IT'S ALL BUT PRESENT FROM NOW ON - you might want to check out those chapters recently branded with "PRES" for a little continuity in the story. As for the case, there's an inclusive recap awaiting you farther down the scrolling track here. It's peripety-time in this chapter; the real fun's still up ahead, I promise. Thank you once again for your loyalty to this story, I hope I can entertain you in every possible, story-wise way with it: keep reading, keep reviewing and we'll all be a bunch of happy-happy cookies! :)
ChEmMiE: Just to clean the slate: You're still supposed to be (a little) confused :) But yes, of course everything will be cleared up. As I said, the case is going to be resolved continually from now on and this story is pretty much planned-through, so there should be no loose ends left at the end of it :)
NCIS-Addict-4427: Loving the coincidence of it - the names, I mean :) It's funny that you point out the meaning of your name...I'm always a little ahead with the planning of future chapters and you might be able to repeat that special feeling in the future.
mar-hhr4ever: I'm glad you like the present-past-merger, even though there's (intentionally so) still a lot of confusion left. It's interesting that you don't like Gibbs here, though. But I've always thought of Gibbs as a distincly polarizing character - so, in the twisted logic of my mind I'm actually glad that you have your outright problems with him. He's not supposed to be easily relatable or understandable. If you want to take the time and specify your dislike, I would be happy to explain my reasoning for writing him this/that way. As for the (late) call you mentioned: Well, to his defense, Ziva had just been in a car accident and Tony hadn't been around that much for the past two years to stand on Gibbs' top-priority-call-list. But yes, underlying reservations playing into it maybe? Yes, definitely. You always have to remember that the last chapter was days before Gibbs chose to confront some of his reservation in the elevator-scene with Tony ;)
Chap 21 Reaching out for the Unlimited
Tuesday, November 19th 2018
The day had started out as a comparatively normal one. 'Normal' referring to a kind he would not actually call 'normal', but it was the best Tony DiNozzo could do right now, the most his own life could do for him right now. Abby had come over again to help him in the morning. He knew she might have planned not to come a second time but before leaving NCIS yesterday, when he was collecting the kids from her lab, instead of arguing about her shelving his secret-sample he quietly asked her to come. He wasn't entirely confident that he could do it without her, and a lack of confidence he had seldom known. It was a completely foreign feeling to him and he struggled to deal with it. It was a genetic thing, really. Just like an adversity to help, an adversity to asking for help - but that he had discarded a while ago.
Tali was cranky enough for two once again, but Tony couldn't blame her: so was he. While his relationship with his daughter was slowly getting better, he still avoided pushing his chances and rather went along with David's and Abby's advice: let her move at her own pace. Before climbing into Abby's car, she had given him a chaste wave goodbye and a smile. He still couldn't hope for a kiss or a hug but she didn't shy away from him anymore. She unquestioningly took his hand when they crossed the street, she gave him short but clear answers to his questions and in-between his heart relished the odd statement directed unswervingly and unflinchingly at him. If there was something indistinctly positive that had come from Ziva's accident, it was the mending trust between him and his daughter.
After dropping David off at school, Tony still had enough time for a little stop. On his way to the hospital he stopped at a flower shop he knew sold the flowers he wanted: gagea dayana, a flower native to Israel. It was a simple, bright yellow flower with coy stamens and protruding, tapering petals forming the shape of six-pointed star. As such it was often mixed up with a similar flower, that which was known as the Star-of-Bethlehem. Ziva had once told him that gagea dayana was probably her favourite flower for exactly that reason: Because it looked like a star of Bethlehem but wasn't quite it, though. They were extremely hard to get, but he thought a visit to his comatose life partner warranted a little extra.
716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard
Two and a half hours later Tony staggered through the doors of the elevator into the NCIS squadroom, looking completely shell-shocked. He meandered towards the bullpen, stopping short at its entrance when Gibbs built himself up in front of him. Tony merely seemed to register a physical presence blocking his path but everything surrounding him seemed lost to his distant eyes.
"Tony!" McGee called innately, jumping up from his chair and over to his boss and co-worker.
"You're two hours late", Gibbs growled. The clock on the far wall showed twenty minutes to ten in the morning.
"I couldn't reach you all morning", McGee continued aggravatedly.
"Cell phone off", Tony stammered quietly, his emerald eyes slowly gaining focus.
"What the hell's going on with you, DiNozzo?", Gibbs barked, slamming his newest cup of coffee down on Ziva's desk.
Tony looked from one man to the other, from Gibbs to McGee and back. His hold on the backpack loosened and it slipped down from his shoulder, over his arm and sank to the floor. He opened his mouth to speak several times but no sound escaped his dry throat. Gradually but surely, McGee's stomach started to churn in dread and Gibbs' face contorted with the hint of worry on his otherwise serene features. Suddenly, Tony's head jerked backwards as if some awakening spirit had eventually returned to him.
