McGee receives communication from Widow, and Tony and Ziva wait out a storm.
The mail drop came by mid-morning, as it usually did whenever the team was there to witness it, and McGee watched as a couple of envelopes were dropped on Gibbs' desk, along with two dropped on his own. Usually, the mail he got was some communication about a deposition he'd have to do, sometimes a subpoena, but nothing usually too pressing that it couldn't wait until the end of the day.
But one of the envelopes caught his eye and he picked it up, noting as he did that the letter addressed him specifically, but had no stamp or postmark on it, which was suspicious in itself. He held the letter up to the light, looking to see if there was any substance inside the envelope, still cautious even after more than ten years since Tony's bout with the plague. They'd all become more cautious since then, and this letter screamed caution. McGee knew better than to open it at his desk, and he picked up the envelope and sought out Gibbs, who had probably gone down to autopsy to discuss Ducky's latest findings on their most recent case. After having lost Tony and Ziva and gaining a couple of newbies to fill in the vacancies, he and Gibbs had gotten stuck on some of the simpler cases, including this one, a hit and run in one of the residential neighborhoods. Possibly malicious, but probably not.
The hit and run, like almost all of the cases they'd had since Tony and Ziva had gone, was a boring case. Thompson and Pruitt would be fine, with a bit more time, and Gibbs was getting more than aggravated at the simplistic case load, but Vance had insisted. Maybe the next case would be a bit more exciting.
"Boss," he called as he strode into the autopsy lab, interrupting the conversation between the two elder members of his team. "I need you to look at this."
Gibbs, used to sensing when an interruption was necessary, dropped what he was asking about and turned to face McGee, who held an envelope up, indicating that he should come look at it. Gibbs crossed to the doorway, taking the envelope that was addressed to "Agent McGee, NCIS Headquarters," and looking at it.
"Where'd this come from?" he asked, and McGee shrugged.
"It was dropped off with mail this morning," was all he said, and Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the statement. They'd had their fair share of run-ins with the mail, and he wondered how this particular piece of mail had even gotten in the building and onto his agent's desk without any sort of screening whatsoever.
Reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone, he dialed a number before sighing and turning off the display on this phone. Gibbs had no patience for the lack of signal in autopsy, and he grabbed at Ducky's desk phone, dialing an extension and barking at the person on the other end of the line to come down, "suited up."
"You think this is another hazardous letter?" McGee asked, swallowing nervously. He'd had enough of substances that came in the mail and people who tried to kill them furtively.
"Not taking the chance," he said, and he put the letter down on one of the tables. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be opened until they could ensure that its contents were benign. Suspicious letters were never simply opened. There was an entire production of it.
Not ten minutes later the Hazmat team had come down to autopsy and cordoned it off, providing McGee, Gibbs, and Ducky with suits so that they could be in on the action. They'd turned off all of the ventilation and McGee was already beginning to feel like heated death in his suit, but they couldn't risk it. Tony and Ziva were missing, certainly still being pursued by someone (or several someones), and nothing was quite as simple as it had been in the past.
The Hazmat team used several instruments before opening the envelope, scanning it through x-ray and heat vision, and determining that there was nothing especially volatile. Still, they placed it into a clear container and only then did they open it, via some large claw-like objects that kept them at a distance from the envelope. When they finally extracted the letter, there was no substance that any of them could see, but the team was still not taking any risks. They used several sprays, dyes, and other test substances, but they found nothing unusual about the letter, aside from its existence.
It appeared to be just a letter and nothing more, but no one was willing to remove their Hazmat suit and handle it regardless.
McGee was the first to suggest that they at least read the letter, even if they didn't take it out of the case, and Gibbs nodded his assent to this request. He stepped forward, as the letter had been addressed to him, and began to read the note, typed in all caps.
TELL US THE WHEREABOUTS OF FORMER MOSSAD OFFICER ZIVA DAVID AND HER PARTNER, SPECIAL AGENT ANTHONY DINOZZO. ZIVA DAVID MUST BE ELIMINATED, AND SO MUST HER PARTNER FOR AIDING HER. YOU CANNOT HIDE THEM AWAY FOREVER. SHOULD YOU WISH TO MAKE A DEAL, MEET AT FINNEGAN'S ON 9TH AT 1700 THIS EVENING. COME ALONE.
