Disclaimer: NCIS characters and situations borrowed. No profits made.

A/N: wow, so many new readers, likes, follows and reviews! Thank you all who have hung around, with special thanks for you who have sent reviews & other comments.

This one is shorter than usual, but the story break had to fall where it did. I hope that means that RL won't make it a huge wait 'til next time...

PRETENDING

It was still dark when Ziva dragged herself out of bed for her run that Monday morning, a bone-chilling moisture in the air and a thick, overcast sky that promised the damp would not burn off any time soon. Setting off toward the north, she stubbornly focused on the moment - the feel of the sodden air on her face, the early morning sounds around her, the scents of the wooded park at her left.

... the sound of her soles on cement. ...the soft slip of her clothing with her pace...

She carefully logged all the sounds and scents and sights around her, refusing to let anything else invade her thoughts for the first two miles, not until the rhythm of her stride, once again strong and efficient and reminding her of who she'd been, let her center herself enough to face the weekend's confrontations.

With Tim ... and Ducky...

With Tony.

She followed the path at the park's perimeter to loop over to follow the canal as it curved eastward. Before the sum of the memories could overwhelm her, Ziva worked to compartmentalize them: two co-workers – friends – made a point to tell her that she and Tony shared ... something ... that neither she nor Tony would acknowledge. They were also quite certain that whatever had come over Tony – his anger, his withdrawal, whatever it was – she was a part of it all.

Another jogger neared her, nodded her way as he passed.

A part of her – maybe of the old Ziva – urged her analysis of what was going on with Tony, why it was her fault. No, not my fault, she chided herself gently, willing herself not to become defensive. They did not even imply it was. But ... why did they believe it is tied to our partnership? When Ducky and Tim had raised the idea, she had nothing to offer in dispute. How can you begin to know the cause when you do not know what is going on in his head? Even if she wanted to, she could go nowhere with this until she knew what was wrong, and she couldn't know what was wrong unless Tony dropped his defenses and told her.

She put on a burst of speed and sprinted the next quarter mile. Above her, the sun appeared as a very pale disc, just barely showing itself in the heavy, dove-colored sky.

Rolling her shoulders and neck after her sprint, Ziva settled back down into her usual pace, and centered her thinking again. Fact: everyone on the team had been through an eventful year, not her fault, not at all her fault, but certainly because of her being a part of the team, being Mossad, and being who she was to her father and Michael. Fact: everyone in her life had shown their true colors when information about her and her mission to Somalia became known to them. Fact: she was not yet back where she needed to be, at least in her head, but was healing, the opportunity to do so provided by her team...

... by Tony. By Tony, and the team, and Tony's refusal to let her 'death' go unavenged ...

She swerved suddenly onto a path that she knew would take her to a set of steps up one of Georgetown's steeper hills.

Fact: recently, and not due to any particular event that she could identify, Tony's mood and behavior had changed, not for the better, and remaining changed longer than any other odd shift she'd ever noticed in him before, and ... Fact: two of the colleagues closest to her made it a point to voice their concern that it involved her, and, if there was to be any change, would be hers to address.

She shot up the steps as if Saleem and his minions were at the top, awaiting her, so she could exact her own revenge with fists and feet and skills made strong and healthy again, thanks to her team's faith and belief in her...

She doubled over at the top, suddenly winded, unable to get the breath she needed and suspecting that the sob of anger and frustration released with her raging thoughts may have been why...

Ziva made it in a few minutes before 0630 to find Tim at his desk, alone in the bullpen, a study in concentration. No one else was anywhere to be seen.

"McGee?" She frowned, expecting at least Gibbs to be there. "You are alone?"

"Gibbs and Tony had to take the evidence in this morning before court – the defense wanted to look it over again, check the chain to be sure there was nothing he could use to keep something out. I think they were meeting at 8:00."

Ziva nodded, her mood deflating as her half-made plans effectively scuttled. She hadn't thought about the trial.

She really was distracted.

The trial was in Richmond, far enough that, once there, both Gibbs and Tony would have to stay for the day, unable to just run back to the Yard as they waited to testify. Ziva had heard that this prosecutor usually expected the lead investigator to sit at counsel table with her, and that the previous time she'd had a case with the MCRT, she'd suddenly been much more interested in having the Senior Field Agent at her side, to the great satisfaction of his boss. Odds were good that if a second day were needed, it would be more likely that Tony was elected to go back than Gibbs. She might not see him for a couple days.

Ziva dropped her backpack to sit at her desk, slowly.

She had hoped that she would be inspired into a more complete plan as she saw how things went with Tony that day, but, expecting to see him there before he had to leave for court, she intended at least to offer to cook for him. Italian. She would tell him that she had been thinking about their movie nights, how she'd thought of them often during her captivity – and why hadn't she told him that before? – and wanted to thank him for ... for all of it. With or without a movie, she would cook Italian for him; whatever night he said.

And if he turned her down ... she had finally admitted to herself there was nothing else she could do. Twice she'd approached him to talk; twice she'd been rebuffed. A part of her wanted to be irritated or indignant that she should have to approach him at all; he was not a child, and he choose to shut her out. If it had been a more usual pout or snit, she certainly would have left him alone without more than a glimmer of guilt.

