Chapter Thirteen

The elevator opened at NCIS and Gibbs stepped out, sipping a cup of coffee. He walked straight to Tony's desk, setting an extra cup of coffee next to the agent, along with a plastic cup of Caf-Pow! Tony looked up in surprise.

"Boss?" he asked. It wasn't like Gibbs to bring him coffee.

"That," he pointed to the Caf-Pow!, "is for Abby."

"Well, I kinda figured that, Boss," Tony said. "I'm not much of a soft drink person . . ." He trailed off and cleared his throat. "Seriously, Boss."

Gibbs simply walked to his desk, resisting the urge to head slap Tony. "I think you owe someone an apology," he said as he sat down at his desk.

Tony narrowed his eyes. "I thought apologizing was a sign of weakness."

Gibbs raised his eyes and looked at Tony over the top of his computer monitor. "Not to Abby."

Tony's shoulders drooped. He knew Gibbs was right. This wasn't Abby's doing. He shouldn't have snapped at her earlier and he did owe her an apology. With a sigh, he straightened his shoulders, grabbed both the coffee and Caf-Pow! from his desk, and stood to head to the elevator and Abby's lab.

Meanwhile, in Israel, McGee had just taken the letter from Ziva and was scanning it, his eyes bugging out at the contents. "Holy . . ." he said, looking up again and meeting Ziva's own shocked gaze. "Did you know about this?" He cursed to himself after asking the question. "No. Of course you didn't. Stupid question." He paused and simply looked at the children, who were again blissfully unaware of what was going on. When he looked back at Ziva, she was staring blankly ahead.

"I should have seen it coming," she said. "My father manages to force his will onto all his children, even when they aren't genetically his."

McGee didn't even bother to dispute that, or assure her that things weren't that bad. He had read Michael's confession in the letter -- he had been working for Ziva's father for years now, and while he wasn't technically a member of Mossad, he knew enough to be considered a threat.

McGee looked up from the letter, which he had read again, to Ziva. "Do you think . . ."

She didn't even wait for him to finish, shaking her head. "No. I am sure his death truly was accidental, but . . ." She let out a sigh, closing her eyes. "I wonder how many other secrets my father has kept from me."

McGee reached a hand out to her. "Come on, Ziva. Surely he isn't that bad . . ."

Her eyes flicked open and he slowly withdrew his hand on seeing the anger reflected, even though he knew she wasn't angry with him. "This is not the first time he had lied to me, McGee. Surely you remember Ari?"

For a brief moment, McGee saw a whisper of another emotion on Ziva's face -- guilt, or sadness, something regretful -- but it lasted only for the moment, then her eyes were ablaze again. "It is all business with him, McGee," she said, her voice a harsh whisper, to keep from upsetting Carmela and the children, who were all preoccupied on the other side of the room. "He does not care who gets hurt, as long as he gets what he wants." She let out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

McGee frowned. He didn't know what to say. From the brief meeting with Ziva's father, he could understand her anger. But at the same time, he didn't want to see her angry. "Hey," he said, reaching out and brushing his fingers across her shoulder. She looked up at him and most of her anger seemed to dissipate, though he could still see it simmering behind her eyes. "Let's not worry about your father. We're here to pay our respects to your brother." He looked over to the children playing quietly in the corner, then met Ziva's eyes again. "And to help them through this, as well."

Ziva nodded, looking down at her feet. "You're right. I . . . am sorry. I got angry."

"And you have every right to be," McGee added, knowing that while anger was hardly the appropriate emotion right now, it was certainly justified. "But we're not here for your father."

Ziva nodded again, and let out a sigh. McGee held his arms out and she walked into his embrace, wrapping her own arms around him and allowing him to hold her tight. This was far from over and they both knew Ziva's feelings of resentment wouldn't just go away, but the least they could do was keep it hidden until Michael was put to rest.

McGee lifted his eyes and found Carmela watching them, a bittersweet smile on her face. He smiled back at her. Yes, this was definitely going to be a long journey, but he knew they would make it just fine.

The elevator doors opened and Tony remained leaning against the back wall of the elevator for a moment before pushing himself off and exiting the box. He could already hear (and feel) the music coming from Abby's lab, so he figured she must be feeling better. Probably not for long, though, he thought.

He entered the lab, the opening of the doors covered up by the pounding bass of the music, and walked up behind Abby, setting the Caf-Pow! next to her. She saw it and gasped in excitement, grabbing it and saying, "Gibbs!" before she turned, looking surprised. "Oh, Tony." She turned back to her computer and turned her music down considerably, then faced him again. "What can I do for you?"