GOODBYE.
"That's ominous," McGee remarked rather unnecessarily. Who were these people, and why did they think that he had any idea where Tony and Ziva were? They'd disappeared without a trace months ago, and had left absolutely no clue where to find them. He and Gibbs had been over this already. It was obvious that they didn't want to be found, apparently for this very reason.
"You are not going to attend this meeting," Gibbs ordered.
McGee balked, taken aback. If he could find out more about these terrorists that were after Tony and Ziva, maybe he could figure out something that would help protect them. "Why not?"
Gibbs looked at him like he was an idiot. "Are you serious? We don't negotiate with terrorists," he responded, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.
"I'm not planning to negotiate with them. I just want to gather some intel. Act like I have something to give them, but trick them into giving me information instead."
"No."
McGee was fuming. He'd sat back, given up the search for his friends, knowing that Gibbs needed him to be a present member of his team and the organization. But this was the first pressing lead he'd had on the case for months, and he'd be damned if he wouldn't go and at least try to find out something.
"I know what you're thinking, McGee, and the answer is no. I can't risk this being a setup. If they can't find Tony and Ziva, then that means they're desperate. They're reaching out to you knowing that you don't have any answers. Desperate terrorists are the most dangerous. You're not going to go meet with them."
"But Boss-"
"No." It was firmer this time, and McGee knew better than to continue arguing. He might be the only original member of his team left, but he didn't get any special treatment for it, and he knew better than to try and anger the boss.
He sighed, biting his lip in frustration. "But what if I don't show up and they decide to target us? If they managed to get this letter here, they could attack us here." He paused, debating whether or not he should say what he wanted to, then took the plunge. "After all, desperate terrorists are the most dangerous, right?"
Gibbs stopped short, sighing deeply before continuing. McGee wasn't wrong, exactly, but risking his best agent wasn't exactly a prime move for him. He sighed again, already regretting what he was about to say before he said it. "Make a plan, then. But I have the right to veto it, and you will obey my directive when it comes to this, is that clear?"
"Crystal," McGee said, nodding solemnly. The Hazmat team had given them the all-clear, so he unzipped the uncomfortable suit and left autopsy and the threatening letter behind, heading up to his desk and working furiously to devise a plan through which he could meet with the terrorists – by himself – and not put himself at risk. He had no idea how many men he'd be up against, how many bystanders would be present, or even the layout of the restaurant they wanted him to meet at. He'd be going in completely blind, and it was almost too big a risk.
When Gibbs finally decided to call it, he hadn't been shocked. They hadn't had the time to prepare for this type of meeting, and it reeked of a setup. The probies had returned from their outing – Gibbs had sent them to question two witnesses to the hit and run – and they were not terribly adept at providing assistance, leaving McGee to inwardly rescind his earlier assessment that Vance should give them back some cases that were actually interesting and worthwhile. Then again, they were both still so inexperienced, and a huge international terrorism case wasn't exactly the best place for one to get his or her feet wet as an NCIS Special Agent.
"Why would they only now reach out to us? Tony and Ziva have been gone for what – eight months? Why wait?" McGee was perplexed by this, and despite his annoyance at having the meeting called for being too risky, he still had a lot of questions, questions that he hoped would be answered soon.
"They must not have thought it was worth it to talk to us until now," was all Gibbs said, and McGee left it at that. The meeting time came and passed, and McGee looked at the clock anxiously, wondering what would have been in store for him if he'd chosen to go. Would the terrorists get angry that he hadn't shown up and take it out on innocent people? Would they attempt to reach out a second time?
The team started working on their hit-and-run case again, and McGee focused his attention on that. He was tired of the lighter caseload, but if he wanted the Director to give them better cases again, then they'd need to get better at solving these menial ones. He busied himself with going over the information with the other two agents, and they caught a detail that had been missed earlier in the day, the four of them running out and chasing down the lead. They found the perpetrator with little difficulty after that, and after they'd gotten him to sign his confession and filed the paperwork, McGee was feeling a lot better about the two newest members of the team.
