The silence is almost suffocating in the car on the way home. When Tony starts to explain, his words are cut off by a hand being sharply raised and an upping of the speed by a mile-an-hour or so, so the G-force presses Tony back into his seat. So the two sit in silence for two hours, and Tony knows the tension must be palpable, because the moment they step back into the bullpen, McGee and Ziva look up at them with matching expressions of disquiet.
Gibbs throws his keys down but keeps his gun clipped to his belt. " McGee, Ziva, go bring someone in."
The two look confused, but rise from their seats slowly as Tony lingers by his desk, his chin tipped down, one toe of his Italian loafers scuffing against the carpet.
" What's the address Boss?" McGee asks, tapping at his computer to continue the search he has been working on, as he moves to collect up his things.
Banging his badge down on the desk, Gibbs voice is hard and his words are short punches in the quiet of the room. His bright blue eyes flash. " Six Magdalene Court. Cedar Street. Silver Spring." He does not tear his gaze from his Senior Field Agent, who is frozen on the other side of the room.
At the recitation of the address, Ziva's head snaps up. " Tony's apartment." It is not a question, but she flickers between Tony and Gibbs, and Tony can see her mind whirring. She tries to catch his eye, to ask the unspoken question, but he will not meet her gaze.
She does not move to collect her things, and Gibbs notices her reticence. " It wasn't a request Officer David," he orders harshly, and he can tell she is taken aback at his tone. " Go collect Midshipman Adler and bring her in for questioning."
" What is she being charged with?" The question is direct, and the way Ziva holds her chin up high tells both Gibbs and Tony – who have seen the woman at her most stubborn – that she is not moving until she is given a good reason to do so. Her brusque tone makes Tony shiver.
Gibbs' voice is slow and curt as he replies. " Nothing. Yet."
Finally, Tony speaks, his voice sounding almost hoarse from the hours of disuse. " She was the last person to see Commander Ryan that night. She works in his department."
Ziva's eyes widen, and as she speaks it is as though there is no one else in the room but Tony and her. " You did not know this?" In the question, her voice wavers between accusation and a little bit of hurt, and somehow, for some reason, he is unable to give a valid explanation. Instead, he can only shrug, and hopes his eyes hold enough regret that she believes his unspoken apology.
Her body tense at the non-answer, she relents to Gibbs' orders with a perfunctory nod, picking up her backpack and following McGee to the elevator. It slides shut with a 'ping' and Tony can't even look at her as they disappear.
When the head-slap comes, he doesn't even flinch. This one, he knows, is entirely deserved.
XxX
The lights in interrogation have never seemed harsher than at this moment. From observation, Tony stands and watches as the glaring yellow beams down on Adler, who sits in the empty, stark room, looking tinier then he can even fathom. She still wears the over-sized clothes of his she had borrowed the night before, but her hair at least has been pulled back from her face into her usual ponytail. The sleeves of the long sweatshirt cover her hands, which she has folded in front of her as she stares blankly at the tabletop. She is barely recognizable from the spunky, opinionated, spirited girl who ran his life for three months on the sea.
He doesn't even realise that his hands are clenched into fists until the door to observation opens and then closes again with a soft click, and he is met with the sound of, " You should have told me she was in trouble."
" I didn't know." The response is only slightly tinged with a lie, and he knows she will be able to hear it in an instant, so he amends his words. " She wouldn't say what had happened. I was worried about her."
" And you thought I would turn her in?" There is obvious hurt in her voice, and when Tony finally turns to look at Ziva, she is leant up against the two-way glass; her arms folded across her chest and her face half cast in shadow. He is very glad in that moment that the sound techs all have their headphones on and are not eavesdropping, because he recognises her expression and her words cut. " Do you not trust me Tony?"
" You know I do." His answer is brittle and laced with something that sounds like resentment but is actually far more apologetic than that. " Don't ask that, you know I do." He wants to reach out and touch her, but he knows right now it wouldn't be good for either one of them. Passive-aggression simmers at the surface of their conversation. " I would have told you if I could have figured out how."
He knows she would have replied in a similar tone, save at that moment the door to interrogation is slammed open, and Gibbs steps into the room. Sitting down in the opposite chair, he stares at Ramona, who meets his gaze with wide, pale eyes.
" Midshipman Adler."
