There is a lot of dialogue in this, and they do not get very far, but I could not further it any more. I have been grappling with this chapter for so long, and I could not get any further with it.
Oh, it is Good Friday, so happy Good Friday 2017, and it is also Pesach, so happy Pesach 2017. I only really keep up to date with the celebrations/holidays in Judaism and Christianity, so happy whatever other celebrations there are today/this week.
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LXVI. Dance is the Hidden Language of the Soul.
He jammed the buttons of the phone, trying to get it to obey him. He tried shaking it, hitting it against his thigh and holding one of the buttons down before it finally cooperated, the irritating bleeping stopping. He hated the things. He hated that he was suddenly required to use one. He hated that he knew nothing about them. He held the offending object to his ear, grimacing at the tinny voice. "What's that, Probie? I missed the first bit."
"I said, have you arrived yet?"
"Yeah, just got out of the car. I hate hitchhiking, Probie. You know I do."
"Well who's problem's that? It certainly ain't mine."
"You're the one sent me here."
He could hear Gibbs' frustrated expulsion of air over the line. "We want to make sure it's her before we head over – Tony doesn't want to leave the twins for a wild goose chase."
"I know, Probie. Keep an eye out for Lady Ziva and Mr Mossad."
"Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"This guy can be unpredictable. Keep your distance." He knew what he was doing, had been doing it for longer than Gibbs, but it was Gibbs' way of telling him that he was important enough for someone to want him alive.
He paused for a moment, letting Gibbs know the message had sunken in. "I know that, Probie."
"I do not see why she needs to be kept here any longer. She has been here for a day, she does not look like she is in pain, why can we not leave?"
"You may leave whenever you like, Mr Levy, but we want to keep your wife in for observation. She still needs time to recover. Her body has had a stressful few days." Doctor López insisted. His hatred for the man before him had grown exponentially in the time he had been visiting.
"You cannot keep her against her will."
"Sir, we are doing so for your wife's well-being."
"And what about my baby's well-being?" It had not gone down well when Malachi had been told that Ziva 'lost' the baby, although both the nurse, the doctor and Ziva were all positive that it went down much better than it would have if he discovered that Ziva had lied.
"We told you, you were too late getting her here. It was all we could do to save her. Now, if you are going to continue to cause a disturbance I will have to ask you to leave."
"You cannot ask me to leave. My wife is here."
"And your wife is sleeping."
Malachi huffed, shaking his head as he turned to leave. "I have some business to sort out."
The doctor watched as he left before walking over to sit by the hospital bed. "He has gone, Ziva. You can open your eyes now."
"Thank you." She gave a weak, apologetic smile.
"Do not mention it. I think the nurses are enjoying the entertainment. It is better than their soap operas."
Tony wanted his wife back. It was only to be expected. She had been gone for too long and he was struggling without her. He always said that he would never be able to live without her, and now he had his proof. DiNozzo men did not cry. Not until now, they did not. But now, all he seemed to be doing when he was alone was crying. He looked through bleary eyes at the alarm clock and sniffed when he saw the time, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands until they were red and sore. After heaving a heavy sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and headed quietly downstairs to get a glass of water.
He frowned at the glow emanating from the kitchen along with the tapping of keys. "McGoo?"
"Hmm? Hey." Tim said with a tiredness to his voice.
"What are you doing up?"
McGee yawned and stretched. "Going through some of the surveillance footage Eli had sent over."
"Ugh, that guy. What right does he have, coming into my home and saying he wants his daughter back when he was the one who sent her away?"
"You don't think he'll let her stick around when we get her back?" McGee asked with a concerned frown.
"Don't know yet. We're using him, McGee. Let's just make sure he's not using us, too." He poured a glass of water. "Got anything yet?"
"Not sure. Maybe." He turned the screen around so Tony could see it. "Could that be them?" The fuzzy image showed a man shouting at a woman in a market, with another woman standing nearby.
"It could be anyone. Is this as good as Mossad can do?"
"I don't think they sent us everything they have, Tony. There seems to be some stuff missing. They've sent us the latest stuff first. I don't know, maybe it's nothing." He shrugged.
"You know that it's 0300hrs, right?"
"Uh-hu."
"Tim," he looked at the younger agent, his friend, whom he spent ninety percent of the day teasing and making fun of, "Tim." McGee looked up at him, the blue light of the screen casting strange, flickering shadows across his face in the dark. "Go to bed. Pick this up in the morning. You'll not get anywhere with this if you can't keep your eyes open in the morning."
"Tony, the more I do now…"
"The less use you are tomorrow. Get some sleep, Abby will clean the images up in the morning and we can go from there."
McGee nodded. "And what about you? Are you going to sleep?"
"I can't. She's not there, McGee. The bed's too cold, and she's not there." Tony turned to look out the window, staring at the darkness beyond the kitchen. "I'll go watch the twins for a bit, see if that helps."