Jordan Thompson was a former Marine fresh off of a tour in Afghanistan. She'd suffered significant hearing loss in an IED blast, earning her a Purple Heart and preventing her from continuing her service in the Armed Forces, despite the state-of-the-art hearing aids she now wore, that allowed her to hear with 78% efficiency. They'd had to work around her disability when it came to wearing earpieces, but she'd proven that it wasn't going to keep her from being a valuable member of the team. She was an excellent shot and a quick thinker, if still a little green in terms of the investigative side of things. McGee knew, after witnessing a brief lapse in her composure, that Agent Thompson suffered from minor PTSD, which she kept in check via the use of both therapy and medication. Gibbs had been surprisingly okay with her taking mental-health days when needed, and McGee had begun to value having her alongside him. She was fiercely loyal and would not let him go into any situation uncovered.
Nathan Pruitt had gotten into NCIS similarly to the way that Tony had, as he had been a cop for the past five years. Pruitt had wanted to get into investigative work, but he had been relegated to the highway patrol, where he spent the vast majority of his time watching people with a radar gun and engaging in high-speed run-downs of people who were often too distracted to pay attention to their speed. He also had the gruesome task of handling traffic accidents and the unfortunate and all-too-frequent drunk drivers. When he'd interviewed with NCIS, he'd told McGee, he had spoken of his need for a change. It was kind of ironic now that they were chasing down a hit-and-run, but then again, this type of case wasn't what they usually investigated on Gibbs' team. Pruitt hadn't really gotten his investigative feet yet, either, but he'd surely be a solid Agent after having both Gibbs and McGee teaching him.
It was a new dynamic, but it wasn't all that bad, he supposed. Tony and Ziva had been gone for so long now, and life had to move on, even if a part of him still hoped for their return. The evening was winding down and neither Pruitt nor Thompson had left yet, and Gibbs was beginning to shut down, which let Tim know that it was time to gather his things. The newbies hadn't quite gotten used to Gibbs' cues, so when the man told them to pack up and go home, they scrambled to get their things together, shutting down their monitors and heading toward the elevator.
McGee rode down the elevator with them in silence, glad to be heading home after such a long day. It had been an adjustment, having two new probies on his team, but he liked them well enough.
He was so lost in thought that he hadn't even heard the elevator ding, signaling that they'd reached the ground floor, until he saw the other two agents getting out of the elevator. Wordlessly, he followed them outside, then walked to his car, which was parked on the far side of the lot, where he preferred to park so that it would be less likely that someone would hit his car.
He had almost to put his key in the lock when he noticed the paper on the windshield, tucked neatly under the windshield wiper. It wasn't a parking ticket, as his decal was clearly and prominently displayed, so it must be something else. As he leaned forward to glance at it, he noted the words written in what appeared to be permanent marker: "YOU SHOULD HAVE MET WITH US TODAY."
There was no way he was getting into his car now, and he backed away from it quickly, before dropping his keys and running in the opposite direction, ducking behind a car more than fifty yards away. The blast still took him by surprise, when it hit, but he had gotten far enough away and used the other car as cover so that he was mostly uninjured, save for a few shards of glass that had found their way into his skin and a rather severe ringing in his ears.
He immediately dialed Gibbs, and soon the whole circus arrived. He only wished he'd thought to save the letter that was attached to the windshield, not that the evidence would have done him much good.
"Boss," McGee said when the man finally gave him a once-over, as he sat in the back of an ambulance being looked at for any other damage to his person. "They left me a note. On the windshield. It looked like it was written in Sharpie or something, and it said that I should have met with them."
"The hell you should have," was all Gibbs would say, and McGee began to shiver uncontrollably. Now that the initial shock was starting to wear off, the realization sank in. These terrorists weren't just after Tony and Ziva now. They were after anyone who had a connection to them.
"We need to find these terrorists, kill them, and then find Tony and Ziva," Gibbs finally said, and McGee shuddered again, visibly, as he nodded in agreement.
It was warm, though there was a slight breeze. Their daughter was playing near the creek, and Tony was teaching her how to splash, her laughter echoing throughout the trees. Ziva smiled, watching both of the people she loved most fondly, content with the life they'd carved out in the wilderness.
