"I have to go to LA."
Her stomach sank at Jethro's words.
It was Sunday, less than one week before their wedding – Christmas day, in fact. Gibbs had located Ziva in the kitchen where she was putting the finishing touches on the desserts they were taking to Ducky's for their family dinner.
He had slipped up behind her and slid his hands onto her hips. Somewhat distractedly she'd leaned back into him for a second, acknowledging his welcome presence, then her focus had reverted to her task. After pressing a kiss to her head, he'd murmured those words against her hair.
He had her undivided attention now.
Slowly she laid down the spatula she was using to add a glaze to the gingerbread bundt cake and turned to face him, resting her hands on his chest. She tried to school her expression, but he could see the worry in her eyes.
"Why?" was all she asked at first.
"SecNav is getting hacked from the LA office; Callen is being set up to take the fall. Vance wants McGee and me to get to the bottom of it."
"But-" she stopped herself before she could say the words, looking away.
"I told him to send someone else," Gibbs informed her. Then he sighed. "Then Callen called from a burn phone. It's looking pretty bad for him."
He turned her gaze back to his by gently grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
"I'll be back in time," he promised her.
She closed her eyes against the anxiety she knew he would see there and laid her head on his chest. A tiny voice buried deep in her head whispered that she should have known everything had been going too smoothly. Her life just didn't get to be this happy.
With that uncanny ability he had to read her, he hugged her closer and said, "We are getting married and nothing is going to mess that up." She wanted to believe him; she really, really did.
"When do you leave?" she asked quietly.
"McGee's picking me up in an hour," he told her.
So soon she thought.
"Well, we had better get you packed," she said bravely, starting to pull away to head upstairs. He held onto her.
"A Marine doesn't need an hour to pack," he murmured in her ear, "but we can definitely go upstairs." He nuzzled her neck suggestively, wanting her before he left.
Her response was immediate. She stretched up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips to hers. Their kiss turned deep and needy in a heartbeat. He boosted her up so her legs could wrap around his waist and he carried her to their bedroom without releasing her mouth.
A wave of desperation washed over her. She couldn't get him undressed fast enough or press close enough to him.
Heat rose exponentially between them as their clothes hit the floor. Then she was wrapped around him once again as he carried her to the bed.
When she would have gone too fast, too frantically for her own body to keep up, he gentled her…readied her…loved her. Everything else fell away for both of them as they came together, completing them both in a way that still had the power to amaze them. Ziva held onto him for dear life as her release claimed her, a heartbeat before Jethro found his.
He collapsed against her, fighting for air. She cradled him close, wanting to hold him exactly like this for as long as possible.
Gradually their hearts slowed and breathing became easier. He lifted his chest from hers, slid his forearms underneath her shoulders, and cupped her head in his hands.
They couldn't help but smile for each other in the aftermath of their ultimate connection. She speared her fingers into his hair, drawing him slowly back down for soft, barely there kisses that spoke volumes without a single word.
"I love you," he told her, gazing into her expressive brown eyes.
"I love you back," she returned. "So much," she added in a whisper.
She sighed. "I do not want you to go," she admitted, "but I know you must."
"Don't want to go," he said on a breath of his own, "but…feels like I need to."
Of course it did, she thought. He could have refused if his friend was not at risk, but knowing that … it just wasn't in his makeup not to do something. And, truthfully, that was one of the things she loved about him.
"Come back as soon as you can?" she asked softly, uncaring that her request revealed her vulnerability.
"Count on it," he promised. Their lips met in another deep, heartfelt kiss.
When they'd pulled apart, she reached for courage and said, "Now, we had better pack your bag so you are ready when McGee gets here. The sooner you leave, the sooner you will be back, yes?" That earned her another brief kiss.
Reluctantly, they got up from the bed. She pulled her soft pants and top back on, while he grabbed a quick shower. She started packing for him.
When he came out of the shower, she reflected, "It appears Abby will get her wish after all." She was unable to keep the disappointment completely from her voice.
