Deep Lacerations: Chapter 23
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Please, keep them coming. And just for the record, an 'autograft anterior cruciate ligament reconstruction with meniscectomy' is a knee surgery to correct an 'unhappy triad' (yes, that's the name of the injury). I don't know what kind of knee injury Tony had in college, but that is a possibility. Oh, and our hospital is technicially The Ohio State University Medical Center, but we just call it 'OSU'. Read and you'll understand.
Officer Ziva David stepped out of Tony's room to find herself facing a little girl sitting in one of the row of chairs in front of the room, long dark hair mostly obscuring her features as she leaned forward to read a book, a stuffed dog under her arm. Instantly able to put two and two together, Ziva diverted from her original destination of Gracy's room to sit next to the girl. "Hello," she said. "I am Officer Ziva David."
The girl looked over at the credentials Ziva revealed before raising her eyes to meet Ziva's. "Madeline Noelle Gracy," she replied, her tone serious and almost solemn.
"That is a nice name."
Maddie shrugged a shoulder, returning her attention to her book. "My birthday is Christmas, so my dad wanted my name to be Noelle, but my mom said that that would be corny, so it's my middle name instead." She quickly glanced back at Ziva, then back down to the book on her lap. "It's still corny. I like your name."
"Thank you." When it became obvious that Maddie wasn't going to be offering any more information, Ziva tried again. "What is your dog's name?"
The girl glanced over at her stuffed animal, giving it a small squeeze before replying, "Chaleb."
"Caleb?"
Maddie shook her head. "Cha-leb," she said, separating the syllables. Ziva arched an eyebrow.
"That is Arabic for 'dog'," she informed her. Maddie nodded.
"I know. That's what my dad told me when he sent it from Iraq for my first day of kindergarten. He said that's how they would say it in Iraq, but they would say it differently in Jordan."
Remembering what Gracy had said about her mother-in-law being Jordanian, Ziva switched to Arabic. "Do you speak Arabic?"
Maddie shook her head again. "Not really," she replied in English. "My dad sometimes talked in Arabic, and Jadda sometimes says stuff in Arabic when she calls. She lives in Texas."
"I see," Ziva murmured. After another pause, she asked, "Are you waiting to see your mother?"
Maddie shrugged a single shoulder again. In the back of her mind, Ziva wondered if it was an avoidance mechanism she picked up before or after her father was killed. "Nate said he had to go to the bathroom, so Agent Gibbs went with him."
While that was likely true, Ziva didn't see what it had to do with Agent Gracy. "You do not have to wait for your brother. You can go in there. It is alright."
"She's sleeping."
"I am sure she would want you to wake her."
Another single-shoulder shrug. "I'll just wait for Nate and Agent Gibbs."
Having read the case file on Major Gracy's death, Ziva knew about his autopsy and what part Maddie played in it. Had she been a child psychologist of some sort, she would spout theories about Maddie not wanting to be alone with her mother because of some association between her mother and her father's death, or guilt that she played a part in that drama fifteen months ago, or fear that something similar would happen to her mother if the 'good guys' weren't around to protect them. But Ziva wasn't a child psychologist; she was a Mossad officer who was born and raised in Israel, where children watching their parents die or seeing the results of senseless violence happened too frequently. So instead of offering any empty words for sympathy or support, she merely sat with Madeline Noelle Gracy and waited for Gibbs to return with her brother.
Agent Gibbs glanced over at Officer David as she stepped out in the hall from DiNozzo's room. "He asleep again?" he asked quietly. She shook her head.
"Abby and McGee are in with him." He nodded, bringing his coffee cup to his lips as he lapsed into silence. Ziva followed his line of sight through the open curtain into Gracy's room, where she was sitting up in bed, the Bair hugger replaced by tight, thick thermal clothes, likely containing electric heating units. Her son was perched on her lap, leaning against her chest, his dark red hair tousled, blue eyes focused on the book in his mother's hands. Maddie was curled up at Sonja's side, resting under her arm, her long dark hair now controlled in a tight French braid. Agent Gracy was smiling, the first real smile Ziva had seen from her, as she read from that thick book Nate had brought from the house. Ziva tilted her head slightly as she listened, a small smile on her face. "I love this story," she said after a moment. "My mother used to read it to us."
