:: Chapter 4 – Class Clowns ::
I woke up with a start the next morning, almost dreading the day to come. When I saw how foggy the window was, I knew it was cold outside again. Sure enough, when I checked the weather channel, it was about thirty degrees. The temperature had not dropped much since the day before. I sighed to myself before I went about my morning routine, my mind whirling with thoughts once again.
When I arrived at NCIS, the only person there was McGee. With all the years I have had working here, I learned to get accustomed to begin working later than 0500 hours, and for that reason, I did not understand why McGee was usually so early. Normally, he was there before me. He must go to sleep really early every night and wake up, on his own, early in the morning to get to work early. The thought of waking up as early as he made me even more exhausted than I already was.
"Morning, Ziva," he said, glancing up from his computer screen.
"Good morning, McGee," I answered tiredly. There was no enthusiasm in my voice – so I came to realize – and this made him look at me in curiosity. At least, I thought I saw a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Okay, and maybe there was some concern, too.
He furrowed his brow and said, "You okay?"
I was beginning to wonder when he would ask that. Gibbs, Tony, and Abby already had. I could not wait till Director Vance, Ducky, and Palmer asked me, too. I dumped my bag on the floor and looked at him. I flopped down on my chair, started up my computer, and snapped, "Yes, McGee. I am fine. Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do I look like there is something wrong with me?"
He raised an eyebrow now. "No… Yes… Maybe – I-I don't know." He stopped himself, but went on shortly, "Wait a minute. Who's everyone else? Other people are asking you if you're okay, too?"
"Yes!" I answered, flailing my arms around like an idiot. "I mean, really, if there is something that looks off about me, I would like to know!"
McGee was staring at me now. "But…" he began, but trailed off after that. I could see that he was carefully choosing his next words before saying anything – something completely foreign to Tony. "Ziva… if other people have been asking you if you're okay, is 'cause something is wrong."
My jaw dropped incredulously – and maybe a little overdramatically too – and I went about flailing my arms again. "That is exactly what Abby said!" I said defensively. I felt bad later on about exploding at him like that, but at the moment, I thought nothing of it. I just wanted to prove to everyone that there was nothing wrong with me and that my sanity was still steadily in place. Sadly, that was a miserable and clearly failed attempt.
"Then I think you have some unresolved issues, Ziva…" he muttered and quickly turned back to his computer.
"What did you say, McGee?" I snapped at him. I had heard him, but I was becoming irritated and it kind of slipped out.
"I-I-I… uhh… I was just saying that-uhh… umm…. Nothing." His eyes became glued to the monitor before him and he became quiet. I did not hear anything coming from him until Tony walked in around half an hour later. I decided not to continue torturing him further, and instead, turned to my computer.
Possibly more than the day itself, I was dreading DiNozzo's arrival. I knew what was about to happen, but what if it did not happen today? What if it happened the day after? The worst part was knowing that something was going to happen, but knowing exactly when.
Around half an hour after McGee decided to shut up and not saying anything else, creating a rather awkward silence between us (which could have been a lot worse, in all honesty), Tony walked in. I heard the elevator ding and instantly knew it was him. I prepared for the worst. I busied myself at my computer, pretending to be doing something very important, just to avoid confirming my fears.
From the corner of my eye, I could see McGee look up from his screen, stop, and stare. I knew it. I looked up and, indeed, Tony was dressed in the most ridiculous clown suit I had ever seen. I stared because that was about all I could do. I must have definitely been destined to die a slow painful death, and again, I wondered what the hell that had to do with anything.
After a minute of just plain staring, it seemed to become a staring contest: who could stare at Tony the longest without breaking into a fit of hysterical laughter. Well, apparently, it was me, because after Tony flopped down on his chair as though everything was completely normal, saw our faces, and asked what was up with us, McGee burst out in laughter. I just stared.
"What is so funny, McLaughter?" Tony said.
