I'm back! Here's the 2nd to last chapter... I hope you guys enjoy. Thanks for your continued patience as I wrap this up. It is both a great and sad thing. ;-) Special hugs and thanks to Ana for reading this over and providing super awesome feedback! Hee. ENJOY!
(21)
Washington, D.C.
Washington, D.C. – Five days later
It's amazing how much her life has changed in a mere three weeks.
Ziva considers this as she makes dinner. In Tony's kitchen.
She finds herself smiling as she chops vegetables for their salad. The weight of the knife in her hands is comforting and familiar. The rhythm of swish-and-thump as she dices tomatoes and peppers is music to her ears.
Three weeks ago she was fighting for her life, a life that meant little more to her than orders and survival. She remembers how stark the grey world of Mossad was in comparison to the color she was used to living day in and day out at NCIS. When Jenny died, when Ziva's position was terminated, her life changed drastically. She just had no way of knowing how drastically.
The trajectory between then and now is steep; an unexpected progression that she traces back with confusion and wonder. How did I get here? Who am I now? What happens next?
These questions quiet as she concentrates on the tasks at hand. Wash. Slice. Stir. Toss. Sautee. The actions are simple, instinctive. She's always liked cooking for that very reason. It gives her control over chaos. It's an act of creation in the face of destruction.
The questions that remain hardly matter. She is confident the answers will come soon enough.
Sampling the marinara sauce that simmers on the stove, Ziva grins and imagines Tony's look of delight when he tastes his favorite dish. He had to report to NCIS today, his first day back. Since returning to D.C., Ziva hasn't done much more than sleep and unpack. Most of her possessions are still en route from Tel Aviv and she is thankful she never had the time to unpack them in the first place. Tony did not have time to sublet his apartment before being shipped out, so at least they have his place to stay for now.
Though the living situation is going to be yet another hurdle for them to overcome, for now Ziva is enjoying the close proximity to her former partner. Even if it means tripping over the shoes that Tony seems to leave at random intervals on the floor. After months of not seeing the big lug, she hasn't quite gotten tired of him yet.
Ziva had intended to go visit NCIS today but after a day spent reorganizing her life, a brief check in with her obstetrician downtown, and the start of the tedious process of job hunting, she found herself too exhausted to make the trek to Navy Yard. After setting up an appointment with Director Vance for the next day, she had decided to wait until then for her homecoming. She smiles at the thought of seeing her friends again.
"Ziva, I'm home!" Tony's voice, an imitation of Ricky Ricardo, rings through the apartment a moment after she hears his key in the door. She listens to the sound of Tony kicking off his shoes and dropping his gear as he follows his nose to the kitchen. "Something smells delicious!"
Ziva says nothing, just waits for him to appear in the doorway. It's worth it to see the look on his face as he appears in the kitchen, taking in the sight of her in his space. She gives him a sly look as his eyes appraise her. She knows he is appreciating her bare legs in nothing but the Ohio State t-shirt she snagged from his drawer.
"Do not get used to it," she scolds, waving a knife at him and his glazed-over eyes. She realizes this scene must look like some domestic fantasy and she wants to make it very clear to Tony that it won't be a regular occurrence. The threat only makes a smirk appear on his face and an instant later he is wrapped around her, breathing her in, as she goes back to chopping.
"Mmm," Tony murmurs as he dots kisses on her neck. "My woman barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen—I think I could get used to this."
Ziva responds by slicing a red pepper with such force that a piece of it goes flying off the cutting board. Tony chuckles and eases the hemline of the t-shirt she is wearing up a few inches, fingertips skimming her thighs.
"Easy there, tiger," he winks at her when she pulls away with a glare and emphatic thrust of her knife. She watches him sample some of her marinara sauce and moan in pleasure. "You know I bow down to your superior knife skills."
Ziva rolls her eyes and goes back to chopping vegetables. "As you should, Tony."
He sticks his tongue out at her.
"Abby was very sad that you didn't make it in today," Tony says as he opens the fridge. "But I think she's secretly glad because now she can surprise you tomorrow. It may involve a cake of some sort, so come hungry. Woah! What's all this?"