" Yes Sir." Her voice is thin and reedy, and a far cry from her usual brash yet melodic tones. Tony can feel himself frowning as the worry niggles at the back of his neck, but he ignores it as he watches the conversation in the adjoining room. He knows Ziva is watching him more than Gibbs, but he ignores her stare.
Gibbs is studying the young woman, and Tony recognises the strategy. He has seen Gibbs conduct whole interviews in silence before, reading people, reading expressions and body language and character. This seems to be what he is doing as he watches Ramona, who sits, back straight, feet flat on the floor, unflinching.
Finally, Gibbs speaks. " You're stationed at Norfolk?"
" Yes Sir."
" For the last two months?"
" Yes Sir. In the Personnel department, Sir."
" And before that?"
" Sir?"
" Where were you serving before that, Midshipman?"
Slowly, Adler licks her lips, the tip of her tongue pink against pale papery skin. When she answers, her words are clear and purposeful, and just tinged with her lingering Southern lilt. " USS Ronald Reagan. Six-month tour. Mediterranean and the Adriatic."
Looking her in the eyes, Gibbs' words match hers for simplicity. " Where were you Wednesday night, 1900 hours?"
Her hesitation is only evident in the small ripple in her throat, and the way she pulls her sleeves slightly further down over her hands. She breathes in and out before answering. " Work."
" At Norfolk. In the Personnel department." It is not a question.
Adler nods her head, eyes still wide. " Yes Sir."
" With Commander Ryan."
It is only because Tony knows Ramona so well that he catches her reaction. Moving her arms from off the table, she tucks her hands under her skinny thighs, her gaze skittering from Gibbs to the two-way glass, as though she knows Tony is waiting on the other side. She licks her lips again. " System crashed early that day. Commander Ryan asked me to stay and help get it all back up to speed."
" He sent his secretary home," Gibbs throws out, seemingly to see how she will handle that fact.
As it is, Ramona's reaction seems almost an impulse, as she rolls her eyes and scoffs. " Well I know my ass from my elbow."
Tony can't help the slightly proud smile that flickers across his lips at the assertion. He doesn't look over, but can feel that Ziva has taken a step closer to him, and her arm hovers by his as they stand. Tony suspects that amusement has flickered through Gibbs' eyes as well, but as he can only see the back of the elder man's head, this is purely speculation.
The next words cut all jocularity from the room. " What happened that night?"
Ramona is still as a statue, as though not wanting to give anything away with her body. It takes her an age to speak and when she does, the words are muted. " I don't know." All those observing recognise the lack of truth in this, and Gibbs does nothing but stare. This seems to unnerve her, and she shifts in the chair just slightly. Swallowing again, she eventually repeats, " I don't know. I was workin', I was in the office." She is obviously getting anxious, because her breath is quickening, and her strange eyes dart from the glass to Gibbs' face and back. " I was workin', and then there was blood all over everythin'. I don't know."
His voice low and steady, Gibbs' asks, " Do you know who attacked Commander Ryan, Midshipman?"
Her face is aghast, and it's all that Tony can do to stay in the room. He is immeasurably grateful when Ziva leans over just slightly, so their shoulders brush. He doesn't look at her, but continues staring forwards. His chest feels tight.
Adler stares forward, ashen and almost grey, and simply shakes her head. Her lips are pursed in a tight line, her shoulders hunched. She jigs one leg under the table. " I couldn't stop him," she finally whispers, and there is a trace of guilt laced in the admission. " He came in the room, and I didn't even hear him at first. I didn't recognise him. And then there was blood everywhere."
Tony has watched interviews like this before, and usually by this point the person has collapsed forward onto the table, or at least has fat tears rolling down their cheeks. But Ramona has yet to reach that release, and he watches as Gibbs coils the spring tighter and tighter with his questions. " How did you get to DC?" he asks, changing tack.
The response is automatic. " Four finger cab company," Ramona replies, her voice barely audible, and then folds each finger down in turn before jabbing her thumb back over her shoulder. Seeing Gibbs' reaction to the movement, she shrugs her shoulders and drops her hand back into her lap as though with distaste. " I hitched. I know it ain't safe Sir, but I just ran. I thought he might be comin' after me." After this explanation, her momentary bravado seems to waver, and she hesitates before speaking again. " I - I don't remember getting to town."
" What about calling Agent DiNozzo? Do you remember that?"
