" I once knew a girl named Ramona. Ramona Kincaid, oh and she was a blonde just like you. Hair all the way down her spine, like spun gold. I once travelled five hours on a bus to watch her play in a girls- only field hockey match against Aberdeen, only to find when I got there the match had been rained off. Of course, I was out of money by this point, and so I had to find someway to get back to Edinburgh…Ah, well then, up on the table my dear, if you're ready."
Nodding her head, Ramona is helped up onto the sterile, ice-cold table by Ziva, who then remains standing next to her. After leaving the interrogation room with Ramona, Tony had found Ziva, and after a rushed, whispered conversation, he had left the two women alone. Since then, Ziva hads remained by Ramona's side, like a silent sentinel, unmoving and unwavering in her protection. Ducky bustles around autopsy, laying a towel on the metal table in an attempt to make it slightly more comfortable on the girl's battered body. " Just sit back there now and let's have a look at you."
Ramona shivers in the cool room – she has removed the sweatshirt and the sweatpants, and so sits in simply underwear and a faded tank top. She folds her arms across her body – ashamed, abashed, embarrassed, both by her near-nakedness and by the assorted bruises that mar her skin.
The most obvious is the bruise on her hip, a mottled mix of black and purple that swirls around the protruding bone. " My dear, what happened here?" Ducky asks as he examines her, keeping his tone and his touch purposefully light.
" Pushed against the desk," she replies softly, pulling the edge of her waistband down to show the full extent of the injury. There is another bruise on her lower back that is smaller, but more red and angry looking. " This one too. And I hit my head when he pushed me up 'gainst the bookcase. Made my nose bleed was so hard." She mimics the action with a hand under her chin, and doesn't miss the way the eyes of the doctor shadow.
Without a word, Ziva picks up the camera and begins taking pictures, and Ramona doesn't argue. She knows what these kinds of images are for. Instead, she just hangs her head and winces against the bright flash of light.
As Ducky catalogues all her bruises, from the indigo finger-shaped marks on her upper arms to the blossoming magenta on her kneecaps, Ziva does not say a word. Even when Ducky presses down on Ramona's tender cheekbone, drawing a flinch and a ribald curse, and carefully examines her painful, twisted wrist, Ziva says nothing. Only when Ducky finally leaves the room to allow Ramona the privacy to redress does Ziva finally speak.
" I am sorry," she says, and though the words are cliché, the sincerity behind them isn't.
Ramona, being Ramona, simply shrugs as she steps back into the oversized pants, pulling and knotting the drawstring tight to keep them up. " You didn't do anythin' wrong," she replies sensibly, but then looks up at the other woman. Her eyes soften. " I appreciate it though."
" Did he actually…" Ziva trails off, unable to say the words, even though she has seen and been party to many worse horrors in her life. Looking at the small blonde dressed in her – partner's? boyfriend's? – clothes, the words seem far too crass to speak out loud.
She is inordinately relieved when Adler shakes her head. " Nope. But he was gonna', no question of a lie." Not bothering to put the sweatshirt back on, but folding it and hugging it tight against her body, Ramona chews on her bottom lip, making the skin there turn scarlet. " But honest, I didn't mean to hurt him when I hit him. I just wanted him to stop."
Coming behind the other woman, Ziva helps her do up the clasp to the dangling silver cross she wears at her throat. " What did you hit him with?" she asks, her chest pressed up against the other woman's back, and her murmured question tickling Adler's ear.
" Long-armed stapler," Ramona admits, her fingers tracing the outline of the necklace absentmindedly. " When we was fightin' I knocked it off the desk. Then he pushed me down on the floor…it was the first thing I grabbed. I didn't even think."
