Vulnerable

Chapter 6

Tony put his mask and gloves back on and entered his partner's room. Abby was dozing in the chair next to Ziva's bed; Ziva was sound asleep. He gently shook the scientist's shoulder. "Abby, hey, Abs, wake up."

"Tony?"

"Yeah, I'll take over now," he told her. "How is she?"

"Her fever is still high, or was, when they gave her another immersion bath. She was awake this time and freaking out-"

"You have a black eye." Tony said, tenderly reaching for the livid bruise.

"Ziva," Abby said. "No, don't be mad. She was disoriented and frightened and so feverish. She didn't mean it, Tony!" her voice softened further. "She was scared. So scared. The docs were putting her into another bath and she was fighting it. She didn't know and her understanding of English was slipping fast. I got in with her and she socked me one. Then she...was better about it and let me help her."Abby stopped herself in time, remembering her promise to the Israeli. "She was better after that. I promise, Tony. She was only sick and scared. She didn't mean it. Don't be mad at her."

Tony took in Abby's earnestness. "I won't be. Go put some ice on that when you get home. So far there's no case. I brought you a Caf-Pow and a bagel. Eat and go home. Gibbs said it was okay since you stayed all night."

Abby reluctantly nodded. "Her fever still hasn't gone, down. So she's still really sick. You might need to get into an immersion bath with her because she hates them. Tony, if you do, let her know you care because I know you do. Don't lie to her. Be kind because she really needs it."

Tony gave her a small smile. "I know. She's my partner and new here and probably scared a bit. Sick isn't on her list of learning about America. Scared is what I'd be being sick in a foreign country with just folks that I'd call co-workers list. She needs us; I get that."

"She might punch you out in a bath again." Abby said.

"I can take it."

"Okay, don't say I didn't warn you," Abby said, gathering her things and leaving. She turned before she opened the door. "Tony, tell Ziva that I really do like her and I'm sorry for the way I've been behaving."

Tony regarded the forensic scientist for a moment. "The fact that you helped her like you did today tells her that. Thanks for helping my partner out, Abs."

"My pleasure, Tony."

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"No, Ziva, relax, wake up! It's a fever dream," Tony said, shaking his partner gently. "C'mon, wake up, Sweetcheeks. Remember when I called you that? Do you remember that case?"

Ziva let out another strangled cry and thrashed violently. The dream was wildly vivid and was half memory, half fiction. She was being interrogated by some unknown entity. She was tied to a chair and a blindingly bright light was in her eyes. She could not see her captors. A knife sliced down her right arm, drawing blood. She fought crying out at the pain as she felt the blood flow toward her bound hands. Her father would never accept her crying out in pain. "What do you want?"

"Tell me why you're in Afghanistan."

"No. I cannot." Another slice, carefully avoiding the blood vessels that would cause her to bleed out.

"Unacceptable."

"No. Screw you!"

Another slice and warm blood ran down her right arm again and then she was being shaken, gently, but the motion began to disintegrate the scenario before her. She began hearing a familiar voice calling to her. Sweetcheeks. She knew that from somewhere. She chose to concentrate on that and suddenly she was congested and chilled, or was that too warm, and a male voice was talking to her. A familiar male voice.

"That's it, Ziva, fight the dream. It's only a dream," Tony said. He was familiar with fever dreams and their uncanny ability to be and feel so real after his bout with pneumonic plague. "C"mon, you can fight this. It's just a dream. Ziva, fight it," he said, shaking her a little harder, then. Her eyes popped open and were wild for a few seconds and then she relaxed.

"Doctor?"

"What? No," Tony said and then he remembered that he was wearing a surgical mask and gloves. He pulled the mask down so she could see him in her fevered state. "It"s me, Tony. I have to wear the mask because...because I have a cold and I could make you sicker." He stroked her sweat dampened hair back from her forehead and pulled the mask back up with the other. "I don't want to make you feel worse."

"I do not think I can," she admitted.

Tony's heart was breaking for his new partner. She was tough as nails and scared him regularly, but she needed him now. "Is there anything I can do or get you to help you feel better?"

"Hospital food is terrible. More from Kaufman's, please?" Ziva requested. She moaned softly as her stomach rumbled loudly. "I'm hungry, I think. That growl means that, right?"

Tony stroked her damp hair. "You want matzoh ball soup again? Maybe a little falafil and hummos?

She nodded. "Even if I throw it up, yes. This stuff is awful. Do not they understand I am from Israel and cannot eat this? They gave me bacon for breakfast and pork sausages. They were all on the same plate and I could not eat anything but the toast. I do not keep Kosher, but will not actually eat pork."

"But you ate the pepperoni pizza when we first met."

Ziva shook her head, regretting it when it made her dizzy. "I ate the cheese and pulled the pepperoni off. You did not see. Mixing cheese and meat is not an issue, pork is. Can you talk to them for me? I think I might stab someone with a plastic knife if I do not have something I can actually eat."

Tony understood his partner entirely. To heal, you need to eat and if you eat crap, less likely to heal. "I'll stop by Kaufman's today and get you what you need. Soups, falafil and hummos. Anything else?"

Ziva nodded, knowing it would take days to finish all of it. "They make this sauteed mushrooms and hummos side dish. Can you get that too?" She regarded Tony for a minute with her fever bright eyes. "I can share, you know. I really am not a selfish person. We can divide it up between sick and healthy, if you want. I want you to know my comfort foods and where I am from. I want to know your America. I teach you and you teach me, yes?"

Tony nodded. "Fever talking."

"No," Ziva said, clearly. "This is going to be my home for as long as I am here. I need to learn. If you will teach me American comfort foods, I will teach you the Israeli ones." Ziva let out a long string of coughs that had her with a kidney shaped tray under her mouth as the nurse pounded her back and shot DiNozzo evil glares. Finally, Ziva calmed down. She was pale and looked exhausted, but her eyes, large in her wan face, wandered straight to Tony. "Do what you promised. Bring home to me. I trust you, Tony. Bring me a bit of my homeland."