"Vegetables, Tony," she responds as she puts the finishing touches on their salad. Tony makes a face as he scans the fridge before moving onto the cupboards with a frown. Ziva hides a smile. She spent a good chunk of the day at the grocery store. Tony's kitchen is now stocked full of healthy foods. "They're good for you."
Tony snorts his disbelief and pops open a beer he finds buried in the depths of the fridge. Ziva eyes the drink wistfully.
"It is important that we eat healthy, for the baby." Ziva gives Tony a significant look. He puts his bottle down on the counter with a sheepish grin.
"I don't see what's so we about it," he mutters, at least having the good sense to begin setting the table before she can respond. Ziva waves her knife at him again. "Kidding. Just kidding," he amends with an overly bright smile. He sneaks a cucumber from the salad. "Mmm, delicious!"
A few minutes later, they are digging into her feast. Ziva grants herself a moment to enjoy this surprisingly mundane scene, dinner with Tony, remembering yet again the night that led them to this point. We could've so easily never made it here. Tony catches her staring at him and starts to speak with a mouth full of food. Catching her disgusted look, he shuts his mouth and continues eating.
"How is everyone at NCIS?" Ziva asks once Tony has slowed down his pace. His eyes light up at the question and he quickly swallows so he can answer.
"Same old, same old," he replies, the light in his face revealing his happiness at that finding. "Abby got a new tattoo. I'll let her surprise you with where. Probie is trying this new hairstyle that is such a total rip off of Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic that I swear he took a photo straight out of Bop magazine to his barber."
Ziva grins. "And Ducky?"
"Talked my ear off. Palmer, too. I think he's picking up a few too many of the good doctor's habits." Tony details more of his day to her and Ziva finds herself regretting not making the time to stop in. Tomorrow. She will see them all tomorrow.
"It's good to be back," Tony finishes, beaming. They both pause for a moment, considering how even though some things will soon go back to normal there are so many things that will not.
For one, there is no longer a place for her on Gibbs' team.
Ziva sighs when Tony's smile fades a little. She knows that he wishes she could just slip back into her place as liaison officer. As his partner. "I am meeting with Vance tomorrow."
Tony pushes some pasta around his plate. He doesn't meet her gaze. "Do you think you'll take it?"
Ziva hesitates. "I do not know."
"You'd still be at NCIS, at least occasionally," Tony hedges. He looks up at her. Ziva shifts in her chair.
"I would," she allows. Her father has arranged a position with the Israeli Foreign Ministry for her. She would work as a deputy security consultant through the Embassy, liaising specifically with the Navy and, thus, NCIS. The job would be a good fit for her, drawing on her knowledge of foreign affairs, intelligence, terrorism and the inter-workings of the Navy, and would keep a door open for her at NCIS when she is able to obtain citizenship. "I would miss the field work, though."
"You'd be on light duty, anyway," Tony says with a sigh. She knows he wants her to take the position. "At least I would get to see you sometimes."
She smiles at his pout, unable to resist teasing him. "You would not see me otherwise?"
Tony scrunches up his nose. "You know what I mean."
"I am still exploring my options," Ziva responds firmly. She places her silverware carefully on her empty plate. Tony gets the hint and begins clearing the table. She watches him for a moment and picks up on his annoyance. It irritates her, not in the least because she may not have been in this position if it weren't for her pregnancy.
No, that's not true. She was ready to sever her ties with Mossad before she found out about the baby. She started the process when she took the liaison position years ago; it was just time to finish it.
Tony clatters around in the kitchen for a few minutes, taking out his frustration on the dishwasher. Ziva concentrates on breathing. In and out. The sudden panic she feels surprises her.
She hears Tony approach her at the table, feels his eyes on her, and hears the heavy sigh that expels his irritation. She takes a deep breath, trying not to let her mood show. You knew what you were getting into when you made your choices, Ziva.
