A/N: I was actually really excited about this chapter because it's amazing. C; I'm starting towards the conclusion now and you will see later on in the story. Anyway, thanks to my readers, reviewers and beta fish. I don't own NCIS. Ohh, and the songs Sleepless Nights and Time Bomb by Faber Drive remind me of this story. You should listen, they're great songs, but I own neither them nor the band.
"Ziva, stop playing grab ass with Hunter," a voice suddenly growled. The agent in question turned around fast, letting go of Charlee, her brown eyes seeming to glitter innocently. She only smirked and nodded to her boss. The clear warning in Gibbs's voice must have hit Charlee, for he went rigid, like a deer caught in headlights, before nodding with his best (but faltering) smile.
"Sorry, Agent Gibbs," he offered to the man Ziva seemed to answer best to (Special Agent Gibbs ran through all of their heads except Charlee's, automatically correcting, though not out loud). "Ziva's getting a bit… wow. Anybody'd want her."
"Whether anybody wants her or not," Gibbs growled, his tone still threatening, "my agents are required to not play grab ass in the squad room. DiNozzo, what've you got?"
He'd expected the senior field agent to get up, list off a tidbit of information and then hand off the speech to someone else. He hadn't expected for Tony to be prepared, to fake a smile better than Hunter had, and lay out enough information about the suspect of the latest case to put Abby to shame. What shocked him most was the obvious tired appearance, and the way those eyes never once shifted to Ziva.
"Sergeant Frank Moore, Gibbs," Tony began, pointing to the plasma screen where all recorded details of Moore were displayed, "deployed twice to Iraq. He's 29, and scheduled to deploy again in a few days. If he's our guy, we've got to get him before then. He's married to Lieutenant Jessica Moore, and they have one kid, 5-year-old Amber Moore."
The man's partner began to speak, but he continued as though she was nonexistent, only pausing briefly to draw in a breath. "Moore has a Navy issued combat knife that matches the description Ducky just sent up with Abby. Rubber handle with good grips, flat back, but the edge is jagged. Apparently it's pretty lethal against rabbits and deer."
He expected a movie quote. He expected some sort of jab at Ziva, some sort of jab at himself, or McGee, or even that (damned) FBI agent Hunter. Nothing. Gibbs simply stared, his gray-blue eyes revealing nothing, for a few moments. The squad room was awkwardly hushed, as though no one should speak and so no one did; not even the Probie dared breathe audibly. Finally, he broke the silence with a, "Good job Dinozzo. It looks like your co-workers were too busy playing grab ass to do any work."
Ziva's face flushed bright red, Charlee just winked at her playfully, and he could have sworn he'd caught a flash of hurt in Tony's eyes. But he had praised the senior field agent!
I see what this is about, Gibbs decided, staring once again, and they'd better fix it before I make them fix it. I'd better get Charlee out of here soon though. I can't have my agents distracted by men like him.
"Agent Hunter," his sharp voice pierced the momentary silence, "you are to return to the FBI today. We will be finished this case soon."
"But jurisdiction-" Charlee stared, only to be interrupted.
"Jurisdiction says it's our crime. Marine, hence NCIS. Inform Agent Fen of this as well," Gibbs growled.
"But… I… what does the Director have to say?" came the bold reply.
"Director Vance has nothing to say. I'm sure he'll agree. Good bye, Hunter. You will be off this case as of midnight tonight."
"I…"
***
Time seemed to go by faster than ever; at least for Charlee Hunter, who paced in front of his girl's desk, puzzling over ways to stay working with NCIS for at least a day longer. Ziva was not the problem – he'd see her outside of work, whether she liked it or not. Mmm, what I'd do for some Ziva right now.
As though she could read his mind, the woman stood up and walked towards him. She extended her hand to his chest and therefore stopped him. Had he been paying attention, he would have realized that they were exactly aligned with his rival across the room, a man whose face turned many colors once again. Charlee grinned smugly at Ziva and captured her lips again, letting his hands roam though forcing himself to stay close enough to within the regulations. There's always the men's room.
No, Agent Gibbs will kill me, if DiNozzo doesn't try first.
He found his hands being moved as she removed them from underneath her shirt. Anger flared but he pushed it down. They'd finish what he wanted to do after work. Ohhh, that body…
"We are at work," she whispered in his ear, and he convinced himself that she would be willing to make his fantasies reality later. However, there seemed to be some reluctance in her voice. Was that guilt?
He grinned at her and kissed her cheek before stepping away. This time, he really did bother to notice the look on Tony's face. Anger, hurt, guilt, all at the same time. "Hey, DiNozzo, got anything yet?"
Voice mocking or not, he got no response. This was getting frustrating already. "I'm talking to you DiNozzo. Answer me."
No response still. Charlee gritted his teeth and stared harder at the man, willing him to look up and scream at him, or respond in some way. "Ahh, I take that as a no. Do me a favor though. Stop undressing my girl with those eyes."
Breath caught in Ziva's throat. She'd forced herself to ignore Charlee before he even started on Tony, but now… Seconds ticked past. Moments flashed by. After half a minute, she released her breath.
At least Tony had the sense to keep his mouth quiet.
But maybe he was simply intent on ignoring her, and therefore ignoring him.
***
Night had long set in over Washington, DC as very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo sat on his rather comfortable couch, watching images and hearing sounds but not really paying attention. The words made no sense right now, the story was useless. Ignoring Ziva was going to be the death of him, but so was Charlee.
That man made him grit his teeth in disgust and want to hit something, hard. In fact, he had hit something, about half an hour ago, and his knuckles ached from colliding with a wooden couch frame underneath a pillow. Thankfully he hadn't broken those knuckles (or hoped they weren't broken, at least). Explaining a set of broken knuckles to Gibbs would be hard enough without the incident having anything to do with Ziva. Or Charlee. Or a couch frame, for that matter.
His phone rang insistently beside him, blaring a song from a movie he'd know if he was paying attention. Instinctively, Tony's hands took the phone, but he simply let it ring as he read the caller ID. Ziva.
As far as he knew, she didn't want anything to do with him. So why call now, at this time of night?
Later, he'd be guilt ridden and wish that he'd picked up the phone the first time.
The phone began to come to a close with its song, and he reached out to take the call but forced himself to pull his hand back. He wasn't done playing the Ignore Ziva game. He'd play it up for a while and then she'd have to – have to – talk to him.
That was the plan, at least. It was foolish and childish, yes, to ignore her and force her to speak to him, to listen to him, but what choice did he have? In his state of mind – angry, confused, hurt and such – he could barely remember what movie he was watching. The Tony DiNozzo before Somalia probably could have, though, he thought with a bitter smile.
Tony DiNozzo went through a lot in Somalia. Although his predicament had not been as bad as Ziva's, he'd still gone on a suicide mission for revenge and he'd still been locked in a dark room with only an 'unconscious' McGee and rather pissed off Salim for company.
The phone began to ring again. He stared at it for a few seconds, panicking. Did he answer it? It must be urgent for her to call again in the middle of the night. Or maybe she's at a bar and is accidentally butt dialing me.
Despite these worries, he grabbed the phone and clicked 'answer' fast. Something told him not to speak first, and he complied.
The sound that came through the phone caused his heart to stop, if only for a few seconds. That phone fell from his hand, clattering to the floor.
And without a second thought, he bolted out the door.
A/N: Now you're thinking, "Ohmagod, what did he hear?" or "What's wrong with Ziva?" or "Did you lock the door before you left, Tony?" Well, I hope you're at least thinking one of the first two and not the last. C; And so we begin to read a more fast paced story. Next chapter'll be up as soon as I write it.