Hey there! The story's finally arrived in 2012 - and I hope it was worth the wait. Thank you, once again, for your reviews and interest; there's still so much goodness waiting for you in the future of this story and I'm working hard to find the time to put it together more quickly.

Some serious plot development in this chapter!

Chap 10 Ebbing the Flow

Monday, March 22nd 2021

Tony stepped through the array of scanners with an air of remembrance. But it wasn't just Ian Johnston's uncanny way of tossing a case their way that tickled his sense of memory. For some reason, when Tony DiNozzo re-attached the badge to his belt and offered his customary nod to Ed, the security guy, on this unusually spring-y day of late March - for some reason he remembered all those days in the past that he'd been doing the exact same thing. For years now Tony had cultivated the same routine, the same habit of how he entered the Navy Yard building of his career choice. Right then and there it hit him like that bullet a few years back: He was getting on. Strangely enough, however, Tony DiNozzo smiled when the doors of the elevator closed in.

He had finally tied that ribbon around the whole package, finishing it off with a neatly askew bow. He remembered years of feeling hung-over in that same elevator. He remembered minutes spent cursing the upward motion, the way it lifted his sensitive stomach along and almost caused him to hurl into the trashcan of Drew's desk - Drew's was the first desk stepping off the elevator - and on more than one occasion. He remembered years of feeling light-afoot, Ray-Ban rounding off his mood and outfit despite the eerily shrill blue light of the elevator after a night of conquest and victory. His frat days. Days that became years and years that eventually stopped.

More than one occasion, alley and trajectory in his life eventually caused him to grow up: Wendy's off-chance, Gibbs' ways, Kate's demeanor, Probie's dedication, Jeanne's broken heart, killing Rivkin, recoiling in the desert, looking into Senior's mirror, facing pasts with Rachel and eventually: Ziva. Peter Pan and the warrior princess. Both ends of various extremes, it took them years to meet on middle ground. And today Tony DiNozzo smiled, because he had spent his weekend doing laundry after losing a bet to Ziva; teaching his son Elvis-imitations; performing first specks of a play with his daughter; and loving every minute of it - maybe not every minute, but it came close.

That's also why, when the elevator doors re-opened on the designated floor and Tony came face to face with Ian Johnston, he felt like the lucky one of the pair. Johnston was standing there with a small duffle bag slung over his shoulder and flanked by two agents. Tony had arranged for in-house protection over the weekend, but they couldn't keep the whole in-housing up anymore.

A smile graced Tony's lips as he stepped into the squadroom. "Shopping?", he asked, indicating the bag.

Johnston followed his line of vision, his expression gaining some light. "No, actually… Some woman came down today and shoved this at me. It's all necessities, clothes and some more recent IT-journals", he explained, his eyebrows rising decidedly. "Honestly, it was kinda creepy."

Tony merely nodded. "Happy Goth woman?"

"You met her?"

"She's our lab tech, Abby", Tony confirmed, waving him off. "The only angel that could make God listen to Heavy Metal."

"Well, tell her thanks from me… I- I was a little too stunned to before", Johnston smiled. "Kinda quadrupled my earthly possessions with it." At that moment they both knew right well that except for what he was wearing and had been wearing for the past week, Ian Johnston owned nothing else - not anymore.

"Shouldn't have donated all your stuff."

Johnston shook his head, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. "Figured there'd be no use."

Tony smiled, still, but he couldn't help the diminishing radiance no matter what. This was his time with the dead man walking. "You'll be on 24/7 protection detail at an undisclosed safe house", Tony nodded towards the agents to their side, slipping into business-mode. "With a view…per your request."

Johnston chuckled. "A view of a brick wall, I shall hope."

"No, a real one. A park", Tony declared sincerely.

"That's nice… Thanks." Knowing that there was nothing left to say, Johnston stepped around Tony and called the elevator back for the final cutaway.

Tony was just about to leave as well, when a last question came to the fore: the all-time Bucket-List question. "What are you gonna do?"

The elevator doors opened and Johnston held on to a quiet grin. "Drink Tequila Sunrise from dusk till dawn and catch up on all the movies I missed by working the past few years." Then the elevator doors closed.