"Hey," he urges, kneeling next to her chair and putting a hand on her bare knee. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Ziva mutters through clenched teeth and suddenly feels very silly for allowing her emotions to get the better of her. She concentrates her gaze on Tony's forehead, studying the furrows there.
Tony gives her a look that says he knows otherwise. He rubs her leg. "I'm just going to miss being able to look up from my desk and see you sitting across from me whenever I want. I'm going to miss watching you growl at suspects and fight with the plasma clicker. And I will definitely miss having a trained assassin on my six. I mean, who else will help me superglue things to McGee's desk?"
Ziva smiles at the memories. "I am sure you will find someone, Tony."
"It won't be the same," he says, and lifts her chin with his knuckle so that their eyes meet. Her breath catches in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. "But that doesn't mean I would change anything."
She studies the flecks of blue swirling in his eyes and believes him.
Patting his hand, she leans into him. The promise of his warmth draws her in, makes her realize how much she's missed him in the hours they've been apart. It is going to be tough not working alongside him sixteen hours of the day. Sure, she will probably be less likely to kill him for stealing her snacks or doing one of his silly imitations, but she has grown accustomed to his constant presence.
"I think we should skip dessert, yes?" Her gaze drops to his lips. She hears Tony swallow when she traces a finger along the same path.
The brilliant grin that eases across his face makes her stomach flip. She raises her eyebrows at him as she starts to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. In a move that surprises her, Tony manages to stand and scoop her into his arms before she can do more than yelp in protest.
"You've been working out, I see," she laughs as he carries her toward the bedroom. She pushes away from him, enjoying the resulting tensing of his muscles as he tries to keep her in his arms. Tony grunts in response. He tries to throw her off her game by whispering in her ear the fantasies that were running through his mind all day. Ziva touches him, light stroking, testing, teasing touches, wherever she can reach. She chuckles into his ear as he recites a particularly detailed daydream he had involving cornering her in MTAC. She always suspected Tony had a truly dirty mind.
He attempts to toss her onto his bed, but she maintains her grip on his neck and pulls him down on top of her. Tony makes a face when he realizes she's got him in a strong hold.
"Play nice, David," he teases before kissing her soundly.
"I always do," she smirks, her hand working at the rest of the buttons on his shirt. She nips his collarbone, inhaling the scent of his skin. "You know, Tony," she begins as she gives him enough space to wiggle out of his clothing. She bites back a laugh when he forgets to undo a cufflink and nearly rips the sleeve off his shirt trying to shed it. "Not seeing each other all day has its advantages."
"Oh yeah?" He says distractedly as he struggles with the zipper on his pants.
Ziva takes pity on him and begins to help. "Yes," she answers as she runs her fingernails across his furry stomach. His muscles clench and he ceases his clothing struggle to look at her. "It is as you wrote: absence makes the heart grow fonder."
His eyes darken at her words, as they both remember his email to her so many weeks ago, and she grins knowingly in response.
Tony kicks his pants to the floor. "I like the way you think, spy girl," he grins and pulls her body against his. Their eyes lock, their gazes more open than they typically allow. "In fact," Tony adds, eyes sparkling, "I love the way you think, Ziva."
Ziva can't hold back a bark of laughter, a bubble of merriment that bursts from within, when she reads the humor on Tony's face. He's teasing her, but playfully so. Before she can respond to his words, though, he's kissing her again. The gentle dance of his fingers over her skin is at odds with the heat in his kiss, and she can't imagine anyone else ever being able to drive her this crazy, ignite such a fire low in her stomach.
Tony did always have a knack for getting under her skin.
Washington, D.C., Six days later
Tony leans back in his desk chair and stares up at the catwalk. Ziva has been in Vance's office for forty-five, no, make that forty-six minutes.
He frowns and tries to see through the wall. No dice.
What the hell is taking so long?
With a sigh, he goes back to re-organizing his desk. After an hour of Vance griping about his lack of movement within NCIS, a traditionally transient organization, Tony was reassigned to Gibbs' team with Vance's "strong reservations." Vance was still weighing which inferior Gibblet to demote back to desk jockey status, but Tony can only hope it is the weird, drooling one who makes Probie look like Special Agent of the Year. Hedging that bet, Tony had insisted Langer take Keating's desk and had moved Keating to the annex desk. All in all, it was not a bad first day back.