Abby had thoroughly researched Jewish wedding customs and was of the opinion that Ziva and Gibbs should observe the traditional week apart before the wedding, at least after work hours. Ziva had steadfastly refused to move out of their house for a week. However, she had agreed to spend the night before the wedding at Abby's. Her dress was there anyway, and she had to admit…there had been something exciting about building the anticipation of seeing him waiting for her under the chuppah.
"Not planning to be gone all week, Ziver," he denied. She just gave him a look.
There was a knock downstairs. Since finding out about the relationship between Gibbs and Ziva, the team only walked in unannounced if they'd been invited over.
"That will be McGee," Ziva observed, a slight catch in her throat. "I will let him in while you finish up."
He caught her close to press another kiss to her head before she left the room.
Ziva opened the front door to McGee.
"Hey, Ziva," he said, looking almost guilty, as though this were all his fault somehow.
"Hello, McGee," she returned softly. "Come in. Gibbs will be down in a moment."
After he'd walked into the living room, McGee spoke.
"Ziva, I-" he started, then broke off, not really sure what to say.
"Will you promise me two things, Tim?" Ziva asked, wandering over to stare out the window rather than look at him. She had one arm across her middle, while the other hand was sliding her Star of David charm on its chain in an attempt to soothe herself.
"Absolutely," he acknowledged, willing to do just about anything to erase even a bit of the sadness from his friend's eyes.
"Do all you can to get him back here before the wedding," she requested. Her voice was almost too soft to hear at first, then strengthened as she continued. "And make sure he eats actual food at least once a day so that he does not live on coffee."
He stepped to her and laid a companionable arm across her shoulders, pulling her in for a one-armed hug.
"The first one is a given," he told her. "The second one…can I just say I'll do my best?" He gave her a small grin.
She chuckled. "Good enough," she agreed, leaning her head against his shoulder.
They heard Jethro on the stairs and moved apart. McGee said a quick goodbye to Ziva and took Gibbs' bag out to the car.
Gibbs closed the door after the other agent. Turning to Ziva, he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her in flush with his body. Her arms slid around his chest to wrap around him.
"Tell Ducky I'm not just doing this to miss his turkey dinner," he attempted to joke.
She didn't answer.
He gave her a squeeze. "Ziver?" There was a pause. "You're still going to Ducky's." Instead of asking her, he was telling her.
She shrugged.
"He's counting on you to bring dessert," he reminded her, shamelessly playing the guilt card as he didn't want her sitting here alone all evening. "You don't want to let him down."
She still didn't answer.
He tilted her head up. "Promise me you'll go." He refused to let her drop her gaze until she agreed. She nodded.
They shared a soft kiss that said everything else they couldn't, and then he was gone.
"Good morning, Abby," Ziva called out on Monday morning, forcing a falsely upbeat tone into her voice as she walked into the forensics lab.
"Ziva! Have you heard anything from Gibbs and Timmy? Did they solve the case yet?" Abby's speech was particularly pressured in her worry.
"Not yet," Ziva said with a small smile, "but they have been gone less than a day and a great deal of that time was spent on a plane. They did, however, arrive safely."
"Ziva, what if it takes longer than Gibbs thinks? What if they can't solve it at all? What if-" Abby rambled until Ziva cut her off.
"Abby!" she said firmly but not unkindly.
The Israeli was holding a Caf-Pow! behind her back for bribery purposes. She sat it on the work station and put both hands on Abby's shoulders.
"Gibbs will be here if he has to steal a plane and force McGee to fly it," she declared. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
"Wow, you sound sure," Abby marveled.
"I am," Ziva confirmed, ignoring the twinge of uncertainty she was attempting to bury. "Now…I have a favor to ask of you."
Abby caught sight of the sweet drink she loved and reached for it as she said, "OK, shoot."
Ziva grabbed the cup and said, "Uh-uh-uh…not until you say yes to my favor."
