Disclaimer: I don't really think I need to say it again.
a/n: I don't have anything useful to say
Tony's POV:
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I'm flying on the director of an international agency's private jet. If it weren't for the circumstances, this would be the happiest day of my life.
Or maybe it is. Gibbs still hasn't told me anything else about Ziva. Not with Hadar within earshot.
Is she alive? What do the mean "found?" Who found her? Why did Vance send us to Israel if we already had a search party?
I throw my bag on one of the luxurious leather seats before collapsing on another. I need to sleep. I even want to sleep. But first, I need to talk to Gibbs. 12 hours alone on a private jet probably won't find me short in opportunities, but that doesn't stop me from asking him the second the door closes.
"What's going on boss?"
He sighs as he takes his own seat across from me, the exhaustion clearly catching up with him as well.
"I need coffee."
"I'm not going to stop bugging you until you tell me."
"I don't know much, DiNozzo. Apparently SecNav was informed about Ziva, he sent out some SEALs. Then he told Vance, who told us. We got sent here, and Ziva was found just before we left, although we had no way of knowing. Vance said SecNav wants Mossad kept quiet on this till Ziva is back in the states."
"And when exactly is that?"
"Should be right about now," he says, taking a glance at his watch. I don't know how he can rely on time at the moment. It's too complicated for me to even begin to think about, what with all our traveling.
"Do you know anything else?" I ask, secretly hoping he doesn't so I can succumb to sleep.
"How long do you think my conversation with Vance was?" I take that as a no, and allow my eyes to close.
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"Tony," Gibbs shakes me awake with a hand on my good shoulder. "We land in half an hour."
I sit up, stretching my arms – or arm - as I yawn loudly. "I slept the whole flight?"
"Wouldn't know. I certainly did. Pilot just woke me up."
"Right." My mouth tastes awful. "Wouldn't happen to have a breath mint on you by any chance?"
Gibbs gives me a look as he takes a seat across from me.
"Do we have to go through customs on this thing? I know we didn't with the military plane, but I'm not accustomed to flying international on charters."
"I doubt it, Tony."
Silence encompasses us as we both look out the windows into the indiscernible dark.
"Think Ziva's waiting for us?"
"I think she's at NCIS."
"So we'll see her."
"Yeah." Gibbs grimaces, and I'm put off for a moment.
I suppose egocentrism isn't just for kids. Gibbs was the one who'd left Ziva in Israel. He probably felt just as guilty as me. Probably wanted to see Ziva just as bad as me.
"Think she'll want to see us?" I ask, and Gibbs hangs his head.
"I hope so." I hear him mutter.
We spend the rest of the ride in silence. Gibbs stares blankly out the window while ponder the plausible outcome of my reunion with Ziva.
Will she hug me? Will she shoot me? Will she just ignore me? Will she be happy to see me? I want to see her – no – I need to see her. To make sure she's there, and that she's not leaving.
Screw it. Even if she doesn't want to see me, she's going to. Because I'm going to make this right,
If that means sucking up my pride and apologizing, then so be it.
If that means putting my neck out and admitting I was jealous, then I'll do that too.
If that means surrendering to the fact that we will never be in anything more than a platonic relationship… fine.
I just need her back in my life.
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The rest of the flight goes without incident. We land, we depart, we don't go through customs, and McGee picks us up at the front of the airport.
"McGoo. I have never been so happy to see you." I say, enveloping him in a hug that he doesn't return.
"Tony. You smell terrible."
"That's what 24 hours of traveling does to a man, McGee. Course, you wouldn't know that."
"Good to see you too, Tony"
I throw my bag in the trunk as Gibbs takes shotgun. Wait. Gibbs takes shotgun. As in, Gibbs isn't driving. McGee seems confused by this too, but says nothing and walks around to the driver's side door.
"How's Ziva." I ask softly as McGee starts the car.
He's silent, as he turns the car into the near-empty street in front of the airport. "She's…" the pain in his voice is evident, and I see Gibbs rest his head in his hands. "She'll be okay."
We're all silent.
"Abby's been keeping her entertained." He says finally.
"What happened to her?" I ask, and my voice is hoarse.
"She hasn't talked about it too much. Just said that she was compromised on her mission." He says, and his voice seems hoarse too. "She looks… Well, I don't think compromised quite covers it." He ends bitterly, and suddenly I can tell he's been crying.
I feel sick.
"I talked to Ducky. He wouldn't tell me everything, but based on his observations, he said she'd been tortured for at least two days. Deprived of food and water. Severely beaten, cut up, and then-"
"That's enough, Tim." It's Gibbs who says it, once again taking the words out of my mouth.
The thought of Ziva… tortured… Broken… Weak.
I really feel sick.
No. The newsreel footage of her in Morocco made me feel sick. The idea of not being there for her in Morocco made me feel sick.
This…
Sick doesn't come close to covering it.
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