But that was yesterday. Today he has nothing better to do than restore the perfect order of his desk, with every file folder in its logical, if not alphabetical, place. His eyes flick up to the empty desk across from him. He can't help the wave of disappointment that washes over him when he sees who is not there.
For so long, that was Kate's desk. He would glance up from his computer game to find a smirk on her face as she teased him, or that look of righteous indignation she gave so often. He remembers marveling that her make-up managed to stay perfectly in place as the hours wore on and how she inevitably kicked off her shoes under her desk, wiggling her painted toes where she thought no one would notice. After a long night spent doing paperwork, it never failed to lift his spirits to make her blush or to send her off on a rant about something or other with one well-chosen remark. Kate had a habit of rapping her nails on her desk that drove him crazy, but he counted on her solidarity when the coffee shop gave Gibbs a burnt cup of brew and loved that she always seemed to know when he needed a pep talk.
She was a good agent, a better partner, and a great friend.
And then she died.
When Ziva took over that desk, things looked the same to any casual observer. Ziva was yet another pretty, young agent who liked her work space tidy and sat up straight in her chair. But there were differences, too. Ziva didn't glare when she thought she was being slighted because of her sex; she smiled her crocodile smile and snapped at the first hint of blood. She favored tight pants and odd headgear over suits and heels. And then there was that whole trained assassin thing.
At first he resented Ziva's presence in Kate's space, but those irrational feelings subsided as more disturbing emotions began to emerge. Like the thrill of electricity he felt when he'd look up to catch Ziva's dark eyes studying him, dissecting him. Or the trust he instinctively gave over to her long before she'd earned it. He quickly grew fascinated by the woman across the aisle from him. He noticed that when she began to slouch slightly in her chair and tap her temple that work was boring her and she would be easily amused by a prank. He discovered that when a certain crease formed on her forehead she had hit a lead, and that when she was feeling particularly flirtatious she would let down her hair only when she was certain he was paying attention. He's learned all these things and more, and still hasn't gotten bored of studying her from across the way.
The empty desk is a bit unsettling. He doesn't like the idea of looking up to see Lee staring at him with her eager eyes He doesn't like that he has to get used to someone who is not Kate and not Ziva. He doubts Lee would engage him in a paper football game or protest his paperwork beat boxing with nothing more than a one-eyed glare. An empty desk means that Kate is gone and will never return, and that Ziva is gone and he has to worry if she will ever return, and it's all just very stressful. Kate and Ziva mean two very different things to him, but he will never forget Kate, and sure as hell will never forget Ziva, and he isn't sure there is room in his heart for anyone else.
But forget the desk. Ziva has become such an integral part of Team Gibbs that it's painful to imagine the team without her.
Who else can they count on to disarm any bomb they encounter or take down the most belligerent of suspects with the mere flick of her wrist?
He was always so worried that if he gave into the desires he felt for Ziva, he would lose the best partner he's ever had. That he would irrevocably screw up the dynamics of the team with his relationship inadequacies. That worry was present long before he realized exactly how much he cared about Ziva. By the time he realized how significant she was to him, that maybe it was worth the risk to kiss her just once and mean it, the team was being torn apart and he was presented with both the freedom to pursue those feelings and the crushing prospect of never seeing her again. And so the inevitable happened.
Now he's staring down a hopefully long future with Ziva, but he's also faced with the reality of never working alongside of her again.
Ziva is no longer his partner. She is no longer a Mossad super spy. She can't legally carry a gun. Yet. (He's quite sure she will find some way to make this possible, no matter how many arms she needs to twist.)
He's relieved to find out that none of these things change his feelings for her.
Because she may no longer be NCIS or Mossad, but she can still scare the piss out of a probie with a single word. She will still mangle the English language, sometimes innocently and sometimes just to make him smile. She will always be able to make him dumb with desire with the barest shift of her gaze or break his heart with the downward flutter of those dark eyelashes that hide the vulnerable brown eyes behind them.
