A/N:I don't own anything I'm not supposed to. The characters, references, some dialogue + anything else all belong to whomever. Please don't sue me - it is just for fun. The rest came out of my brain.
Chapter ten: are you bored yet? The Ray-Jay warning still applies!
I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to cancisfan. She's putting a lot of patient time, effort and kindness into helping me clean up my grotty punctuation and stuff.
And the usual for the background details….
"But, O! how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes."
William Shakespeare
April 2011
First impressions count. Tony's very first impression of Ray Cruz was, clearly, the man had to be an idiot. She didn't like surprises. She didn't like being told someone was in one location, only to find out they were somewhere completely different. Most importantly, she didn't like her private life being publicly displayed without her consent. No matter how well-intentioned, Ray's unannounced appearance at Ziva's office was a thoughtless and selfish act.
Initially Tony observed their tête-à-tête with silent interest, until Ray's correction of Ziva's English proved too galling and he interrupted. The neutral demand for introductions was entirely unnecessary; there could be no doubt as to the identity of her unnamed visitor. Ziva was slightly flustered; marshaling a mix of conflicted reactions and conscious she was - suddenly - the focus of much curiosity. As the couple walked further into the squad room, Gibbs moved closer. Ziva presented her boss and Ray responded with an outstretched hand, his voice carefully deferential. The blue eyes surveyed Ray, but the only acknowledgement was a noncommittal nod which accompanied the handshake. Friendliness was McGee's natural condition. Moreover, he and Ziva enjoyed the same sibling-like relationship which existed between McGee and Tony. He was genuinely pleased to meet her boyfriend and his open, warm greeting was indicative this sentiment.
Tony was last and he used the interval to scrutinize his rival. He was childishly pleased he was an inch taller: decidedly less so at the conclusion Ray was probably a year or two younger.
"Tony DiNozzo…" Ziva's smile held an uncertain appeal for good behavior.
He glanced at her, amused by the nerves. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." Holding out his hand, he looked Ray squarely in the eye.
Tony made his introduction formal by including the title she had dropped; serious and charming. "It's a pleasure Ray."
"Special Agent; heard good things." Ray was equally agreeable.
"Yeah, likewise." Tony's gaze returned to Ziva. "Any friend of Zee-vah's is a friend of ours."
He stared at Ray for a minute, before reverting to Ziva with a teasing grin. "Of course the last time she had an out of town visitor, our director ended up in the hospital."
Gibbs watched the exchange. The former Marine wasn't an anthropologist; he didn't need to be one in order to recognize the atavistic scenario playing out in front of him. It was one which had been performed thousands of years ago in some primitive settlement; two men facing off for the privilege of hauling Ziva back to their cave. The weapons were not honed stone knives or crude clubs; they were savagely polite conversation and sharply pleasant smiles. Clothing standards were more sophisticated too. The attitudes and motivations were carbon copies of their prehistoric counterparts, nonetheless.
Ray hadn't taken his eyes off Tony.
"Well, I come in peace, promise." Smiling in easy self-deprecation, he carried on in an approving tone. "And, despite the injuries your director sustained, the Agency thinks that you navigated that situation very well."
"You CIA?" Gibbs was gruffly direct: interrogation room style.
Ray answered with a respectful, though assured, affirmative. And a one thousand megawatt light bulb exploded inside Tony's brain.
If there had been a discomfort meter situated in the bull-pen, the needle would already be hovering on the line separating the yellow zone from the orange: between uncomfortable and extremely awkward. When Ziva's boyfriend confirmed his status as long-time, active duty CIA, the indicator would have skipped orange completely, scorched through red – the excruciatingly unpleasant range - and kept going. Whereupon the glass would have shattered and the hair-spring sensor snapped, rendering the device useless.
Gibbs impassively absorbed the information. McGee's amiable smile was smothered by worried wrinkles.
"Funny, Zee-vah failed to mention your line of work." This time Tony's eyes darkened, tinted by displeasure, and sarcasm was evident in his comment.
Her eyes slipped down, away, in embarrassment.
"It's what I do, not who I am." Ray brushed off the idea his profession was either relevant or should be a problem.
Ray's defense of Ziva from the implied criticism irritated Tony further, and he took a few paces forward.
"That's a very Zen, New-Agey kinda attitude for someone who installs puppet regimes for a living." Tony adopted antagonistic arrogance in mocking the trite statement.