"Ziva's awake."
51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse
Despite its usual haziness the air in the warehouse seemed comparatively thicker than usual. There were four people: three men and one woman. One man was standing unmoving on the side, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his blue eyes narrowed in consideration. The oldest of them, a half-smoked cigar clasped tersely between his chapped lips, was pacing a straight line of about ten feet from the back partition of the hall to the margins of the seasoned lamp's faint glimmer. That same glimmer highlighted the small portion of grease that held the third man's blonde-brownish hair in meticulous position while his green eyes slit through the murkiness of the hall. He seemed unfocused, his mind racing a mile a minute. The woman, however, was the most fidgety. She was continually tapping her fingertips together in a habit she had picked up during college and the long hours of after-class prep time for their case studies.
Finally unable to hold back her own exasperation any longer, the woman called out, "Everything's unravelling here!"
The green-eyed man was immediately by her side and roughly grabbed her face. Even though he was only a few inches taller than her, he shoved her face upwards by the chin and dragged it violently closer to him. "No, it's not", he sneered.
"It's not?", the older man cut in disbelievingly, stopping hard in his pacing tracks, "First she doesn't die and now she's back with the livin'. I thought the whole point was to off that fucking bitch?"
The blue-eyed man shook his head. "Now, now. Just because she is standing in our way, does not make her a woman of easy virtue."
"Don't you dare patronize me", the older man spit out, tossing the cigar from his mouth, "This is your job. Your part gone awry."
"I know", the blue-eyed man stated evenly, uncrossing his arms, "And I will deal with it."
The green-eyed man let go of the woman's face, disregarding the bruises his fingers had left along her jawline. She pressed a hand to her mouth so as to stifle the whimpers that threatened to escape her throat. The man turned towards the other two. "How?", he inquired.
"There is still a chance. In the end", the blue-eyed man assessed plainly.
His green eyes widening in realization, the shorter of the two cautioned, "That is, if everything else goes according to plan."
"Will it not?"
"God damnit!", the oldest of the group cried out menacingly, "Listen to yourselves! We spent years planning this fucking stunt and now it's all going to hell in a hand basket!" Neither man flinched at his outburst, only a vague moan could be heard resounding in the wilting structures from where the woman was standing and watching.
"Plans have flaws."
"Yeah, where's your flexibility, Sarge?", the green-eyed man quipped, a cunning smile on his face.
"Lying in the Iraqi desert with the rest of 'em", he growled, smacking his lips against the butt of his cigar.
"I think it best we lay low for some time, await their next moves."
"Why?", the woman asked quietly.
"Because there are two possible alternatives right now: Either they get on to us...or they don't. And if they do, we got to move fast."
"Can't we just make sure they don't?", the older one retorted.
"Not anymore."
"Never planned on it."
"So what?"
The blue-eyed man's face stayed as unperturbed as ever. His dark hair was merging seamlessly with his black jacket within the darkness. His low, guttural voice almost echoed from the midst of it. "Plans have flaws...and backups."
The green-eyed man smiled, nodding his head. "So we stick to the backup. And wait."
716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard
When the doors of the elevator opened into the hallway leading to Abby's lab, Tony was met by the merciless blaring of music. Without any children's eardrums to take into consideration, Abby was probably pushing it to the limits, he gathered. He slowly crept forward, thinking he was being - at least compared to the music - reasonably quiet. But the moment the tip of his new Italian loafers protruded the threshold, Abby jolted upright at her desk. Surprised, he stopped hard in his tracks and looked around suspiciously, finding his own face gleaming back at him from the plasma screen across the room. Apparently, Abby had installed a camera - a camera focusing on the entrance to her lab. Tony felt strangely trapped.
With a jerk Abby whirled around and for a moment Tony feared that the forensic specialist wasn't actually Abby but a body snatching, A.I.-d clone of hers pointing a gun at him. But what he thought a gun was actually the stereo remote. Still unmoving, he watched her flick her finger and the music stopped. In its place the 20th Century Fox fanfare started booming through the lab. Upon his persistently anxious looking face - and seeing as a digitally magnified version of himself was staring back at him, Tony was pretty sure about him looking anxious - a beaming smile sprang to Abby's face and she shuffled over to him, engulfing him in a bone-crushing embrace.
"Ziva's back, Ziva's back, Ziva's back!"
"You know?", Tony exclaimed, pulling back.
He looked somewhat degraded now. After McGee had almost jumped out of his skin and he had witnessed one of those rare and true Gibbs-smiles upstairs, he had actually been looking forward to breaking the news to Abby and watching her get all happy-go-lucky with joy.
"Yeah, I called the hospital-"
"Wai- You what?"
"I called the hospital, Tony", she reiterated, shaking her head at him, "Like I do every day."
"And they talk to you too?" Where was all that hospital policy, we-only-talk-to-family crap he had witnessed an accumulation of the finest actors and actresses go completely berserk over in an even greater accumulation of movies?