Abby looked shocked, then impressed with Ziva's tactics. "Playing hardball, huh? You must really want this favor."
Ziva gave her a little smile. Without further ado, she just came out with it.
"I want to get a tattoo – tonight, after work," Ziva revealed. "You are the best person to recommend someone and perhaps can even pull a few ropes to get me an appointment tonight."
"Strings," Abby said absently, her mind on Ziva's surprising request.
Ziva looked confused, then realized where she'd gone wrong with the idiom she'd used. However, she did not let her irritation with that distract her from the task at hand.
"The tattoo, Abby?" Ziva prompted her.
"What are you looking for?" Abby asked, sorting through tattoo artists in the rolodex of her brain.
"Something simple – just three initials," Ziva divulged.
Abby smirked. "Gee, wonder whose those could be?"
Ziva just raised her left eyebrow and then pulled her personal digital camera from her pocket. "The part that may be a little tricky is the color. I want this exact color."
She showed Abby the small viewing screen that was completely filled with the color blue – an amazing shade of blue, Abby noted.
"Nice," Abby agreed. "You definitely need Cyn," she added decisively.
"Sin?" Ziva asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.
"My friend Cyn," Abby explained, "as in Cynthia."
Ziva's countenance cleared.
"She's amazingly talented and a master with color," Abby noted. "You definitely need her. I'll give her a call in a bit; she works late so she's not in yet."
"Thank you, Abby," Ziva said warmly, handing over the drink she'd been holding hostage.
Abby looked at the camera thoughtfully as she sipped. "I've seen that color before somewhere," she mumbled around the straw. She adjusted the zoom until a picture appeared. Slowly Gibbs' eyes filled the screen, then the whole picture came into view. It was a close-up of a smiling Gibbs and happy Ziva, clearly from one of their weekend get-a-ways. "I knew I'd seen that color!"
She looked at Ziva approvingly. "Nice, Zi. Really, really nice."
Ziva's eyes twinkled as she inclined her head once in recognition of the compliment.
Abby was silent for a bit, clearly mulling something over. "You've never gotten a tattoo before, right?"
Ziva shook her head. "When I was doing undercover work in Mossad, it would not have been safe to do so, even if I had wanted to. Why?"
"Well…" Abby started. "They take a while to heal, and there are some things you really shouldn't do for a couple weeks, like swim, strenuous exercise…
"And you, Ziva David, are going to be on your honeymoon in Hawaii in less than a week," she pointed out. "I'm thinking swimming and strenuous activities will both be on the agenda – not necessarily in that order." She grinned knowingly while sucking down more of her addicting drink.
Pleasure softened Ziva's features at the mere thought of her honeymoon, followed by a flash of disappointment as Abby's words sunk in. "I did not know that," she admitted. "It is just that I have been thinking about it and with Jethro gone right now it seemed…oh, well." She shrugged. "Thank you anyway, Abby." She turned to go. She made it as far as the door when a loud thud met her ears, the sound of a cup hitting the counter.
"Wait!" Abby exclaimed. "What if she could do something a little different now and then you could get the permanent tattoo later?"
Ziva perked up. "What do you mean…?" she asked, walking back over to Abby.
"Cyn's been experimenting with this technique she developed herself to create tattoos on top of the skin. They're technically temporary, but last a really long time. She doesn't use henna, but it's kinda like that, only with ink as the base so she can get different colors…I'm not sure how she does that, but it's really –"
"Abby!" Ziva interrupted, bringing her friend back to the present conversation.
"Let me call her," Abby suggested, cutting to the chase, "and I'll get back to you, 'k?"
Ziva's smile was back. "Thank you, Abby," and she leaned in to place a kiss on her friend's cheek, not unlike the ones the scientist often received from Gibbs. This was not lost on Abby, whose heart melted a little. The changes in Ziva over the years sometimes astounded her.