Tony and Ray stared each other down, and a more overt struggle for ascendancy pervaded the air. Ziva, who was extremely ill-at-ease, intervened with a request to show Ray around the Navy Yard. Distinctly unhappy, Tony watched them leave.
The bodies from the Coast Guard had come from the Gulf – through Florida. Undoubtedly the CIA would also have the PRF covered by surveillance and had made the link. Ray hadn't been coming to see Ziva in November; he had been coming to see Eli David. Tony couldn't ascertain whether the meeting would have been by contrivance or appointment. Nevertheless, he sensed it must have been the purpose behind the CIA agent's hastily arranged visit, and it's equally abrupt cancellation once Eli's plans had altered.
Currently, Tony had no idea whose name should be granted the highest echelon in the pantheon of sons-of-bitches. On one side, his discussion with Ziva's father had suggested subtle warning in regard to CI-Ray. This, in combination with Tony's epiphany over the Thanksgiving trip, should count in Eli's favor: against Ray. Conversely, Tony was absolutely certain Eli was deserving of significantly less trust than one would afford an angry cobra. It would be exceedingly dangerous to lose sight of that undeniable truth.
Worst of all, Tony hadn't discussed the topic of Ray and Eli David with Ziva. There was one bright spot; Tony had a face, a full name and a fragment of background upon which to work.
They say trouble comes in threes. It wasn't even lunch-time, yet the cosmic sadist who oversees these occurrences had dispensed a stunningly complete treble. The MCRT were investigating an apparent serial killing, Ziva's boyfriend was in town and he worked for the CIA; a full audit by the IRS would have been more welcome. By early afternoon, the cycle of triple woes extended into a rollover. Not only did the case definitely involve a serial murderer; EJ was the lead investigator in those crimes.
She had swanned into the latest victim's apartment, aggravating Gibbs and surprising Tony. Now he was in unequivocal violation of Rule #12. Originally, Tony cloaked his misgivings beneath the dubious exemption of 'sort-of-but-not-exactly-co-workers.' He and E.J. were on different teams, would work different cases; there could be no conflict of interests. That technicality had been obliterated and Gibbs' stark disapproval of the liaison was becoming obvious.
The most unpalatable component to the latest round of misery was Ray's pronouncement of love for Ziva. By the time Ray had turned to throw the balled up towel into the trash can, Tony's demeanor had transposed from civil interest to 'Oh Christ, I'm screwed' and back again. Tony clung desperately to the notion his discomfort was purely rational; that it stemmed from what he knew, or thought he knew, or might possibly know, about CI-Ray. In reality, the visceral, sickening lurch which assaulted him when Ray declared he would tell Ziva 'soon,' had little connection to the man's career.
The bathroom door was flung open and Ziva half-turned. The metallic twang as it bounced off the spring baseboard protector, and the hard slap of a hand against painted wood - preventing the full rebound - catching her attention.
"Seriously?" Tony strode into the ladies' restroom. "The Company?"
She had been avoiding Tony - and this conversation - all day. His severe tone and resolute expression made Ziva wish her evasion strategy had been more successful. The dry click of a lock sliding back cracked the ominous pause. A figure sheepishly emerged from one of the stalls and walked to the hand basins.
"Hey Melissa, how's it going?" With almost comic aplomb, he switched into conversational banter.
"Good, thanks Tony." The tall willowy brunette washed and dried her hands. Conscious their discussion was on hold for her benefit, she rummaged for lipstick. "How are you?"
Whilst she reapplied make-up and fixed her hair, the young woman stealthily surveyed their reflections in the mirror.
Offices, hospitals, shops and all places of work have these nooks: roof-tops, fire escapes, even storage closets. Spaces which act as ad hoc conference rooms and supply notional privacy: for grousing, plotting, settling disputes or advancing courtships. Tony and Ziva's inclination toward conducting such interludes in the bathrooms provoked a wide variety of, sometimes lurid, speculation amongst the staff.
Tony was staring fixedly at Ziva. "Juust peachy."
Melissa regretted the timing of her scheduled break; a few minutes later and she could have witnessed the inaugural fusillade. Contemplating an exit and re-entry maneuver, she finished the review of her appearance and moved from the vanity. Tony was resting his arm on top of the wall-mounted paper towel dispenser.