"I can be very convincing... And I annoyed the policies out of Gladys, the woman at the admission counter. She's a diehard bowling fiend by the way. She was part of the Wonder Team of '97 when the nurses took over the reign from the nuns, but we've been unbeaten ever since-", Abby rambled but stopped abruptly upon Tony's falling face, "Ziva woke up! She's awake!"
"So I've heard", Tony laughed.
Abby turned around and started pacing around the room, her arms flaring along. "She's conscious and responsive and her blood works came back clear and her CAT scan and EEG were normal. Her sternum and rips are healing together perfectly and the latest post-op check-up showed nothing unusual, no leaking wounds, no late effects. She's good as new", she listed in one hasty breath, a grin lightening up her entire face.
Tony was slightly aghast at the information range of the one and only Abby Sciuto, seeing as she already seemed to know everything Dr. Bennett had called to inform him about just ten minutes ago. Then again, she was Abby and he decided not to question that again. "She's Ziva", he declared plainly and with a smile.
"You were there?"
"Yeah...gave me a heart attack too", he laughed, stepping over to the desk and leaning against it, "When I came in, doctors and nurses were all over her."
"You talk to her?"
"No, wasn't allowed inside for too long. Just got a look at her once...and...and she was looking back at me-" His voice suddenly broke off. He had waited so long, sickeningly long to see her dark eyes again. "I mostly waited for her attending to give me the goods."
"So, you haven't talked to her yet?"
"No, Abby, I haven't", Tony had to chuckle at the forensic specialist's eagerness, "They carted her off to do more tests when I tried to go back in. Bennett's keeping me posted. But I'll go back in my lunch break...?"
"Good, good", a pensive edge erupted in her voice, her mind slowly drifting away from the lab, "That gives me more than enough time to prepare."
For a reason that stemmed from experience with Abby's idea of preparation, Tony blurted out uneasily, "Prepare?"
Abby instantly shook her head, clicking her tongue mock-disappointedly. "Tony, Tony, Tony... Don't you watch the sappy movies, the mushy tear-jerkers? First, the beau gets to have his tearful heart-to-heart with his convalescing damsel and then, the best friend goes all caramba with the welcome-back-to-the-living bash."
"Right...", Tony started, approaching Abby understandingly and putting a hand on her arm, "But seeing as we are talking about Ziva here, our Ziva, the self-sufficient buzzard of damsels, you might wanna tone it down a notch or two-"
"But she's never-"
"Those welcome-parties were all for Tali or David. I'd never ever in the wildest of my dreams - dreams even wilder than baby Tony having been confused with the prince of wherever-little-island and actually being heir to a throne and a small fortune, living The Prince Diaries DiNozzo style...question your prerogatives as their Auntie. But... Ziva took the whole 'feeling like she's been hit by a truck' kinda literally, so go easy on the woman...please."
Even though Tony seemed completely sincere - in a Tony-way, of course - Abby couldn't help but smile even broader because of his little speech. It was probably the most he had said to anybody in the last four days. So, not only Ziva was back - Tony was too. Skipping the last theme of conversation altogether, Abby inquired, "When's she allowed home?"
Tony chuckled. "What? That you don't know?"
"I guess Gladys the counter lady was afraid I'd go all psycho on Ziva if I knew", Abby shrugged.
One of many possible comments was already hanging on the tip of Tony's tongue, but somehow he couldn't. He just couldn't. The moment was too perfect, too happy-perfect. It needed balance. Serene and truly happy, he answered, "They still wanna keep her overnight for observation but when that checks out, she's good to go home sometime tomorrow." The combined thought of 'Ziva', 'home' and 'tomorrow' sent a grin to his face he just couldn't seem to wipe off.
Abby's gaze simmered down to Tony's hand. She pointed at the clipboard. "That your makeshift greeting card there?"
"Wha-? No", Tony retorted, handing it over, "That's a chain of evidence log for the case. We, Gibbs and I...and Tim... We'd need you to go over all your evidence again. And best start with the unusual stuff... Unusual for any case and for this one in particular."
Abby's eyes skimmed over the various items on the log, nodding her head along to it. "Well, I found a quarter of a fingerprint on the lid of the jar the brain was in? I can start with that. It's been no good so far. I can't look for anyone with it, launch a primary search, you know. I can only rule somebody out or confirm their involvement. Thus far I tested the prints of every party involved in this but they're scarce and in-between and I got no matches yet."
"This is bigger than we think it is", Tony asserted, his eyes and demeanour returning to business while a vague smile on his face persisted nonetheless.
"Gibbs say that?"
"My gut say that", Tony smirked, "Try matching prints from recent incidents, recent Metro cases, NCIS cases, FBI cases. Heck, try Coast Guard too if you have to."