There is silence for a moment, and then, slowly, she shakes her head.
In observation, Ziva finally speaks. " She is lying, you know this, yes?" Her voice is regretful, and concerned, and she doesn't turn to look at him but keeps her eyes on the young blonde instead. In interrogation, Ramona shifts in her seat again.
He wishes he could lie, but knows he can't. Not to her. So instead, he sighs, " Yeah."
Nodding, Ziva touches his hand briefly, and her voice is very soft. Even with Gibbs barely five feet away and separated only by a thin glass wall, they both know this conversation is private. " You must tell Gibbs."
" I can't."
" Why?"
" Because," is his first reason, and he knows it won't fly left simply at that. So tilting his head to her, watching the shadows play on her face, he sighs. " I know she's lying," he explains. " I just don't know what she's lying about."
There is silence for a long moment before Ziva speaks again. " You care about her." It isn't a question, and she reaches up to brush an escaping curl back behind her ear as she speaks. In the half-light, the delicateness of her fingers is almost startling, and Tony can't help but reach out and take the hand in his.
" I do," he agrees, entwining their fingers and looking into her face. " I owe her a lot."
Taking a step towards him, Ziva nods her head knowingly. " She looked after you well while you were Agent Afloat," she acknowledges, feeling the cotton of his shirt against the palm of her hand. " Kept your spirits high, yes?"
" Spirits 'up'", he corrects automatically, and then, " Kept me sane more like." Following this admission, he runs a finger down her cheek, noting with a pang how she leans into his fleeting touch. " When you disappeared, and we thought - we thought we'd lost you…" he trails off, looking at her intently, his blue-green eyes narrow and dark in the dim light. He knows they are both repeating the same memories – blood matted red hair, California sun, orders, that final night together, the desperation and the ensuing pain of their separation – and so pauses for a moment before continuing, letting the memory sink in. " She forced me to get up every day, and shower, and eat, and she didn't have to do any of that. I can't just ignore that."
" I was not asking you to."
In the interrogation room, Gibbs continues to stare at Adler, who does nothing but stare back, and Tony realises they are in for a very long night.
XxX
After the silence of interrogation, the sharp blast of music as the lab doors slide open is almost overwhelming. The bright lights and gleaming surfaces also seem in sharp dichotomy to the stifling darkness of the small observation room. Stepping inside the lab, Tony barely has the chance to register what is happening before there is a flash of movement in his periphery and he is suddenly swamped by a pair of black pigtails and a cape-like flying lab coat.
" Tony!" Abby's voice is excited in a way only hers can be: with a mixture of exhaustion, over-caffination and worry. " I've been waiting for you to come down here all afternoon. Are you okay? I heard Gibbs really tore you a new one." Her words flurrying out of her mouth, she gives him a sharp squeeze before pulling back and studying him intently. " Bad day huh?"
" Not in my top ten," he admits, but then takes a deep breath and steps further into the room, his shoes squeaking against the cool tiled flooring. " You got a name to go with my mystery blood yet?"
Whipping around, Abby taps on her keyboard and it begins flickering through possible results so fast that it makes Tony dizzy. Unsurprisingly, it does not seem to faze Abby. " Still running the blood and hair. Major Mass Spec recognised the blood stained scrap of material though – comes from an enlisted Naval uniform."
" Beige?" he asks, feeling his stomach clench.
Nodding her head, Abby's pigtails swing by her shoulders. She takes a hearty sip from the large cup of Caf-Pow sitting on her desk, and the ice cubes rattle in the bottom. " How did you know? The breakdown recognised the material as the kind they use specifically in those types of uniforms. It was only a small piece though, so torn off of a shirt or pants maybe."
Kneading his forehead with his fingers against the forming headache, which is being helped not at all by the throbbing basse of Abby's latest band-du-jour, Tony keeps his voice soft. " I really need to find out who else was in that room Abs," he explains, and his voice holds a slightly pleading tone.
Her expression in return is one of sympathy, and she bites down on the fluorescent straw of her drink before answering. " Nothing yet, but I'll call as soon as I get a hit on the blood or hair," she promises, and then only hesitates for a moment before throwing her arms around him once again. Her hugs are always harder since his return from sea – as though she worries if she holds too loosely he will disappear again right from under her nose. " I'll find out who hurt your friend okay? My babies won't let me down, and I won't let you down."