"You forgot your purse." Tony straightened; retrieving the offending accessory and handing it to Melissa. Despite his pleasant smile, it was an unspoken instruction to leave - now.
"Oh so I did…thanks….right….um…" Grasping for a suitable farewell, she opened the door. "….Have a good one, guys."
Outside, Melissa rolled her eyes at the inane phrase; whatever the pair were going to have, it seemed highly improbable the encounter would be good.
"Well?" Tony shed the affability the second after the door closed.
Ziva walked away from him, establishing SCIF status via the more old-fashioned, manual method.
"Well what?" A feeble attempt at delay; the style of Tony's entrance and initial remark announced his mood as efficiently as if he had used a bullhorn.
She had agonized over Ray's employers and persuaded herself that concealing his occupation was a compulsory evil; one shouldn't advertise that sort of information. Deep down, Ziva knew it was a thin excuse because her teammates wouldn't breach confidentiality and jeopardize Ray's cover. The fiction of obligation comfortingly disguised the real reason; dating a CIA operative would bring unbridled joy from neither Gibbs nor Tony.
"Don't get cute, Zee-vah." Tony snapped an annoyed, sharp rebuke. "You know exactly what I mean."
Privacy secured, she faced him. "Yes, Tony, Ray is CIA."
Ziva's reply denoted philosophical surrender; at this juncture a clash over the subject was inevitable. "It is not important and you are over-reacting."
The MCRT had an adversarial history with the outfit which heightened the ordinary inter-agency frictions and rivalries. This element comprised a negligible portion of Ziva's reticence. Much of her anxiety flowed in anticipation of Tony's reaction; he was wary of the association from the outset. And, because this attitude had deteriorated markedly once Ray transformed from friend into boyfriend, Ziva baulked at kicking the hornets' nest. Additionally, their disagreements these days were restricted to minor squabbling and run-of-the-mill bickering - as opposed to bruising schism. Finally, when she was with Tony - especially during their so-totally-not-romantic-romantic socializing - Ray seemed to fade into the scenery. Ziva wasn't inclined to spoil the affectionate fun and intimacy by dragging a contentious topic into the spotlight.
"If it's not important: why the need to keep it a secret?" Tony's inquiry was justified; its accusatory delivery was not.
When Tony glimpsed Ziva's destination, he had briefly considered not following her into the bathroom. His tolerance threshold had been eroded by the day's revelations; he should cool down before confronting Ziva.
"I did not keep it a secret." She bristled; the implication of deliberate deceit pricking an already raw nerve. "What he does for a living is not relevant. He is my boyfriend and it…."
His scornful retort was neither justified nor pertinent. "Oh but selling his finer qualities is relevant?"
"I have not needed to sell anything about Ray." Ziva latched onto Tony's spurious sideswipe. Portraying a boyfriend as scummy bastard material would be an unlikely strategy for anyone, regardless of their business.
Ziva utilized his own insatiable curiosity for a weapon. "You asked me and I told you about him."
Tony threw out his hands and laughed sardonically. "Yet somewhere between listing the fucking 'Downhill Racer' and 'Iron Chef' impressions…." Biting sarcasm filled his voice. "….you neglected Ray's membership in the Other Government Agency."
Ziva ignored both the mocking allusion to her descriptions of Ray and the derisory euphemism for the CIA.
"Why should his job be such an issue?" Tony scowled; incredulous she had asked. "Not all CIA personnel are Trent Kort, Tony." There was a hint of self-satisfied victory in the remark.
Tony nursed a grudge against the shady, treacherous Kort; the ferocity and longevity of which would make Michael Corleone proud. Ziva was extremely cognizant this fact and the cause.
Ziva pressed home her advantage. "Just because they work for the same organization, does not mean he is like Kort, or even knows him."
Her Mossad training meant Ziva didn't ask Ray for details of activities or colleagues. She accepted the information he did supply unquestioningly; trusting he would tell her anything she could or should know. Unable to attest – categorically – Ray and Trent Kort didn't work together, Ziva presented her rationale along nonspecific lines.
Momentarily placed on the defensive, Tony cocked his head and adapted the contours of his objection. "But CI-Ray knew all about us, didn't he?"
"He….only what I have told him…." This was a much trickier matter and Ziva's indecision showed in her disjointed response.