Abby, elevated not only by the array of new-found and possible leads but also by joys closer to home, saluted with a beaming grin adorning her face, "On it, boss!"
3800 Reservoir Road, N.W. - Georgetown University Hospital
"I thought you had been a dream", she said quietly, her voice raspy from the endotracheal tube and from not having used it in days, "But when I saw the flowers I knew you really must have been here."
Tony could only smile at her assertion from where he was leaning against the doorframe. He had arrived at the hospital half an hour ago. When he had entered her room, it had been hard to believe how light and warm it had seemed. Its whiteness still sent chills down his spine, but it at least appeared lived-in. He had thought her to be sleeping with her head turned towards the far wall and had lingered in the door, just watching her. They had exchanged the cast on her left arm with a lighter, smaller one. Most of the patches and gauze was gone from her face, and so was the tube from her mouth. Her chest was moving in rhythmical breathing all on its own, if shallowly against the enduring pain due to her sternum and rib fractures. Her hair had been neatly combed.
"I should've known the accident wouldn't affect your mutant ninja skills", Tony quipped and crossed the small distance between them. He stopped next to her bed and waited for her head to turn while softly caressing her arm with his thumb.
"Well, according to my doctor my ninja skills were not the only thing luckily unaffected", Ziva sighed, but he could hear a small smile playing on her lips.
"How're you feeling?"
"Doped up on painkillers, yes?" She tried her face at a grin as she finally turned around to face him.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips rather noticeably when he found her dark brown eyes staring back at him once again. For a moment he was lost for words, just looking into her eyes, ambers in emeralds. She seemed tired, but her eyes were smiling. "And despite feeling hopey-dopey?"
"Quite well, really. I have a little trouble breathing but as I hear...that is to be expected with a cracked sternum and broken ribs."
Now, he hadn't actually expected her to jump around and shoot daggers at moving targets from the one side of the room to the other, but she appeared weaker than he had hoped her to be. Dr. Bennett had informed him that Ziva hadn't gotten a lot of sleep since waking up and that she would probably be hardly responsive. She was responsive alright, but she wasn't herself yet.
"What is it?", she inquired, concern creeping onto her face as she reached up to touch his arm with her uninjured hand.
"I- Nothing, don't worry", he appeased with a smile, taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss against her knuckles, "I'm just happy that...that you're-"
"I know." She smiled meekly.
"Abby, McGee and Gibbs are sending their love...Ducky and Palmer some sort of Scottish folk dance which I resent to re-enact in fear for your eyes' innocence", he continued lightly and grabbed a chair next to her bed.
"I appreciate...that", she retorted with a small nod.
"They'll come by tomorrow, all of them. But I successfully talked Abby out of booking the USMA Glee Club for a sing-along."
Ziva merely nodded and for a split second her eyelids tilted shut.
"You okay?" Tony was immediately by her side again, bending over her with wrinkles of alarm on his forehead.
"Yes, just tired."
"I can leave, if you-"
"No, stay", she countered decidedly, smiling a real smile now.
"Okay", he assured her, taking his seat again and cradling her hand in both of his.
"The kids. How-"
"Great." His assertion merely earned him a frown on Ziva's face. She could always tell when he was lying, and lying better than right at that moment too. "They're doing okay. Missing you like crazy, though."
"I miss them too...very much."
Ziva arched her back despite the shooting pain in her chest for a little more air. Tony could feel his hands twitch to reach out and help her but he knew she would either ask or he would easily feel her true need for help if he was truly needed. She hated needing help and the next weeks were most likely going to fuel that aversion evermore. He didn't need to overstress from the get-go.
"David missed his try-out on Friday", Tony continued and her eyes shot open momentarily, "I almost forgot because of...well, you know. Gibbs reminded me. So, I gave them a call yesterday and he can try out next Friday. It'll be at a different school but if he qualifies they'll place him in Gavington's team."
Ziva rolled her eyes down at him and smiled appreciatively. "Thank you. I would have never forgiven myself if-"
"It's just a soccer team, Ziva-"
"It is important to him."
"Believe me, you're more important to him than soccer", Tony retorted easily, "That son of ours gave me a run for my money with the Mama Ziva 101."
Ziva chuckled. Sometimes David's dutiful devotion reminded her of a young Ari and she relished the differing circumstances and chances her son would have. "An old soul, Nettie was right after all", Ziva mused, "And Tali?"
Tony looked at her apprehensively for a moment and he could see that she was anxious about his answer. Ziva knew better than anyone - knowing her daughter better than anyone, after all - how much of a veritable bombshell her sudden absence must have been to the relationship between father and daughter. "We manage", Tony answered truthfully, a coy smile lightening up his face, "We're doing better by the day actually. We have a designated daddy-book now for her bedtime stories...and she's fully dubbed in English now, no need for subtitles anymore. She's getting real bossy too..."
