Post-ep for "Honor Codes"
"Mere hours."
McGee shuddered as he sat behind his desk in the mostly empty squad room. It didn't surprise him that Ziva knew how to use torture during an interrogation. It surprised him that she was so casual about it, like it didn't weigh on her at all. What did she know how to do that could force a hardened criminal or a terrorist to give up information within hours?
The fear tightened his stomach.
He'd seen the secretary's reaction when they'd come back in. She was terrified. She was honestly convinced that Ziva might kill her. The idea of having that much power over someone fascinated McGee. He recognized that he did not exactly cut a threatening figure. He was the harmless looking tech-geek. Ok, he was almost as good a shot as Tony, but he wasn't a fan of weapons. Or fighting either. He'd rather outsmart someone. And maybe that's what fascinated him about Ziva's "interrogation" techniques.
How could that woman possibly have believed that in a crowded building, in the custody of federal officers that Ziva would kill her, or even really hurt her? What mind games had she been able to play?
That was sexy.
Ziva was deadly, and brilliant, and powerful. And it scared him. And it made him hard.
Oh shit.
What was this, high school?
He blushed, sitting at his desk when he realized that Ziva was smirking at him. He shook himself and blushed up to his hair.
"Well…" Ziva quirked an eyebrow at him.
"I..I..um…I'm…"
"McGee, spit it out." The tone in her voice made him sit straight up.
"Well, Ziva," he was stalling and they both knew it. "I'm just curious…about…how…" he trailed off. "Never mind. It's nothing."
She stalked over. McGee could feel himself dreading and anticipating her arrival at his desk. She would make him tell her what he wanted to know. It felt strange, and dirty, and awful, and exciting all at the same time.
He sucked in a breath hard when she leaned up against his desk.
"McGee, just ask me what you want to know."
"Ziva,…its just that I don't…how…what…what did you do to her? How did you make her…She had to know you wouldn't kill her."
"I simply made her believe I would. And that I would take great satisfaction in watching her suffer."
"Would you?"
Ziva paused, considering it. "I would take great satisfaction in knowing that I did my job."
McGee felt the air go out of him. He realized he'd been holding his breath. "You're rationalizing torture."
"And you're fantasizing about it…I am sure that is worse." She nodded down to McGee's lap. He pulled a file to his lap, looking awkward. He threw it aside and pulled his chair in.
"No! Ziva, that's…that's sick. I was…" He knew he was caught. "I like powerful women," he muttered, embarrassed. Who talks about this stuff with their teammates? "That you could play that kind of mind game with her…as Tony would put it, you made her your bitch."
She rocked back on her heels, clearly surprised.
"Hmm. I do not suppose I will ever understand every American colloquialism, but I believe English alone cannot lay claim to that one." She paused and bit her lip, looking thoughtful. "You think my ability to interrogate someone is sexually arousing." She seemed very satisfied.
"Jeez, Ziva, not so loud." He looked around, fully expecting Gibbs to smack him any second now.
"Nonsense, Tim. We are two colleagues discussing methods of interrogation." She bent low to his ear and spoke quietly and he froze, feeling the anticipation build between them. "It is practically the same, except with sex one does not usually anticipate agony."
She gave a low laugh. McGee could tell she was leading him on for the benefit of explanation, but he didn't care. She was right, it was the anticipation of pleasure mixed with a healthy fear of embarrassment, that was winding him tighter and tighter. He leaned in experimentally, letting a breath go softly against her cheek.
"See, you understand. It is all in the anticipation. The mind is a wonderful and horrible thing. Capable of inflicting pain or pleasure far superior to the physical." She was winding her way around the desk, in a slow, almost feline manner. It was so exaggerated that McGee almost couldn't believe it. She ran her fingers slowly over his hand. It was an intolerable sensation as she darted her fingers under his shirt cuffs and stroked his wrist.
He could feel his mouth go dry, oh man, he would do whatever she asked. She settled behind him, pretending to examine something on his computer screen as her breasts brushed against his back. He was shaking. Tim McGee was a lot of things, but he was not so inexperienced with women that one could make him come undone in 30 seconds sitting at his desk. But he was still shaking.
"You would never tell anyone about our discussion today, would you, Timothy?" Ziva purred softly in his ear.
He hesitated, unsure of what she was even asking. There was a soft click, and something hard pressing into his back. His brain wasn't working.
That was…
That noise was…
Holy SHIT! Ziva had her gun pressed up against his back, safety off. Pinned between them where no one could see it.
There was no way. Ziva was not that crazy. Well, she was crazy, but not in the shoot U.S. Federal officers in the middle of the Navy Yard way. Right? RIGHT? McGee's mind swam, he felt all the blood rush out of his face and his groin. Definitely not so turned on now. Every muscle in his body tightened up. If she wanted to, she could kill him before he could even say a word.
He was surprised by his own voice, hushed "Ziva, please stop. I get it, anticipation." He was struggling to keep it light. She pushed the weapon a little further into his back. Oh god, if that thing went off he'd be dead in less than 5 seconds. Right through his spine, a lung, maybe his heart.
McGee could feel the sweat start to bead on his hairline.
"Alright Ziva. You had your fun. I'm appropriately scared." No response. "Ziva."
"Ziva, please stop." McGee could hear voices approaching. "Ziva!" he hissed. It wasn't a request, he was begging. And as quickly as it had all started, Ziva had him pressed face down against his desk, arms pinned behind his back, and her weapon holstered harmlessly.
"David!" Gibbs strode in. "Is there a problem here?"
"No Gibbs, I am quite sure he got what he deserved."
"McGee?" he looked skeptical.
"Yeah, boss, I deserved it." McGee felt inexplicably dirty.
Tony was grinning, that stupid ass grin he always had when he was thinking about sex. MeGee realized Tony probably didn't know that moments before his arrival Ziva was shamlessly seducing him, that afforded him a small smile as Ziva let up on his arms.
"Then go home. All of you. Its late." It was that Gibbs tone that made things seem so very obvious. He grabbed his coffee off his desk and headed to the elevators. Tony gleefully was packing up his backpack, practically skipping at his embarrassment.
"Will do boss." McGee sat back down, burying his head in his hands.
Ziva headed back to her desk.
"And David! Play nice with McGee." And Gibbs was gone.
Tony laughed and jogged off "Wait up, boss!"
And Tim was afraid for a moment, alone with Ziva. He stared blankly at his screen trying to process the last 5 minutes.
"McGee. Tim." Ziva's voice was tentative. "You believed I would hurt you, yes?"
His mouth was dry again. He nodded. Damn straight he believed it, even though it made no sense.
Ziva held up her firearm for him to see. There was no clip in the gun. He felt a huge sigh of relief go through him at the realization. Ziva returned to her desk and grabbed her sweater. McGee felt the relief drain out of him as quickly as it had come and left him with a terrible thought.
"Ziva," he started softly. "What about the round in the gun?"
"Hmm," She was being purposely blasé.
"The round in the chamber." He felt his anger rising. "Did you empty the chamber?"
"McGee, would I really threaten my friend, a U.S. Federal agent, who I also work with, with a loaded weapon?"
The silence hung in the air as McGee burned his anger off. "I'm not sure."
"Then that is your lesson on torture and anticipation."
With that she sauntered off, purposely rolling her hips as he watched her go. Fuck she was crazy. And sex in sensible shoes. He didn't take his eyes off of her until the elevator door closed.
Shaking his head McGee packed up, planning on a long, cold shower.