He was being honest when he said he wouldn't change a thing. He wouldn't. Because if giving up Ziva as his partner means that he gets to spend every night wrapped around her body, that he has the freedom to wind his fingers through her hair whenever he gets the urge, and that she will be there every day listening to his stories as he tries to make her laugh…well, he definitely comes out ahead in the deal.
Still, it's going to suck breaking in a new partner.
"Tell me that smirk is because you're thinking about doing page 57 with me over that desk," Ziva's voice suddenly purrs in his ear, interrupting his thoughts. Tony's mind zooms straight to that very thought, recalling her allusion to that issue of GSM they both had her first day at NCIS. His grin widens. Even though that particular article is burned on his brain, he still saved that issue for posterity.
Not removing his eyes from the empty desk, where he now sees an explicit image of their naked bodies engaged in the specifics of page 57, Tony answers his former partner, "Well, I am now, sweetheart."
Ziva chuckles and spins his chair so that he's looking at her. Tony studies her. The stitches had been removed from her scalp wound that morning, leaving her with just an angry red line on her forehead and the matching one on her neck. Aside from that, though, she is her usual, beautiful self. He doesn't know her normal morning routine yet, but she took longer than he would've thought to straighten her hair, apply a little make-up, and put on some of the nicer clothing she brought back from Tel Aviv with her. He assumed it was because she wanted to make a good impression on Vance at their meeting. Whatever the reason, it is nice to see her all dressed up, looking refreshed and healthy.
Ziva is still grinning at him, that wolfish, predatory grin that never fails to make his bones shiver, as she moves in closer. He sits up in his chair and shifts his legs open, inviting her into that space. She slides closer to him. When she leans her head down to his, a veil of hair falls over her face; his body floods with heat in response. His hands move reflexively to her hips, fingers inching under the cotton of her shirt. Sometimes, she's too damned good at seducing him.
At least now he's allowed to touch.
"Forget page 57," Tony murmurs as she runs her hands over his shoulders, resting her forehead against his. "We are firmly in Bullpen Fantasy territory now. Pun definitely intended."
With a snicker, Ziva leans down to peck him on the lips. "And how does that one go, my love?" She cradles his cheek in one hand, twisting the hair at the base of his neck with the other. As far as he's concerned, they are in their own little world right now. That is always the problem with Ziva, remembering that the real world spins independently of the orbit she sends him into.
Whatever. Vance can take his badge and eat it. He has Ziva in his arms and he frankly can't be bothered with much else right now. He's spent too many days, hours, and years stopping himself from touching her in this very way, in this very space. Now that he has permission to do it, he sure as hell will.
Besides, there's got to be at least one upside to no longer being partners, right?
"Let me show you," Tony replies, throwing caution to the wind and abruptly rolling his chair forward a foot and sending Ziva toppling into his lap. Her laugh floats through the air. He secures her body to his, pausing only a brief second before closing the distance between their lips. He is surprised when Ziva responds to his kiss rather than pulling away. Maybe Bullpen Fantasy isn't such a long shot after all…
"Ah, so many things make sense now," a voice interrupts them.
Ziva pulls her mouth away from his, but doesn't bother to move from his lap. She shifts so she more or less sits on his knee, arm around his neck. It makes him grin when he realizes who their audience is. He keeps his arm firm around Ziva's waist.
"Agent Fibbie," Tony acknowledges derisively. Langer is wearing a particularly offensive blue suit today. Langer rolls his eyes at him, then shifts his gaze to Ziva.
"Officer David," he nods. "It is good to see you again."
Ziva gives him a tight smile. "Thank you, Agent Langer." Tony can see annoyance flash across her eyes and it makes him happy.
There is a moment of awkward silence.
"Well," Langer clears his throat and gestures toward his new desk. "Better get back to work. Didn't mean to interrupt your…whatever that was."
Tony frowns when Langer sits down at McGee's old desk. Ziva squeezes the nape of his neck affectionately. He turns to her, his irritation melting away at the spark in her eyes.