Ziva could almost feel his glee, his almost boyish delight at re-establishing layers of trust with his three-year-old daughter and she felt immensely relieved. She felt as if a huge anticipation of dread had fallen from her sore shoulders and she fell back against her pillow. The adrenaline boost that Tony's visit had caused was slowly wearing off and with the assurance that her family was okay she could finally let go and surrender to much-needed sleep.
Tony got up from his chair and leant over her recuperating body, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. "I love you", he whispered, brushing a hand through her dark brown hair.
"I love...you too", she mumbled faintly, her voice already laden with drowsiness.
He couldn't help but remember that four days ago he had not gotten an answer to that same sentence of truest emotion and he couldn't have felt happier. She was back. He gently placed her arm down at her side. "I'll be back with the kids in the evening", he assured her, adding on a higher note, "You better be ready then."
A vague smile tugged at the edges of her thin-lined mouth. Almost asleep she nodded her head. They would be back.
716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard
Later in the afternoon Tony and McGee were staring blankly at the plasma between their old desks, both munching on their respective take-out lunches in utter silence - apart from the odd smacking sound. The screen showed an anime-capture of their initial crime scene. Ever since the change of tactics late yesterday evening, they had reviewed every aspect of their case at least three more times since the first.
As for the facts, Sergeant John L. Rivers and Corporal Andrew Kent were murdered by a professional killer who had headed them off in front of their favoured bar between eight and nine o'clock in the evening on Sunday, November 4th. Both Marines were stabbed to death with a single, targeted hit. The Sergeant was found by NCIS' MCRT in the woods near Quantico with his head speared on a pike a few hours later, while the Corporal was brought to a cabin near Brunswick/Maryland. There, one eyeball, hand and ear were removed along with his brain by at least two accomplices before his corps was buried on the grounds.
These body parts were found at different locations all over the city: the hand in Sergeant Rivers' locker at a local detox facility, the eyeball in a jewellery casing during an official ceremony at UDC, the ear in an urn at a Columbian restaurant in Annapolis and the brain meticulously preserved in a jar at the cabin. Each new find uncovered a new lead for the subsequent one.
Up until now the victims' solitary life, the lack of motif and abnormalities had continuously hindered their ongoing investigations. Finding Corporal Kent - or rather: his corps - had proven more challenging than expected.
They knew a black Chevrolet Malibu Classic was somehow involved as the shovel that had been used to bury Corporal Kent had held fibres customary to, among others, this brand's trunk carpeting and Abby had identified matching tire tracks. And they suspected that the killer had been trained in the tradition of kidon or a cognate mindset.
"I still don't get why anybody would kill those guys", Tony stated eventually and probably for the fiftieth time that day.
McGee sighed exasperatedly. Looking over at his former and now temporarily reinstated co-worker, he could see Tony gnawing merrily away at his sandwich. "We've been over this", McGee pressed out through gritted teeth, "They were chosen arbitrarily, just not arbitrarily arbitrarily."
Tony's jaw stopped crunching and his eyes narrowed. "Did you just adverb an adverb?"
"Totally legit grammatical move des lettres", McGee retorted with a small smirk, tilting his head to the side.
"And what does it mean, McProfesseur?"
McGee lowered his lunch-clutching hand. "It means that our two dead Marines could really have been any two Marines-"
"-as long as they fit the profile", Gibbs inserted plainly, strolling into the bullpen with a file he immediately slammed onto his desk.
"The prolific profile in question here being a low-key life, inconspicuous conduct, below-average sociability and probably two or three more parameters to be factored in."
"They weren't killed because they did something. Those boys were killed because they didn't do anything", Gibbs assessed blankly, stepping up to his agents.
"I know I should be naming at least five movies that fit that bill, but...", Tony's eyes momentarily lost focus and he started staring off in space, "...but I can't. Good Gandalf! I think I lost my powers. Now I'm condemned to lead the life of a common...pirate, if you know what I-"
Suddenly Tony felt a familiar yet distantly forgotten, stinging sensation on the back of his head. Yes indeed, he had been Gibbs-slapped. He hadn't been Gibbs-slapped for years. Just when he was about to turn around and say something, Gibbs' face challenging him for some kind of rebuttal, the clunky clatter of plateau shoes on bureaucratic carpeting could be heard. Abby was approaching and the three pairs of eyes turned simultaneously towards the sound. And really, Abby came to a halt at the entrance of the bullpen, her face contorted in a serene grimace of sincerity.
"Boys, I think you'll need to revise that", she asserted cryptically, pointing at McGee's animation that was still featured prominently on the big plasma screen.
"What do you got, Abs?"
"What do you got, Abs?"
Tony and Gibbs inquired in unison, both trying hard to ignore the not-so coincidence, Tony by gulping down the last bite of his sandwich rather soundly and Gibbs by momentarily shifting his weight to glare at Tony before turning back to Abby.