"In German?"
"Sometimes," she acknowledged. They continued to stand there in silence before Gibbs spoke again.
"Maddie and Nate are staying with me tonight. I need someone to stay here to watch over Gracy and DiNozzo."
Ziva nodded. "I was planning on staying anyway," she said. She paused, knowing that Gibbs wouldn't like what she had to say. "With all due respect, Gibbs—"
"I spent enough years in the Corps to know that no good conversation has ever started with those words." He had turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Well? Let's have it, Officer David."
"I just think that maybe you have become too close to this case. You are not being objective."
"So you think I should leave a four-year-old and seven-year-old alone in their house tonight, while their mother is in the ICU?"
"No!" she exclaimed. "I was not referring to the children. I think it is admirable, that you are letting them—"
"The point, Ziva."
"Right. I think that you have let your feelings for Agent Gracy fog your judgment." She was speaking quickly, not letting him interrupt. "I know you have this…connection. She had this tragic family event, and because of your own family tragedy, you think you understand everything that she is going through, and you think that she is above suspicion, but you still do not know anything about this woman. If this was anybody but a widow with small children, you would have been wary of her from the first day. You yourself always say that there is no such thing as coincidence, yet you do not see a problem with the fact that someone who is copying her late husband's murder kills a Marine the second day she is with the team?"
Gibbs watched her as she exhausted her argument, then calmly took a sip of coffee before answering. "She didn't have anything to do with these murders," he finally said. Ziva threw her hands in the air.
"And what is your proof, Gibbs? Your gut? I know that that is enough evidence for you, but I doubt it would stand in a courtroom."
"Who said anything about court?" Gibbs asked rhetorically.
"You did not answer the question."
"Didn't see the need to." He turned to move away, but she grabbed his arm to stop him. "Ziva, you didn't seem to think she had anything to do with this earlier today—"
"Earlier today I was distracted by Tony being in a coma in the ER and trying to remember how to spell 'autograft anterior cruciate ligament reconstruction with meniscectomy' and the hospital it was performed in."
"'OSU' only has three letters, Ziva. It's not that difficult to spell." She rolled her eyes at his attempts to distract her from the point.
"Is this not the reason why you have rules about dating co-workers?" she asked, her voice low. "Because emotions get in the way of doing your job?"
His eyebrows rose, an unreadable expression on his face. "You're lecturing me about emotions getting in the way of doing your job? Is that why you followed my orders not to engage those Marines so perfectly?" She flushed, not needing the reminder of how she let her fear for Tony's safety take precedence over everything else in that mock-warehouse.
"She was the only person to see her husband's body before she performed the autopsy, Gibbs. There is only her report to say what condition his body had been in prior to that point, and the fact that our two bodies were exactly the same as that report can not be a coincidence."
"They weren't exact," he informed her, not getting into the details of the photo of Captain Hawke's chest that Abby had enhanced. He shook his head slowly. "Trust me, Ziva, she didn't have anything to do with this."
"You keep saying that, but you have not told me why I should trust you."
"Have I let you down before?"
"Do you really want an answer to that?" She flushed slightly at her bitten retort, but Gibbs didn't say anything about it, knowing exactly what she was referring to. Instead, he turned back to the Gracy family, watching Nate rub his eyes tiredly. Maddie was wearing that same solemn expression she had worn since he arrived at the townhouse hours before, and likely for the entire year before that.
"I don't think I could explain it," Gibbs finally said. "You wouldn't understand."
"Why do people keep saying that to me?" Ziva asked with a frown. "Is it because I am not American? Or is this some sort of military thing, some way of understanding that you believe is universal among troops? Because I have served in the military. Just because it was not the United States military—"
"No," Gibbs interrupted, watching Gracy grin as she tickled Nate's belly, his giggles floating out into the hallway. Her other hand was gently squeezing her daughter's shoulder, shooting her an occasional grin. "It's because you're not a parent."