"Tony, why are you dressed like a clown?" I asked, not even cracking a smile or anything. He looked comical, yes, but nothing struck me as funny.
"Oh, this old thing?" he said as McGee's laughter continued to resound throughout the bullpen. "A friend of mine dared me to do this. I spoke to him last night and he told me he'd give one-hundred bucks to come to work in a clown suit. And McGee was the first one to laugh – which I knew was going to happen – so that's an extra thirty bucks for me."
"What about Ziva?" McGee asked him in between laughter.
"What about Ziva?" Tony asked, and for a moment, I swear he sounded protective.
"You didn't bet on her reaction?"
"No. Neither one of us was sure about what kind of reaction she'd have so we just dropped that." I could not help but wonder if I knew this friend of his that apparently seemed to know me well enough to not be sure of what my reaction towards Tony's outrageous clown suit would be. "But it's easy to see through you, McPredictable, so we had to go for it."
McGee stopped laughing and glared at Tony. "Hey," he protested, but never finished. Tony just smiled at him toothily. I looked at them both for a few moments longer and returned to my paperwork without another word.
No sooner than that did I hear the faint smacking of their lips against each other, and I knew they were mouthing things to each other. They were probably talking about me. I let it slide for a few seconds, but then sent a glare towards McGee that was sure to make him drop dead in his chair, if that was even possible.
"Ziva," Tony called. I looked at him, eyeing the bright red wig he had on. It was a stupid clown suit and I wished he would just take it off. "Are you PMS'ing or something?"
Even McGee's jaw dropped at the straightforwardness of his question. I sent a glare his way, but it had no effect on him. Normally, a stare from me would have some kind of effect on him, but I guess it did not when he could see that something was on my mind and that that was the reason for me being so snappy that morning.
"Excuse me?" I said anyway.
"Well… I was just wondering… you know…" He was stuttering worse than when McGee saw a cute girl.
"You do realize that I have connections, right? I could kill you, make it look like an accident, hide all forensic evidence, and make sure no one even notices that you have disappeared."
He looked scared for his life, which amused me, to a certain extent. He looked cute when he pulled that face.
Gibbs walked into the bullpen, a cup of a coffee in hand. "Oh, I'm sure that Abby would love to help you with that," he quipped as he walked over to his desk. He set his cup of coffee down, sat at his desk, turned on his computer, and began to work on some paperwork. He did not seem to acknowledge Tony's clown suit.
Tony and McGee exchanged confused glances with each other and with me. Was Gibbs going blind?
A few minutes later, with his face still buried into a file on his desk and without looking up, he said, "DiNozzo?"
"Yeah, boss?" came the uncertain reply.
"Why do you have a clown suit on?" He was as cool as a cucumber.
McGee and I looked at him. I wondered how he was going to tell Gibbs what he told us without sounding stupid in the process.
"Well, boss… uhh… I was talking to my friend last night and he… he told me he'd give me one-hundred bucks if I came to work in a clown suit."
Gibbs looked up at him, and I honestly expected for him to bark at him to get changed, damn it. He smirked at him and said, "It looks good." So predictably unpredictable, as was the norm.
I was confused. This was a work setting and DiNozzo came in a clown suit – let me just say that again: a clown suit – and this was how Gibbs was reacting? Then again, with Gibbs, the phrase "expect the unexpected" came to life.
"Really?" Tony asked, surprised. He almost did not believe it.
"Yep. You should wear that more often. That red wig really brings out your eyes."
"Really?" Tony smiled, as though he was actually flattered. He probably really was. McGee was freaked out. I raised my eyebrows. I wondered if Tony noted the sarcasm hidden underneath Gibbs's joking tone. "Well, thank you, boss. That's sweet of you. I think you're starting to get the hang of the Christmas spirit." I could not help but roll my eyes at this. He was clueless.
"Boss…" McGee began to protest, "if I had been the one wearing that clown suit, you would have slapped me and told me to go change."
"Yeah, and?"