Around noon, Ziva received a text from Abby. "We're good to go – meet me after work. ;)"
A couple days later, Gibbs and McGee were walking down a street in LA ostensibly following a lead, but actually looking for a place to talk without being overheard. They thought they had the culprit figured out – a new guy who'd suspiciously joined the janitorial staff recently through a temp agency – and now Tim was devising a trap of the technological variety.
Despite his focus and the seriousness of the case, thoughts of his fiancée were never far from Jethro's consciousness. As he walked, his conversation with Ziva last night wandered through Gibbs' mind, putting a faint smile on his face. She had been unable to sleep, so she'd started packing for both of them for their honeymoon trip. He'd told her he didn't need much – and neither did she.
"No?" she asked. "And how do you figure that? We are going to be gone ten days."
"The plan is to get you naked as often as possible," he'd informed her, "so don't worry too much about clothes."
She'd given a sexy laugh and agreed that was a good plan.
McGee's voice brought him out of his reverie. Tim suggested that, since they were out, they should get some lunch before they returned to NCIS. He'd managed to get at least a sandwich into his boss once a day, but he wasn't sure that qualified as eating to Ziva. He hadn't, however, been able to get him to sit down to eat, let alone consume something that would take more than five minutes to wolf down.
The older agent let the suggestion about lunch go by without comment. Seemed like every time he turned around Tim was trying to get him to eat, Gibbs thought. It was damned irritating. All Jethro was interested in was solving the case, saving Callen's hide and getting the hell out of here. If Tim asked him one more time about food…
"That looks like a nice spot," Tim pointed to a café across the street. "Not too crowded either; should be able to get in and out."
Gibbs rounded on him.
"McGee! You got a tapeworm I don't know about? What is it with eating? !"
Tim was silent for a moment, then caved in the face of his boss' frustration. Ziva was scary, but she was more than two thousand miles away. Gibbs was scary, too, and he was standing right in front of him.
"Zivamademepromise," he mumbled, looking at his feet.
"What?" Gibbs asked in confusion. The only part of that he'd caught had been Ziva's name at the beginning.
Tim took a deep breath and let it out, resigned to whatever fate awaited him. Eyes shifted skyward, he repeated, "Ziva made me promise to make sure you ate real food at least once a day so that you didn't live on coffee."
Whatever reaction Tim was expecting, it wasn't the reaction he got. One side of Gibbs' mouth pulled up in that patented smile of his and he actually looked … pleased.
"She did, huh?" he asked softly, catching McGee's gaze.
"Uh, yeah, she did," Tim confirmed cautiously. Now it was his turn to look confused. "You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad?" Gibbs asked reasonably, still with that silly-assed grin on his face.
"Well, I thought maybe you'd think I was trying to mother-hen you or something," Tim admitted.
"Did," Gibbs confirmed. "At first."
"But…now we're good?" Tim asked hopefully.
"We're good," Gibbs confirmed. "And if you let me stop in that jewelry store over there first, we might even sit down to eat at that café." He nodded his head at a shop just down the block. It had been in the back of Jethro's mind that he hadn't bought Ziva a wedding present yet. Shifting the case to the side for a moment, he decided now was the perfect time to actually look for something.
Upon entering, the men found that the shop wasn't large, but had a nice selection. The saleswoman greeted them in a friendly manner.
"How can I help you, gentleman?" she asked.
Gibbs looked at McGee, who got the hint.
"He's looking for a wedding gift for his fiancée," Tim explained, running interference as Jethro wandered off. "I think he needs to look around a little first."
The older woman was very understanding. It wasn't the first time she'd had a customer in this situation – or a taciturn one like the silver-haired man.
"No problem," she assured McGee. "I'll be right here if I can be of any assistance."
Gibbs had stopped in front of a particular case that held several different kinds of bracelets. He knew he didn't want a ring, was pretty sure he didn't want a necklace – after all, she rarely removed her Star of David pendant. Maybe a bracelet…but which one? He liked the slim ones that had diamonds; some also had colored stones alternating with the diamonds.
Tim stepped over. "Tennis bracelet," he commented. "Nice idea."
