You know, this honestly was not supposed to last for so many chapters, or at least it was supposed to go faster. I was going to have two or three chapters for each month of their lives for maybe two or three years, but I got a bit carried away. I was going to have finished this by now.
I am sorry. So, so sorry.
XXX. Just Because You're Paranoid Doesn't Mean They Aren't After You
"So, someone drowned our petty officer in a pool of Jell-O that was stolen from a warehouse under surveillance from the FBI." McGee said as he, Tony and Ziva stood facing the plasma.
"Why is it that we always end up cleaning up the FBI's mess?" Tony grumbled.
"Because that's all you are, DiNozzo. The janitors of the crime investigation world."
"Slacks." He turned around, glaring at the man sitting on the edge of Ziva's desk. "Get off her desk."
"It's Sacks and I want to hear it from the lady herself." The FBI agent grinned.
"Ok." Tony chuckled as Ziva stormed over and pushed him back, putting slight pressure on his throat.
"Get. Off. My. Desk." She squeezed tighter momentarily before releasing him. He staggered away from her desk slightly and rubbed his neck.
"You gonna control your kids, Jethro?" Fornell asked as they stood watching and four sets of eyes turned to stare at them.
"Kids?"
"Sorry, did I say kids? I meant agents?"
"Officer David is not an agent, Tobias." Gibbs shrugged, flicking his eyes across to Ziva quickly and smiling slightly before looking back to his friend. As much as he hated to admit it, he agreed with Tony: Agent Sacks was a slime ball. "Besides, I don't wanna get on the wrong side of a pregnant Mossad officer." He murmured the last part to Fornell so Ziva couldn't hear.
"Jethro." Fornell sent him a warning glare.
"What have we got so far?"
"We have run down every Alan Dodge on the list he had already called, none of them have any connection to petty officer Woodson." Ziva walked back over to the plasma screen.
"We're trying to find any other Alan Dodges that he didn't get round to phoning."
"The calls stopped December 22nd." McGee chipped in.
"Fits with Ducky's estimate of the time of death." Gibbs looked between the three of them. "Tony, Ziva, go talk to the security company who fitted Woodson's security system. McGee I want you to find Alan Dodge." They all nodded, accepting their orders. "Tobias, I want to talk to the agents who screwed up."
"They were drugged, Jethro, they didn't screw up."
"One mistake already. They were drugged. I want to know if they made any other mistakes."
"So you fit the security system into Ryan Woodson's house, Mr Tonswell?" Ziva asked as she and Tony stood in the doorway of the small, pokey office. There were filing cabinets stuffed to the brim with papers and piles of paper littering the floor. The sandy coloured walls gave the room a dingy feeling, not aided by the single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling.
"Yeah. I don't know what I can really do for you." The man shrugged. He was sat behind the heavily laden desk, the horizontal plywood looking about as stable as a newborn lamb.
"Woodson had money, why'd he come to you for security?" Tony looked at him, his eyes narrowing.
Tonswell ran a hand through his hair and looked about shiftily, before studying the two characters in his officer in more detail, taking in every slight movement the two government agents made, every breath they took. "You have to swear on your lives that what I am about to show you will not be leaked anywhere, that you will not reveal anything you see to anyone that does not have a true need to know."
"It depends what you're about to share, but we will arrest you if you withhold evidence." Tony shrugged. The man behind the desk deliberated some more before standing and nodding to close the door. They complied, Ziva's eyes meeting Tony's for a beat before going back to scan the room. He took the removable webcam off of the top of his old computer monitor and hit a clip, letting it fall open in his palm to reveal no technology but a small metal key that he inserted into the door of the storage cupboard. He walked through and indicated for them to follow, which they agreed to hesitantly. They waited as he punched a security code into an electrical lock before he turned to them and grinned. The heavy door swung open, revealing a warehouse full of monitors, all on.
"This is McGee's heaven." Ziva whispered to Tony as they were lead down the metal steps from the small entrance balcony. There were ten men dotted around, each focused on the screens they were working with.
"What is this place?"
"We have the most high tech security systems in the country." He spread his arms.
"Why all the coat and dagger?"
"Cloak and dagger." Tony winced as she glared at him and the owner chuckled.
"We provide security for some of the most important agencies and people in the country. The cover of being a small security provider who doesn't really get much business and really is nothing more that a locksmith keeps us protected. These men all live in the building which houses the office, they're all registered as unemployed. Their families don't even know that they work here."
"Paranoid much?" Tony frowned.
