They get off the elevator, together. Tony looks both ways, before heading towards the bullpen. Ziva rolls her eyes. They reach their desks. They are the first to arrive. Ziva sinks into her seat. She glances over, at Tony, and finds him twisting his ring.

"Don't even think about it," she warns.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"If you take it off, you will not have a finger to put it back on."

"What is that supposed to mean."

"If you don't want to wear it on your finger, I'll give you a reason not to."

"You can't cut off my finger."

"There is not a rule against it."

"That doesn't mean that it should be done."

"No, it just means that it can be."

"How would I wear it, if you cut off my finger?"

"My grandmother had a saying."

"I don't speak Hebrew," he reminds her.

"It easily translates. If a man will not wear his ring on his finger, then he can wear it through his nose."

"I am not a bull."

"Would you have preferred matching tattoos?"

"No," he shakes his head.

"Then stop whining."

"This is not a good way to start the day."

"If we wait, you will chicken out."

"Not true."

"I am not in he mood to argue with you, all day, today."

"So then what would you like to talk about?"

She shrugs, "I will let you know."

"And until then?"

"We will allow ourselves to be surrounded by silence."

"I do not do well with silence, Ziva."

"Try."

"I can't make any promises."

The elevator doors open, and McGee steps off. He joins them in the squad room.

He throws his bag on the floor, next to his desk. He smiles.

"How are you two, this morning?"

"I would be better, if my coffee wasn't cold," Tony admits.

"Don't go there," Ziva warns.

"Go where?" McGee questions.

"Nowhere, it's nothing McGee," DiNozzo insists.

"Really? You sound a little bit bitter, Tony."

"I would have preferred to have hot coffee, this morning. That is all."

"You could have drank it while it was hot. No one was stopping you," Ziva tells him.

"I did not want to wear it."

"Why would you wear it?" McGee inquires.

"The morning commute was a little bit rough. The traffic was terrible, and..." he notices the look on Ziva's face, and he stops, mid-sentence.

"And what?" McGee raises an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Tony shakes his head.

"What is going on with you two, this morning?"

"Nothing," Tony lies.

"Something," McGee disagrees.

"We are fine. My partner is just being whiny, as usual."

"I am not whining. I am simply stating facts. It would have been dangerous for me to try and drink my coffee, on my way here, this morning. It was searing hot. If I had spilled it on myself, I would have gotten third degree burns."

"Do you need a sippy cup?" Ziva mocks him.

"If I am going to ride with you, anymore, I do."

"You rode with Ziva? Why?" McGee's eyes bounce back and forth, between Tony, and Ziva.

"I thought that it would be quicker, if she drove."

"Quicker, from where?"

"That's not important, McQuestion."

"Since when did the two of you start carpooling?"

"We just started today," Tony reveals.

"Why?"

"It is complicated," Ziva dmits.

"Yeah, life is complicated," Gibbs comments as he walks into the room.

He walks past his team, to his desk. He takes a seat at his desk.

"Boss, how do you feel about carpooling?"

"Are you asking me to carpool, McGee?"

"No," he shakes his head, "Tony, and Ziva are carpooling. I'm not sure if I like it or not."

Gibbs looks in their direction, "Why are the two of you carpooling?"

"Apparently so that Tony will stop drinking coffee, because by the time we get here, it's cold," Ziva reveals.

"You let her drive?" Gibbs furrows his brow.

"I was trying to be nice."

"Why?"

"I can be nice, sometimes."

"You can't, but you rarely are. Why are you being nice to her?" Gibbs probes.

"I've turned over a new leaf, I guess."

"Any particular reason?" Gibbs interrogates.

"I think that it will make us more productive. The less we bicker, the better our investigating will be," he lies.

"I doubt it," McGee scoffs.

Without thinking Ziva puts her elbow on the desk. She rests her head on the palm of her hand. Her fingers curl up, next to her face. Gibbs doesn't notice, because his phone rings. McGee, squints, from across the room.

"Grab your gear, we've got a dead Marine," Gibbs announces.

"That's not all we've got," McGee mutters under his breath.

"What was that, McGee?" Gibbs wonders.

"Nothing boss," McGee brushes it off.

"McGee, if you have something to say, then say it."

"We have a mystery, on our hands," McGee answers.

"A mystery? We have a murder. What are you talking about, McGee?"

"This doesn't have to do with a murder victim," McGee admits.

"Then why are you bringing it up?" Gibbs questions.

"I guess the answer can wait, until we're done with the case," McGee decides.

"What is the question?" Gibbs queries.

"Why is Ziva wearing, what appears to be, a wedding ring?" McGee poses the question.