be getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to make sure you eat right. He'll be here about eleven. What time is the party?"

Tim answered that one. "I made arrangements for us to be in the little guy's room for his lunch, which is about one." He made a face. "I checked to see if pizza and ice cream are on his diet. They actually are but he's been restricted to hospital food by some jackass or other. I ordered a cake, and pizza. Remy, you'll need to leave to get both, but the cake isn't frozen or anything so it might be a good idea to pick that up first."

Remy just gave Tim a sloppy salute and ambled out, calling over his shoulder. "I'm gone. Gonna get some sleep and a shower. I'll be back with pizza, cake and ice cream. Twelve on the dot."

.

Cosmo and Dean showed up at about 10:30, joined at the hip, now that they were living together again.

Tony was up, in a wheelchair and complaining. Gibbs was dealing with it by being stoic and silent. He still hadn't learned that this attitude only spurred Tony into ever more outrageous behavior.

Abby was ignoring both of them as she was busily attaching balloons to Tony's wheelchair.

Tim wasn't there as he was downstairs, making sure all the arrangements for the party were completed. Remy was to meet him there with the refreshments.

Ducky had wanted to be there, but a murdered Marine Captain prevented it, and Jimmy was on watch-and-watch between the hospital and NCIS, so he was with Ducky, and very disappointed about it.