"Okay." He pat Tony's shoulder and headed through to the living room where he unfolded the blanket and pillow that he had been using for the past few weeks.
"What's that?" Tony pointed to a building on Abby's screen. She swallowed, looking to McGee to check how much to tell Tony. The junior agent gave a minute shake of his head, perceivable by only the most observant. And Tony had been practicing his observation skills. "Tell me."
"It's the location of Ziva's last three phone calls."
"You're not telling me something." He leaning into McGee's face, his hot breath hitting McGee's skin. It was the first time Tim had truly felt afraid of his friend. "That's my wife, McGee. You tell me everything."
"Hey!" Gibbs pulled him back. "Pack it in. Back off and calm down."
"What are you not telling me, McGee?" He asked, slightly calmer this time, as he sat on the opposite side of the kitchen.
There was a slight hesitation and Gibbs was about to kick him into action when McGee finally started. "The building that Ziva is calling from, it's…it's a hospital, Tony."
"A hospital." He gave a slow nod as his head started to spin. "Something's wrong, she's sick, or she's injured. What if he did something to her?"
"DiNozzo, calm down. We still do not know that it is her yet."
"It's got to be, Gibbs. Who else would it be?"
Mike wrinkled his nose as he walked through the front door of the hospital, taking in the grimy interior. The light was yellow and the wallpaper was faded, peeling in one of the corners. He would not guarantee that the floor was clean and the absence of windows in the main reception gave the place a dingy appearance.
He walked over to the main desk, leaning against it and waiting for the receptionist to look up at him. "You seen either of these people?"
"Sure. The man is coming in every few hours and the lady is a patient upstairs."
"What ward?"
"Uh, I cannot…"
"She's a family friend. I thought I'd surprise her, make her feel better."
Although not looked fully trusting, the nurse nodded. "Obstetrics."
"Obste-what-trics?" He scrunched his face up at the medical mumbo-jumbo. Plain Spanish was good for him.
"Obstetrics. The study of pregnancy."
"Right. Of course." He nodded, feeling his stomach plummet as he walked in the direction pointed to. He did not want to have to be the one to tell Gibbs that his married agent was pregnant – and by the man they were trying to catch? There was no way in Hell he was gonna be the one to announce the news of that bouncing bundle of joy. And he certainly did not envy Gibbs for being the one to have to tell DiNozzo. He followed the signs, winding his way through corridors and up stairwells until he reached the obstetrics ward, walking up to the ward desk. "Hi. I'm looking for this lady. Her name's Ziva. I was wondering if you've seen her anywhere."
"Not here. No woman here." The nurse shook her head adamantly, catching the eye of an older man in a white lab coat who walked over. "He's looking for a woman."
"Ziva…" he scrunched his face up, wracking his brain for the surname given to him by Gibbs. "Ziva Levy, perhaps." He showed the photograph of Ziva that Tony had sent.
"We cannot help you. There is no woman here."
"You mind if I look around, check that you're telling the truth?" He was already craning his neck, looking past curtains into empty beds.
"It depends who is asking."
"Mike Franks, working with the American Federal Agents." He said pointedly as he started walking around, finding all of the beds on the ward empty. "If you see anything, you phone me on this number." He scrawled the number of the cell he was being forced to use and laid it on the desk.
"You are feeling better now, yes?" Doctor López asked as Ziva walked back up from the physiotherapy gym.
"Almost." She handed a small, stitched bag back to him. "Thank your daughter for the use of them for me."
He shook his head, refusing the bag. "She will not be using them anymore."
"I am sorry."
"But they are a good fit?"
"Surprisingly good, yes." She smiled softly, taking one of the worn pointe shoes out of the pink bag and touching her fingers to the worn satin. "They are well broken in."
"She would dance every day. The repetition kept her grounded, she would say."
Ziva nodded and smiled sadly as she sat down on her hospital bed, rolling onto her side as the doctor sat in his chair next to her. "I used to find the pain of pointe work would take away the pain from everything else in life. I needed that today."
"You miss your babies, yes?" She swallowed and nodded, closing her eyes to prevent the tears from rolling down her cheeks. "Is there anybody else looking for you?"
"I do not know." She shrugged, a niggle of concern tugging at the back of her mind at the sudden change of circumstance.
"There was a man searching for you today." Her eyes flashed open as he produced a scrap of paper with a scrawled number on it. "Do you know this phone number?"
"No. It is not one that I know."
"He was an old man, grey hair, scruffy face, American Federal Agent."
"Gibbs?" Her eyes lit up. "Gibbs is in Mexico?"
"Not Gibbs. He said his name is Mike Franks. Do you know him?"
…
I want to try and get Tony to Mexico in the next chapter and get Ziva back home, because I am bored of this part of the story now.
