Chapter 11

There was silence in the car for nearly an hour of the drive. Tim was driving. In a way, Tim felt that Tony was making him drive as a way of saying that he didn't want to be involved in this and that extended even to getting them to the crime scene. It was relatively amusing, but the strained silence wasn't all that great. Finally, Tim looked over at Tony.

"You can say it if you want to, Tony," Tim said. "I know you're thinking it."

Tony looked at him.

"Why are you so okay with all this, Tim?" he asked. "Carew is a terrible person who used you and nearly ruined your life. Why do you care about whether or not he's being hurt?"

"He's a human being, Tony. That should be enough."

"Don't give me that crap," Tony shot back. "That's not why you're doing it."

"No, it's not. That's all you should need, though."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Why?"

"Because I care about him and what his life is like."

"You said that before. Why? Why would you care about someone like him, especially with what he did to you?"

"Because he's trying to be something other than he's been. If I can help him become better, then, why not?"

"Because he doesn't deserve it!" Tony said, angrily. "I could rant about all the things he's done, for a long time."

Tim nodded. "I know. So could I."

"Then, why aren't you?" Tony asked.

Tim sighed and kept his eyes on the road.

"Do you really want to know or do you just want to rant?" he asked.

He heard Tony chuckle and glanced over at him. He was smiling a little bit.

"Equal parts of both, but I do want to know."

"I'm not because I don't want to. I know that probably sounds strange to you, but, Tony, I've had far too much hate in my life. Hate and fear and anxiety. I don't need to hold onto those things and it's too hard to do it. I don't know that I really like Levi. I can't forgive him for what he did to me, but I can respect a lot of things about him, and now, he's trying to be something other than he's been. I'm glad. That's a good thing, Tony. It's good when someone wants to change."

"He shouldn't get the chance," Tony muttered.

"Yes, he should. Everyone should get the chance to change. The only ones who don't deserve the chance are the ones who refuse to try it. Levi is trying, and I've seen firsthand how hard it is for him. Tamara still loves him, even after all these years. If you can soften just a little bit, Tony, you'll be happier, too."

"Ha," Tony said, but very softly.

Tim chose not to comment on that. Instead, he focused on the road. It was quiet for another little while, until they got off the freeway and started winding through the side roads and then country roads and then narrow, forest roads.

"It should be coming up on the right here," Tony said, looking at the directions.

"Okay."

Tim began watching for the even narrower private road that would lead them to the cabin.

"Is that it?" Tony asked, pointing ahead.

"Uh...I think so," Tim said. "I guess we'll find out."

He turned off onto the narrow lane, barely wide enough for one car, and they drove for nearly a mile and then, abruptly, they came into a clearing.

At some point, there had been a house there. Not a huge place, rather modest, actually. Just a cabin, probably two or three bedrooms at most.

And now, it wasn't even that.

Tim stopped the car and he could tell that even Tony was surprised by what they were seeing.

There was a lot of debris scattered around, indicating an explosion of some kind, whether it was an actual bomb or not. The wood was burned or scorched and very little of it was still standing. They crunched on glass from a number of shattered windows as they got out of the car and walked toward the site.

"Wow," Tony said, after a moment of silence.

"Yeah. Tamara told me that it had been destroyed, but I didn't realize just how thorough it was," Tim said.

"Is she sure that he got out?"

"She said that she heard him calling her name when she was still inside. I'm assuming that she could tell the difference between inside and outside."

"Yeah, probably. Okay. Well, let's get started. Not going to do anything by standing here."

"Very true."

They got their gear and started toward the house.

"Well, where do you think the origin was?" Tim asked.

Tony looked around. Neither of them were necessarily fire experts, but they both had experience with evaluating a crime scene, even one marred by fire.

"Most damage seems to be over there," he said, pointing to a corner.

"Okay. Let's get some samples. Maybe we'll get some accelerant that will give us a hint."

"You're dreaming, McGee," Tony said.

"I know. Let's just do what we can. Hey, speaking of dreaming, ...do you see a doorknob?"

"Doorknob?"

"Yeah. Fingerprints? They had to get inside somehow."

"After a week's exposure to the elements?"

"They've found fingerprints after two years. Abby made me read the studies."

"Yeah, but after an explosion?"

"It's still possible. You start documenting. I'm going to hunt for doorknobs."

"Go right ahead. It'll keep you out of trouble."

Tim laughed and started searching.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I would like you to repeat yourself, Gibbs," Jenny said, carefully. "I'm not sure I understand what is going on."

"You do," Gibbs said. "You don't like it, but you understand it."

Jenny sighed. "Yes. But I don't understand why."

"It's obvious, Jen."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"Then, what is it?"

"He wants to save Carew. Like he was saved."

Jenny looked skeptical. "McGee's situation is nothing like Carew's."

"He doesn't see it that way."

"What if I said no? It's not like there aren't plenty of grounds for doing so and almost none for saying yes."