"You're kidding, right?" Tony didn't allow time for greater thought.
"And, by the way, what have you told him?" The interruption was steeped in caustic disbelief; he was still stinging from Ray's labeling of him as a fraternal factor in Ziva's life.
"What was with the Agency pat on the back bullshit?" He trapped her between the dividing wall and sink unit, stepping nearer as he fired off curt questions. "You get to grade us for them or something?"
"Ray was being…It was a compliment…an official courtesy." Ziva was struggling for an adequate shield under the relentless barrage.
Tony's complaint was valid. The patronizing assessment of NCIS' involvement in the Al-Masri affair had bordered on offensive. Furthermore, Ray's knowledge was unexpected and peculiar; previously, he had never indicated official familiarity with the events.
She looked up at him, taking refuge in Tony's evident prejudice. "You are merely inventing reasons to dislike Ray."
"Trust me, it's not that hard." Tony was grimly resigned.
He studied her for a few seconds, holding Ziva's gaze. There were shadows in her eyes; the fine haze whose appearance he had noticed at the crime scene. Ray's ill-conceived arrival and his CIA identity had served to increase the pressure. Tony suddenly felt churlish - curiously dishonorable - in the attack on Ziva.
His manner softened and he turned away, freeing her path. "Anyway, I thought you were done with the roaming field agent types?"
A perplexed frown creased Ziva's forehead at the shift, because Tony's quasi-reproach was strangely upsetting. As if she had disappointed him somehow; reneged on an undertaking. Yet the vague criticism rankled - especially in light of his choice of girlfriend. Apparently, if the coworker was sufficiently desirable, blatant contravention of Rule #12 was an eminently worthwhile risk. The strands of thought were irreconcilable and puzzling.
At that precise minute, Ziva had two options: peace or hostility.
"I thought you had learned your lesson when it came to mixing personal and professional lives, Tony." Walking toward the door, Ziva rejected conciliation with a jab aimed at Tony's past.
The icy effectiveness of her departure was marred once she was standing outside; she really had needed to pee. Ziva decided on a dignified diversion to the restroom situated on the upper level, rather than loitering nearby for Tony's exit.
"I'm still waiting." Ray crooned as Ziva came into the bull-pen.
She stopped and smiled apologetically. "I know, but your patience will be rewarded." Ziva leaned closer for a moment, and then brandished a folder. "I have to make copies and then I am all yours."
Tony was reclined in his chair, feet up on the desk, reading a file. The relaxed pose and concentration were projecting the complete opposite of his internal state. He nearly offered to complete the task for Ziva. Not out of helpfulness; simply as method to eject Ray from Tony's immediate vicinity. When Ziva announced she would not be able to leave for several hours, Ray had suggested dinner at the Navy Yard. He had shown up, carrying a take-out bag emblazoned with the emblem of one of D.C.'s finer restaurants.
For the past twenty minutes Ray had been hanging around the squad room like a bad smell, engaging Tony in genial conversation. The only obstacle being that Tony steadfastly refused to be engaged. McGee had bailed roughly ten minutes into the exchange; unnerved by the brooding impasse and convinced the orange walls were oozing a fine sheen of testosterone-infused condensation. His friend's absconding during such a crisis was a betrayal for which Tony had mentally vowed vengeance.
Ray glanced over his shoulder, watching as Ziva disappeared from his view. "Is Ziva alright?" His gaze switched back to Tony.
Tony didn't look up from his paperwork. "Think so."
He hadn't fallen for Ray's bathroom 'let's be buddies' act; the entire discussion had been a carefully orchestrated exercise in territoriality. Ray had firmly stamped his claim on Ziva and assigned Tony's role inside the restrictive sphere of friendship. Informing Tony that she thought of him as a brother was a particularly deft touch. Tony was absolutely certain it wasn't healthy to wonder about one's sister the way he sometimes wondered about Ziva. He was equally certain Ziva wouldn't collaborate in their customary flirtatious, slightly risqué, banter with a brother. Nevertheless, the motive behind Ray's depiction was as unmistakable as if he had branded an 'R' on her butt. Ray had been marking Ziva; she belonged to him - not Tony.
"She seems worried…tense." Ray perched against the short end of McGee's desk. "You really haven't noticed anything wrong?"