"Tennis bracelet?" Gibbs asked, the look on his face asking what the hell's a tennis bracelet?
"That's what these are called," Tim explained. When Gibbs still looked confused, Tim came back with, "I have no idea why."
Jethro shook his head and went back to looking. There was one that kept drawing his eye. It had alternating diamonds and sapphires and there were platinum pieces in the shape of X's interspaced with the stones. The size and spacing of the gems gave the overall appearance of an icy blue color rather than highlighting the deeper sapphire.
"What do you think of this one?" he asked McGee uncharacteristically.
McGee was shocked. "Me, Boss?" he asked incredulously.
"No, the other federal agent standing beside me," he snapped sarcastically.
Tim recovered quickly. "It's beautiful, unique," he said. "I think she'll love it.
"And, besides, it'll remind her of your eyes," he finished.
Gibbs looked at him like he'd grown two heads. He was pretty sure Tim was right, but how did he know this stuff?
"Sorry, Boss," Tim stammered, feeling like he'd overstepped his bounds. "I'll just wait over here." He started to walk off, but Gibbs stopped him.
"You're fine, Tim," Gibbs said, not ungently.
The saleswoman had been watching discreetly and caught Gibbs' eye just as he looked up for her.
"Find something you like?" she asked with a smile as she walked over.
"This one," Gibbs pointed.
"Lovely choice," the woman said. She had the bracelet boxed and wrapped quickly, and they completed the sale in no time.
The men walked out the door onto the sidewalk as Jethro tucked his purchase into his coat pocket.
"Ziva says you notice things," Gibbs revealed suddenly to McGee, his eyes scanning the block instead of looking at his companion.
Then his head turned and he looked the younger man in the eye. "She's right." With a ghost of a smile, he finished with, "Thanks for the help."
Tim was pretty sure his shock was showing on his face, but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. "No problem," he said faintly.
"Now, let's stop at your cafe so my fiancée doesn't worry," Gibbs said, "and so she doesn't kick your ass." Now a full-blown smirk curved his mouth.
McGee grinned, too. "Thanks, Boss."
It was the end of shift on Thursday. Ziva was at her desk finishing up her report on the case she and Tony had solved over the last couple of days. This one had been pretty open and shut, an accidental death, but at least it had given her something to keep her mind occupied. Tony had gone down to bug Abby in her lab.
"Agent David?"
She looked up to find one of the security guards standing near her desk, a small package in his hand.
"Yes," she responded.
"This was just delivered for you by special courier. We ran it through the scanners; nothing suspicious showed up," the man said, holding the box out to her. It was simply addressed to her at NCIS; there was no return address.
"Where was the courier from?" she asked, taking the package, her face registering her puzzlement.
"His identification said he was a guest of the Israeli Embassy. I asked if he wanted to speak to you, but he said just to make sure you got this," the guard explained.
Her heart stuttered, then started pounding. The Israeli Embassy? She stared at the parcel as though it would reveal its contents if she just looked at it long enough.
"Agent David?" the man said, growing a little concerned. "Are you all right?"
His voice pulled Ziva out of her stupor.
"Yes, I am fine," she said in a low voice. "Thank you."
"No problem," he assured her and went back to his post.
Ziva looked at the package again, her stomach clenching. Well, there was only one way to find out what was in there, but she wasn't about to do that in the open squadroom.
Taking the box, she walked down a few hallways until she found a small, out-of-the-way conference room that was not in use. Entering, she locked the door behind her. She placed the package on the table and stared at it for a bit longer before gingerly pulling off the plain brown paper covering it. She removed the lid on the box underneath only to find another box – but this one made her heart leap into her throat.
With shaking fingers, she traced the design carved into the wood of the inner box. The last time she had seen this it had been sitting on her mother's dresser. In her mind's eye she was suddenly a child again asking her mother to tell her one more time about the earrings in the box just because she loved the look on her mother's face as she related the story of Ziva's father giving them to her as a wedding gift.