A little confused as to who she was supposed to direct her answer to at first, Abby's eyes eventually settled on Gibbs. "Bossman: motherlode. Big-time."
Gibbs eyebrows furrowed noticeably and he stepped over to his desk to retrieve a fresh cup of CafPow. Handing it to Abby, his eyes asked distinctly for a translation as well as an elaboration on the matter. Abby smiled appreciatively and proceeded to take her first sip but stopped herself upon Gibbs' expectantly raised eyebrows.
"Work first, sip later. Got it", she commented mock-seriously and stepped a little closer, her eyes wandering along between the three men, "So, after Tony told me to go back to the evidence we already had and to start off with the fingerprint on the jar lid, I did a micro-analysis of it, which I hadn't done before because...that's not what you do with a perfectly normal fingerprint. I mean, it's a fingerprint, it's- Well, be that...as it may, I found miniscule traces of blood."
She put her newfound CafPow down on McGee's old desk and, after giving it a swift longing gaze, went over to the plasma. She procured the appertaining files from her computer down in the lab via an intra-network connection accessible by a touch-screen function on the lower right corner of the screen. Immediately, McGee's animation was replaced by a compound graph showing particularly low but interestingly enough diminutive traces of haemoglobin. All three men stepped closer to the screen and followed her indication. While McGee and Tony took a sudden step back when Abby whirled around with a crafty expression on her face, Gibbs merely smiled.
"Then I thought, maybe the guy who helped our ripper dissect Corporal Kent cut or...or punctured his finger and tore his gloves when he hacked into him, so I went back to Kent's clothes and ran down every little speck of...whatever on his shirt. And there it was!", she ended triumphantly, her eyes knowingly wide and her right index finger raised.
"Was what?", Tony inquired.
"Blood", Abby breathed reverently.
"Again", McGee stated dryly.
"Yes, Timmy, again!", Abby countered incredulously, "Never ever mock the forensic powers of the juice that circulates through our bodies, the fuel that livens our lives, the fluid of existence, the...the-"
"Don't get carried away now, Abs", Gibbs cut in plainly.
"Right. Well... The blood. It matched. The blood stain on Kent's clothes and the blood in the print were a match. Tony said to try recent cases but I went all out and included not only homicides but every ever so little case from robberies to car accidents in the Tri-state area during the last six months. So, I ran the DNA from the blood sample and then cross-checked with the fingerprint that was useless on its own...despite its...Picasso-shaming twirls and whirls...and there it was: Motherlode."
Abby grinned victoriously and flicked her finger against the plasma screen, pulling up the driver's licence of a man named Chad Michaels. The picture showed a grim looking man in his late forties with fairly short, light brown hair and indiscernibly coloured eyes.
"Chad Michaels", Abby read, turning back around to witness the effect the following words would have on the three men, "The guy who presumably committed suicide by hitting the next-best oncoming car."
However, her words didn't take any effect on the guys, all of them looking at her with strangely impatient expressions.
"Well, did not!", Abby elucidated, her voice growing more agitated, "That's the guy who rammed Ziva's car."
Now her words were sinking in with full force. Gibbs' brows furrowed in a menacingly distinct manner while McGee's eyes widened and his jaw dropped noticeably. In contrast, Tony's jaw clenched and the muscles along his neck became visible, his emerald eyes ostensibly gaining colour.
"Why didn't you get a hit on him earlier?", Tony blurted out in one breath.
Abby ignored the angry note woven through his statement. "Because he's filed a suicide case. Because he hadn't been in the system yet when I first hit the evidence. Because he's apparently never attracted anyone's attention. Because, like I said before, the itsy-bitsy fingerprint wouldn't have narrowed it down to only him. Because-"
"He the killer?"
Abby shrugged her shoulders. The print and blood stain merely proved that Michaels had touched the jar with the brain and had been close enough to Corporal Kent to leave a small blood stain. It was all circumstantial, still. "Can't know that yet, but how big a coincidence can it be when the guy, whose fingerprint's on a jar lid and whose blood is on a corps involved in our Oscar-worthy ripper case, crashes the car of one of its lead investigators...of all people on that road last Friday?"
"None", Gibbs asserted evenly.
"Didn't think so", Abby continued, "And the car he's driving? The car that hit Ziva's? A Chevrolet Malibu Classic, four-door hatchback sedan, the same car we positively placed at the cabin where Kent was dissected and buried."
Gibbs immediately turned away from the screen and towards his agents. "McGee, background on Michaels. And put the new intel into your model...thing."
"On it, boss."
Then Gibbs' eyes set on Tony, but he looked hesitant to issue a direct order at Tony. Tony, however, anticipating what Gibbs was about to say, stated quickly, "Call Metro, get evidence on Ziva's accident to Abby and secure a court order to exhume Michaels' body."
Gibbs nodded his head, put on a small smile as he kissed Abby on the cheek and then left the bullpen to go upstairs. Abby and Tony followed his retreating figure for a moment before their eyes met in a smile - even if Tony's seemed a tad bit more terse than usual.