Pulling back, he untangles himself from her arms, and manages a slight smile before stepping towards the exit.
" You never do, Abs."
XxX
That night, when they are finally sent home, Tony can barely stand. As he layslies on the couch and stares at the magnolia ceiling, all of his thoughts are hijacked by visions of Ramona's angular pallid face and echoes of her shaky voice. Even when he tries to ignore these in favour of his preferred and slightly more libidinous imaginings, the images of the young Midshipman win out and he curses loudly into the empty room.
He thinks maybe he would have more success taking his mind off of things if he wasn't alone. He and Ziva had left work together and come back to his apartment - as was their habit - but the minute they had stepped foot into the building, her phone had started to ring, and on answering, she had disappeared into the bedroom, speaking in low, terse whispers. He doesn't even try to eavesdrop – the extent of his Hebrew barely gets past the dirty words.
So he lieslays, shoes kicked off and his tie loosened, and squeezes his eyes shut tight. He considers getting up and taking a shower, or getting the rest of the way undressed, but he can't quite muster the wherewithal to do anything useful. He is just deciding whether his hunger has outweighed his lethargy when his attention is diverted by the familiar sound of soft footfalls exiting the bedroom.
" Ziva?" There is no response, so he calls out again. " Ziva?"
Curiosity piqued, he rolls off the couch and hits the floor with a 'thunk' and a groan, before pulling himself slowly to standing. Brushing his knees, he wanders towards the kitchen where he knows she must be. On entering, he is relieved to see her finally off the phone, but then is thrown by the sight of her cell smashed on the floor in pieces. Her shoulders shake as she stands with her back to him.
" Ziva?"
He crosses the kitchen in three steps, instantly at her side and turning her around with the gentlest of touches. Her shoulders still shake, and as he turns her he sees why – tears are rolling down her cheeks, and her eyes are rimmed with red. His heart begins to race. " What's happened?" He reaches up to touch her face, to run his hands through her hair and over her shoulders, as though to check for some kind of injury that could have happened in the twenty minutes she has been in the bedroom.
But she pulls away from his touch, instead reaching up to wipe the tears angrily away from her cheeks. " There has been another bombing," she says, and her voice radiates anger and exhaustion. " At a synagogue just outside of Jerusalem."
The reason for her hurt is instantly explained, and he rubs the pad of his thumb against the escaping tears. " It was Mariam on the phone?"
She nods, yielding to his touch, tilting her cheek into his palm. " The name of the synagogue was Temple Beth Eloihim," she says, and he knows this should mean something to him by the way she says the words, but it sparks no bells in his memory. She seems to recognise this, and elaborates. " The rabbi at the synagogue is named Raddai Bar-Lev. He is," she stops at the word, correcting herself with a bitter tone, " was an old friend."
" Ziva, I'm sorry."
Pulling back, she moves away to stare out of the window for a second, before slamming the flat of her hand down on the counter. Her eyes begin to well up again. " I have lost friends Tony. I have lost friends, family, lovers. And it is always so senseless." She shakes her head vehemently, as though irritated by her tears. " Raddai and I grew up together. From the time we were six years old he swore we would end up married, but I joined Mossad and he went to Yeshiva, and he hated what I did. He said he prayed for me to see the error in my ways. To be overwhelmed by yetzer hartov." Off of his blank expression she explains, " Man's inclination towards moral actions."
As she stands, she fingers the sharp points of her Star of David. It glints in the pale silver moonlight.
" He would be proud of what you're doing here," Tony assures her in a soft voice, his tone certain even though he has never – and will never – meet this man. He can't think of a transformation that had been quite as stunning as Ziva's – from state-sponsored killer to someone who serves and protects. Of course, she would argue the two as not that different, but Tony knows she still considers her time at NCIS as a kind of atonement.
His attention is brought back to her by the sound of a scoff. " He wished for me to go back home to Israel. He invited me to his wedding and I didn't even open the letter." Tears eke out of the corners of her eyes, fugitives of pain running down her smooth skin. " And God, I hated the girl he married, she had been such a teachers' pet, and now my dislike seems so ridiculous. They were barely married six months. God, I wouldn't wish this on her."
" You wouldn't wish this on anybody." Tony comes up behind her, and wraps his arms around her. He presses a slow, comforting kiss just behind her ear. " I'm sorry about your friend."