"He didn't mean to interrupt us," Tony says, putting on his most innocent face. Ziva's mouth quirks into a grin and, taking his hint, she gives him another quick kiss. It lacks the passion of what they were previously engaged in, but the fact that she's willing to kiss him at all in front of another agent, in the bullpen, makes him a very happy man. That's my Ziva; doesn't give a donkey's butt what other people think of her.
"Ohhhh!" A sudden squeal interrupts them again. This time there is little doubt who caught them in the act. Before either he or Ziva can look up, though, Abby has jumped onto them both and sends his chair careening backward into the cubicle wall with the force of her enthusiasm. Tony grunts.
"Oh, you guys!" Abby's voice is somewhat muffled in what he thinks is Ziva's shoulder as she tries to wrap her arms around them both. He lets out a low moan at the amount of weight being pressed against his knee. He isn't sure who's shirt he's clutching to keep them all from sliding out of the chair.
"Hello, Abby," Ziva responds, somewhat winded. Tony frowns at that and tries to push both women off his lap so Ziva can get some air. Abby fixes him with a dirty look, but lets Ziva up. She immediately scoops the assassin into her arms again.
"Ziva, Ziva, Ziva!" Abby is nearly crying now. "I missed you so much! I was so worried. So worried! And you were all over the news looking just awful, but of course you were able to escape and, oh my God, I thought we would never see you again. And then you…and Tony…. and now you're…and I told myself I wouldn't…"
Abby bursts into tears. Ziva eases out of the goth's arms, a panicked look on her face. Abby's rollercoaster of emotions is to be expected, but this was a particular steep descent.
"It is okay, Abby," she tries to soothe, awkwardly patting the scientist on her back. "Don't cry. I am here now."
McGee swoops in and pries Abby from Ziva's arms. Abby blows her nose on Tim's tie. He frowns. "I think she's just a little overwhelmed. There has been a lot of change lately. You know Abby doesn't do well with change. She said she wouldn't be convinced you were actually safe until she could hug you."
"Do not talk about me like I'm not here, Timmy," Abby scolds. "You know I'm just happy Team Gibbs is back and safe, even if we're still not back back. Even if the team won't ever be back like it was," her lower lip trembles with those last words and Tony's heart goes out to his friend. He broke the news to her yesterday about Ziva's resignation from Mossad. She seemed to take the news well at the time, mainly just happy they were all safe and in D.C, but clearly the idea had some time to sink in.
Abby lets out a great sigh. With one last swipe of her eyes, she gains control of her emotions. All tears cease as suddenly as they came. To Tony's surprise, her makeup remains intact. She must've invested in some waterproof mascara.
The storm gone, a sunshine smile erupts on Abby's face. He can practically see her searching for a silver lining to the situation. Her bright eyes dart between Tony and Ziva. Tony squirms, suddenly feeling like one of the specimens under her microscope. "And I knew you it! I knew you guys had a thing! It's about damn time you pulled your heads out of your respective behinds. And you both look so happy!"
McGee grimaces as he tries to blot Abby's tears out of his tie.
Tony feels an uncharacteristic heat bloom in his cheeks, and he isn't sure if it's because Abby clearly had their number or because of the soft smile on Ziva's face as she studies the carpet. He stands up from his chair and moves next to her. He bumps his shoulder into hers. Their eyes meet; they are both grinning. And that warm, fuzzy feeling he's been having quite a bit lately is back in full force.
"Okay, okay" Abby backs up a step, amusement playing on her face. 'That's about enough cuteness from you two. Any more and I might start running DNA tests to be sure you are who you say you are."
"Sounds like a good idea to me, Abs," Gibbs strides into the bullpen. He spares only a quick nod in Ziva's direction. "Make sure they aren't pod people or something."
McGee jumps to correct the Marine, "Actually, boss…"
"Don't care," Gibbs snipes. He grabs a folder from his desk and waves it at Langer. Apparently understanding this unspoken command, Langer jumps up to grab his gear. "Take Keating and Lee."
