Truths and Covert Lies: Chapter 29


Tony DiNozzo supposed he should be glad that the hospital's HR person, or whoever she was, spoke English, but to be honest, he wouldn't have felt any less lost—or any more bored—had she been speaking German. He glanced over at Dr. Shmuel Rubenstein and saw the glazed look of the dark eyes under his glasses and realized he wasn't the only one who felt that way. He was sure it was worse on the physician; it wasn't his first trip to that hospital, and certainly not his first orientation at a healthcare facility.

The hospital where Dr. Nurick had been treating Director David seemed to be better described as a sprawling compound in the rolling foothills of the Alps, not far outside Vienna, Austria. It was the type of place that one could tell, just by the first glance, catered to the incredibly rich and possibly famous. Not only did it have its own helipad, it had its own landing strip, and they apparently had a customs agent on retainer, negating the need for Mossad's Gulfstream to fly into the international airport nearby. The dour Austrian had frowned at DiNozzo's American passport, so different from the Israeli ones of the other passengers, but didn't comment as he flipped through to find an empty page on which to stamp. He handed it back without a single word spoken.

After the lecture from the HR woman—she had referred to her position as a guest relations specialist—they decided to get settled before doing anything else, and one of David's drivers escorted them to their respective accommodations. Dr. Rubenstein was to stay in the spare bedroom of Director David's hospital villa, whereas Zirwas was staying at an adjoinging safe house next to Tony and Ziva less than a kilometer from the hospital. "Well, it could be worse," Tony said as he collapsed into a chair while Ziva did a security check on the already-secured townhouse. "We could be in the same safe house as Zirwas."

"Why my father chose him as an aide is beyond me," Ziva commented bitingly. "The house is secure."

"Now, there's a surprise," he muttered as he rose and picked up his bag to carry to the bedroom, where he unpacked for the second time in two weeks. He remembered fondly the days when he would just live out of a suitcase and leave his stuff around the room; his time as Agent Afloat had changed that for him. There was nothing more annoying than to have your stuff move around with the currents.

His luggage now properly stowed, he sat on the bed and immediately frowned. "Well, that's a disappointment," he mused. "After the comfortable king-sized bed in your father's apartment, and now we get this? A lumpy, uneven queen? And does this place even have air conditioning, because I know how you like air conditioning—." He stopped talking when Ziva's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Not now, Tony," she snapped. "We need to stop by and see my father before dinner." A teasing glint appeared in her eyes. "And then we will see just how uncomfortable that bed is."

"Why wait?" he asked lightly, his hand resting on her hip. "We can just—"

"Only if you want to skip dinner," she interrupted.

"Okay, bad idea. Let's go." He rose from the bed to the sounds of Ziva's chuckle behind him. Quick visit to Ziva's father, and then maybe he'd be able to convince her to visit that pizza place they drove by on the way to the safe house. He was pretty sure it wouldn't be as good as his neighborhood pizza place, but after remaining kosher for two weeks, he'd settle for anything with pepperoni.

---

Director Eli David waited five minutes after Ziva and Agent DiNozzo left his hospital villa before he called his aide. "Shalom, Aaron," he said. He didn't even wait for a response before continuing. "Ziva and Agent DiNozzo have left to eat dinner. I informed them that they do not need to see me again tonight, and they will not. Now would be a good time."

"Yes, Director," Officer Zirwas replied. "Is there anything you need, sir?"

"No. I expect you here in fifteen minutes." He hung up the phone before Zirwas had the opportunity to respond.

Almost fifteen minutes on the spot later, David heard a light knocking on the door. "Enter," he called out in Hebrew, his hand inching toward his weapon in case it had been anyone but Aaron. He relaxed at the familiar sight of the blond officer. "Come, have a seat," he offered, gesturing toward the chair. "We have much to discuss."

"Yes, Director," Aaron replied with a nod as he gingerly placed himself in the plush chair. "I spoke to your secretary earlier today and informed her that you will continue to be on leave. The appointments that could not be covered by Deputy Director Ruthven have been postponed indefinitely."