Suddenly, the light faded and she was in a dark room, suffocated by the smell of cigarette smoke that permeated the air. She tried to cough but couldn't, and she watched as four men argued, though she couldn't make out their words, that was, until they all turned to look at her, all of them mouthing, "Get the girl. Get the girl. Get the girl."
Ziva's eyes flew wide open as she realized that their daughter was not safe, but she couldn't get back to the forest. She was chained, tied, somehow immobilized, watching as these men seemingly conspired to get their child and take her away. She was a beautiful girl, dark eyes and a mess of curls, and Ziva fell instantly in love. How had they found her? How did they even know that their daughter existed?
What was her name? Ziva couldn't place it … it was just there in the tip of her brain, but the child's name wouldn't come to her, no matter how hard she thought of it …
Suddenly she was back in the cabin and there she was, their little girl, her face plastered on a huge television screen that had somehow materialized. Their daughter cooed and pointed at herself, mouthing the words, "it's me!" She was excited, happy, transfixed, as terrible men came on the screen and begged for anyone to find this little girl.
"For we miss her terribly, you see," they said, and a woman stood by, playing at being her mother, apparently, to appeal to the sympathies of the entire world. No, Ziva thought to herself, unable to speak. This is wrong! That girl is not yours, she is mine! Mine! Mine!
Mine!
She is mine!
She woke with a start, panting, her fingers tightening on the blanket as she breathed herself back to reality. Where was the baby? Where was her daughter? Almost immediately, as though the baby sensed her alarm, it began to kick against her, and she tried to calm herself down. She placed her hand on her stomach, realizing that it had just been a dream. No, she corrected herself. A nightmare.
Tony stirred beside her, and although she would have liked to allow him to sleep, she reached for him, shaken up and needing the comfort of his arms. "Wake up," she said softly, her voice sounding meek and small, and he opened his eyes almost immediately, his eyes clouded with worry.
"You okay?" he said, clearing his throat afterward, trying to wipe away the remnants of sleep.
She shook her head, though she wasn't sure if he'd be able to see her motion in the darkness of the cabin. "I had a nightmare," she said softly, scooting toward him and resting her head on his chest. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and rubbing her back, reveling in the new way her changing body fit against his.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No," she said softly, but she cleared her throat anyway, indicating that she would anyway. "But I think I need to."
"Okay," he said softly, and he kissed the top of her head, his lips getting slightly caught in the mess of her hair. He wiped his mouth softly, then smoothed the hair on the top of her head, taming the unruly curls.
"We were here, and we have the baby. And Widow knows that we have the baby, somehow. So instead of coming after me or you, they're coming after her! It – it was a girl, in my dream. I actually hope that it is really a girl, but that's beside the point. They had her picture on like, a big screen TV, and they were putting out a reward for anyone who would find her and take her from us. And … and … I woke up, and she wasn't here! She was gone, Tony!"
Ziva was sobbing now, and Tony held her tightly, unable to find the words to comfort her. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach, the way she must also feel, knowing that their child could be a target for these sick people. "And then I woke up here, for real, and I had another momentary panic, because she wasn't here. And then I felt her kicking, like … it was a reminder, Tony, that's she's okay, and safe. With me. But only for now, Tony. What if I can't protect her after she's born? What will we do?"
"We will protect her. Or him," he reminded her, his smile only slightly teasing her. She was so insistent that it was a girl, but just because she had dreamed it did not make the child a girl. "And obviously, Widow has no way of knowing that you're pregnant, Ziva. We'll just have to train extra hard, and make sure that we're ready."
"I was so afraid," she confided, letting out a deep breath. She'd never felt as afraid as she did right now, and despite Tony's arms around her, she still shivered slightly as the details of the nightmare started to slip from her consciousness, and all that remained was the fear.
"I will never give up fighting to keep you two safe, Ziva. Never." He kissed her forehead gently, and placed his hand gently on her stomach, wishing more than anything that his word would be enough. He knew it wasn't, as the only reason they were currently in this situation at all was because a ruthless group of terrorists had deemed that she was at the very top of their shitlist.