Ray provoked Tony into supplying an opinion by suggesting lack of perception. Ziva was tense. Tony knew she was tense. And Ray knew Tony knew she was tense. Additionally, Ray surmised Tony had more insight into the source of her tension. If Tony declined to reply or pretended nothing was amiss, it might appear he knew less about Ziva than Ray. Or it might appear he cared less about her welfare than Ray. The astute tactic was designed with the sole purpose of activating Tony's competitive ego.
"It's this case." Again Tony didn't look up, retaining the air of indifference. "She doesn't like serial killers."
Ray snorted dismissively. "She isn't bothered by death. Ziva's killed countless times."
"Yeah, and I've seen her do it too." Although Tony's eyes remained focused on the notes, there was an acerbic edge to his tone; payback for the brother remark.
Ray might want to appoint limits for Tony's relationship with Ziva, however they had been partners for nearly six years. Ray had been involved with her for less than twelve months. The natural result of so many shared experiences meant Tony had participated in aspects of Ziva's existence which would be inaccessible to her boyfriend. Tony was more than willing to highlight that reality.
"But OK, we'll say you're right." Faint sarcasm laced his passive-aggressive surrender.
"Sorry Tony." Ray's concession was swift. "Of course you know her…professionally." Although he couldn't resist the barbed tack which underlined Tony's ordained place in Ziva's affections.
Tony sat forward, reached for a pen and then leaned back. Maintaining the attitude of polite detachment, he appeared totally absorbed in his research. Ray assumed Tony would receive the peace offering and then elaborate on Ziva's mood. When he didn't, an oddly pregnant pause strained the silence which was punctuated by Tony monotonously clicking the pen's release and retract mechanism.
Realizing Tony wouldn't cooperate without further prompting, Ray tried again. "Did she tell you why this case?"
"She didn't tell me anything." A trace of conceit crept into his voice and he still hadn't bothered looking at Ray. "Zee-vah doesn't like serial killers."
Tony reiterated his assertion whilst jotting a couple of names and numbers on a yellow sticky. "Selecting a vic., hunting them, the rituals…all that stuff."
Sitting upright, he picked up the 'phone and began dialing. "It weirds her out."
"Ziva was Mossad, an assassin….I don't follow..." Ray's baffled commentary was genuine.
That Ziva would be perturbed by serial killers and their crimes hadn't occurred to him. "Why would these types of killings upset her?"
Ray was extremely peeved at the fluent ease Tony displayed in translating her disquiet. Tony wasn't proposing a plausible theory; he was outlining an edict with absolute conviction. Furthermore, Ray experienced a flash of jealous pique; an intangible feeling he was comprehensively outclassed and outgunned by Tony.
As time passed, Ray had grown heartily sick of Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Not because of what Ziva said, but because of what she didn't say and how she didn't say it. She often spoke animatedly and with profound fondness about her NCIS family. Ray was well acquainted with each member's strengths, flaws and foibles; except for Tony. Ziva rarely mentioned him. On the occasions his name did crop up, there was a singular, fascinating quality to her voice and features which manifested for no-one else.
Tony canceled the call, sighing in exasperation. Clearly, the man couldn't take a hint and his persistence was inflaming Tony's on-going irritation at his presence. More aggravating was the recognition CI-Ray and ex-Mossad Ziva would have a great deal in common as individuals.
"She doesn't get off on it." He shot a speculative glance at Ray, biting his lower lip. "It's her job, they're orders. And Zee-vah's very, very good…" A grin flashed and fond admiration tinged his words before vanishing.
"But she can't understand someone who does it for kicks…." Tony tailed off.
He had no intention of explaining the principle that Ziva was frightened by what didn't make sense. Ray was her boyfriend; if he was incapable of figuring Ziva out for himself, Tony decided he didn't deserve the heads up.
Ray nodded; folding his arms and listening attentively.
"Plus 'bout three years ago, she was undercover with a fucking nut-job…." Tony shook his head, his expression hardening with the memory. "It was kinda close."
The analysis was exceedingly accurate; it was also rather incomplete. Once the MCRT became aware they were tracking a serial killer, Tony had instinctively sensed Ziva's apprehension. He suspected Ziva's distaste for these cases was magnified by her captivity. Held at the mercy of people for whom inflicting pain, fear and suffering furnished an extra fillip. Certainly she was valuable; for intelligence and her potential as a commodity for barter. That worth notwithstanding, there was a reason they were called terrorists; it was their goal, their raison d'être. The need for control and power fed their activities and Ziva had endured unfettered indulgence of the penchant. Fall-out from the ordeal undeniably exacerbated her vulnerability for this investigation.