Tony shuffled his feet a bit. For some reason, Abby made him more nervous than Gibbs did. At least, in this situation she did. "You can accept my apology."

"Oh," she said, and turned back to her computer, intending on tuning him out.

He blew out a breath. "Okay. I suppose I deserve that. But, um . . ." He scratched behind his ear, not really wanting to explain everything to her, but knowing he would have to tell her at least some of it. "I was angry at McGee and Ziva and took it out on you, and you didn't deserve that. Don't deserve that."

She slowly turned to him. "Tim and Ziva don't, either," she said softly. "Tony, I know it's not easy for you to see, but they genuinely care about each other." She paused. "They love each other, Tony. You can't fault them for wanting to be together."

"Yeah, well . . ." Tony didn't look at Abby as he spoke, choosing instead to focus on her hands, one still resting on her keyboard and the other dangling loosely at her side, "it doesn't make it hurt any less." He looked up then and saw the look of realization on Abby's face, but continued speaking to prevent her from saying anything. "I'm sorry, Abby," he said, then walked out of the lab, leaving her calling out after him.

"Tony! Tony, wait!" Abby watched as the doors shushed shut behind him and slumped her shoulders in defeat. It was going to take more than a Gibbs slap to fix Tony this time.

After another hour or so at Michael's home, during which Ziva received further details on his service and other business she needed to take care of, Ziva and McGee left for the night. The drive back to the hotel was relatively quiet, as they were both thinking about the promised conversation they were to have.

As they pulled into the parking garage and Ziva shut off the car, she paused in place, then said, "I just need to know that you will not hold what I tell you tonight against me."

He frowned. "Just what happened with you and Tony?"

Ziva shook her head. "Let's go to our room first."

McGee continued to frown, but nodded and unclasped his seat belt, then opened the door and stepped out. He walked around the car to open the door for Ziva, but she had already opened her own door and was stepping out, giving him a tense smile.

The walk through the parking garage felt plodding, like they were walking through quicksand in cement shoes. Finally, they did reach the elevator, which took them to the front desk and after a brief interlude with the clerk, they had their keys and were ready to finish their talk.

When they entered the room, McGee rolled his suitcase to the end of the bed and plopped down, folding his hands patiently in front of him. "We're here," he said. "Gonna tell me what happened now?"

She didn't look at him, focusing on her suitcase instead. "Perhaps we should unpack first . . ."

"Aw, come on, Ziva," McGee groaned, growing impatient. "What, did you sleep with him or something?"

"Yes," Ziva responded automatically, and raised her eyes to McGee's shocked and hurt expression. He didn't make any attempt to speak, and Ziva was glad, because she was far from finished. "It didn't mean anything . . . or, I should say, I thought it did, but then I realized I didn't feel the way I thought I did, that all I really felt for Tony was physical attraction and a platonic love. He is my partner at work and a friend and . . . what we did was a mistake." She looked at McGee again, her eyes begging the forgiveness of which she was not willing to ask.

McGee didn't anything, just closed his eyes and lowered his head. Ziva felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach, and all she really wanted to do was run away, hide her heart away, like she always did, but she couldn't this time. She wouldn't. This was different. This was McGee.

She moved around in front of him and knelt on the floor, so he would be forced to look at her when he opened his eyes. "Tim," she said softly, and he simply shook his head. She moved her hands to his, resting them gently on top of them . . . but he moved his hands out from under hers just as quickly. Ziva swallowed a lump in her throat and tried again. "Tim . . . please. I am not above begging . . ." She meant it as a joke, but she was serious at the same time -- this was too important to let go, and she couldn't bear the thought of him not being there right now . . . or at any point in the future.

"No, don't do that," McGee said, his first words to her in some minutes.

Ziva straightened hopefully. "Does that mean . . .?" she dared to ask, but he interrupted her before she could finish the question.

"No," he said softly. It wasn't said with anger or maliciousness, or even sarcasm. He just . . . said it. And then stood, forcing Ziva backwards. "I need a few minutes, okay?"

She nodded quickly. She would take that. She had to. It was her only hope of . . . what? Not losing him? She wasn't sure, but she hoped his few minutes would end with him realizing she was telling the truth and wanted to be with him. Though there was one surefire way of letting him know . . .

McGee had walked to the door already and had his hand on the knob when Ziva spoke, quietly, but loud enough so he could hear.

"I love you."

He paused for a moment . . . then turned the knob and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Ziva staring with an expression of grief on her face.