Of Jews and Gentiles: Chapter 9
A/N: Thanks for continuing with all the great reviews! I'm glad so many people are enjoying this story, and I'm feeling bad that I'm going to be abandoning you for a few weeks pretty soon. Sorry.
Anyway, in response to some comments:
1) Ziva's age: since nobody has mentioned a set age or year to reference anything on the show, I figured 33 for a few reasons. First of all, she told Tony she was already involved with Mossad when Tali was killed (Tali was sixteen). With the required military service in Israel being at least two years for women (three for some infantry/combat positions, including intelligence), she would have been twenty-one when she finished that. I decided to make Tali's death a year later, when Ziva was twenty-two. Second, Director Shepard said that she worked anti-terrorism ops with Ziva after 9/11, which means Ziva would have had to have been a fully-trained and vetted Mossad operative in 2001. I figured a few years between Ziva's vendetta (which she admitted to Tony) after Tali's death to that anti-terrorism position would put her at twenty-five or twenty-six when she first met Jen. That's just my thinking. Take it or leave it.
2) According to Wikipedia (yes, I know, a terribly reputable source...), Mossad does not actually use military ranks. However, as Israel has a compulsory draft system, the vast majority of Mossad agents must have been in the military (and many of the men, at least, likely still are, in a reserve setting), and many would have been in officer positions. I just translated that (for purely fictional purposes) into officer ranks that are only used if necessary, such as for Mossad officers posing as military personnel overseas, like in this story.
Okay, that's all my points from your reviews (which I am, again, thanking you for). And onto the story...this chapter is dedicated to my roommate, who, like me, watches way too much tv (although not nearly as much as I do) for someone with our level of education, and has fenced with (and against, at different points in time) the Ohio State University Fencing Club, and manages to make fencing and reading sci fi novels look cool; well, as cool as such things can look :) So, roomie, those few lines (and you'll know them when you see them) are my Christmas present to you-in addition to the Ohio State University College of Medicine shirt and bottle of Hawaiian wine, of course. Enjoy! Oh, and happy Christmas Eve to all (in real life, not in the story... it's spring sometime in the story).
Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs leaned against the railing, silently watching his team of agents below. McGee was seated at DiNozzo's desk, his attention more or less focused on the computer screen in front of him. Ziva was actually sitting on the desk, and Gibbs could tell by the Israeli's laughter that floated up to his ears and the glances away that DiNozzo must have been against the side of the stairs, just out of Gibbs' line of sight.
"They work well together." Gibbs didn't bother nodding or otherwise acknowledging the voice of his director as Vance took up position next to him, similarly watching the agents. The whole situation was somewhat like déjà vu to him as he remembered standing in that same position, watching that same desk, a different director next to him pointing out how well DiNozzo and David were getting along on her first day with the team.
"They've been working well together for years," Gibbs finally said in reply. He heard another bought of laughter and saw Ziva leaning over McGee's shoulder as the junior agent entered something into the computer. He could tell by the loud "Hey!" that followed that they must have been working on DiNozzo's—or, rather, Dinallo's—past. "How is my team going to get anything done with two agents out indefinitely?"
"You'll still have DiNozzo during the day," Vance pointed out. "I can get you another agent until Officer David can return full-time."
"I don't want another agent," Gibbs replied harshly. "I want my team. All three of them."
"Another agent or no other agent, those are your choices," Vance replied, not to be manipulated by Gibbs. "I'm not going to pull DiNozzo and David off their mission before it even starts." Both men silently watched as Ziva stiffened at something McGee was typing. This time, it was DiNozzo's laughter and David's "Hey!" that they heard. "You worried about them?"
"They've been undercover together before," Gibbs replied, his tone of voice doing nothing to convince Vance of his confidence. "They've been married undercover before. This should be easy for them. There's nothing to worry about."
"That was a long time ago," Vance said thoughtfully. "Only a few months after David joined the team, if I'm remembering that right. Weren't nearly as close then as they are now."
"Do you think they can do this or not, Leon, because I'm getting mixed signals here."
"David is well-trained," Vance finally said. "Until she joined your team almost four years ago, her entire career had been under one cover or another. DiNozzo, well, to be honest, his track record with undercover ops sucks." Gibbs had to smile slightly at the director's bluntness. "You work with them every day, Gibbs. Is sending them in on this mission together a mistake?"
"They have each other's back," Gibbs replied as the laughter of all three agents drifted up to the balcony. "They'll do anything to keep each other safe."
"And that, Gibbs, is what I'm afraid of."