Ziva's only response is to nod, and there is silence as Ramona finishes dressing. Then, finally, she turns and studies the other woman. Though they had met briefly some months ago in Barcelona - the day Tony had jubilantly packed up his things and left the ship with a tight hug but barely a glance back - it had really been through Tony's emails and phone calls that she had got a sense of who Ziva was. Because of that, it is interesting to see her now, once again in the flesh. Ramona is surprised to feel a little nervous. " I'm sorry if I got either of you in trouble," she apologises, and her voice is hesitant. " I just didn't know where else to go for help 'cept Tony."
" He owed you," Ziva says, and it lingers somewhere between a question and a statement.
In the cold of the autopsy room, Ramona shivers, and tries not to think too hard about the things that are behind the steel silver doors. " No. I just know I can trust him."
" He says he owes you," Ziva admits, lacing her hands behind her back in an effort not to give too much away with her body language. A strange little part of her is almost jealous that Adler had been witness to three months of Tony's life that she had been forced to miss. " That you saved his life while he was away at sea."
At these words, Ramona scoffs a shallow laugh. " He saved himself," she argues, and then stares at the older woman for long enough that it makes Ziva slightly uncomfortable. " You know, he didn't give up on you, even when you'd been missin' so long? I don't know if he's told you, but he loves you somethin' stupid. I reckon he'd give up Magnum, pizza and Italian loafers to make you smile."
Ziva can't help but smile at this assertion, and nods her head. " He has told me."
" Good. Then he ain't as stupid as he acts."
XxX
At the same time, while the women are speaking of things far more to do with hope than pain, McGee, Tony and Gibbs pull their car up to the front of the hospital. After a brief cell-phone conversation with Ducky, they reach their destination in record time, but for once, no one comments on Gibbs' unique style of driving. In fact, against character, Tony has barely said two words during the whole journey, and now, as he reaches to open the car door, Gibbs stops him with a hand to the shoulder.
" I don't have to tell you not to do anything stupid do I?" he asks, eyeing his Agent with intense scrutiny. The growing wind buffers the car, though the sun shines down through the windshield.
He knows he is not far off the mark when Tony stills for a second, and his shoulders, which have been tense ever since leaving the Navy Yard, relax just slightly. " Following your lead Boss," is all he says, but Gibbs' knows this is a sign of relenting. He just hopes the moment of calm will last through to when they see Commander Ryan's face.
Tony barely has time to register the sickening antiseptic smell and cloying blandness that usually irks him about hospitals. Instead, his mind is full of only one thing – Ramona, bruised and frightened and forthright – and he is sick that this man has made her cry. He is also slightly sick of himself that it took him so long to see the truth, but he pushes that feeling deep, deep down. He knows he will deal with that later.
When they enter his private room, Ryan, sitting up and absent of his lucklack-lustre wife, looks almost giddy. " Did you arrest the girl then? Assault, battery, attempted murder?"
Gibbs stands firm next to Tony, an unspoken order for him to keep his mouth shut, and answers the question himself. " Nope."
Ryan's face instantly drops. " No? That girl hit me round the head – she could have killed me! I was in a coma for two days!" His words sound so frank that Tony has to clench his fists at his sides. He is grateful when he feels McGee step up to his other side – tacit solidarity in his peripheral vision.
" We don't arrest people for self defence," Gibbs replies, his voice very low, but thick and dangerous in tone. Tony knows if he were on the receiving end of that tone, he would be afraid, but Ryan doesn't seem to recognise the minefield he is walking into.
" Self defence!?" he scoffs, and his cheeks begin to turn ruddy. The heart monitor he is attached to quickens its beeping. " Is that what that silly bitch told you?"
It is the use of such venom when talking about Ramona that finally causes Tony to snap. Stepping forward without even thinking, he gets right into Ryan's face, ignoring the overlapping calls of protest from Gibbs and McGee. "You pushed her and held her down. Hit her head hard enough to make her nose bleed," he shouts, but Ryan even now doesn't back down.
" She attacked me," he argues just as vocally. " I was just defending myself."
