Chapter 29
Perimeter
(Ziva's POV)
I walk in at 6:55 on Tuesday, pleased to be back at work and feeling more capable to handle violent crimes again although I am uneasy about too many eyes on me.
"Hey, Ziva, welcome back." Tim has a genuine smile on his face. He is so easy to read, and I am thankful to have his transparency in contrast to the other more complicated relationships with men in my life.
"Thank you, McGee. Did you have a nice extended weekend?"
"Actually, I did. I spent most of the time reading. It was relaxing. And what about you? What did you do?"
Before I can answer we hear Tony's "Good morning, Probies."
That earns Tony a playful glare for reverting to his superior rhetoric, although I am secretly relieved that he is treating this as a normal day. When McGee is not looking he shoots me a wink.
Gibbs swoops through the bullpen, coffee in hand, tosses the keys to Tony and announces. "Dead Petty Officer. Grab your gear."
Gibbs lets McGee have shotgun so he can keep an eye on me himself. His actions betray no hint of worry, but he cannot help but be concerned and I believe Abby may be right about him having more than 5 senses. The ride seems longer than the 15 minutes that it should take, and I am getting antsy. I rub my hands on my thighs just to be moving something and when we pull into a parking lot near an abandoned warehouse I start feeling nervous, panicking that I will panic.
Oh, the irony!
I hear my heart but I close my eyes for a long second and clear my mind.
I open my eyes and see Gibbs looking at me from the corner of my eye. He pats my knee, "Let's go." I am thankful he did not call attention to my nerves. As soon as he steps out of the car he barks our assignments. "McGee, process the victim, Tony, pictures of the crime scene, Ziva, you and I have perimeter and witness statements."
Tim scurries into the warehouse. Tony lingers behind long enough to evaluate my state of mind with furtive glances. He saunters to the warehouse and Tim meets him at the door. Looking our direction, McGee is most likely giving him the details so he can decide how to handle me. Conveniently, Tony realizes that he forgot the memory card so he has an excuse to come back. If I did not know any better I would think that this had been orchestrated. Gibbs and I are still unloading gear from the trunk and he sends me to start processing as Tony passes me with a smile and a pat on my shoulder. I see them talk then Gibbs finishes getting organized and comes over to me.
"Tell me, Gibbs."
"The victim is a woman. Strangled, but that's the extent of her visible injuries. Your orders are to stay in the perimeter for this one."
"Oh come on! I can certainly handle processing this victim as well as I did before last week."
"I didn't say you couldn't handle it. All I'm saying is that you are staying on the perimeter today. Listen, I know how you feel. I was banned from all crime scenes involving kids for a year after Shannon and Kelly were killed. I hated Franks for it at the time, but now that I'm in his shoes I get why he did it. This won't be forever, just think of it as humoring an old man." He smiles at me. "Anyway someone has to do the scutwork, Probie." He puts both his hands on my shoulders turns me towards our territory, and sends me off with a slight push. My annoyance abates but I am still not happy about my limitations.
One Month Later
I have been allowed and able to walk into dark crime scenes as long as the victim is male. I still have an occasional hand tremor or nervous heart thumps, but strangely enough it seems as though I automatically have a hand on my shoulder or back whenever I enter any of these places. It could be any of their hands, but I believe the men have an unspoken pact that someone makes physical contact with me if they fear that I might become anxious.
Today we enter a crime scene and a strong smell that was reminiscent of the camp permeates our senses. I am with McGee who considers me with obvious apprehension, and then surveys Tony for confirmation. My partner's expression is sober and his protective eyes are on me. All three of us seem to register the musty scent of terrorism. I cannot tell exactly what the smell is or why this crime scene is different, but I have heard that smell is a strong memory trigger, and whatever this is, it is triggering reactions in all three of us. I am trying not to vomit at the repulsion growing inside me.
McGee is the one that speaks up.
"Uh, Ziva, I think you better go back and help Abby with tracking his movements over the past few days."
Gibbs was not inside the camp long enough for the smell to register with him, but he nods his agreement.
Tony puts his arm around me and turns me towards the door. "I better drop you off so that we're not left without a car." I let them coddle me on this one. As soon as I leave the building I break from Tony and vomit. No tears, no shaking even, just a physical reaction to the smell. I felt a familiar hand on my back.
"Better?" I nod. "Okay, do you want to go home or to the lab?"
"Once I get away from the smell I will be fit to work, let's just get out of here."
"Fine with me," he keeps his arm around me as we walk to the car. When we arrive at NCIS, he makes up an excuse to come in. Once alone in the elevator he flips the switch, softly says, "Come here" and wraps me in his arms. Neither of us says anything, we just stand in our embrace. Eventually he kisses the top of my head and releases me, all but my hand "Can I stop by tonight?" He had not slept over since we resumed our normal working hours and I have to admit I would not mind his company after this day. We have gone back to acting the part of friendly coworkers, but closer than we had been before.
"Of course, Tony."
He responds tentatively, "I'll bring dinner and my go bag in case you'd like to be tucked in, but that's entirely up to you."
"I would like that very much. Thank you." I squeeze his hand then let it go and head to the bullpen. I promptly grab my spare clothes and shower to get the smell completely off of me, then spend the afternoon in Abby's pleasant company.