The wind outside began to pick up, and Tony listened to the way the leaves rustled. Rain was in the air, he could practically smell it, and by the way the wind was starting to blow, he sensed that a storm was coming in. It wouldn't be the first one they'd endured, but it seemed oddly fitting now, seeing as both of them felt so unsettled. It only made sense that the world would also bring itself to a state of upheaval.
A low rumble sounded in the distance and Ziva burrowed further under the covers. Late night thunderstorms were not altogether uncommon, but this one just felt different. Maybe it was just the way her heart was still pounding in her chest, her adrenaline still pumping as she fought to keep herself steady and grounded. The nightmare had felt so real. She was convinced now, they were having a girl, and she would be born with dark eyes.
The wind picked up again, causing nearby branches to scrape along the side of the cabin, and another rumble sounded, much closer than the last. "We should probably try to get some sleep," Tony whispered against her cheek, and she nodded, yawning despite herself.
Lighting lit up the interior for a split second, followed by a loud crash, causing both of them to jump slightly at the unexpected sound. "That sounded really close," she remarked, a new worry hitting her – what if they were struck by lightning?
"We'll be fine," he whispered, knowing instinctively what she was thinking, and as another flash illuminated the sky, he wondered if maybe this storm might be a lot more severe than either of them had bargained for.
Three days.
It had been three days, and the storm was still going strong. It was raining so heavily that it almost sounded like a train passing overhead as the drops pounded on the roof. The lightning and thunder continued almost constantly, and the wind was so severe that it had actually rocked the house just slightly, but enough to make both of them nervous about their safety.
Still, it was not exactly safe to go outside, either.
"Well I guess it's a good thing you're not due for a while, if I had to judge by the size of your stomach," Tony joked, and Ziva almost threw something at him in response. They'd been cooped up for three days, and while they'd had plenty of food and water to last them so they could ride out the storm, she was growing restless, as the cabin really wasn't large enough for her to comfortably exercise.
"Not that the weather is going to make much difference, Tony. I'm pretty sure giving birth is the same whether it's raining or not."
Another loud clap of thunder sounded, startling the both of them, and she began to wonder what type of weather pattern this was. Was it classified as a hurricane? A typhoon? Or was this just a typical storm over the rainforest? She decided to ask Tony his opinion. "Do you think this is a hurricane?"
"Don't hurricanes typically start over ocean before hitting land?"
"Would we even know if it did? All we know is what we're experiencing now. So, do you think it's a hurricane?" She'd never experienced one, herself, but she knew a little about them. When she was a child, she'd watch with fascination as the weather reporters would talk about the odd weather patterns that plagued other parts of the world. She'd often wondered what it would be like to experience one herself, to be stuck in the high-speed winds and heavy rainfall that would cause palm trees to bow in submission. Hurricanes were classified by wind speed, and right now she wished she had a way to measure the speed of the winds that were now whipping by the cabin.
Maybe if it was a hurricane, their house wouldn't be holding up quite this well. "Maybe?" Tony asked, shrugging his shoulders. He didn't know.
They really hadn't counted on extreme weather, which had not been prudent. Tony didn't want to open the door, lest he be unable to close it again – and because he didn't want to get drenched – but he wondered if the stream was planning to overflow, flooding the nearby ground outside their house and even the house itself. Flooding wasn't something they'd considered, though they really didn't have anything on the ground that couldn't get wet. Things would dry out eventually. It would just be really uncomfortable until the water receded. "Do you think it will flood?" He finally asked, voicing his fears about the extreme weather and their proximity to the stream.
"I have been wondering that myself, and I cannot say. Surely, the water level has risen. I would not be surprised if we have to contend with some water for a few days."
"I guess the only thing we can do is just wait it out," he said with a shrug, and Ziva nodded her agreement. It wasn't like they could stop the storm, and they didn't exactly have a ton of sandbags available to keep the water from rising into their home. Sandbags would be a good idea, though, for the next storm, and they could turn that into a project after the storm ended. It certainly wouldn't hurt to reinforce their home.
"So what do you want to do then? Chess? Twenty questions? Charades?"