Tony stopped over at his desk only to find his most cherished desk-item toppled over after a possible brush-in with a rag or a broom or some similarly shaped cleaning device. He shoved his backpack into the corner and then carefully lifted it back up, returning it to its place of honor: right next to his computer screen, where he could see it. It was a miscellaneous shot and that's exactly why he loved it so much. One night he had arrived back home after a long day's sweating in a particularly stuffy stakeout room only to be greeted by Ziva's gifted reading voice. No wonder the kids hardly ever dosed off throughout, he wouldn't either. So, he had silently crept up the stairs and caught a peek into the master bedroom: and there they were, all three of them tugged beneath a blanket. Ziva was leaning against the headboard, a book in hand, and reading with one kid snuggled into each of her sides. Tony hadn't missed another beat to take the picture: prime Kodak moment in his opinion. And it really had been.

Leaving the memories at their rightful place, he then headed to the back elevator. When he arrived at lab-level, music was blaring but at a more chaste volume than usual - so, McGee was there as well. "What do you got, Abs…and friend?", Tony called out, receiving McGee's brief glare with a knowing smile.

"Arms", the forensic specialist returned quickly, clapping her eyelashes at him.

Tony looked momentarily confused. "Meat puzzle reloaded?"

"Not arms, Tony", Abby corrected, wiggling both her arms. "Arms like…" She pointed both her index fingers into his direction and simultaneously raised both thumbs. A look of realization dawned on Tony's face with a soft 'Ah'.

"We found the delivery note of an arms deal on one of the first partitions", McGee elucidated, pulling up the itemized list on the plasma while Tony rounded their desk to take a closer look.

"Pretty…extensive", Abby noted cautiously.

"It's mostly small arms, handguns, automatics, small-scale explosives."

"I guess, that rules out selling candy on the list of reasons for coming to the States, right?", Tony quipped. "Anything on use, plans, targets?"

McGee and Abby shook their heads simultaneously and Tony would have found the image of their unison-shaking funny in a way - if it hadn't been so not-funny in context, that is. "Vance also had Jimmy use the weekend for all kinds of tests on Johnston."

"I guess, Breena's not too happy-cookie about that", Tony observed, his face contorting in sympathetic wrinkles.

"A whole weekend alone with a toothing Jimmy Jr. Ah…I can feel the love", Abby retorted.

"He find anything?", Tony asked quickly. "By the way Abs, he says thanks for the stuff you got him." Abby merely smiled.

"Didn't find anything that Johnston's doctors hadn't before. His white blood count is practically non-existent", McGee recounted.

"But what I don't get is why poison Johnston slowly to death?"

"Yeah, why not shoot him and get it over with?"

"You don't think a dead Navy officer might have drawn a bit of attention, McBlunt?", Tony returned.

"And other than that… It was not an execution", Ziva added, strolling in from the elevator. "They wanted to punish him for jeopardizing their plans."

"But as far as we know he didn't jeopardize anything yet. We only have bits and pieces", Abby countered.

Tony tilted his head to the side, acknowledging Ziva's welcome presence beside him with a small smile in her direction. "Talking of puzzles…"

"Right. Okay…" Abby took the hint and pulled up another batch of files they had since retrieved.

"We found travel logs and communication transcripts", McGee explained, zooming in on a particular name.

"The Colona?", Ziva read, turning around with a questioning gaze.

"An Egyptian freelance freighter. Frequently runs between Egypt and various U.S. ports."

"And?"

"Johnston filed it under 'itinerary'", Abby explained, zooming in on the folder path.

"He must've thought they'd try to get into the country by cargo."

"Where's the Colona at?", Tony asked quickly, stepping closer to the pair and the computers.

"Anchored in Norfolk since Sunday night."

Ziva's eyes narrowed. "This Sunday."

Abby shook her head slowly. "Last."

"So what did Abby say the Captain's name was again?", Tony inquired, stepping out of the car where they were told to find not only the Colona, but also its crew.

"Manzur", Ziva answered, taking a routinized look around.

Tony nodded somewhat sourly. "I know a word that rhymes with that and he better not give us any."

Ziva merely pursed her lips. They were practically encircled by containers and boxes. It really reminded her a lot of the boxed-in incident over seventeen years ago. She glanced over at Tony, finding him smiling mischievously back at her. "What, Tony?"

"Oh, come on! You remember...", he shot back, his smile turning into a full-fledged grin. "You harbored the heat, the sizzling, the burning." By the end of his list, his voice had boiled down to a fleeting whisper close to her ear as they approached their destination.