"He'll do it anyway, only without any help. Do you want him working on this alone?"

Jenny shook her head.

"He won't back off. He made a promise."

She sighed again.

"I can't officially give permission. We don't have even the slightest bit of jurisdiction in this situation. Carew is a private citizen and even when he wasn't, he had nothing to do with the Navy."

"I know."

"You're saying you want me to look the other way."

"Yeah."

"For now. If someone starts pushing, then, no matter what McGee has promised, he'll have to stop."

"He won't."

"I know."

"Okay."

Gibbs got up and started to walk out.

"Jethro."

He stopped.

"What are you hoping for in this?"

"An end," Gibbs said.

"I don't think that will ever happen."

"I don't, either."

Then, Gibbs walked out. As he did, he thought about what he'd said. It was true. He did want it to be over, but he knew that it would likely never happen. How could it? Tim's life was permanently entwined with the CIA and, more specifically, with Carew. What bothered Gibbs the most was that Tim didn't seem bothered by it anymore. He seemed to be accepting it, even embracing it. While it was good that Tim wasn't dreading his life anymore, he didn't have to be involved with Carew at all. And he wasn't trying to end it. Or if he was, he wasn't trying too hard to end it. He shook his head and went on. There was still plenty of work to do.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I don't like this, Ziva," Abby said as she ran a search.

"Which part of this, Abby?" Ziva asked.

"Tim wanting to help Carew. That's just not right. He might feel obligated. He might think he should. That's great because Tim is a great guy, but wanting to help him? Nope. No. I don't like it."

"Why? It does not require anything other than a desire to help someone in need."

"It's not just someone," Abby said, firmly. "It's Carew! He's not a nice person. He's done way too much for Tim to want to help him."

"And yet, Tim does," Ziva said. "Perhaps, a better question would be what Carew has done that has led to Tim feeling that way."

"I have a hard time believing he could make up for what he's done. Or that he'd even try. He's..."

Then, there was a ding on the computer, distracting Abby from her rant. She looked at the computer.

"Okay. Here's the purchase. Wow. He paid cash for it. I guess Carew saved some money."

"I do not see him as one who would live extravagantly," Ziva said.

"Yeah, neither do I. I don't like him, but I can't picture him blowing his money on a mansion."

She looked at the specs.

"Two bedrooms, one bathroom. Wow. It's pretty small but a nice place. Lots of bells and whistles. Completely off the grid. If he wanted to be alone, this was the place to be."

"And if someone wanted to take him. This would be the place to take him from," Ziva said leaning over Abby's shoulder. "He bought ten acres around him and it does not look like there was any other house nearby. Has anyone been searching for this place?"

"Let me see what I can find."

Abby started searching. Ziva knew she couldn't help with this, but she didn't really want to go and do anything else. After they got some momentum, they'd all have things to do. But, perhaps, there was something more she could do now.

"Call me if you find something."

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to Levi Carew's wife and perhaps search his home."

"You shouldn't go by yourself, Ziva," Abby protested.

"I will tell Gibbs."

Then, Ziva headed out of the lab, feeling better about the idea now that she might be able to do something productive.

Maybe it would help her understand why Tim wanted to help Carew.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Zahara let Tamara dictate whether or not they spoke. After Tim left, Tamara had gone back into the spare room. Zahara followed much of her usual routine, the only exception being that she called Michelle and told her that she wouldn't be able to make it to the studio for a few days.

For the last hour, she'd been looking at her mother's family tree, following the lines back and back and back. How she wanted to have this same understanding of her father. Ibrahim had promised to see if he could find anything, but it would have to wait until he had some free time.

If only I had asked Mother before she died.

She hadn't, out of respect for what her mother had not wished to share, but now, she regretted that she hadn't pushed to know more about her father. It wasn't even that she had to know for her life to be complete. It was just that her whole life was a dichotomy, the pendulum continually swinging between Christian and Muslim, Spanish and Moroccan, European and Berber, open and closed, liberal and conservative. She wanted to understand both sides of the swing. Of necessity, Ahmed had chosen to embrace the Muslim side more than the Christian side. He spoke Arabic more than Spanish in his job. She didn't know how much he cared about knowing their past. He tended to look much more to the future while she was continually looking back at the past. Another dichotomy of the Mokrani family.

In the midst of her thoughts, the buzzer went off. Quickly, Zahara walked to the door.

"Yes? Who is it?" she asked.

"It is Ziva. Can I come up?"

"Of course."

Zahara was surprised, but she buzzed Ziva in and waited to see what might be the reason for this visit. The knock came a minute later. Zahara hurried over to open the door and let Ziva in.

"Ziva, should you not be working?" Zahara asked.

Ziva smiled. "I am."

"Really? But you are here."

"Yes. I understand that Tamara Carew is here."

"She is."

"I need to speak to her."