"You'll be McDead if you even McThink about it, McGeek," Agent DiNozzo said warningly from his position on top of the short filing cabinet against the back of the stairs. He had sat there without thinking, remembering a time not too long ago when Ziva had been perched there. For some reason, in his mind, if the cabinet could support her, it could support him without any problems. It wasn't until he had already put all of his weight down on it that he remembered that she was much lighter than him. Fortunately, it held. So far.
"I thought we agreed on one 'Mc' per sentence, Tony," Agent McGee said calmly, not bothered by DiNozzo's threats.
"And what is wrong with the fencing club, Tony?" Ziva asked sweetly from her position on his desk. He turned his glare from the back of McGee's head to his partner's innocent expression.
"Because the fencing club is full of dorks, Ziva," he said between clenched teeth. "It's bad enough you wouldn't even let me be on a varsity team—"
"We've been over this already, Tony," McGee interrupted. "It's too hard to falsify records of somebody being a varsity Division I athlete. At least we let you keep your alma mater."
"It's easier to blend in at a big school," DiNozzo replied, repeating his argument from twenty minutes before when McGee tried to give him a degree from some tiny liberal arts college in northern Ohio. "But come on! The fencing club? I bet you were in the fencing club, McLoser."
"Actually, Tony, I was not—"
"Conflicted with the chess team?" DiNozzo shot out, earning him a chuckle from Ziva.
"I know how to fence, Tony," she offered, her grin wide.
"Well, yeah, but for you, it was probably defensive training," he offered, giving in somewhat. "You know, right up there with firing an anti-tank missile and judo or karate or whatever that martial arts thing is that you do. Someone like the probie here," he said, gesturing toward McGee's back, "only joins the fencing club because that's where everyone who has read A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy hangs out."
"I have read that," Ziva countered.
"Careful, David," DiNozzo said warningly. "You're quickly moving into McGeek territory."
That was enough for McGee. "The Ohio State University Fencing Club picture," he said, leaning back slightly to allow the others to view his work. Ziva leaned over and burst out laughing at the photoshopped picture of a young DiNozzo—Dinallo—in a white fencing uniform, mask under one arm and saber in the other. "Hey!" DiNozzo protested, making McGee and Ziva laugh harder. He softened slightly when he saw the large smile on his partner's face. He didn't care that it was entirely at his expense; anything that could make her that happy was okay in his book.
The three continued to work on Ziva's and Tony's backgrounds the remainder of the afternoon, with the two future undercover agents bouncing ideas off each other as McGee inserted innocuous details about Dinallo and Kenig on various websites; nothing big and elaborate, just the small hits one would expect to find when a seemingly unremarkable person's name were typed into Google. They discovered that there was a twenty-one-year-old college junior in Minnesota named Anthony Dinallo, which actually made things easier; it hid the lack of details on the fictional Dinallo well.
DiNozzo and David were arguing amongst themselves about the first meeting of Dinallo and Kenig—she seriously doubted a trained Intelligence officer would fall into bed with a foreign analyst within hours of meeting—when Gibbs reappeared in the bullpen. "You three having fun over there?" he asked sarcastically. DiNozzo gave him one of his wide trademark grins.
"Actually, yeah, Boss," he replied. "But I was just trying to explain to Ziva that there's no way—"
"Shut up, DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted. He turned to David, a slight frown on his face. "Have you ever taught anybody anything, Ziva?"
"I taught Tony how to throw a knife," she replied proudly.
"I already knew how to throw a knife," DiNozzo countered.
"In that case, no."
Gibbs sighed. "That's what I was afraid of. You'll have all of next week to work with the instructors at NDIC to come up with a lesson plan, and remember—they have no idea that you're not Major Ziva Kenig of the Israeli Intelligence Corps. In the meantime, you have to learn how to become Major Ziva Kenig. And DiNozzo." He turned to his senior field agent and sighed. "You're going to have to become a damned convincing Middle East analyst before Thursday afternoon. You'll be spending all day Wednesday and Thursday until you two leave for the embassy in MTAC with the analyst group." He barely resisted a smirk at DiNozzo's groan and look of pain. Everyone knew that the intelligence analysts were far from the most interesting people to hang out with.
"Uh, what about me, Boss?" McGee finally asked. Gibbs stared at him for a moment before answering.
"Your job is to make sure these two bozos do their jobs," he finally said. "And that includes making sure those damned web things are convincing." He jabbed a finger in the direction of DiNozzo and David. "And keeping those two safe. If Ziva's right, and they do what they're supposed to, there's going to be a serial killer coming after them, and I do not want them on the wrong end of that."
"Aww, Boss, I didn't know you cared," DiNozzo said with a wide grin. If it weren't for the fact that he was in the back of his workspace, Gibbs would have head-slapped him.
"Do you know how hard it is to train new agents? Now get back to work!"