She hummed a soft chuckle, her eyes narrowing quizzically. "As far as I remember it was freezing in that container…and the only fire almost got us killed."

"Sure, if you wanna go for the physical", Tony scoffed, taking off his glasses so his eyes could lock with hers. "I'm talking metaphysical here, symbolical. It's what it was, what it is-"

"Is and was?", Ziva retorted, her eyebrows heaving. "From the container on it still took us seven years-"

"That's your own fault." Tony turned and squinted his eyes almost shut to get a better look at the men working near the freighter they had just silently identified as the Colona.

Ziva's mouth slipped open and she stood back. "My fault? How was that my fault?"

"You didn't invite me to your dinner party back then, remember? Think what could have happened…" Tony's eyes gained an edge of playful nostalgia. Ziva merely relegated her rebuttal to an evident glare. "Why didn't you invite me anyway?"

She briefly cocked her head to the side and then stepped around him, approaching what seemed to be the crew they were looking for. The moment Ziva stepped forward the attitude shifted: shoulders were squared, eyes narrowed, workers sat back on cargo boxes and only a few were left standing. "Captain Manzur?", she inquired off-handedly.

"Who is asking?", a man with a heavy Mid-Eastern accent countered.

"NCIS", Tony clarified as he and Ziva quickly flashed their IDs and badges. "We have some… Mass flow issues to clear up." A fleeting smirk skipped across Tony's face.

Ziva's observant gaze meanwhile caught the silent exchange between some of the ten medium-weight men surrounding them. She lifted her arm to point at the knife she had just detected, strapped to the boot of the heavily accented man. "That is not only a bad idea, but it is a bad idea for more than one reason."

"The least of which is that you'd be violating free-trade treaties", Tony substituted sharply. "I'm sure the list of shenanigans is endless, but we're just here to talk, okay?"

For a moment the air between them sizzled with anticipation, until a pudgy man with a white-red beard stepped forward, a small smile playing on his lips. "Since when are Navy cops interested in Egyptian freight?"

"Let's say it's the animated pieces we take a particular interest in", Tony retorted, watching the Captain's antics closely. Ziva meanwhile kept an eye on his backup, surveying the flow of glances and the silent chain of commands.

When Manzur turned around to talk directly to his crew, he did so in Arabic. Tony, recognizing its sound, quickly caught Ziva's eyes. She softly shook her head. "Look, Captain", Tony cut in, his voice disclosing a sense of impatience, "I don't think you're getting the full picture here. We have questions, for which I'm sure you'll have the right answers. And in exchange for that we won't bust your ass."

Ziva didn't allow Manzur to reciprocate in a similar manner before addressing the quintessential issue. "We know you had more than cargo on that ship. Tell us who they were."

Manzur looked between them. He took a slow breath. "Three men, a big one and two of normal height. They paid good money. Cash. I did not ask questions."

"You get a good look at them?", Tony asked.

Manzur shook his head, a few of the men behind him mimicking his move. "They looked like- Like it would not be a good idea for us to remember their faces…if you know what I mean", he answered. "They boarded as freight. I did not see them again after docking here."

"Convenient."

"I am guessing they knew how to get on from here."

Tony locked eyes with Ziva, receiving the same skeptic look he could feel coming on himself. "Good guess."

Sitting down in the lunch area by the vending machines, Tony couldn't help but remember eleven years ago, when animated cargo brought Eli David, Malachi and Liat for backup and three Palestinian terrorists for showdown to their self-contained shores. After a whole while of subtle courtship Ziva and he had just started dating by then. It had been a piece of privacy they had both been adamant to keep from their immediate surroundings, the team, for the time being. However, Eli, being Eli, had connected the dots - and marked them with little red arrows. It hadn't been the only reason, for sure, but it was part of the trigger for a full-blown fight and an even bigger rift between father and daughter that had only just started to mend in a hotel room two years ago.

Tony was yanked out of quiet reminiscence when Ziva handed him a Styrofoam cup and sat down opposite him, cradling her own. He was only halfway through his appreciative smile when he took a sip. The sip didn't last for long, though. Instantly, his forehead creased with wrinkles, his nostrils flared and a gagging sound shot from deep within his throat.

"God, what's that?", he yelped, eyeing the creamy white cup suspiciously.

"Tea", Ziva retorted simply, taking a sip from her own cup.

Tony seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. His mouth opened and closed for a few times before a singular word slipped past his lips, "Why?"