"Yes, sir," Langer nods. Before he leaves, he offers Ziva another well wish and Tony has to stop himself from physically removing the G-Man from the squad room.
"I've always disliked that guy," he mutters under his breath.
"Jealous, Tony?" Ziva sing songs, purposefully tracking Langer's departure with a saucy look. Tony makes a face at her.
"Ha! As if!" Tony rolls his eyes. Seeing that McGee and Abby are otherwise occupied, heads bent together and conspiring, he leans in close to Ziva to deliver the final blow, "Besides, you're having my baby. Not Agent Brownnoser's." Take that, NCIS wannabe!
He stands up straight, feeling very smug. His smirk is short-lived, though, when he sees that Abby and McGee are currently looking between him and Ziva like they've sprouted tails and wings.
Abby is wearing a grin that would light up the Vegas strip.
"You told him!" She claps in delight, giving a little hop that sends all her chains rattling.
Apparently his voice wasn't as quiet as he'd intended. Tony sneaks a peak at Ziva, whose lips are pursed in a thin line. She shoots him a look that says Bullpen Fantasy is a no-go for the foreseeable future.
Then, something clicks in his brain.
Tony narrows his eyes at Ziva. "You told her?" He jerks his head in Abby's direction.
Did everyone find out about my baby before I did?
Ziva looks confused. "Of course not. How could I have…?"
"I'm afraid we violated your medical rights, my dear," Ducky says apologetically as he enters the bullpen. "In our efforts to locate you, we came across your hospital records."
"Oh," Ziva nods, not seeming at all bothered by this revelation. Tony ignores the look she throws at him, apparently still peeved by his little slip-up. "I understand," she says and the tension in her face eases. She accepts a warm hug from both Ducky and Palmer, who had trailed his mentor into the room.
"I suppose congratulations are in order, then?" Palmer shifts his gaze between Tony and Ziva. He adjusts his glasses and can't seem to decide whether or not to grin.
The serene smile that blooms on Ziva's lips makes Tony's heart speed up. He feels his own face respond in the same manner; his cheeks are starting to hurt from all the smiling.
"Yes, thank you, Jimmy." Ziva nods, eyes sparkling.
Glancing around the bullpen, Tony makes a mental calculation.
"Okay, that's it," Tony throws his hands up in the air. "I get to break the news to someone. I mean, this is a red-letter day! Anthony DiNozzo, international playboy, is settling down. There should be women in mourning!"
Ziva pats his cheek, a teasing pout on her face, "Tony, I think you give yourself a little too much credit. Those women are not mourning; they are celebrating their freedom."
"Ha," Tony makes a face at her. "Funny."
Ziva winks at him. "You can tell the waitress at the taqueria down the street. She is always making eyes at you."
With a frown, Tony thinks of the lovely Lorena. "But she gives me free guacamole."
"Not anymore," Ziva huffs.
Ducky chuckles and shakes his head. "Ah, young love."
Abby stands at attention and snaps her fingers. "McGee. Palmer. Party. Stat."
McGee and Palmer rush off to comply. Tony shares a look with Ziva; knowing Abby, this could mean anything from a single cupcake to a full mariachi band.
In the end, it turns out that Abby's surprise party is nothing more extravagant than a bouquet of colorful balloons and a homemade cake decorated with pirate ships and hearts. But the gesture is touching and Tony can see that Ziva's surprised by the fanfare, which makes him happy.
Abby connects her iPod to McGee's speakers and "Welcome Back" starts playing at a respectable volume. Abby sashays around the bullpen singing, even managing to give a reluctant Gibbs a twirl, before pulling Ducky in as her dance partner for a few measures. Tony applauds Abby's song selection and doesn't miss the opportunity to pull out his best Vinnie Barbarino impression, schooling Ziva and Palmer in the finer points of the Travolta hip swivel. McGee slices up the cake and by the time the song is over, they are all laughing and singing.
Tony watches Ziva for a moment as she chats with McGee. They are both grinning as she waves her arms wildly, making a point. She senses his gaze and looks up to catch his eye. Her smile widens and he knows they are thinking the same thing:
It's good to be home.