3800 Reservoir Road, N.W. - Georgetown University Hospital
Tony had called Sarah early in the afternoon to tell her the news and given her the day off. He would leave early, pick up the kids and take them to Ziva. Gibbs certainly didn't object but his former and temporarily newfound boss wasn't what bothered Tony the most.
He had contemplated the question of how best to tell the kids about Ziva all day. McGee, the new warden down in the lobby and Abby (twice actually) had caught him staring off into space when he had actually been thinking about Tali and David. Even Vance had called him on it when the Director had picked a particularly awkward moment to express his congratulations. Tony knew that the kids would be ecstatic. That's what scared him actually. The Ziva he had visited a few hours earlier had been worn down by medications and pain, had been fragile and tired. The kids were used to the energetic ninja of a mother. Heck, he was used to the energetic ninja. It had been so hard to see her so broken despite his own joy and relief. Then again, however, maybe he was projecting his own fears and insecurities onto their children. After all, he could still remember the horror of walking into his mother's hospital room mere days before her early demise and seeing her completely shattered by the effects of chemotherapy, her emaciated body. He would give the world to have her vivacious joie de vivre be his last memory of her, but alas, whenever he thought of his mother now he saw her gaunt and withered. But that wasn't even an option now. Ziva would come back, full force. Still...
When he had picked up Tali and Ms. Rachel had told him how understandably quiet and withdrawn the three-year-old had been all day, he'd say nothing. When Tali had boiled down her answers to monosyllabic mutterings, he'd say nothing. When David had gotten into the car and slammed his backpack onto the floorboard a little too dismissively for Tony's taste, he'd say nothing. When David had merely shrugged upon Tony's question as to his bad mood, he'd say nothing.
Not even now, walking down the familiar corridor towards Ziva's hospital room, did Tony say anything. Their faces looked dim, Tali was gripping his hand rather tightly and David seemed unusually preoccupied. Still, Tony couldn't bring himself to utter the words, he wouldn't have known how to. So, rather than preparing them, he merely opened the door to room 713 like he had done every day in the last three days and the kids wandered in, neither looking especially keen on watching their mother's emaciating body lie still and unmoving for hours on end. This time, however, it was different.
Ziva had been awake for good an hour, just staring at the ceiling and thinking. She was feeling better. Her wound healing had never been quite the same after the infections she had suffered in Somalia but it seemed she was right on recuperating track. When she had heard the door to her room open and not seen a white lab coat stroll in, she had shifted her weight carefully to the side. She could not fully turn but she could at least go as far as the searing pain would allow.
When Tali's eyes landed on Ziva's, Ziva's dark brown eyes staring back at her, the little girl's entire face lit up. "MOMMY!"
Ziva attempted to chuckle at the way Tali sprinted towards her bed, but the unfurling pain in her chest advised her against it. Thus a bright smile settled on her re-awakened face.
"You wake! You wake! You wake!", the three-year-old chanted, jumping up and down right next to her.
Ziva's eyebrows furrowed noticeably. She had expected them to know already. Hadn't Tony told them? When she looked up and towards the door, she could clearly see the answer to her question: There, David stood rooted to the floor, staring at her completely awe-struck and speechless. Tony had obviously not told them and his slightly apologetic smile told her he knew exactly that he should have. Ziva vaguely lifted her uninjured arm towards her son, and eventually David budged, letting himself be guided over to her bed by Tony's hand on his shoulder.
"Mommy", he mumbled.
"Shalom, neshomeleh." Ziva smiled at him. She reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. He just kept staring into her opened eyes.
"Why's your voice all gwumpy?", Tali inquired ingenuously, her eyes narrowing.
"Because your mommy hasn't used her voice in a long time, princess", Tony answered as he came up behind his daughter.
"'s her old voice go way?"
"No, don't worry, sweetie. Mommy will have her beautiful voice back in no time."
Tali nodded her head. "Up?", she requested chastely, staring hopefully up at her father.
Tony looked over at Ziva, his eyebrows raised questioningly, and found her smiling back at them. This most unperturbed exchange between daughter and father had just relieved all of her most pressing worries. She briefly nodded her head.
Tony easily lifted Tali up. Holding her midair, he bent forward and whispered into her ear, "Remember to be really careful with your mom, okay?"
Tali nodded solemnly before he placed her onto the edge of Ziva's bed. Ziva couldn't help but stare, her gaze jumping from David next to her, still clutching her hand tightly, to Tali in front of her. Ziva couldn't believe how much she had missed them. While Tony went to grab two chairs for himself and David, Tali looked on skeptically. Ziva waited for those wrinkles on her daughter's forehead to dissipate.
When they did, Tali spoke up quietly, "Mommy hurt?"
"Yes, a bit, tateleh."