"We don't even own this warehouse. The door up there doesn't even exist. Just because we're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after us. And they always are." He walked over to the closest man. "Ted, these NCIS agents want to know how someone got into Ryan Woodson's house to kill him."
"He's dead?" The man named Ted asked, looking up from the motherboard he was working on as it lay on the desk in front of him. His eyes fell on Ziva and he smiled. "Hi, Ted." He held his hand out to shake hers.
"Yeah, hi." Tony snapped his fingers in the man's face. "How'd they get into the house?"
"He asked us to take the system on his place down a few days. Everything is controlled from here." Ted's gaze began to wander up and down Ziva's body.
"Eyes front, soldier." Tony snapped his fingers again.
"Why would he want you to take the security system down?" Ziva asked, ignoring Tony's increasing irritation with the man.
"Well, if he was meeting a woman and he didn't feel he was in any danger then he would ask us to take it down. There were a lot of cameras in his house." Ted chuckled. "He said he would tell us when to turn it back on, and he never did."
"Tell me this, Teddy. Why'd Petty Officer Ryan Woodson need such high tech security?"
"I, err, never asked. It was never in my purview to ask." He shuffled from foot to foot.
"Can you tell us why?" Ziva turned to Mr Tonswell.
"Remember that paranoia thing I mentioned earlier, that's all I know."
"If you've got such a good cover, how'd he find you?"
"Said he had a contact in the CIA. That said contact confirmed his story."
"Does this contact have a name?" Ziva glared at the men who had all started to notice her.
"I can't divulge any more information than I already have."
"Then can you ask your men to stop boogying me?"
"She means ogling." Tony said.
"Yeah, we don't get many women down here." He shrugged and whistled, signalling for all the men to scurry off back to their work. "Particularly as good looking as you." Tonswell smiled.
"You said some of them had families? Can they not ogle their wives?"
"None of them are married. They don't have the time. They may have mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters, but aside from that their only family is each other. I'm sure that you can understand that." He nodded between the two of them.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tony grumbled at the accusation, even if it might be true.
"You two are at least sleeping together."
"Says who?"
"The way you're possessively protective of her." The owner of the security company shrugged and smiled. "I trained as a psychiatrist before starting this place up."
"Hm. I would not quit the job."
"Day-job. Don't quit the day-job." Tony whispered in her ear.
"Can you teach me to cook?"
"What?"
"To cook. Can you teach me?" Tony looked across the squad room to Ziva.
"Why do you want to know how to cook?" She frowned as he walked over and sat on the inside edge of her desk, facing her.
"What happens when you're too tired to cook dinner or you're away on a case? I don't want my kids eating takeaway all the time."
"I agree." She smiled weakly, ignoring his point about being away on a case. It was something she had thought a lot about. She was an NCIS agent. They both were. Staying late was a regular. It was a requirement. It was how cases were solved. Their jobs put them in the line of fire on a daily basis. And they were going to have two children. What would happen if one day neither of them came home? She bit her lip. "Tony, I need to go to the head." She pushed passed his legs, running towards the women's room and locking the door behind her, not even bothering to check the room was empty before sliding down the wall and putting her head in her hands. They had not thought any of this through. They could not be parents. What was going to happen when they went away on a case? What happens when a suspect tries to go after their family? But NCIS was her life. She had been through the Israeli army and Mossad, but even though she worked with blood relatives in both of those careers, she had never become attached to those jobs like she had her position at NCIS. She had had as much as a social life as her previous jobs had allowed, but at NCIS it was her co-workers who were her friends. Her family. She barely reached the closest stall before emptying her meagre stomach contents into the toilet. She was glad the bathroom was empty – this was weakness that nobody should witness. She moved back to the basin sluggishly, splashing her face with water and rinsing her mouth out. She could never leave her job at NCIS. She could not even bring herself to think about taking a desk job. She would be bored out of her mind. And Tony would not be able to live without being sat at his desk every day; going into the field and throwing jokes about like a Frisbee. It was their life and neither of them would give it up. Neither of them could. She inhaled, another wave of nausea hitting her at the thoughts speeding through her brain. Her breath was shaky as she stared at her white knuckles clenched to the ceramic edge of the sink, not moving as she heaved into the running water, nothing left but stomach acid. The door rattled as someone tried to get in.
"Ziva? Tony's worried about you." Abby's voice drifted through the locked door.
She ran past him, suddenly looking very pale. He didn't know what was going on. She had been fine only seconds before hand. "Hey, DiNozzo! Where'd Ziva go?" Gibbs asked, slapping the back of his head to knock the glazed-over expression off of his face.
"Huh? Oh, head." He pointed to the ladies room. "She, uh, she didn't look great." Gibbs glared at him. "What? I didn't do anything!"