Her hand trembling, she removed the wooden box and placed it gently on the table. She opened the lid, blinking unsuccessfully at the tears that flooded her eyes. The earrings were still in there, cushioned in the deep blue velvet lining as they always had been. They were made of white gold covered in tiny diamonds. Each earring was formed by a diamond shape at the top that held the post that went into the ear lobe. From there it flared out into a pear shape that was open in the middle and had a teardrop sapphire dangling in the space. A small round pearl hung from the bottom. Ziva had never seen any other earrings like them and their elegance still took her breath away.
Wiping at her cheeks with one hand, she lifted them out with the other, missing her mother like she hadn't in years. She then noticed a piece of paper folded in the bottom of the box. She was almost afraid to open it, but forced herself to do so.
Your mother always wanted you to have these for your wedding day ~ and so do I. It was signed simply Your Father.
Ziva sobbed in earnest then, sliding down the wall to the floor still cradling the jewelry in one hand and clutching the note in the other. Bending her head forward to rest on her knees, she let the tears come, keenly feeling Jethro's absence more than ever. Her carefully maintained facade that had so far allowed her to make it through this week without him came crashing down.
She sat there long after her tears had stopped, losing track of the time. Her phone rang, shaking her out of her daze. She looked at the caller ID and nearly started crying again. It was Gibbs.
Trying to control her emotions, she laid down the earrings and the note and answered.
"Hey," said that voice she loved so much.
"Hey back," she smiled, her voice husky with feeling. She wiped at her cheeks as though he could see her.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, but determinedly.
"How is the case coming?" she asked, side-stepping his question.
"Ziver."
"Please, Jethro," she whispered. "Just talk to me for a while. All right?"
There was a slight pause, then he released a breath with, "OK." Going back to her earlier question, he continued, "Got things figured out and McGee's got a trap set. Now we just need the bastard to trip it.
"How are things there? DiNozzo behaving himself?" he asked.
"For the most part," she said wryly, her voice getting stronger. "He said I made his ears bleed today, but I did not see any blood actually coming out."
"What did you say?" he asked in mock resignation.
She wrapped herself in indignation. "What makes you think I said something?"
"I know you – both of you," he pointed out. "He said something, then you said something back." She humphed internally, but couldn't deny that he was right.
"Over lunch, Abby shared that she was not looking forward to going to the laundromat tonight, as she had so many clothes to wash. She and I decided that laundry must reproduce itself in the basket because there is always more than what there should be for one or two people." She stopped.
Because he knew it was helping her find her equilibrium, he encouraged, "Go on."
"Tony got this appalled look on his face and suddenly said to me, 'You wash Gibbs' underwear!' I simply said yes, and you wash mine. Then he said 'Well, that's kind of hot, but you washing his…that's just disgusting'." Her imitation of DiNozzo was spot on. She paused as she remembered her response to that, which caused a small chuckle to leave her throat.
He waited expectantly.
"Then I might have said that since I touch what is covered by your underwear on a delightfully regular basis, doing your laundry is immaterial, really. That is when he said I made his ears bleed," she confessed.
He snorted out a laugh, then said reprovingly, "Ziva."
"What? I did not say it loudly, and besides - he started it." She sounded all of ten years old, but at least there weren't tears in her voice anymore. After a moment of comfortable silence, he spoke again.
"Ready to tell me what had you upset when you answered the phone?" he asked quietly.
She sighed. "I received a package today," she started. "From my father."
He stiffened.
"What kind of package?" he asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
"The earrings he gave to my mother on their wedding day," she informed him quietly.
Silence.
"That all that was in there?" he asked suspiciously.
"There was a note," she admitted.
"What did it say?" he asked. She told him.
"I do not know what to do," she whispered. "I love the idea of having this part of my mother with me when we get married…"
"Then wear them," he said firmly.
"I feel like I should call him or something, but…I …" Her voice trailed off.
"Did you invite him to the wedding?" Jethro asked.