By now Tony is right in his face, so Ryan can feel every word as breath on his skin. Bracing his arms either side of the bed, Tony whispers, venomously, " She weighs 105lbs! You gave her a concussion and nearly broke her wrist. You tried to rape her you bastard."
Once he has spat the words, he allows Gibbs to pull him back, pushing him with unbridled force out of the room. He knows he will get in trouble for his outburst, knows he will probably be head-slapped until he can't see straight, but as he watches McGee step towards the Commander's bed, cuffs in hand, he can't find it in him to care. He knows it is worth it.
" Commander Charles Ryan, you're under arrest for the attempted sexual assault of Midshipman Ramona Adler. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say now could be used against you in a court of law."
XxX
The sun shines down on the reflecting pool, though being staunchly October, the wind is still crisp, and Tony wraps his hands around the warm cups of coffee as he wends his way down the stairs. Sitting down on the cool concrete, he holds one of the cups out, and the person who takes it wraps her gloved fingers around just as quickly.
" Thanks."
It has been a week since Commander Ryan's arrest, and for the most part, Adler's bruises are faded and gone. But as she sits next to Tony in a long coat, jeans and battered sneakers, he knows that less visible wounds won't disappear quite as quickly.
He scoots closer to her, pressing their bodies together from shoulder to knee in order to keep the heat in. " It's freezing out here," he grumbles, taking a sip of his coffee, and is relieved when it draws a laugh.
" This was your idea," she reminds him, wagging a finger in his direction, her voice gloriously bossy in a way that makes him unable to stifle a smile. " I believe your exact phrase was 'I like the view'."
" It's a great view," he agrees, staring out over the water. The wintery sun shimmers on the top, and he draws his coat tighter around his body, but stops complaining. " So…" he begins, but then finds himself pausing. Though he had been the one to suggest that they meet, all words seem to have failed him now.
She seems to recognise this though, and takes a long sip of her drink before nodding her head. " So," she agrees with an amused smile. " You wanted to check up on me?"
" I wanted to know you were okay," he admits, his breath puffing little clouds of steam into the open air. " And I…I wanted to say sorry." The apology comes after a week of self-recrimination, of stomping around the apartment, snapping at anyone who got in his way and enough head-slaps that he wonders if he's going bald on the crown of his head.
Reaching out, she rests a hand on his forearm, and it's comforting and warm. " You don't have to say sorry," she promises, and her tone is so straightforward that he starts to feel a little better. " You didn't hurt me. You came when I called. You looked after me. You caught the bad guy." She shrugs her shoulders. " What more could a girl ask for?"
He knows he shouldn't say anything;, that he should just be grateful of her acceptance and move on. But the words trip off his tongue before he can rein them in. " I didn't believe you."
" Yes, you did." Her voice is almost surprised, but leaves no room for arguing. " I know you had to follow the evidence, and investigate – of course you did. That's your job Tony. But don't tell me for a moment that you stopped believing me, 'cause that's a lie and we both know it."
" How do you know?"
" I know you." The words are simple, but the warmth they spread across his chest is unparalleled. He wonders almost if he is blushing. " I know you, and I saw your face. You knew I wasn't like that, and even when you were questionin' me, I knew it weren't 'cause you stopped trustin' me. You just had to find out the truth. I admire that about you," she finishes with a shrug as she looks up at him, and her strange pale eyes are wide, and open, and honest.
He is struck silent for what seems like a whole hour, but in truth is less than a minute as he digests everything she's said. It's a new feeling, to have someone who trusts him so easily and fully. Everyone else he has that level of trust from he has had to earn it over years of stumbled mistakes and clumsy apologies. " So what happens now?"
Leaning forward, she rests her elbows on her rough-denim covered knees, holding her coffee cup between her two woollen palms. " I'm leavin' Norfolk. Too much talk. Movin' up to the District." She looks back at him over her shoulder. " There's a position goin' in the Naval Finance Office, out in Arlington. They're bad in need of an office manager, and with my organisational skills, they say I'm a shoe in."
