The reason

Disclaimer: NCIS as well as the NCIS characters do not belong to me. This is just for fun.

A/N: Rated PG-13 for violence and language.

The character of Paul that is mentioned in this chapter was introduced in my story "Color Blind"

I would like to thank my wonderful beta Rinnefor correcting my mistakes and providing valuable comments that greatly improve the storyAll mistakes made are my own.

Chapter three

She could remember a time, not so long ago, when she immensely enjoyed staying in bed late on Saturday mornings. That was before her sleep was taken over by endless nightmares, before she killed Ari, before she lost Tali, before she experienced the horrors her position offered and performed some of the terrible tasks it demanded. These days, Saturday mornings were spent performing chores and trying not to think too much.

Considering the state of Ziva's car, Tony had agreed to pick her up from her apartment at 10:00 am By 9:30, Ziva had jogged, cleaned her house, phoned Paul and her family, and made enough food to feed a small army. She had no doubt that Tony was just getting up, probably trying to disengage himself from his latest conquest. Ziva would never admit it, but she was a bit jealous. Not because she was interested in Tony romantically; she wasn't. Rather, it was the fact that he could sleep for more than three hours straight and was getting laid regularly. She, in contrast, had no luck in that department since Paul had left for Israel nearly three months ago. Truth be told, she didn't even have the energy to try and get involved with anyone, and it didn't help that the one guy she did flirt with turned out to be a serial killer. Abby attempting to comfort her by telling her that this happened to Tony a lot did help a little though.

Ziva often wondered why it was that she wasn't interested in Tony. She did find him attractive. He was extremely handsome, smart, and most importantly, he made her laugh, and yet she didn't even consider sleeping with him. If she had met him a year ago she would probably be all over him. After all, she was pretty sure that all she would have to do, if she wanted to, was suggest it. Ziva knew it wasn't rule number 12. Rules very rarely played a big part in her decision making process. It wasn't her involvement with Paul either. Her relationship with him had never been exclusive. When they were together, they were together, but when they were separated geographically they did see other people. She suspected it had more to do with the reason she didn't ask Paul to stay. She was wallowing in guilt and it left very little room for anything else.

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Detective Johnson was in no mood to be hassled by a couple of federal agents from an agency he had never heard of before, about a case that, as far as he was concerned, was open and shut. His roster was more than full. His top priority at the moment was catching a man the media had started referring to as the granny-rapist. Three cases of rape, all against elderly women had occurred within a three-block radius, in the past week and a half. The rapist had left no forensic evidence and, although the official statements of the police indicated that progress was being made, they really had no leads.

"Look, Agent David," he said, "this case couldn't be clearer. Ms-" he looked down at his file, "Michelle Benton shot Mr. Ralph Anderson in broad daylight in front of about a dozen witnesses; one of which," he pointed at Ziva, "was a federal agent. Frankly, this case doesn't need a detective."

"But, don't you care why she did it?" asked Ziva.

"To be honest, no," he replied. "That's a matter for the lawyers."

Ziva realized that she wasn't about to convince the detective that the case merited his attention. "Do you mind if we talk to her?"

Tony could see the detective was hesitant. He decided to use the ex-cop card and pulled the detective aside.

After about five minutes, the detective and Tony returned.

"Okay, you can see her," he said to Ziva, "but this is just a courtesy. The case is mine. If you learn anything important, I want to know about it."

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The officer in charge of the holding cells was quite shocked at the amount of weaponry Ziva had to leave with him. As a result he seemed to be rather scared of her and tried to stay as far away as possible when handing her the visitor's card.

"How did you get him to agree to letting us see her?" Ziva asked Tony as they were ushered through the first gate.

"I told him that I used to be a cop myself and asked for a favor," replied Tony.

"And that took nearly five minutes?" inquired Ziva.

The gate locked behind them with a metallic clang.

"Well I had to embellish it a little," Tony explained, "tell him that you tend to get strange ideas into your head and that it's your time of month and that if he didn't let us talk to the suspect I wouldn't hear the end of it."

"You know what Tony," said Ziva, "next time I ask just don't tell m…"

Ziva stopped short. As the door of the cell housing Michelle Benton opened, it became very clear that they were not going to talk to her after all. Ms. Benton was lying on the floor covered in blood. She was very clearly dead. A message was written on the wall close to where she fell. It was written in her own blood, and said: "Sorry I couldn't stop him."

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Ziva stormed out of the police station, followed by Tony.

"Why the hell did you drag me out of there?" she almost yelled at him.

"I was worried you were going to hurt someone," Tony replied. "You really need to calm down."

"Of all the idiotic things; how could they let her sneak a sharp object into her cell?" Ziva ranted.

Tony agreed that the man who searched Ms. Benton was an idiot but he wanted to calm Ziva down. "It was a pen. I guess they didn't think…"

"They didn't think what? If I can kill someone with a pen, then it can be used to cut your own wrists," said Ziva, slamming her hand on the roof of Tony's car.

"You killed someone with a pen?" asked Tony.

"No comment," replied Ziva.

"Okay," said Tony, a bit worried at this new piece of information. "What do you say we call it a day? There's a nice restaurant…"

"You can call it a day if you want," Ziva cut him off. "I'm going to check out her apartment."

"How do you even know where she lives?" asked a baffled Tony.

Ziva gave Tony an 'I thought you knew me better than that' look. "You left me alone for almost five minutes next to Detective Johnson's desk. I know the case file by heart."

"Of course you do," said Tony.

"So are you going to come with me, or do I need to catch a cab?" asked Ziva.

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Gaining access to Ms. Benson's flat proved to be no problem. It took Ziva about three seconds to pick the lock.

"You need to teach me how to do that," said Tony.

Ziva ignored him and headed deeper into the apartment. The place was Spartan. It was a studio apartment that was almost bare of furniture. It contained a double bed, a desk and a chair. Beside the bed, there was a single night stand. A small kitchenette was located at one of the corners of the room. The sink was filled with dirty dishes. Ziva opened the small refrigerator and found that it was almost completely empty.

Tony and Ziva quickly searched the place. Tony looked through the drawer of the night stand and found some drug paraphernalia. He lifted it up and showed it to Ziva.

"At least they were right about her being a junkie."

"Well that was clear from the way she appeared when I stopped her from killing Anderson," said Ziva impatiently. "She was clearly high."

"Then what are we doing here, again?" asked Tony.

"Just because she was an addict doesn't mean she didn't have a good reason to shoot him," said Ziva.

"Junkies get strange ideas into their heads, Ziva," offered Tony. "When I was a cop in Baltimore I once…"

"I'm sure that's a fascinating story," Ziva cut him off. "But I really don't think this was drug related in any way."

Tony decided to leave the topic for now.

The two agents continued to search the apartment. Tony entered the bathroom and Ziva looked under the bed. "I think I found something," she said.

Ziva dragged a cardboard box from under the bed. In it was a notebook, a camera and several pictures. Ziva spread the pictures on the bed. Most of the pictures were of Ralph Anderson, the man Ziva had stopped Michelle Benson from killing. Some of the pictures caught him together with a very pregnant woman. The pictures that didn't have Anderson in them were of the pregnant woman by herself.

"Looks like your shooter was stalking her prey," said Tony.

TBC