A/N: I am getting on a roll, here! Let's hope this sudden abundance in ideas for all my stories lasts through my Christmas break. I'll need something to do for the next month.

EarthDragon, the ghostly voice is not Kate. The voices (and I say voices because there is actually multiple) will be explained a bit later and at great length. They have a very important role in the story.

None, I'm a City of Milwaukee resident. I would be extremely proud to have a character in NCIS hail from or visit Milwaukee. There are many amazing aspects of the city that get over looked.

Warby, while I drool at the idea of McGee in a three piece suit, wrong story. I guide you to my other story, Nomenclature, for such images...lol

Enjoy this latest chapter!

Event Seven

Tony sat on his couch, staring at the item on his coffee table. A typewriter. The typewriter, along with McGee's surprisingly extensive movie collection, was all Tony wanted when the team helped the McGee's clean out Tim's apartment and put everything into storage for Sarah.

He could honestly say he wasn't too astonished by what the others had decided to take. Tony, himself, took the obvious options. Abby had taken Tim's computers and Xbox along with all the extras that went along with them. Ziva was quick to grab Tim's personal collection of weapons, consisting of all the knives he bought to go along with Rule 9 and a single handgun that was locked up in the safe. Ducky retrieved the signed first edition of Deep Six that Tim had displayed on his book case and the partially finished draft of Rock Hollow. Jimmy took the dart board off of Tim's wall. Gibbs had slowly packed up Tim's music collection and antique phonograph before stowing it all away in his truck. All and all, every single one of them took something that represented something they valued in Tim. Tony couldn't think of anything else any of them would have taken.

That didn't change his current situation, though. If the typewriter on his coffee table were a person, Tony felt that it would be glaring at him with a feeling of accusation. He accepted that Tim's death had been an accident. Obviously, they never could have seen it coming. Tony had even stopped blaming himself for not making Tim come with them to the ship that day. It didn't stop him from occasionally thinking that others were going to emotionally lash out at him since he was closest with Tim out of all of them. He'd been avoiding certain people like the plague because of that. But given his inability to stay away from the actual plague, perhaps that explained why he kept on running into these people at the Yard and when he was running errands. Awkward exchanges of words was all that had happened so far but the feeling in his gut was still there each time.

A rustling at his door finally had Tony looking away from the typewriter. His eyes darted to his clock, surprising him by how much time had passed since he got home that morning after his meeting with Gibbs and Vance. Tony got up to go open the door for whoever was having trouble with their key.

"Z..." Tony stood aside as Ziva let out a sigh of relief and carried in the bags she was holding.

"Abby has been unbearable all morning, Tony. She expected me to help her set up Tim's computer. Me! I know even less about computers than you do." Ziva immediately started complaining. She dropped the bags on Tony's kitchen table, spinning around and putting her hands on her hips. "How can I help set up a computer when I am more likely to damage it?!"

"Ziva..." Tony started again, his eyes sparkling in amusement at Ziva's exasperation. "Each death affects us all differently. Abby just needs someone to geek out with her to help her process everything."

"But would it not be more prudent for her to ask one of her friends who actually knows computers? I sat there, nodding silently, not understanding a single thing she was saying!" Ziva failed her hands about in irritation before thrusting her arms straight, hands in tight fists, with a melodramatic stomp of her foot. The overly...girly reaction Ziva was allowing herself to express was making it extremely difficult for Tony to keep a straight face. "I was considering taking Bert hostage when she finally said I could leave!"

"That would not have ended well." Tony walked forward to begin emptying the bags of groceries, mentally noting everything Ziva had bought for their dinner that night. He tried to guess her intended recipe by the ingredients in front of him.

"How was the meeting with Gibbs and Director Vance?" Ziva switched topics, her voice dropping the irritated tone it had before. Tony hung his head, pausing in his actions.

"Director Vance is considering his options. Gibbs is arguing to keep the team together, but Vance proved a point. I'm the only one with the issue and, in reality, should have been promoted years ago."

"Meaning?" Ziva stepped closer to Tony, giving him a confused look. He lifted his head to look at her.

"There's enough excess in the budget that Vance wants to create a cold case team at the Yard. He highly hinted at giving me the leadership position, to keep me in DC."

"That is good, Tony." Ziva paused to think over how to express her thoughts on the matter. "When Gibbs left for Mexico and you became our team leader, you did an amazing job. You deserve a team of your own, Tony. I believe Tim would agree. If the Director offers, you should take the position."

"I feel that if I accept, I'm abandoning Gibbs. I'd be willingly breaking the team apart." Tony began to argue. Ziva raised a hand and pressed a couple fingers against Tony's lips to silence him.

"Tony. You cannot work under Gibbs forever. Do not force yourself to deal with the pain of working in the Bull Pen just to keep him happy. Gibbs will learn to work with new agents." Tony remained silent at Ziva's declaration, not having much to argue against that. She was more concerned about him than the status of the team. Ziva gave Tony a small smile before removing her fingers from his lips and patting him on the cheek. "Now go get changed while I put the groceries away. We will go out for lunch."

Tony gave her a sigh of capitulation, dropping a kiss on her forehead before heading to his bedroom. Rolling her eyes, Ziva went about getting the groceries to their correct locations. The dairy products tucked away in the fridge. The pasta and canned goods in their correct cabinets. Everything in its place in a astonishingly organized kitchen.

It was taking Tony longer to get changed than it had for her to put everything away, so Ziva decided to wash the few dishes in the sink from their breakfast that morning. She was in the middle of washing a glass when she happened to glance up at the mirror above the sink, placed there because of the lack of an actual window, and barely managed to keep in her yelp of surprise as she dropped the glass.

"What did you break?" Tony called from his bedroom as the tinkling from the glass shattering reached his ears.

"Just a glass!" Ziva called back, her eyes glued to the mirror. She was afraid to look away. Her training in Mossad taught her that there was much about this world that she did not understand. That she was seeing someone in the mirror that she knew was not actually behind her was one of them. The face was blurry, hiding the identity of the man from her, but there was enough of a color difference for Ziva to see that the mouth was moving. Her Fight or Flight response kicked in, forcing her to look away for a second. When Ziva's eyes returned to the mirror, the man was no longer there.

"Ready to go?" Tony appeared in the entrance way, buttoning the last few buttons of his shirt. Forcing a smile on her face, as not to allude to her previous shock from what she had seen, Ziva nodded. She would worry about the man in the mirror later.