Ziva didn't so much as flinch. "Because you already had five cups of coffee today. It is not healthy."

He scoffed. "Who ran into your knife and made you head of HHS?"

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned in, her voice toned down to a hiss, "I am the woman who will have to listen to you whine if you…ever…contract any health problems."

"I promise to work out more, but-", Tony pleaded. He held up the cup and gave her the same pout she could witness on her daughter almost daily. "Screw the brew?"

Ziva had built up a salient resistance to that particular facial DiNozzo-heirloom, but she also knew which fights were worth fighting - and which weren't. For a moment she stalled. She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowed, and seized him up. Then she silently reached out and swapped their cups. A soft purr escaped Tony's mouth upon the first sip of black liquid. Ziva couldn't stop the edges of her mouth from slipping upwards a little.

"You saw Betty Wilson's message to you?", Tony inquired with a small smirk, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes…", she answered tersely.

He grinned. "X and O, and X, and O. Irrationally sweet, don't ya think?"

"You are enjoying yourself, yes?"

"You gotta admit, it's kinda cute. Weird…but cute and it's all for a good cause. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger, right?"

Ziva's eyes shot up at him. "You don't say…"

"Also, in your case, it's more like: What doesn't kill her, makes you stronger."

"Would you…care to change the topic?"

Tony smiled at the almost pleading look in Ziva's eyes. Then he reached down and produced a white paper bag. He opened it, his mouth gaping a little on the hinges of a smile, and retrieved two identical salads complete with cutlery. Ziva was about to open her mouth, but Tony held up his hand to induce her silence. With fluid motions he pulled a small packet from his jacket pocket and offered it to her with a knowing smile.

Gulping down his first bite, Tony asked, "So, whatcha been conspiring on with David?"

Ziva fork-plowed through her salad, a small smile springing to her face. "He was asked to hand in a summing-up of what we will be presenting on Profession Day. So, I summed up my profession for him."

"Sparing the gory details, I hope?" Tony's brows furrowed.

"Of course…" Ziva started eating her salad, her eyes only rolling down to confirm her fork pronging the lettuce leafs, otherwise keeping them trained on her partner in field and life.

"So, that's next Monday?"

"Yes. He just got the dates mixed up last week."

Tony nodded slowly. "Given any thought to the 23rd lately?"

She caught his endearing smile with her own, watching him devour his latest tomato with a wink. "It is still more than a month away."

Tony's eyes, however, were already trained on an imagined spot on the windows across from them, relishing the visions he was projecting there. "I was thinking old-school, like we did the first year? The dinner at Giacomo's, the drive-in movie, the walk…the after show", Tony hummed, his eyes gaining a wishful glint.

Ziva caught that glint, trying to keep her own smile and its tugging sensation in check. "If I remember correctly I was…as you would say…about to pop back then", Ziva cautioned, her hand unconsciously finding its way to her flat abdomen.

A DiNozzo-approved mischief of a grin emerged on Tony's face. "Just think what you'd be capable of now with the added flexibility."

Ziva merely furrowed her brows, but her eyes were smiling anyway. "David and Tali-"

"I'm sure Abby and McUncle would be glad to be of service."

Ziva placed the plastic cutlery in her now-empty box and got up to throw it into the trash. When she returned to Tony's expectant smile, she bent down to catch his lips with a small kiss, her hand lingering on the side of his face. They locked eyes, staring at each other for a while. Then Ziva started in a low whisper, "I will think about it."

"Which…in my mind", Tony countered, his smile brightening to a grin, "Sounds like I can get into prepping mode."

Ziva slightly tilted her head to the side, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She patted his cheek and with one last peck to the lips she left for the squadroom, leaving Tony to his visionary's smile.

Returning from lunch, Tony found an IM from McGee on his computer, ordering both Ziva and him back down to the lab for newly acquired intel. However, when they arrived at the door to Labby Land, McGee was in the middle of fending off Abby's obvious glare from across the evidence table.

"What was I supposed to do? Tell him to go to hell?", McGee asked, his voice a tinge higher than its normal volume, indicating an oncoming bout of irritation.

"Maybe we should, Tim. Maybe we should tell him to go to hell and take his crapload of money right with him. Maybe that's what we're supposed to do", Abby shot back, her arms flying out into all directions and swinging her pigtails along.

