Chapter Nine
"No, Ziva, I can pack my own suitcase," McGee said, his phone held to his ear. "Go, um, take a nap or something."
Ziva poked her head up from the drawer she had been rummaging through, pointing a pair of socks at him. "I want to be fully conscious for this conversation with Gibbs."
He rolled his eyes, coming at her and taking the socks from her hand. "Fine, but stay away from my clothes, please."
"I hate to break it to you, Timothy," Ziva began, still riffling through his garments, then looked up, "but if you're embarrassed about me seeing your underwear, well then . . ." She trailed off, letting out a low whistle and turning back to the drawer.
McGee glared at the back of her head as the phone rang and he waited for Gibbs to pick up. "I am not . . . Gibbs." His attention was forced to shift focus as his boss answered. Ziva looked up, nervous but interested in the conversation.
"Yeah, McGee," Gibbs' voice came over the line. "What's wrong?"
"Um, Ziva's back from Israel," McGee said, grimacing to himself about how nervous he sounded.
Gibbs laughed. "Didn't realize that was a bad thing, McGee."
McGee closed his eyes in frustration and shook his head as though Gibbs could see the action over the line. "No, no, that's not what I meant . . ."
"Spit it out, McGee," Gibbs said, the sternness returning to his voice. "Is she hurt? Someone else?"
"Boss, I . . ." McGee sighed, finding it difficult to say what he wanted to say. Soon, however, he didn't need to, as Ziva plucked the phone from his hand and held it to her ear.
"Gibbs," she said, simply announcing the change in speakers.
Gibbs let out a frustrated growl. "What the hell is going on, Ziva?"
She flinched slightly at his words. McGee noticed and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and spoke. "I have to return to Israel. A . . . a family member has died, and I must return for the funeral." She met McGee's eyes again and he nodded, encouraging her to continue. "And there are some other things I must attend to, as well."
Gibbs let out another breath, this one heavy and apologetic. "Yeah, yeah, of course. You . . . Are you at Tim's?"
She nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see it, and felt the involuntary trickle of tears down her face. McGee noticed and moved behind her, rubbing her shoulders and allowing her to use him as a point of support. "Yes. I . . . have not even been home yet, actually."
This time when Gibbs sighed, it was a, 'I should have seen this coming,' sigh. "Okay. I suppose you're not wanting to go alone, huh?"
"Yes, I was actually hoping . . ."
"Yeah, of course," Gibbs interrupted softly. "McGee. I know." He let out another breath. "Damn, Ziva."
Ziva closed her eyes, leaning back into McGee's comforting touch. "I apologize for our timing . . ."
"There's nothing to apologize for, Ziva," Gibbs assured her. "Now, can you at least tell me what this other business is, or is that confidential?"
Ziva wiped her face with the back of her hand. "No, no, that I can tell you." She paused, and McGee squeezing her shoulder made her continue. "The deceased was my step-brother. He had two children."
"Aw, Christ, Ziva," Gibbs breathed. "I don't suppose there's anyone else to take them?"
Again, Ziva shook her head. "Only the nanny."
On Gibbs' end of the phone, he swabbed a hand over his face. "Well . . . I trust your instincts, Ziva. I just hope both you and Tim realize what you're getting yourself into. Children are not easy, Ziva. And you're taking on two huge tasks at once here. I don't have my doubts that you can do it, but I hope you can see it won't be easy."
Ziva actually smiled through her tears. "I am not as naïve as to think it would be, Gibbs." Behind her, McGee squeezed her shoulder.
"Good to hear it, Ziva," Gibbs said. There was a small silence, then he said, "I suppose I should call DiNozzo and let him know you two will be gone for awhile."
"No need," Ziva said softly. "He just left here."
"Son-of-a . . ." Gibbs swore to himself, then asked, "I don't suppose he left you with any well wishes?"
Ziva snorted. "Not quite." She paused. "It is just that . . ."
"I know what it is, Ziva," Gibbs interrupted. "I've known DiNozzo twice as long as you have."
"Of course," Ziva said. There was a lull in the conversation, then she said, "I had better make travel arrangements . . ."
"Right," Gibbs said. He paused, then said, "Good luck, Ziva. With everything."
With that, he ended the phone call and Ziva hung up on her end, as well. She looked down at the phone in her hand, then turned to look at McGee. She didn't need to say anything for him to wrap his arms around her, bundling her in the warm safety of his embrace.
"You can do this, Ziva," he said, feeling her heart beat against his chest. "We can do this. Everything is going to be just fine. You just wait and see."
Ziva rested her head on his chest, sighing. If only McGee saying the words was all it took. She knew it would be trying and there would be days she'd want to give up on it all, but if there was anything she had learned at NCIS, it was patience. Good thing, too, because she would be needing a lot of it in the near future.
A sudden scratching sounded then, causing Ziva to jump and then let out a sigh of relief upon realizing what it was. "Jethro," she breathed. "I guess I forgot about him being here."
McGee smiled. "Yeah, despite his size, he's a surprisingly quiet dog."
"That's because he's a military dog, McGee," Ziva muttered, looking towards the doorway at where the German Shepherd was standing, yawning before panting happily at them.
Ziva looked back to McGee, who was still watching the dog. Finally, he turned back to her, saying, "I'll have to find a kennel for him before we go, unless . . ." He trailed off, causing Ziva to give him a look.
"We cannot bring him to Israel with us," she said, her eyes wide.
McGee smiled. "I wasn't about to suggest that, silly, I just figured, well," he shrugged, "Abby does love him a lot . . ."
Ziva frowned. "I thought her landlord did not allow dogs . . ."
McGee shook his head. "No, I meant that I would give her a key and she could come over here to take care of him, feed and walk him and stuff."
Ziva gave a small nod. "Oh," she said softly. She knew it was irrational to be jealous of Abby having a key to her apartment, and she wouldn't have thought twice about it had it been anyone else, but she knew they'd had a previous fling and that McGee had still held a bit of a torch for her for awhile afterwards.
McGee's smile fell as he noticed Ziva's silence. He studied her expression and realized what must be wrong. "Hey," he said, touching her arm and causing her to look up at him, "I'm not going to be here. I'll be with you. And that's the way I want things to be. You have no reason to be jealous of Abby."
Ziva rolled her eyes. "I am not jealous of Abby."
McGee gave her a look. "I may not be as skilled in interrogation techniques as you, but I know how to read body language, Ziva. And your body language is telling me you're not comfortable with the idea of Abby having a key to my apartment."
She glared at him for a moment, then her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Okay, so I am slightly unnerved by the idea. But can you really blame me?" She gave him a look of desperation. "You and Abby are so alike, have so many things in common . . ."
"Which makes for a great friendship, Ziva," McGee interrupted her, smiling. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Look, I'm glad you care about me enough to worry about losing me, but it's not necessary. Yes, I care about Abby, but it's a strictly platonic love. We're simply not looking for the same things in a relationship, and besides," he turned bashful, looking down briefly before returning his gaze to her eyes, "I've found someone else I'd rather be with."
Ziva attempted to hide her pleasure, but it was harder than she imagined. She suddenly found herself feeling very lucky, and her expression sobered as she reached for McGee's hands and brought them down to waist level, holding them tightly. "I often wonder how it is that I ended up where I am now, with the kind of people who care about me so much. I feel very lucky to have you, Tim, to have all of you."
McGee squeezed her hands in return, saying, "We're the lucky ones, Ziva. I'm just glad I get a chance to share something with you."
Ziva slipped her hands from his, and slid her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "You are not the only one happy about that."