McGee just stared on, his mouth hanging open.
"You better close your mouth, McGee, or flies will get in."
I stifled a laugh and went back to my paperwork.
"Zivazivazivazivazivaaaaa!"
I looked up and saw Abby frantically running towards me. Everyone turned to look at her and her obvious enthusiasm. This was not weird or unnatural of her to do so, but none of us were certainly expecting her excitement on a day that had been slow so far.
"What?" I asked.
"Are you busy?" she asked me, grinning widely. "I mean, like, really, really busy?"
"No…."
She smiled even wider (if that was even possible), grabbed my arm, and tugged at it. "Great! Come with me! I have something I want to show you."
I glanced around at the team uncertainly, and I was almost sure that there was panic in my eyes. McGee hurriedly turned to his computer screen, as he resumed typing madly like had been before. Gibbs probably did not even steal a glance at all. And Tony looked entertained, to say the least. He looked like he could not wait to see what Abby had to show me and what we were going to do in her lab alone, together.
Abby dragged me to her lab and closed the door. She turned to me, still smiling broadly. I was quite afraid. Abby was not the killing type, but, then again, people surprised me more and more each day.
"Abby… do you need help with something?"
"Nope," she said, the smile never leaving her face. She left it at that, the curiosity eating at me. I hoped this was not what I thought it would be.
"Okay, so…?"
The smile left her face momentarily as she began to explain her reason for me being there. "Okay, so… yesterday I decided to start writing a short story. I don't know why; inspiration just struck me. It was like I was taking a shower, and I suddenly got this really awesome idea for a short story, so I stopped taking a shower and went outside to start writing. I don't know how to explain it! It was just something that hit me, like boom! You know what I mean? Have you ever had one of those moments where you're just really inspired and you have to just stop what you're doing and–"
"Abby," I interrupted her. Really, the suspense was killing me, and besides, I was in no mood to have her tell me stories about things that were not relevant to her point.
"Right, sorry," she said. "Anyway, I thought of the lead character for the story, and, as for physical appearance, I was thinking of a girl I met in high school once, but when I wrote down what she would look like, I realized, I pretty much described you!" I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "There's just one difference: she wears pigtails like mine and you don't!"
"Alright…. And your point is…?"
"Well, I need to draw her out," she said. "And I just can't do that by placing your face in my head, and looking at pictures of me. I need to take pictures of the full package."
I stared at her blankly. I knew where this was going to lead to, of course I did. I just thought that perhaps I could trick myself into believing that maybe it would not happen. But, God, she looked so happy and excited, and I would have hated to be the one to kill her joy.
"What are you saying, Abby?"
"I want your full permission to style your hair and take pictures of you," she said and smiled once more.
I gaped at her for a little bit before making a dash for the door. I did not know why I thought I could escape. Abby was right on my tail instantly, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. "Come on, Ziva!" she whined. "You're the only girl friend I've got for this. Please do this for me? Please? Pleasepleaseplease?" She stuck out her lower lip and innocently and sweetly looked at me.
I did not want to say no to her. I could not say no to her. We endured what felt like a minute of staring at each other – I was debating everything in my head, and she was looking at me hopefully – and finally, I sighed in defeat. She took the hint and squealed.
"Yay, Ziva! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She pulled me into a tight hug, nearly squeezing the life out of me. When she let me go, she reached for one of her storage boxes, opened it, and pulled out a hair straightner, two combs and a hairbrush, and a pack of hair ties. "Let's do it right now! The sooner we do it, the faster we get it over with."
It took Abby about forty minutes to straighten my entire hair before she used the first comb to part my hair in half. When she was done pulling my hair into two high ponytails that mirrored hers, not only did I feel my dignity slowly leave me, but she also began to braid them each. When she finished completely, she led me to a mirror I never knew she had and let me take a look at myself. It was horrible, but I could not tell her that. Well, the work she had done, per say, was not horrible. But I looked horrible. This style was just not me.
