Anthony DiNozzo didn't actually mind the rather abrupt treatment they had received from the Federal Police. He didn't mind that the convoy didn't so much slow down for the roundabouts they encountered, as speed up through them. He didn't even mind that, in the heavy traffic, his car would occasionally follow Dunn's as it left the road and sped down the shoulder; mere inches stopped traffic and him; traveling in excess of 100 kilometers per hour.
The reason he didn't mind; in fact didn't even notice was because Ziva was almost sitting on his lap. The car floor beneath them had been filled with whichever items of their luggage didn't fit in their boot and, sitting in the middle between DiNozzo and Gibbs with nowhere to place her feet, Ziva had swung herself nearly sideways in the seat until her thighs were across Tony's knees.
Anthony DiNozzo was not an idiot, despite the façade he put on from time to time. He was well aware that his conversation in the elevator with the hook- Tara, about the right woman was pretty much stopping just shy of mentioning Ziva's name outright. DiNozzo had had relationships with people he'd worked with before, in previous careers and all of these relationships ended with him moving jobs and states in an attempt to forget the past. He, more so than any other person on the team aside from Gibbs could understand why Rule 12 had a purpose. When the break-ups came, it was like World War III in the workplace, and Tony was not keen to leave NCIS.
Tony was also aware that for all her flirting, Ziva probably would just be surprised and embarrassed, if he were to express the feelings that he had begun to harbor for her since the first day they met. She was, after all, a Mossad assassin – used to playing men, sleeping with them until she got what they wanted, not getting involved like he had with Jeanne. His body tensed up. Jeanne. What an idiot he'd been. So aware that Ziva was not interested in him, he desperately sought the meaningful relationship he'd thought he'd have with her in someone else – and Jeanne fell neatly into his life at the wrong moment. Mentally he headslapped himself; Ziva was not interested in him, and pining for her would accomplish nothing.
Ziva felt her partner's body tense up. In fact, she had been acutely aware of every breath and movement her partner had made since they boarded their flight 15 hours ago. She had only lightly slept for the entire flight, enjoying the feeling of her partner's arm around her, supporting her and the gentle essence of his cologne tickling her nostrils. She was not a woman prone to fantasy, but for those brief hours, before they touched down in what would undoubtedly resemble a war zone she had allowed herself to dream about a life with Anthony DiNozzo.
Every part of her Mossad training screamed at her for harboring such thoughts about her partner, for foolishly thinking about a future that would never develop. But after so many years away from Israel, watching the romance in Tony's movies, the couples jogging on her early morning runs, Ziva began to have a sense that her life was not complete. Every day she spent with Tony, she felt like he was the missing piece but he was a playboy, a flirt who would say and do just about anything – as long as it didn't cross the invisible line that had seemed to develop between them. And that line she understood, was there because despite all the teasing and bickering and flirting, he was just not interested in her in the same way she was in him. Ziva had fallen in love and had then experienced another emotion that appeared so often in some of Tony's movies; heartbreak. There would never be a life with Anthony DiNozzo; no white picket fence with kids, as she believed the all-American dream went. But until they arrived at the scene, she would let herself continue to enjoy being near the man she loved who didn't love her back.
Roland Dunn almost smiled for the first time in sixty-eight hours as he watched Timothy McGee bounce comically around in the backseat as pieces of equipment reared up over him in a veritable tsunami of Pelican protective boxes and document folders. Beside McGee sat one of the NCIS forensic bomb analysis team; almost frozen solid in shock and fear as Dunn directed his driver to put the car down the shoulder for the third time, just narrowly missing a halted fuel tanker.
Dunn was a man who rarely went without smiling but for the past near-three days, he and his team had desperately been trying to warn the higher-ups in the Federal Police about a potential terrorist attack on the USS Ronald Reagan, or the sailors who served on her. Each time they were met with the same response; security was at an adequate level for the amount of hard intelligence received, and without further substantiation the higher-ranking members of the Federal Police were not willing to look foolish by worrying about a terrorist attack that they believed, would never eventuate.
Now the body count from the bombings had exceeded 500 and was continuing to rise as work crews set up flood lights and continued their tireless efforts into the night. Hospitals were crowded with bleeding victims coated in rubble and dust. Schools were closed and the streets were almost empty as people refused to step outside for fear of another attack.
Dunn didn't so much blame his superiors as he blamed himself for being unable to find the hard evidence he needed, unable to protect the men and women of Australia as he had sworn as part of his oath, and unable to shield the sailors of their allying country from the horrible attack. In time, investigations would reveal that the attack was planned to the smallest detail, and was known only to three people, all of whom took the utmost precautions to ensure the bombing would succeed. No investigative or intelligence department in the world would ever have been able to prevent the bombings. But for now, Roland blamed himself and each confirmed death was another blow to the troubled man.
As the convoy finally halted at the rear entrance to a luxurious hotel – now empty as travelers and tourists fled the country, Roland and his team exited the cars and set up a security perimeter before allowing the NCIS team to disembark. Taking the service elevator, the Australian police assisted the American team in carrying their luggage to a room on the second-highest floor of the building. DiNozzo simply raised his eyebrows as Dunn and two other members of the Australian Federal Police un-holstered their weapons and ensured the hotel room was clear before allowing anyone to enter. Holstering his weapon, Dunn placed a number of hotel keys down on the table in front of him and said to Gibbs, "I believe I owe you an explanation."
Author's Note: I am indeed Australian - originally from Brisbane however currently down in Melbourne and bored to tears because I'm down here exclusively for work, and hence spend all my time studying rather than going out and enjoying life. Oh well, the things we do for a paycheck!
As a secondary note: I really do enjoy reviews, or simply being added to the 'story alert' function of this website. It allows me to get a good idea of whether there is a good bit of interest in my story or not. Without these encouraging signs I, like many other authors on this site I'd guess, tend to let our stories fall by the wayside and not update nearly as often, if at all. If you want more, you need to keep me motivated!