Ziva paced the length of the lounge again and again, checking her watch. Less than an hour ago, she'd been seated on the couch watching a movie with Tony when Officer Seir had walked in and informed her that they were not to leave the guest quarters until Bashan called for them. She had lost all interest in the movie and spent the intervening time wearing out the carpet, as Tony put it.
He'd been short with her since she'd told him what she thought he already should have known about their apparent deaths and she'd gotten annoyed with him as a result. They had just begun to relax when the hour of tense waiting had gotten them exasperated again. They had stopped arguing almost a half hour ago, but they hadn't spoken since that time either.
Seir's obtrusive presence in the doorway and constant fondling of his weapon wasn't helping. She narrowed her eyes as she turned and saw him watching her intently. It would be so easy to teach him another lesson right now. He passed out of her line of sight as she stalked past the door and she asked herself, lesson about what? Following orders? Doing his job? Watching her fight with Tony?
Why was she even angry with Tony? On her next lap, she stopped and sank onto the couch. He picked up the remote from the cushion beside him and began to flip through the channels rapidly. "Feet tired?"
She ignored his sarcasm. "I'm sorry I got you into this."
His attention remained fixed on the ever-changing picture. "Not really your fault."
"I shouldn't have called you an unobservant idiot."
"Nope."
She tried again after a minute of waiting for him to say more. "I really do feel bad about deceiving everyone at NCIS."
"Yup."
"We'll explain it to them if they haven't figured it out on their own once this is all over." She doubted Moussad had made any errors that would reveal the deception, but she'd learned not to underestimate forensics or, more accurately, forensics performed by her teammates.
"Uh-huh." He was already on his third cycle through the channels.
"Okay. Well, I'm going to go give Officer Seir a lap dance now."
"I haven't been ignoring you. I've been giving you short answers because I'm still kinda mad about all this." He dropped the remote and turned to her, smiling. "But you can give me a lap dance if you're just in that kind of mood…" She punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Maybe later."
"Maybe never." She checked her watch again. "Why is Michael torturing us like this?"
"You're torturing yourself. We could still be happily watching The Matrix if you hadn't flipped out when Beard-o over there told us we had to stay here. I bet if he hadn't said anything you'd still be sitting here watching the damn movie. You just don't like being told what to do, especially not by someone who looks like he'll shoot you if you make any sudden movements."
"I don't like being kept in the dark," she corrected. "And I lost interest in the movie when the fake fight started."
"You're just jealous because you don't know Kung Fu."
She rolled her eyes. "It's shocking how few people notice that when they're writhing on the ground with broken clavicles."
"Hmmm." Tony rubbed his cast uneasily. "Just one more reason to be glad I'm not a terrorist. Uh, if we're not angry at each other any more could you get me a soda?"
"We were never angry at each other," she replied, standing and walking to the small stocked refrigerator in the corner of the room. "We're projecting our anger at the situation onto each other."
"Huh?"
"I couldn't sleep during that anger management seminar we had the other day. Juice okay?"
"Sure."
She opened the bottle and took a sip before handing it to him as she sat. "So what have I missed in this movie?"
"Oh, the usual – death, destruction, totally forcing you to question your reality. I mean, what would you do if you suddenly found out that everything you thought was true was actually a big lie?"
She broke their eye contact. "Start shooting."
"Personal experience?"
She leaned her head against his shoulder. She'd been involved in more missions than she cared to remember that had been altered by changes in reality. Granted, shooting was usually a foregone conclusion, but the truth sometimes felt misleading enough to cause a slight hesitation before pulling the trigger at the head of a set of stairs leading to a basement where an incomplete boat… She buried her face in Tony's shoulder, blocking out the memory. It wasn't ever really personal; it was mostly business. She decided not to ask if that was from a movie and settled on something she'd be allowed, if reluctantly, to discuss. "Are you forgetting why we're here?"
"Touché. I suppose dead guys rising from the dead counts." He hugged her against him awkwardly, trying to hold his juice and stroke her arm at the same time. She took the bottle from his hand. "Well, you'll like this part. They're about to let out their inner Zivas. They need guns. Lots of guns."
She tried to focus on the screen, but was almost immediately distracted when Seir began whispering into his wrist-mounted radio. He spoke too softly to be overheard. When he was finished, he looked up and seemed surprised to see Ziva watching him attentively. He didn't approach them, but raised his voice to be heard across the room, "Officer Bashan wants you to gather your things from your room. I am to escort you to the garage."
Tony was now looking at Seir as well. "We're leaving? Where are we going?"
Seir seemed unsettled as Ziva stood and walked toward the door. "I do not know. I suppose that will remain true until we arrive. Please, Officer Bashan is stressing haste."
He flinched visibly when she made a sudden lunge toward him, dropping the empty juice bottle into the garbage can beside him. That explained it. Seir followed them to their room, where she allowed Tony to enter and pulled the door closed, leaving her in the hall with their escort. "Listen, I realize that I make you nervous and I'm sorry that you're stuck with me, but I'm not going to hit you." He stiffened, his hand automatically seeking his weapon. She sighed and continued, "And I also realize that I never apologized for what I did the first time we met, so…I wish things had gone differently then." She had never expected to be having a conversation like this with a fellow Moussad officer. "Can we just…you don't have to be anxious because of me, is what I'm trying to say."
"Of…of course," he stammered, still unsure. "Please, if you would just gather your things…"