Tony and Ziva shared a hesitant glance. Abby's and McGee's marital fights were usually relegated to the privacy of their home. That was not to say that Tony and Ziva had never witnessed a fight before, because they had, but the circumstances of the lab and the gravity of the issue made evident by the looks in their eyes rendered this moment an out-of-the-ordinary one. Then again, they knew that whatever it was that was currently happening with the sudden emergence of Liora's biological father was putting quite the strain on them.

"So the meeting's on Friday. What's the big deal?", McGee countered, obviously trying to hold on to his composure.

"For one, who does he think he is? Changing the dates on us like- like we're some drive-by almanac prostitutes", Abby fumed, starting to pace up and down. "And to let his office make the call? Like we're doing business with him, or what? For all we know he could have procreated by the dozen and we're just one of his baby-customers… And- and we don't have a nanny for Friday afternoon, remember? I'm supposed to finish up early." She ended on a much more somber note, her eyelids slipping over her eyes in a familiar look of weariness.

A soft smile settled on McGee's face as he rounded the table and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. "I agreed to change the date and when I called him back he was in a meeting, so I told his office. I really don't know about his baby-business, but I sure hope you're wrong. And I'm sorry about the nanny-thing, I didn't think about that."

Before Abby could open her mouth to answer, however, Tony had finally taken a step into the room, making his presence known by cautiously clearing his throat. Their eyes divulged only the tiniest bit of embarrassment that they had obviously been overheard. Hence, Tony quickly offered, "We could put in some nanny-hours, if you want."

"You sure?", McGee checked.

"Of course. We would love to have Liora over", Ziva supplied, stepping forward as well. "And I am sure Tali and David will be thrilled as well."

Abby smiled. "Thanks guys."

"Sure."

"But why're you down here anyway?"

"You told us to?", Tony retorted, looking a bit skeptical.

"We did?", Abby wondered, exchanging a quick look with McGee's nod. "We did… Right on." Almost in unison they turned around and started typing into their respective keyboards. "Port Authority sent their feeds from last Monday."

"And we reviewed all the tapes, including the ones prior to the Colona's clearance for docking. And we found no unusual activity", McGee elaborated.

Abby pulled up a quartet of images, each showing a particular angle of the ship they had recently come to know as the Colona. However, the image thus created at exactly 2:54 p.m. - as indicated by the time stamps on each picture - was not at all comprehensive. "Like with the image of the Colona here, the cameras don't cover the entire stockyard, though. There are blind spots they could have taken advantage of."

Then they fell univocally silent, causing both Tony and Ziva to turn around and eye them suspiciously. Ziva's eyes narrowed. She could virtually sense their uneasiness. "What is it?"

McGee and Abby exchanged a glance. "We finally finished downloaded all of the data Johnston's already screened", Abby started softly.

"And?"

"And… He ran a full trace on Arik. The guy usually was smart enough to bounce his IP-address all over the globe on his personal computer, but sometimes he logged onto different computers. Public computers", McGee continued, smacking his lips slightly.

"They weren't as secure, but he still contacted some of the same transceivers."

"For instance he sent messages to a restricted…really restricted account. So restricted-"

"You can't crack it without breaking a few laws?", Tony substituted absently, scanning their faces for the answer.

"No, Tony. So restricted we can't crack it. Period", Abby clarified, biting her bottom lip.

"So, that is it? You cannot hack into that account?", Ziva inquired, sensing there was a bit more than laws and deficiencies behind their sudden tight-lipped delivery.

"Not exactly, no."

Abby pressed her lips into a thin line. "By monitoring known transceivers Johnston managed to pinpoint Arik's general location."

"And?" Ziva couldn't deny she was growing impatient.

"He traced them back to- to Israel."

"We also reviewed the Colona's GPS logs after you came back from Norfolk and while Manzur set out from a South Sinai port, he also did a stop-over in Eilat", McGee relayed. He pulled up the file on the plasma, but Tony and Ziva didn't even turn around to confirm.

"We're guessing that's where Arik and the others came on board", Abby ended. Both her and McGee's eyes were trained on Ziva.

Tony had turned towards his partner as well. "So, that's what Johnston meant."

Ziva nodded slightly. "If I had stayed in Israel seventeen years ago, you guys would already be out of work", she stated sardonically.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it…", Tony returned absentmindedly.

Things are starting to get interesting... Next chapter: How do Tony and Ziva deal with the news? For now: Leave a review, please!