*
"Special Agent Gibbs!"
Gibbs looks up from his bite of cake to see Vance at the railing of the catwalk. The Director jerks his head in the direction of his office.
"My office, now," Vance says in a tone that leaves little room for argument. "And tell your team to get back to work. Or have we caught all the criminals already?"
His team goes quiet, celebration over.
"Geez, our lunch break isn't even over yet," Abby pouts as she gathers up the balloons. Palmer cleans up the cake and offers to put the leftovers in the lounge, as both he and Ducky say their goodbyes to Ziva.
"Good party, Abs," Gibbs says softly to his favorite girl as she mopes by him. She offers her cheek up for a kiss, which he doesn't deny her. The smile he gets in return is worth the trip he's about to take into Vance's den.
"C'mon, Tim," Abby calls in a much happier tone, tugging at the balloons in her hand. "Let's go release these from the roof."
Abby and McGee say their goodbyes and head out. Gibbs considers what remains of his team: Tony. He sighs.
"I want you catching up on our open cases, DiNozzo," he orders as he grabs his coffee and heads for the stairs. "David, don't you have better things to do than distract my team?" His wink flusters Ziva and she fumbles for something to say.
He doesn't wait for her to respond, just takes the stairs two at a time to Vance's office. He walks in.
"Agent Gibbs," Vance nods from his desk. "How's DiNozzo working out for you?"
"Fine," Gibbs replies, studying the man. Trying to figure out the real reason he was summoned.
"Good." Vance leans back in his chair and places some folders to the side. "I spoke with Ms. David this morning."
Gibbs just raises an eyebrow.
"I think she will take the embassy position."
Thinking of the discussion he had with Vance and Eli David, Gibbs nods. He had hoped Ziva would. It is a good opportunity for her, and in her best interest from what he could tell. His gut seems to agree with it, at least.
"That why you called me up here?" Gibbs knows it isn't.
Vance chuckles. "It concerns your team. You've got DiNozzo back. And I'm reassigning Keating to Cybercrimes."
"Agent McGee?" Gibbs quirks an eyebrow at the Director. He wants both his men back.
With a put upon sigh that gives away too much, Vance stands. "I want answers about that mole."
"And you'll get them," Gibbs promises, still angry that Vance saw disbanding his team as the only way to accomplish such a mission. And neglected to tell him about said mission until recently.
"Agent McGee will be reassigned to your team starting Monday." Leon levels him with a significant look. Gibbs is not intimidated. Seeing that, a wry grin curves the Director's lips. "Too bad David thought it best to resign from Mossad."
If Vance thinks that dig will rattle him, shake the faith he has in his team members, he is sorely mistaken. "She had her reasons," Gibbs responds shortly, taking a sip of coffee. And it's true. Maybe he doesn't know or understand all of them. Maybe he wishes Ziva would've held onto her Mossad post just a little longer, had just a little more confidence in his ability to get her back and safe at NCIS. But something tells him Ziva's resignation was less about job satisfaction and more about making a statement. And he won't begrudge her that.
Besides, he trusts that he will get her back on his team eventually. After she pops out that DiNozzo spawn, hopefully.
"Are we done here, Leon?" Gibbs asks when it doesn't seem Vance has anything more to do than stare at him.
"For now, Agent Gibbs," Vance says coolly, showing him the door.
Gibbs tries to hide the roll of his eyes as he walks out. He doesn't try too hard.
Dammit, Jen, he thinks, it's times like this when I really wish things would've gone differently.
He pauses at the top of the stairs to take in the scene below. Tony, Ziva, and McGee have pulled their chairs together in a circle, reminiscent of one of DiNozzo's campfires. He can't hear what his team is talking about, but the grins and chuckles assure him it's nothing to do with work. He shakes his head, but allows himself a moment of reflection. Descending the stairs, he decides to give them a break and make a coffee run before interrupting.
He'll give them a few more minutes to pretend that things are just like they used to be.
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