"Good," David replied with a nod, even though he considered the conversation a waste of time. Aaron was not a secretary and should not be concerned with such tasks. "I fear that your trip to Austria might have been a waste," he said, his voice carefully modulated. "I will not be conducting business here, as very few know that I am in the country."

"Do not worry, Director," Aaron replied. "I will find a way to keep myself occupied."

---

Tony was wrong. The Mossad safe house did have air conditioning.

When Ziva woke gradually, the dim pre-dawn light entering from the window, there was just a feeling of… completeness at the moment, something she didn't know if she had ever felt before. Aside from the orientation to the hospital—the same orientation she had received the year before, when she traveled to Austria with her father after his diagnosis—everything had gone smoothly. Tony was being his usual joking self, from the comments about the bed to the request for extra pepperoni on his pizza. She snickered softly. She supposed it had been cruel of her not to inform him that Peperoni on the menu was actually peppers, not spiced pork sausage, but the crestfallen look on his face had made it worth it. Fortunately for him, she liked this Peperoni and, knowing that he would make that mistake, had ordered a pizza that would be more to his liking - with extra Salami - and traded with him when their orders arrived. His eyes had narrowed in that way that they did when he was scrutinizing her as he realized that she had done that intentionally, but the joke had set a light mood for the entire meal. That general lightness had extended through a stroll around the small village—the Austrian version of a suburb—on their way back to the safe house. It was one of those walks where neither had anywhere they needed to be; they weren't in a hurry and they knew it, a rarity for them. Everything had been calm and slow, from their pace to the light contact between them—an arm around a shoulder or a waist, fingers brushing together leading to grasped hands, a joking poke to the midsection, a tickle—and they were still relaxed when they returned to the safe house, the unhurried atmosphere taking the form of warm kisses, languid removal of clothes, and murmured words of love and affection. For the first time in what seemed like a long time, there was no rush, no need, no anger in their lovemaking, just two people who were glad to have each other in their lives and wanted to take the time to show it.

It had been a perfect evening, one that reminded her what exactly it was that caused her to fall in love with him in the first place, and she could only hope that it would lead to a perfect morning.

At the moment, she was wrapped securely in the down comforter, fully aware that more of the blanket was on her side of the bed than Tony's and not bothered by that fact in the least—if he were awake to rectify that situation, he would—listening to the quiet rattle of the air conditioner and the low snores coming from her partner's mouth. He was lying on his side, facing her, and it never ceased to amaze her how many positions he could sleep in. Most people preferred one side or the other, or the stomach or back, but he could fall asleep just about any way he could lie down.

Without really knowing why, she reached out, running her fingers over the stubble of his cheeks, and not surprisingly, his eyes opened at the touch, then closed again. "What time is it?" he grumbled.

"I do not know," she admitted softly. "I just woke up."

"Mmm." He didn't say anything further, but she knew he hadn't fallen back asleep. She knew if she waited long enough—"Waking me up for a reason?"

She chuckled low in her throat, knowing what he was referring to. "Not necessarily."

"Hmm." She laughed again and scooted closer to him, feeling his arms close around her obligingly. She again gently traced his jaw with her fingers before closing the distance between their lips. The kiss was long and warm and deep and not really going anywhere, which was why she wasn't disappointed when they separated, their foreheads resting against each other, Tony's hand knotted in her hair at the nape of her neck. "I really do like the new haircut," he murmured, still not fully awake. "And I like the curls. It looks good when you straighten it, too, but… I like the curls."

"You do not think it is too short?"

He shook his head, his eyes again closed. "It reminds me of when we met," he informed her, "when you were slouching provocatively in McGee's chair. You're a damned sexy woman, David." She chuckled at his words and moved herself into a more comfortable position, one arm resting on his chest, the other loosely draped over his hips, their feet intertwined. The way both valued their space, it wasn't often that they slept like this, but when they did, it brought Ziva a feeling of comfort she couldn't quite explain.