He briefly flashed back to the last time he and Ziva had talked about charades on the first day they'd met. He'd been such an ass back then, he realized, but he chose not to dwell on it. "Why don't we just snuggle up on the bed and see if anything interesting pops up?" he suggested, giving her a wink. Although it was technically daytime, the storm had darkened the sky considerably and he couldn't see very well, but maybe she had been able to see him winking at her.
Ziva groaned at the cheesy line. "Really? That's the one you're going with?"
"What?"
She crossed the room to him, taking his hands in hers and pushing them down to his sides, kissing him gently as the lightning lit up the room again for a few brief flashes. "You are lucky I love you so much," she said, giving him another thorough kiss before speaking again. "And that I find you so attractive," she added, kissing him again. "And that I am no longer immune to your charms," she concluded, lifting her hands to his face and pulling his head to hers, shuddering at the way his hands settled low on her hips, caressing her gently.
"You were never immune to my charms," he challenged, kissing her back hungrily, snaking his hands around to grab at her ass. She lifted one of her legs up, wrapping it around him, growling in frustration at the fact that her stomach was now large enough to prevent the friction she'd been hoping for.
"Yes I was," she insisted, kissing him hungrily, her lips parting as she allowed him the access he craved. A loud crack of thunder sounded as they tumbled onto the bed, and they sought shelter in each other, riding out the storm on wave after wave of pleasure, their screams carried away by the pounding of the torrential rainfall.
"Mama!" the child screamed, the terror evident in the small voice that was calling to her. Where was she? Where was her baby girl? What had they done to her? Ziva's heart was pounding as she wandered through a dark corridor, dimly lit with only a few dangling lightbulbs on strings.
"Mama!" She heard the cry again, from further away this time, but sounding more pained. Then again, "Mama!" from behind her, and Ziva whipped around, unsure which direction to head. The corridor stretched endlessly in both directions, and when Ziva turned to her left she noted it stretched that way, too, and also in the other direction. She moved forward, uncertain of where she should go, and she noted that the corridor continued to split into an endless web of passages, any one of which might be the direction that would lead her to her child.
"Mama!" The voice chorused, and now she was certain that something was wrong, as she could hear the child calling from every direction. She spun around madly, the cries for help inundating her mind as she stood frozen, unable to move or act. Where was she? Why could she not find her? How had they ended up here?
"Mama!"
She awoke to a sudden, blinding light and a loud crack, snapping her out of her nightmare and into another one. Next to her, Tony shot up in bed, also startled awake by the loud clap of thunder. The winds continued to blow and the rain continued to pound at the roof of their house, but a new sound now entered the mix, the sound of something breaking – a tree branch.
Without warning, something shook the house as it landed, with a thud, upon the roof, and Ziva realized then what had happened. The lightning must have struck one of the trees, causing it to topple over and land on the roof. "One of the trees," she said, her eyes wide with fear. Outside, the rain pummeled the ground around them and the wind kept the tree branches scraping along the side of their house.
"Do you think it will…" he trailed off. He didn't really know what they'd do if the roof suddenly started leaking, since this was really the only shelter they had. They'd been pretty lucky that the stream hadn't overflowed and started flooding their house, or that the wind hadn't blown the entire structure away. Maybe they were better builders than he'd thought. He resisted the urge to make a Wizard of Oz reference, lest an actual tornado come along on top of everything else.
"I hope so. But we will have to wait until the storm passes before we can check."
"Well obviously," he joked, rolling his eyes. Did she honestly think that he would be crazy enough to run out there right now, when lightning was actively striking trees that were practically attached to their house, to go climb up on the roof and check its integrity?
She looked down, noting with a groan that they had another problem. "Tony," she said, looking down at the water flowing into their cabin through the crack underneath the door. She supposed, with the rain falling as heavily as it had been, that it had only been a matter of time, but she still had held out hope that they would avoid having to deal with flooding on top of everything else.
She hoped that the garden outside would survive the over-saturation.
"Shit," he groaned, looking down at the muddied mess that now ran through their home. Everything that touched the ground was made either out of stone or out of wood, but that didn't mean that there wouldn't be any damage.
"So now we have to worry about water on the floor and holes in the ceiling. Maybe my water should break, while we're at it."
