CHAPTER 4
It is a little after noon. The cars on the highway are bumper to bumper due to an accident.
Gibbs pushes against the drivers seat. He sighs; checks the clock on the dash-board.
"My father always told me to be on time…" Ziva begins.
"It wasn't a problem." He speaks curtly.
He keeps the flutter in his stomach under control. He realizes his tone was rather rough.
"DiNozzo would have done the same thing if he had paid more attention to the world outside of himself."
Ziva smirks at the slight ramble.
"Tony has grown, no?"
"Maybe a smidge, if that." Gibbs presses the gas pedal a bit. "He should know better. I taught him better."
"Everyone makes mistakes."
"And everyone never apologizes for them."
"Apologies are a sign of weakness, no?"
She is serious. She is not teasing him.
He clears his throat. He tries to find something--anything, to change the direction of the conversation.
"I need to get this radio fixed."
'You said that the last time."
"…Still on my agenda…" He realizes she wants conversation. "I have prior commitments.'
Ziva's quick to think of Tony's comments earlier that morning.
"You never speak much of your personal life."
"It's 'personal'."
"We are members of your team. You trust us with your life while on the job. Why not off the job?"
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was in for interrogation today. Remind me to call my lawyer once we're out of this jam."
He is annoyed.
She sees his face fluster.
A phone rings. The shrill of the tone echoes through the car. Gibbs answers.
"Gibbs."
"Gibbs!" Abby shrieks into the phone. "How are you today?"
"Could be better. Got anything or me, Abs?"
"Methanol."
"Tell me something I don't know." He puts on his blinker.
"Gibbs!" Abby whines. "Give me a chance to continue."
"…What have ya got, Abs?"
"Okay, so Methanol--not exactly your everyday poison considering it's much easier to purchase rat poisoning at the store--"
"ABBY!"
"Okay, right, back on track--sorry about that. He was injected with it."
"How'd Ducky miss that during the autopsy?"
"Ah, Jethro--he was injected between his toes. I very rarely thoroughly check there."
"Hey Gibbs do ya wanna know what prompted Ducky to look there?" She is excited.
"No." Gibbs tone is flat. "How can someone get their hands on Methanol?"
"It's used in fuel and other automotive substances, Jethro. Perhaps anti-freeze."
"Did anti-freeze come back on the toxicology report?"
"No, but where else could your average person get a hold of pure Methanol?"
"Who says we're dealing with an average person, Duck?"
The traffic clears. Gibbs sighs a sigh of relief.
"Average person might be putting it lightly. Perhaps an average maniac would better suit this case."
"Keep looking."
"For what, Gibbs?" Abby is back--somewhat breathless.
"Anything that could help clear this case."
Gibbs ends the call. Placing his phone inside his cup holder, he reaches into the other one for his coffee.
"Were the other victims injected as well?"
"McGee has the answer to that question and by the time we get back, he better know the correct one."
DiNozzo uses his raspy voice to persuade the woman over the phone to give him the balcony seating.
"I'll make it worth your while." His tone is a lustful leer.
"I would be your date if it was worth my while."
He grins, then pauses for a moment.
"Tell you what--if it doesn't work out and she rejects me, I'll take you up on your subtle offer."
"Tony, I've seen you wine and dine so many women since I have worked here that I feel I am such a long way from the front of the line."
"Don't get too upset about it."
The woman laughs while marking his name in the reservation book.
"I gave you the best that I could."
"You gave me the 'only' best that you could?" He is hopeful.
"Just make sure you don't bail on these reservation--and you owe me."
"I'll consider myself 'owned' until further notice."
The elevator doors 'bing'. Gibbs waits for Ziva to pass through. He then follows closely behind her.
She spots Tony before anything in the room catches her eye. She knows he made a call.
"That phone call about the case?"
"Well see, I…" He feels himself grow small in front of his boss. "No--not really."
"Not really DiNozzo, or no--not at all?"
"Your version seems more true to the fact."
Tony holds his breathe while Gibbs feels a smug satisfaction for his slight power over his Senior Agent.
"Where's McGee?"
"Abby's lab." Tony answers, then notices the look. "…And I'm on my way to go get the Elf-Lord…"
Gibbs steps out of Tony's path. A smug satisfaction feeling gets a hold of him once again.