"She is in the spare room. Just a moment."

Zahara walked to the spare room and knocked softly on the door.

"Tamara?"

The door opened.

"What is it?"

"One of Tim's colleagues is here. She needs to speak to you."

"Of course."

Tamara came out, taking a deep breath as she did so, clearly steeling herself to talk about what had happened again.

"Tamara, this is Ziva David," Zahara said. "She is an agent and also my friend."

"Ms. Carew," Ziva said, formally, "I just need to ask you a couple of questions."

"Of course," Tamara said again. "What do you need to ask? Agent McGee already asked me a lot of questions this morning."

"Would you allow Agent Gibbs and me to go into your home and see if anyone has been there who should not have been?"

"You think we were being watched at home?" Tamara asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I think it is a possibility. They had to know that you were gone and they had to know that it was a possibility. This is not something that could be done on the spur of the moment."

Tamara nodded. "I see what you're saying, although I hate to think that we were being watched. If Levi noticed something, he never said a word to me."

"Would he?"

"I don't know," Tamara said, sighing. "I'd like to think he would tell me if there was something like that going on and he knew about it, but I can also believe that he would keep it from me if he didn't see any point in saying something. What do you want to do?"

"We would like to see if there are fingerprints or any other signs of an intruder in your home."

"All right. I'll give you permission. If this is about Levi, like I think it is, the room he was in most of the time was the study right by the front door."

Zahara had been sitting, waiting for the business to be finished, but suddenly, she had a thought.

"Ziva, could you also get some clothes for Tamara?"

"Oh, that's not necessary," Tamara said, quickly.

"It is necessary," Zahara said, firmly. "She came here without anything and there is no reason to keep her in the same clothes day after day when she has clothing not far away."

"It would be no trouble," Ziva said. "If you give me a list of what to get, I can do so easily before we leave."

"All right. It would be nice to have some things while I'm staying here. I'd appreciate it. Just wait a minute."

Tamara went back into the spare room.

"How is she?" Ziva asked.

"She was terrified when she came here. Did you see her limp?" Zahara said.

"Yes."

"She was caught in the explosion and then she said that she walked most of the way back here."

"Why come to Tim, though?"

"She said that she thought that Levi wouldn't trust anyone else and that he likes Tim."

"Likes him?"

"Yes. That is what she said," Zahara said, forcing a smile. She could hear Ziva's incredulity.

Ziva shook her head.

"Ziva, I know you don't like him, but Tim wants to help him. Does that not matter?"

"It matters," Ziva said. "That is the only reason we are doing it."

"He needs help, Ziva. That should matter."

Ziva squeezed her arm.

"I know, but I am honest enough to admit that I have a hard time thinking it does when it comes to Carew."

Reluctantly, Zahara nodded. She knew to expect it, based on what Tim had said, but it still disappointed her. She felt that she must have seen a part of Levi Carew that few had ever seen and it meant that he mattered to her. But perhaps, he had not let anyone else on Tim's team see it.

"Even so, I am still going to do my best," Ziva added. "I would not do only half a job." She smiled. "If only because Tim would know it, and I do not want to disappoint him."

Zahara smiled. "May I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"I am trying to learn to use the contractions that Americans use, but I have noticed that you don't, almost at all. You have been here much longer than I have."

Ziva shrugged. "It has not been important to me. I am fluent. I could do it if I was willing to think about it more, but it is easier for me not to bother."

"I am finding it difficult. I know that there are many words that can be shortened. I just cannot figure out which ones quickly enough to use them naturally."

"If you practice, you will," Ziva said. "One thing to remember is that the contractions are used because it is natural. Words that end with vowels followed by words that begin with vowels are naturally going to be put together. Like I am or you are. It is like Arabic. Bismallah is three words put together because it is easier to say them as one than to say Bi ism Allah."

"I understand, but it is still hard to do."

"If you want to, just keep practicing."

Tamara came out with a piece of paper.

"I hope this is no trouble," she said. "I've tried to make it clear where everything is. I really appreciate what all of you are doing."

Ziva took the list and looked at it. "This seems very clear. I will let you know if we find anything."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Ziva said and glanced at Zahara for just a second.

Zahara smiled because she caught the slight separation of the words, as if Ziva was showing that she could use contractions if she wanted to.

Then, Ziva left.

"Do you need anything else?" Zahara asked.

"Not really, but do you have anything that can distract me? I'm finding that, every time I sit down and do nothing, I can only think about what happened."

"Yes. Do you wish to talk or do something mindless? Because we have a number of movies I borrowed from Tony. Tim called them mindless entertainment, but he watches them, too."

Tamara laughed.

"I would love to talk if it won't be too bothersome to you."

"No, I did not have anything planned for today."

"Then, I'd love to know more about where you came from. I only know the basics."

"Very well."

Zahara sat down on the couch and began to talk about her life in Morocco and growing up in Melilla.