"Zee-vah. Whatcha doin' Zee-vah?"
"Oh I do not know Tony. I am at work, so would it not make sense to assume I am working?" Ziva replied scathingly.
"Doesn't mean you are," Tony said. "For all I know, you could be in the middle of a very interesting IM conversation with Mr Isreal 2010." Ziva glared at him.
"You are so immature," she snapped.
"Duh, it's Tony."
Tony glowered.
"Shut up McGeek. I'm not always immature."
"Only 99.99% of the time," McGee replied.
"At least I don't spend all my time online in virtual world with virtual friends," Tony shot back. "See, that's the difference between you and me Elflord. You have virtual friends, I have real friends. You talk to people online, while I talk to real people. Like last night, I had a very interesting conversation with-"
"Despite what you think Tony, we do not want to hear every little detail of your love life," Ziva interrupted.
"Only because you never share any details about yours," he retorted.
Whack! A hand connected with the back of his head.
"Sorry boss," he winced.
"Get your gear," Gibbs said. "Report of a dead Marine in Norfolk."
In the car on the way to Norfolk, Tony sat and flicked bits of fluff at Ziva. Her patience was really beginning to wear thin. If he didn't stop he was going to find himself with a bullet through the head.
"Something wrong Zee-vah?" he asked sweetly.
"Not at all," she replied, with a fake smile.
"If you two children don't quit it..." Gibbs warned. "I'll let Ziva drive." Tony stopped. But he couldn't resist sticking his tounge out at her. Ziva knew it was childish and immature and meant stooping to his level, but she stuck her tounge out at him in return.
They drew up at the abandonned warehouses, which looked as though they were about to fall down.
"What would a Marine be doing here?" Tony asked. Gibbs gave him a look. "But that's what we're going to find out, right boss?" he added quickly.
Suddenly the silence was broken by a single, but very loud, gunshot, coming from inside the warehouse. They all pulled out their guns. Gibbs pointed at Tony and McGee, then to the left. He pointed to Ziva and himself then to the right. They nodded in response, and moved off in their given directions. Ziva glanced at Tony. The teasing was gone, replaced by the seriousness his face took on when there was a job to be done.
That was the last time she saw him like that. Now, staring through the glass into the hospital room, she wished she could take back all the spiked and barbed comments, all the sarcastic replies, all the silent threats that had been running through her mind earlier.
I'm sorry Tony, she thought, because she knew that even if she did say it out loud, he wouldn't hear her. He might never hear her again.