" So you'll be close by?" he asks, mimicking her position and nudging her with his elbow.
She nudges him back with a smile. " Close enough that you can help me lug my boxes up the stairs to my new apartment," she teases, and he is beyond relieved to see the sparkle in her eyes.
Mock-wincing, he rubs at his knee. " Did I not tell you about my old football injury?" he begins, but is cut off by a sharp swat to the leg and a laugh.
" Can it, Very Special Agent."
They both sit, smiles creeping over their lips as they stare out over the water. Tourists and politicos meander by, and the strong smell of coffee wafts around them even as they people watch. Tony is not sure how long they have sat in companionable silence when Ramona speaks again.
" Nick's not re-upping in January. He's already got a commercial job lined up, teachin' out in Fairfax."
The relating of this news is almost off-hand, but it makes Tony turn his head sharply to look at her. " You've spoken to him?"
She nods her head, still staring straight forward. " I wrote him after you arrested Ryan. Told him what'd happened. Said it weren't his fault and I was sorry any trouble I caused him."
" Adler - "
" He wrote back, said he understood, and he was sorry for what had happened with Ryan, but he weren't sorry 'bout what had happened 'tween the two of us." Her voice is small but strong, and without a trace of shame. " That's when he told me 'bout getting out after the holiday." Turning her head, she finally looks at Tony. " We're gonna try and make it work," she admits.
For a moment, Tony is torn between two emotions – concern for her, or happiness for her. In the end, he surrenders to the latter, and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close into his side. " Good for you," is all he says as he squeezes her gently.
" So when you back at work?" The change of subject is seamless and gentle, and she looks up at him from her place by his shoulder.
He scoffs his answer. " Monday. Apparently a week-long suspension was enough to keep the peace with the new Director. Makes me wish I had actually hit the guy, then it would have been worth it."
Leaning up, she presses a chaste kiss against his stubbly cheek. " Thank you for getting suspended for me." There is barely-hidden teasing in her tone, and she bounces the heels of her sneaker-clad feet on the steps.
He cannot stop himself reaching up and mussing her hair. Over her squawked protest, he promises, " I'd do it again."
" I know." There is another pause, then, " How's Ziva?"
The teasing, gossipy tone is put on, and he roles his eyes in response, to keep up the charade. " Fine. Good. Wonderful," he begins with a laugh, and then adds, " She's at Temple, or she would have come."
" Temple?"
" Synagogue. It's Yom Kippur," he shrugs, recalling Ziva's explanation as she searched through his wardrobe for shoes of hers that were not leather that she could wear with her dress. Her skin had looked tanned and tempting against the white material. " Day of Atonement. So she's gone to atone."
Looking up, Ramona's expression is almost unreadable. " Is that what you're here for?"
The question rings around his head, and he can feel it in his body, trickling down his fingers and into his toes. Is that why he came here? For atonement, for forgiveness? To somehow rinse away all his wrong-doing from the year? " I don't know," he answers honestly. " I think it might have been when I got here. I'm not so sure now."
Adler stands, unwinding her body gracefully until she is stretched to her full height. Then, leaning down, she places a kiss to the top of his head, a strikingly innocent benediction, and for a moment, the two of them seem perfectly alone, even against the throng. Standing straight, she beams down at him. " Go home," she orders, and he realises how much he has missed that tone. " Go meet Ziva when she gets back. Tell her you love her."
Without giving him time to respond, she takes off up the steps, skipping them two at a time, before disappearing into the crowd with a wave. He stares after her for a long time.
Tony remains sitting until the sun goes down. Then, when everything is dark and quiet, he makes his way home, and does what he's told.
It may not be benediction, but as warm lips press against his, he can't quite find it within him to complain, and as he is spirited away by dreams and a small, warm hand slides into his, he realises, somehow, for whatever wrongs he has committed, he has already been forgiven.