"No," she answered. "I thought we had said all we needed to say when he showed up at our house that day."
Her tone dropped to a whisper again. "Now, I am not so sure."
"Do you want him to come?" he asked.
"I do not know," she admitted, sounding so forlorn that his heart ached.
"It's OK. You don't have to decide right this minute," he soothed her even as he was clenching his fist in anger at his future father-in-law.
"I miss you," she whispered.
"Miss you, too, babe," he responded.
"Babe?" she asked in a stronger voice. He could hear the smile in her voice.
"Just tryin' it out," he responded lightly. "What do you think?"
"I think I like it," Ziva admitted.
"Good to know," he returned.
There was a pause that wasn't uncomfortable, but the physical distance between them suddenly felt like it could be measured in lightyears.
"Jethro, it is Thursday," she whispered.
"I'll be there, Ziva."
"I know you want to be here," she responded, her voice choked with tears again, "but not even you can control everything."
"I'll be there even if I have to hijack the red-eye tomorrow night and make McGee fly it," he advised her. She couldn't help but chuckle through her tears as he unknowingly echoed her words to Abby on Monday.
"Wouldn't be the first time I flew all night across the country to get to you," he reminded her in an intimate voice.
She smiled as she thought back to the time he'd come back from Mexico when she'd called him. He'd saved her job and possibly even her life. What they had eventually found together had then saved her soul.
"True," she husked.
"You OK?" he asked.
"I am fine," she returned, attempting to reassure them both.
"I love you, Ziver."
"I love you, too," she told him.
He promised to call her again as soon as he could. They said goodbye and hung up.
Gibbs needed to get back to the case, but he had a more pressing issue to take care of first. He pushed a speed dial number on his phone. Leon Vance answered.
"Yeah, Leon," Gibbs said with no patience for small talk. "I need Eli David's number."
"What's going on?" Vance deflected.
"Ziva got a package from him. She's upset and I have something to say to him."
There was silence on the other end.
"The number, Leon," Jethro pushed forcefully.
"Not sure that's my place," Leon advised him.
Gibbs lost control of his temper.
"Then give your friend a message from me," he all but exploded at his director. "If he's messing with her, I'm coming after him. That's my place!"
"You sure you want to go there, Gibbs?" Leon asked. "He is her father."
"Then he can damn well start acting like it," Jethro bit out.
Vance closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. After a silent sigh, he said, "I'll see what I can do."
"You do that, Leon," Gibbs snarked and hung up.
As he headed back to the team he was working with, he vowed silently to give this one more day. By tomorrow night he would be on a plane back to Ziva, even if he had to turn in his badge to do it.
Friday night found Ziva in the window seat in Abby's bedroom staring out into the night. Her arms were wrapped around her legs with her chin resting on her knees. Her friend was sound asleep on her makeshift bed on the couch; she'd insisted that the bride-to-be should have the bed. Both women had enjoyed relaxing spa treatments earlier as Abby's bridal gift to Ziva in place of the bachelorette party in which the prospective bride had had no interest. Abby had no longer been able to keep her eyes open and started snoring right in the middle of rambling about how it was a good thing they'd had the rehearsal last week to better accommodate the schedule of the judge who was presiding over the ceremony. Ziva didn't mind that Abby had fallen asleep; she'd been having trouble focusing on the conversation anyway.
It was nearly 11:30 p.m. Her wedding was less than twenty-four hours away and there were still more than two thousand miles between her and the man she loved more than her own life.
All week she'd repeated "He will be here" to herself like a mantra, but tonight it was hard to sense enough truth in those words to find any comfort in them.
She knew he would be back as soon as he could and that they would still get married. And she'd meant what she said when she'd told him all she really wanted was to be married to him; the details were less important. But, still…she wanted the wedding they'd planned for tomorrow.
Suddenly her phone rang. Gibbs.
Her heart suddenly galloping, Ziva immediately answered. With three little words Ziva's world righted itself again and her mantra became reality.
"On my way."