But – it wasn't. She owed the team, she owed herself, to try at least once more, because whatever it was, it was making Tony think of leaving the team this time. And the thought of his leaving them was something that was too painful to leave unaddressed.

Through the day, Ziva followed up with interviews as Tim worked on cold cases – Ducky's findings had supported their evidence of suicide, and Ziva's final interviews would help document the case report she'd been assigned to write. After a quiet morning, Tim told Ziva he and Abby were having lunch and she was welcome to join them. Sensing their need to have a lunch to themselves, Ziva declined, telling Tim she wasn't too hungry. In all truth, concerns about her partner and whatever had brought things to this point killed any appetite she had.

The afternoon was nearly as slow. They were not off rotation, given the trial wouldn't keep Gibbs and Tony away for long, but Balboa's team was available as well and would likely take any case that came up, since they were at full strength. Gibbs called in only once, to check on the interviews and confirm that there had been no developments, and was vague about the trial. Ziva had been done with her report mid-afternoon but waited until 1900 in case Tony or Gibbs came back. Tim had gone home an hour before that. No one had heard anything from DiNozzo all day.

Ziva found herself distracted through the evening. Reading was impossible, and the last thing she wanted to do was watch a movie alone. Several times she fought the urge to call or at least text her partner. She had an increasingly unsettled feeling, her gut telling her something wasn't right. Her sleep, when it came, was interrupted alternately by nightmares and by the smallest of sounds waking her. When she dragged herself out of bed for her run the next morning, the heaviness in her chest wouldn't leave her alone.

Again, she arrived around 0630, but this time saw Gibbs' yellow Charger in its usual spot. Tony's car wasn't there, but she often arrived before he did – and he might have been needed in Richmond again. On arrival, she found the bullpen empty this time – Tim was not there yet either, and Gibbs was not in the bullpen. Stowing her gun and booting up her computer, Ziva sat warily, the quiet sounding ominous to her. Outside, she heard the rumble of thunder, and hoped that her mood was simply a reflection of the weather beyond the windows.

McGee arrived by 0710 and confirmed he hadn't heard from Tony since Sunday either, about the trial or otherwise, but added, with a sympathetic look, that he hadn't been trying to reach him. Ziva busied herself with some backlogged paperwork she'd been avoiding, but had to start over a time or two, her thoughts anywhere but on the screen before her. When suddenly Gibbs appeared at the top of the stairs to jog down toward them, her head popped up and she watched his progress with sharp eyes – he was dressed for work, not for court. Without curving toward their desks, he announced abruptly, "goin' for coffee."

"Gibbs – " Ziva stood, sounding a bit breathless, tension clear in her stance. "Where ... what happened with the trial?"

"Guilty," he clipped over his shoulder, without stopping, to hit the elevator call button.

"Gibbs – " Ziva insisted, the sound of her voice leading Tim to stand as well, worry appearing in his face now too. "Where is Tony?"

Gibbs didn't acknowledge the question at first, his back to them, and the elevator opened to let him inside. Ziva opened her mouth to protest and press for an answer, but as he turned, she saw a weariness in his face that stilled her for the moment. Seeming to ignore them as he waited for the doors to close, Gibbs suddenly put a hand up to stop the door from closing at the last moment.

"On his way to Pensacola..." he said. The elevator doors shut between them.

After a moment, Tim broke the silence, his wary voice making clear he wasn't all that sure of his words. "On ... a case...?"

Ziva stared at the elevator doors for several moments, then quickly grabbed her backpack to dig out her phone. She punched #2 on her speed dial.

"Ziva?" Tim crossed over to her. "What...?"

Tony's phone rang only once before it flipped over to voice mail. Silently, she looked at McGee, her eyes boring into his, and held up her phone so he could hear, too. At the end of the message, she raised the phone to her ear and spoke low and fast. "Tony – as soon as you get this, call me please." She snapped it closed and immediately started texting.

"Ziva?" Tim asked again. " ... what do you know?"

She finished her text and sent it quickly, looking back up to McGee again, her concerns taking hold. "Tony was offered another team," she said quietly, "and apparently this time had been considering accepting it."

"Did he tell you that?" Tim gaped, stunned.

"No. But ..." She wavered, blinking back a sudden moisture that stung her eyes. "I was told ... that ... he admitted this to someone. Is Pensacola open?"

Tim went back to his computer, his fingers quickly opening their HR website. "Maybe he's just on a case – Ziva, he wouldn't just leave without saying someth..." He suddenly was silenced as he stared at the screen, eyes widening. "It's posted. Or ..."

"The office?"

Tim nodded. "It's been up for three weeks, posting for an SSA, Pensacola. But ..." He frowned, then looked up at her. "The site was last updated last Wednesday."

"And ... you think that it's no longer available, McGee?" she whispered.

"I can't believe he'd just take off," Tim resisted his own gut's alarms now. "He'd say something..."

"With how he's been lately?" her eyes welled against her will and she swiped at them, angrily, in her frustration. "McGee..."

Tim frowned, a stubborn set of his jaw showing his unwillingness to believe the obvious. "Look – Gibbs will know. No use in assuming the worst 'til we know. When he gets back – Gibbs will tell us what's going on."

Ziva had no doubt of that. She was just worried about what he'd have to say...

To be continued.