"Apart from getting her pregnant?" McGee asked as he stood behind Gibbs.
"Well, yeah, so I did quite a bit, but nothing today! I swear!"
Gibbs frowned and for once believed his senior field agent. "You think she's okay, DiNozzo?"
"It's probably just morning sickness." He sat down. At her desk. Gibbs and McGee frowned but said nothing, letting him worry about Ziva in his own way.
"It been this bad?" Gibbs walked up to him.
"No."
"It should be getting better."
"I know." He whispered.
"You gonna go check on her?"
"I don't want to push her. She doesn't like being seen ill. Makes her think she's weak." He looked up, throwing a scrunched ball of paper as he caught McGee straining to hear what he was saying.
"You tried telling her it doesn't make her weak?"
"She's an assassin, boss. You think I'm stupid enough to try and tell her being ill does not make her weak?"
"So you've already tried."
"She chucked me out of the apartment." He stared at his boss as the older man laughed. "My apartment. It was raining!"
"She let you back in again?" He raised his eyebrows.
"An hour and a half later." He mumbled grumpily. "Hey boss, how 'bout you try telling her she's not weak?"
"I'm not stupid, DiNozzo." The silver-haired man laughed and walked back to his desk.
"Hey guys. Where's Ziva?" Abby bounced in, grinning from ear to ear.
"Can you get high on Jell-O fumes, 'cause Abby's sure as hell close." McGee looked up from his computer screen.
"She's in the head." Gibbs said looking up from his notebook.
"Been in there for… almost an hour. Boss, I'm really worried now."
"Yeah." He stood up and walked over to the centre of the squad room, McGee and Tony joining him and Abby. The boss-man held out four black pens, the lids covered by his hand. "The one with the red cap has to go and check on her." They each picked their pen and all unfurled their hands at the same time, showing three black lids and one red. In McGee's hand. He felt the blood drain from his face and his breathing increase.
"I'll go, McGee." Abby grinned, placing her hand on his shoulder and pecking him on the cheek, leaving the outlines of her lips marked in deep purple on his skin. She left the three men staring at her. "She's not that scary." She chuckled under her breath before trying to open the locked door. "Ziva? Tony's worried about you." She tried to listen for any signs of life, hearing a slight shuffling but nothing else. At least she was alive. "Open up Ziva. We're all worried. Even Gibbs is, though he won't admit to anything." She heard more movement. At least she was conscious. She hoped. "You're not the only one who knows how to pick a lock." She bluffed, knowing how to pick the lock on a pair of handcuffs, and only a pair of handcuffs. "Ziva, please, the director won't like it if I knock the door down."
"I am fine, Abby." Ziva's voice barely travelled through the plank of wood blocking Abby's path.
"You don't sound fine. And you've been in there for an hour." Abby listened to the movement again. The lock clicked and Abby waited to give Ziva the chance to move out of the way before bursting in. She hurriedly looked around the room, finally spotting Ziva slouching against the wall next to the door, her legs seeming to be about to snap with weakness. "You don't look great either." Abby bit her lip. Ziva looked pale and drained, her skin clammy and cold as Abby laid her hand on her forehead to take the Mossad officer's temperature. "I'm calling Ducky." She pulled her phone out and hit speed dial three, ignoring the protests of the woman who had slipped down to sit on the floor. "Ducky, Ziva doesn't look so great…the women's room...she's all cold and sweaty and she looks really pale…I dunno, Ducky, but she left the squad room an hour ago to come here and Tony said she didn't look great then…just get up here quick, Ducky." She snapped her phone closed and crouched down in front of Ziva, chewing on her lip as the brown eyes in front of her looked pitifully back.
"I am fine, Abby." She murmured quietly, her eyes closing as she leaned her head against the wall.
"Hey, stay awake. Ducky's coming." Abby said nervously, wishing for the doctor to hurry.
"Tony." It was more of a breath than a word, her lips not moving.
"He'll be here as soon as Ducky gets here."
"Abigail, what's wrong." The pathologist stood in the doorway, the three male agents gathering behind him.
"Don't call me…I dunno, she just sort of…" Gibbs pulled her back as Ducky crouched down beside the woman.
"Tell me she's not gonna die, Duckman. Tell me she's gonna be alright." Tony stared at his fiancée, her body limp.
"Call an ambulance, McGee. Get her to a hospital, then I'll tell you if she'll be alright, Tony." He breathed, going through his motions, the ones learnt at med school that he never forgot. Like riding a bike he said to himself, for once realising that his comment would be unappreciated.