Without turning around, she lets out a deep sigh that he can feel run all the way through her body. " I have been away so long - my country is falling apart Tony."
The words are out of his mouth before he even has the chance to think them. " Are you thinking of going back?"
She freezes in his arms, absolutely still, as though she has suddenly been transformed from flesh into ice and marble. It takes a long time for her to speak. Unfolding herself from his arms, she walks purposefully across the room, separating herself from him, and presses the length of her back against the flat, cool wall. Then she glares at him. " Why would you ask me that?"
" Because it sounds like you might," he answers honestly, not moving. " You've been talking about it more than normal."
" They just blew up someone I know Tony, I'm sorry to bring it up." It is her instinct to cover her fear by full offensive, and he watches as her chin lifts in defiance and her eyes flash. " Not all of us can keep such secrets about our friends."
" Hey!" He pushes himself away from the counter and walks up to her so their bodies are almost touching. Frisson radiates between them. " I was trying to keep you out of trouble. Remember, like when you got framed by the Iranians and you didn't call me?"
They have talked about this before, disappointment and righteous indignation vying for dominance as they both stood – Ziva still with bruised eyes and a broken nose, Tony balancing his team leader position on a knife edge in the wake of Gibbs' unexpected return – and watched their summer together fall apart and scatter to the winds. Bringing it up now is a low blow, and they both are aware of it. Jaw clenched, Ziva's eyes are as dark as he has ever seen them. " That was two years ago. Our relationship had just been discovered by Mossad and my Father and I didn't want you to get fired!"
" So you were protecting me?"
" Yes!"
" Exactly!" The sound of his hands slamming against the kitchen wall echoes around the apartment, and is enough to have the neighbours start banging on their own walls with yells for quiet. Though the yelling isn't unusual, the interruption is enough to have him take a deep breath and regain some restraint. " This whole thing with Adler just got out of control. She turned up and - I didn't mean to lie to you Ziva, I'm done doing that. You know I am."
It had been something they had promised one another in the night they came together following Jenny's death, and even now, the words sting and lance the pain, making the grief feel fresh, even though she has been gone for almost half a year. The reel of time itself seems astounding, but it is enough to make Ziva pause, looking repentant. " I know. I do know, I'm sorry." Reaching up, she kneads her temples with her fingers. " I am tired."
Rapidly calming, he smoothes back her hair from her head, dropping a kiss to the centre of her widow's peak. " Let's go to bed," he suggests, and is met with a small, almost timid nod.
The bedroom is dark when they enter, but neither moves to turn on the light, instead just allowing themselves a moment for their eyes to adjust to the shadows. He waits as she peels off her clothes, and then his fingers are lifted to her hair, and he runs them firmly through the tangled curls, relaxing some of the tension that is strung within her. Her head is tilted back, exposing the length of her stretched throat where a pulse beats rapidly. His fingers trail over her cheeks and then her lips, and he follows their path with whispered kisses.
Lacing her up in his arms, they fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, sheets and memories. Moving his mouth the whole length of her body, he pours apologies into his kisses and sympathy into his touch. As they move together he allows hope to shine through his eyes. Her expression is ineffable.
After, while his brain is still hazy, she turns over onto her side and traces his face. Her fingers are soft and her touch like silk. Her voice is low and whispering, like smoke about to dissolve into the air. " When I left Israel and came here, I was running away from many things."
He blinks heavily, watching as her chocolate curls tumble over her naked shoulder. He forces himself to concentrate. " Your father?"
" Among others," she answers cryptically, and he has known her long enough not to press for clarification. " I was running, and when I was diverted in Russia" – this is the phrase they use to describe their time apart. 'Diverted in Russia' is her way of saying 'almost dying on a mission gone bad', just as his 'At Sea' is code for 'going crazy in the Mediterranean'. " And I saw Mariam, it made me remember all the people I had left behind. I had tried to pretend that they no longer existed, because it made it easier to forget them. But they do exist Tony, and I am trying to find a way to move on and also find a way to show them that I remember."
" But you're not going back?" His words are slurred slightly with sleep, but honest and worried, and she smoothes back his hair as she answers.
" I am here until you get tired of me."
Drooping eyes and a crooked smile accompany his words as he slips into sleep.
" Could never get tired of you…"