Ziva smiled. When Tony had visited her, she had been barely awake and in pain. Now, the excitement about seeing her children again was somehow edging out all that. She just couldn't deny them a proper welcome-back. She couldn't deny herself that.
Tali reached out cautiously to touch the cast around Ziva's left arm that was resting on her side. The little girl observed Ziva's face closely, waiting for her mother to flinch or show any other sign of imminent pain. Ziva, however, kept smiling. When her hand finally rested fully on her mother's plastered wrist, she inquired, "Dat hurt?"
"No, tateleh, my hand does not hurt. But I cannot move it. See?" Ziva slightly lifted her arm and Tali tried bending her mother's wrist but couldn't.
"Face hurt?", the little girl continued immediately, pointing at the deeper cuts on Ziva's forehead and cheek where the stitches hadn't been removed yet.
"Not much, no."
When Tali started inching closer towards Ziva's face, however, Tony softly enfolded her small, outstretched hand in his. Upon her puzzled look, he explained, "You can touch mommy's arm 'cause the band-aid's really, really thick and she can't feel you touching it. But there're no band-aids on mommy's face, so we can't touch it, okay princess?"
"'kay." Tali nodded her head vigorously, determined not to hurt her mommy.
"What's that?", David asked suddenly and all eyes jumped towards the little boy.
He had been quietly observing their respective exchanges up until now, had compliantly taken a seat on the chair Tony had brought over but not once let go of Ziva's hand. She had taken to absently caressing the back of his hand with her thumb while her eyes had followed Tali's keen exploration of her condition. Ziva knew that he would need and take his time to process the sudden turn of events, no matter it having been a turn for the better, and that he would snap out of it when he was ready.
The six-year-old was pointing at the gauze compress that had been renewed around Ziva's chest in the morning and that was distinctly visible from where her hospital gown was exposing parts of her cleavage.
"Well, you know how your body is full of bones, yes?", Ziva started carefully, alternating her gaze between Tali and David.
David nodded. He remembered the skeleton in one of the books his mom and he would read sometimes.
"And these bones can break like the one in my arm. That is why I have to wear a cast on my arm", Ziva continued, raising the injury in question again to emphasize her point.
"A very thick and hard and heavy kinda band-aid", Tony added upon Tali's questioning look.
Ziva nodded her head affirmatively. Then she loosened her uninjured hand from David's grasp and placed it against the little boy's chest where the sternum was, "This is also one of your bones."
"And yours is broken too?", he inquired, the thought of breaking a bone in his chest driving an appalled look onto his otherwise serene face.
"Kind of, yes."
"But that's no cast there."
"No, it is not. Because my bone is not fully broken. That is why I only have to wear a very tight band-aid."
"And that's why we have to be really careful about hugging mommy for a while, okay?", Tony inserted, looking at the kids with raised eyebrows. They both nodded their heads, somberly yet understandingly.
"Can you come home soon then?", David inquired hopefully. The question had been nagging in the back of his mind all this time.
"I hope so, tateleh", Ziva answered quietly, smiling despite herself. She could see the longing in her little boy's eyes and couldn't help but feel it too. She wanted to go home to her children, her partner, her family. She had been granted so many second chances in her life already. She wanted to leave all this behind.
Suddenly, the six-year-old stood, stretched up and brushed a small kiss against Ziva's cheek. When he pulled back, he was smiling at her and it seemed, to Ziva at least, that he had finally understood what was happening: His mom had woken up. The wish he had been making every night for the last four days, for his mommy to wake up and come back to them, had come true. Ziva couldn't resist any longer and moved closer to the edge of the bed, pulling him carefully into her with her uninjured hand. She held him tightly against her shoulder, whispering soft words Tony couldn't understand and really, didn't want to understand. It was their moment.
Tony had meanwhile put his hand gently on Tali's leg, the simplest reassuring gesture he could think of. Nevertheless, the little girl seemed to patiently wait her turn. For a moment, when she had stormed into the room, Tony had feared the energetic little girl too inconsiderate, even if only accidentally, for Ziva's injuries. But the three-year-old kept surprising him.
When mother and son finally broke apart, Tony changed chairs and pulled David into his lap, from where the little boy immediately grabbed a hold of Ziva's hand again. She gave him a sweet smile before she turned to look at her daughter. Tali was staring at her intently, almost nervously.
"Do you want to lie down beside me, neshomeleh?", Ziva inquired knowingly, interpreting the little girl's fleeting glances quite accurately.
Tali nodded her head slowly. Ziva beckoned her closer with the free-roaming fingers of her injured hand and Tali tentatively inched closer. Ziva carefully shifted in her position, allowing the little girl to put her head onto her shoulder. She cuddled up against her mother and started playing with the fingers of Ziva's hand.
"Missed ya, mommy", she whispered, sighing contently.
"I have missed you too…so very, very much", Ziva returned softly, her eyes catching Tony's in knowing relief.