"Don't even say that," he warned, and Ziva froze. He spoke calmly and softly, but inside she could tell he was raging. "Don't joke about that, please," he begged, and Ziva blinked, looking at him with her mouth agape.
"I am sorry," she breathed, rubbing her hand absently over her belly. "I should not have said that. Our child will come when she – or he –" she added pointedly, "is ready. And we need only to look at me now to know that the baby is not ready."
She bowed her head, talking to her stomach in an animated tone. "You hear that, little one? You stay in there until you're ready. We need you to be healthy." Tony didn't appear to be convinced, however, so Ziva looked up, talking only to him. "She'll listen to me."
"I'm going to laugh if it's a boy, you know."
She picked up one of the pillows and smacked him with it. "It's not going to be a boy." Ziva was certain of it. The baby would be a girl. She could feel it deep within her bones, that gut feeling that they'd always been talking about back when they'd worked at NCIS. Her gut was telling her that she was having a girl.
The weather had finally passed, and with it their boredom, as Tony and Ziva stepped outside their house for the first time in days, surveying the damage. The water that had come into the house had receded already, leaving a faint ring around the perimeter wall of the house, marking its existence, just in case either of the residents happened to forget about the flood that had kept them in bed as much as humanly possible for two straight days.
They were lucky, truthfully, that the water level hadn't risen more than eight inches at its highest, but they also knew that another rainstorm right now could be catastrophic. "I hope it doesn't rain again for a while," Tony murmured as he looked around at the way everything had seemingly shifted under the deluge.
"You're reading my mind," Ziva replied, bending over and picking up one of many branches that had found its way into their usual path to the stream. She tossed it aside, then looked up at the sky, sensing that the sun was out for good, or at least for the remainder of the day. There seemed to be an almost visible path carved through the forest on the other side of the stream, and Ziva shuddered at the realization that it had probably been a tornado that had cut through the trees like that. It must not have been overly large, since their house was intact, but it was entirely too close for her liking. Great, she thought to herself. On top of everything else we must worry about, we also have to add tornadoes.
Still, the house appeared undamaged, and even the wildlife seemed to be venturing back out. They began to hear the usual bird calls and bug humming that had been absent – or at least inaudible – during the rainstorm.
"We need to check the roof," Ziva said suddenly, her hand cupped over her eyes as she peered at the top of the cabin. The branch that had fallen was actually not a branch at all – it was an entire tree. Something of that weight could very easily compromise the integrity of the building, and it was something she'd rather deal with now instead of the next time a storm came.
Tony didn't reply immediately, and she walked quickly to the rock face, finding that the footholds that had been there before were still perfectly intact. She began to scale the rock, her belly getting only slightly in the way, and soon she was on the upper edge of the rock face that had provided the natural side wall to their home. Tony turned around and caught sight of her just as she climbed up the few feet that led to her being on top of the cabin, and his eyes went wide with shock.
"Are you crazy? What are you doing up there?"
Ziva scoffed, for clearly she had made it up onto the roof just fine without his assistance. "What does it look like? I am examining the roof," she said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. And it was, of course, but that hadn't been what he'd meant.
"No, I mean why are you up there in your state? Are you trying to kill the both of you?" He walked to the edge of the house, standing nearest to where she examined the roof, ready to catch her if she were to fall. Granted, the house wasn't that high, no more than eight or nine feet, but to fall would definitely cause her serious injury. Not to mention the baby.
Ziva glared at him. "I'm just checking the roof, Tony, relax. I am fine." With that, she leaned down and proceeded to check on the roof, testing its sturdiness and looking for breaches in the structure. The tarp they'd lain over the top of the house was still mercifully intact, and the branch had landed hard on the house but had not punctured any holes in it. That seemed obvious enough based on the fact that they hadn't needed to put any buckets down to catch water that leaked in, but she had wanted to double check.
"So now what, do you need me to bring the saw up there so we can cut it down?"
Ziva stood up again, examining the massive tree. It would take hours to cut it up and remove it. Not that they didn't have the time, but she had a better idea. "You remember how we spent a lot of time camouflaging this roof?"