"Ziva."
"I'll brainstorm until the others arrive. Then we will have a cape-fire."
"Camp-fire." Gibbs corrects her which he seldom does. "I was actually going to ask you something else."
Ziva stands from her computer chair.
"Do you like it when DiNozzo does…what he does?" He squints.
She is standing there; thinking. Her eyes burn holes into his.
"And what does this mean?" She shrugs. "What does 'does what he does' mean?"
"When he bothers you. When he picks on you. When he constantly corrects you. When he appears to be available only to be unavailable when you need him the most."
"I don't understand, he's my partner. Isn't that what partners do?" She waits for a moment. "I see it in your American movies all the time."
"Tony's idea of being partners comes out of the contents of a Three Stooges movie." He explains. "It's all fun and games."
"As is Tony." She finds no real problem with it. "He's my work partner, not my life partner."
Gibbs holds his tongue. He wants to tell her that it bothers him. It works his last fucking nerve when Tony takes her for granted, but he doesn't.
Tony arrives with McGee. Their private conversation is officially over.
Ziva makes eye contact with McGee while she shares her theory.
"It could be." McGee states.
"The spouse is the 99.9 percent of the time, the usual suspect."
"Highly unlikely." Ziva sticks to her gut.
"What makes you so sure Agent David?"
Gibbs is at his desk--somewhat ignoring the event in front of his eyes.
"If this is a hate crime, we're dealing with a person and or persons that have a serious problem with a persons nationality."
"Right--and the dead officer downstairs is married to a white woman."
"We spoke with her. She seemed genuinely devastated."
"Let me guess, she left her mouth open for a minute before she let out a loud cry?"
Ziva's mouth tightened.
"Come on Ziva, that's the oldest trick in the book."
"Is my gut the oldest trick in the book?"
"'Course not boss…"
"Good, because my gut is telling me that his wife has nothing to do with his death."
Tony looked at Gibbs. McGee's eyes bounced around between the three of them. He felt somewhat uneasy.
"Pull up the victims pictures." Gibbs orders McGee. "There could be another clue we are overlooking.
"Like what boss?"
"Well DiNozzo, you're a certified agent--maybe you can find it before the rest of us can." He leaned in further to Tony's face. "We can even make it a game since you seem to respond to stupidity well."
Tony took Gibbs verbal abuse, but he thought about a reason why.
7:20pm
It is night time. The dim lights from their desk make their area feel warm and safe.
"Ziva!"
She stills her hands. Her keys hovering below her. She tilts her head and looks beyond her computer screen.
"Yes Tony?"
"You hungry?"
She shrugs.
"As in…"
"I could go with or without a meal at the moment."
"Well what if I paid?"
"…did you put something it?"
"In what?!" He is in disbelief.
"In whatever it is you are willing to pay for in order for me to eat it?"
"I'm asking you to dinner, Ziva." He seems bothered. "I won't be cooking a thing."
"Hmm…thank you Tony, but it'll have to wait."
"Wait?" He pulls at the collar of his shirt. "Anthony DiNozzo doesn't wait around for a woman."
"That's because he is somewhat delusional." She chides
"Could we not refer to myself in the third person?"
Ziva looks to McGee's desk. Her gaze travels back to Tony's face. Her expression is confused.
"It is only you and I, Tony."
"Third person, Ziva. You know…first person, third person…"
She is unaware of where this conversation is going or what it means.
"…Nevermind."
Ziva shrugs to herself more than to Tony, then continues her typing.
Tony grabs his things and exits for the night.
Gibbs rounds his desk. His fresh coffee scent intoxicates his brain cells for a bit.
"That'll spoil your dinner."
He whips around and sees her.
"No sugar. No cream. It's not exactly a delicious treat."
"I wanted to thank you for going out of your way this morning…" She finds an interest in her feet.
Gibbs feels the presence of his coffee in his hand feel hotter than usual. He sets it down on top of his desk.
"Don't mention it." His voice is stern.
"I'll cook--my treat to you."
The bitter tastes of coffee on this tongue just became a twinge sweeter.
"I'll do the dishes."
"Agreed."
She stuck out her hand for him to shake.