I looked at her, standing beside me, through the mirror. She looked happy and excited, and was beaming from ear to ear. I studied my own reflection in the mirror. I looked disturbed and uneasy. I felt I had every reason to be.
"You look so cute, Ziva! We look like twins! All you need is an outfit like mine and some heels to match my height and we'll look like twins for sure! Hey, have you ever thought about getting some bangs…?"
"No! I am sorry, Abby, but I draw the line at getting bangs. I am perfectly fine with no bangs," I said. Really? Bangs?
Abby shrugged, unaffected. "Alright. Let me get my camera."
As if he had perfect timing, Tony walked into Abby's lab, still with his ridiculous clown suit on. He smiled upon seeing the forensic scientist's finished product on me. "Well, would you look at that!" he boomed, and I inwardly groaned to myself. This was the last thing I needed. "Is it like a national twin day or something? Cuz if it is, I didn't get that memo. McGee could've gone as my twin."
Abby found her camera and went over to him. "Good morning, Tony! Nice clown suit."
"Morning, Abbs. Thanks. What did you do to Ziva?"
"I need her for a character I'm making."
"Okay… what character?"
She explained to him as she snapped a couple of pictures of me from what felt like every inch of my body. When she was done, Tony said, "Send me one those pictures, Abbs. I want to hang it up on my desk."
Couldn't he ever ask for a better picture of me, and not one where I looked like a nerd?
"No," I said sharply. "Abby, do not send him any of those pictures. Delete them when you are done with them."
She looked at me, hurt. "Why? You don't like your braids, Ziva?"
I was about to answer, but I stopped myself. She really did not know that I did not like them? The fact that I tried to make a run for the door was not enough for a hint? I looked at Tony for some kind of support, but he continued to look at the scene unfolding before us in delight. "Abby, I like the braids. I think you did a good job at it." She looked unconvinced. As soon as I opened my mouth to try and explain it to her, as well as go around the truth without actually having to lie, Gibbs walked in to the lab. I was saved by the bell.
"Can someone explain to me why we've been called in to a murder at Quantico and the only ones there are me and McGee?" he said. He did not even stop to stare at me.
"Sorry, boss," Tony said hurriedly.
"Sorry, Gibbs," Abby said, "I was just borrowing Ziva for a while."
He gave a nod and said, "Let's go."
Tony and I followed Gibbs out the lab. We made it back to the bullpen, only to find McGee was not there. He must have been in the van waiting for us.
"Where's McGee?" Tony asked.
"In the van," Gibbs answered. He picked up his coat and his cup of coffee and began to walk out. I grabbed my things. Tony, however, did not.
"Wait, boss," he called out, "can I go change real quick before we leave? I have my clothes with me."
"Nope," Gibbs called back as he neared the elevator. "You're staying like that, DiNozzo."
"But, boss–"
"No buts, DiNozzo. Not my problem you insisted on coming in a clown suit to work for a hundred dollars."
Tony's mouth was hanging open, and I couldn't help but laugh at him.
"Do you realize how stupid I'm going to look?" he said out loud as he picked up his things and began to head out. Gibbs had already taken the elevator and so we had to wait for it.
"Yeah, Tony, you are going to look like a clown," I joked. I felt bad for him, but Gibbs had a point. I wondered how he was going to be able to live down the fact that he had to attend a crime scene looking absolutely absurd. I knew for a fact that I was not going to be the only one taking pictures of him. McGee would gladly do so, too.
"I wouldn't be talking if I were you, Pippi Longstocking."
I scowled at him, but I don't think he noticed it. In the van, McGee had claimed his spot in the front, so I decided to ride in the back. After Gibbs ordered me to remove the stupid braids, and all the dumb clown jokes that followed Tony's appearance, as well as my own braids, I swear I heard McGee say something that sounded like "Mr. and Mrs. Class Clowns."
I frowned to myself. I was not fond of the clown part.