"Yeah, you had me running around the forest looking for tree branches and dirt and stuff," he said, groaning. It was not his most pleasant memory since they'd come out here.
"Well, I think the tree actually makes it better," she mused, stepping over the branch and looking at it from another angle. She eyed another nearby tree, wondering if she should climb up and take a birds-eye view, but Tony might actually pass out, judging by the way he watched her like a hawk and followed her every move.
For fuck's sake, she was only pregnant. A little climbing wasn't going to kill her.
"Yeah?"
Was he doubting her? "You wanna come up and see for yourself?"
"No, I think I should stay down here and watch just in case you get suddenly dizzy or misstep or something." She rolled her eyes. Tony wasn't fooling her at all. Yes, he absolutely did want to be there to catch her if she fell, but he was also not a big fan of heights. It wasn't even that high.
She looked up, pretending to be lost in thought. "Maybe I should climb the tree, just to be sure that everything blends in," she said absently, heading toward it like she was really going to climb.
"Ziva," he warned, and she laughed. Gotcha, she thought to herself, and Tony took his turn glaring. He didn't know why she liked to push his buttons so much, when he was only trying to concern himself with her wellbeing, seeing as she wasn't always concerned with it herself. And she had the baby to worry about now, too.
"Relax, Tony," she pleaded, her irritation rising at the way he watched her like a hawk. Yes, she knew that she was pregnant and that she should be careful, but she was being careful. And he wouldn't have wanted to be the one to climb up here himself. Why was this such a big deal?
"I just don't want you to fall," was all he said, though he still continued to watch her vigilantly, coming around to stand behind her when she finally lowered herself off the roof and onto the small rock cliff to climb back down. She could practically feel his fingertips grazing her skin as she took the rock face like a ladder, and she swallowed a huge sigh of annoyance, not wanting to start an argument.
The roof would likely hold, but the way the house had shaken when the tree fell had really worried her. It was commonly said that lightning did not strike the same place twice, but she didn't believe that was necessarily the case, and another tree falling might cause the roof to fail.
"Just answer me one thing," Tony began, waiting for her to turn around and face him. She did so, looking at him with only mild annoyance, and let him speak. "When are you going to start letting me help you instead of doing everything for yourself? Putting extra strain on your body like that? Putting yourself at risk like that?"
"Tony," she began, but she stopped, unable to respond. She leaned into him, much to his surprise, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, surprised to feel moisture on his shoulder. She certainly hadn't meant to cry – hadn't even been on the verge, if she was being honest – but here she was, her emotions suddenly overwhelming her again, as though she'd been inhabited by someone other than herself. She had never been this weepy before.
"I know you mean to protect me, Tony," she said softly, reaching up to wipe a tear from her face. "But I'm okay. We're okay. And I don't want to feel like I'm incapable of doing anything. All my life," she paused, sniffling. "All my life, I've been told I'm weak because of being a woman. I had to fight harder than everyone around me for everything. And it's so hard for me to let go of control and let someone else handle things for me. I'm so … so used to proving to myself and everyone around me that I can do everything that it's just automatic."
"Hey now," he said, rubbing her back soothingly.
"I didn't mean to worry you. I really didn't. I just … climbing up that wall was never anything before, but now suddenly it's this big deal and I didn't want you to make it one."
"But I did," he said, the realization dawning on him. He hadn't meant it, but he'd made her feel bad regardless.
"You couldn't have known."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing her forehead as he held her, letting her cry it out.
He felt her smile against his skin. "I'm sorry too," she said, and she squeezed him gently.
"For what? You don't have anything to apologize for," he said, stepping back and looking at her in bewilderment.
"For worrying you," was all she said before wiping her eyes and turning away, returning to the work of surveying the damage done by the storm. They'd been incredibly lucky that it hadn't been more severe.
"I'm gonna worry about you regardless," was all he said, and she turned her head over her shoulder to catch his eye, smiling at him gently and nodding her understanding.
For now that they were beginning to feel more and more like they were a family instead of just partners, she couldn't help but agree with that sentiment, even if she couldn't seem to find the words to give a voice to it just yet.
As always, I love all of you so much for the feedback. Please look for Chapter 11 on Saturday.