"Ziva has faced many close calls." Unconvinced, Ray objected again.
Tony leaned back in his chair again, scrutinizing Ray's reaction. Judging by the interest, Ray was learning something new; something which he didn't quite grasp. Although the idea was exceptionally tempting, Tony refrained from mentioning Ray's abrupt entry had provided neither comfort nor support for Ziva. Solely because Tony knew her stress level had increased dramatically after their argument in the bathroom. Niggling remorse and guilt lurked; Tony's behavior had caused the most distress to Ziva. He definitely wasn't about to tell Ray that Ziva was upset because they had fought; especially since they had been fighting about Ray.
"Serial killers don't make sense to her." Tony shrugged and proceeded to make his 'phone call; a pointed method for terminating the free advice session.
As Tony's call ended, Ziva returned from the copy room. "Now I am ready." She spotted the bag beside the desk, smiling brightly. "Is that what I think it is?"
"Yes it is." Ray confirmed the contents, smoothly conveying devotion. "I made a special trip, just for you."
Ziva glanced at Tony uncertainly, noting the receiver in his hand. "Progress?"
Cautiously, Tony met her eyes. "Nope."
For an instant, transient communication occurred. A complicated transmission achieved with a single look containing diffident regret, appeals for truce and an unspoken 'Are we OK?' A millisecond saturated with the yearning quest for interdependent reassurance; 'Do we - whatever we are – still exist unscathed?'
As Tony and Ziva fleetingly made eye contact, Ray felt as if he had been sucked into a bizarre invisibility bubble. The sensation grated enormously and he popped the membrane before answers were composed and received.
"Ziva, let's go." Ray tapped her shoulder and reclaimed possession. "I haven't seen you since this morning."
Alone in the bull-pen, Tony released the grimace which he had repressed when Ray pronounced his nobility in obtaining the food. He was simultaneously amazed and alarmed by the exchange: that the man who professed to love her, could understand so little about his Ninja. Obviously, Tony's comprehension of String Theory was more extensive than Ray's knowledge of Ziva.
"You're very quiet tonight?" Ray's soft comment broke into Ziva's reverie.
Ziva was propped up on pillows. Ray was sitting at the foot of her bed, reviewing non-sensitive emails and documents on his laptop.
She waved her book at him, deflecting. "This is a wonderful story."
"But you haven't turned a page in ten minutes." One didn't advance in the CIA without a knack for observation and Ray had been an agent for thirteen years. "What's wrong, Ziva?"
"Nothing is wrong." Ziva gave a wan smile, acknowledging she had been caught.
Over their meal, Ray had chided her for talking shop; vexed Ziva had fielded a work-related text which drew her attention away from him. She was reluctant to raise the issue when they were supposedly relaxing and winding down together. Yet Ray's questioning stare at her denial was sincere; an invitation to open up about her concerns.
"The P2P investigation; there are too many outside factors creating trouble." Ziva articulated her abstraction hesitantly. "Gibbs does not trust E.J but it is her case and she is….not helping."
Ruefully, she shook her head. "Even Abby is unhappy and Abby is never unhappy."
"It's a complex situation." Ray logged out of the system. "And these crimes are always difficult burdens."
"Someone who kills for pleasure…." He closed the lid, reaching out and placing the computer on the dresser. "….because they can." Ray watched Ziva's demeanor carefully, noting her slight nod.
"It's madness, incomprehensible to us." Another facet of his skill set for the CIA - manipulation.
Ray was far too smart to quote Tony verbatim. However, he had no compunction when it came to using the insight gleaned from his conversation with Ziva's partner. Ray shamelessly employed the intelligence gathered in order to gain dominance over Ziva's state of mind; a field operative's textbook strategy. Tony's dispassionate answers indicated his stance; serial killers came with the job description. They were merely all part and parcel of the assorted miscreants whom he had pursued in his career, and Ray presumed this tenet would color Tony's handling of Ziva's anxieties. Ray tailored his response to Ziva's mindset. By including himself in the 'utterly-confounded-club', Ray was seeking to cement empathy and trump Tony's seemingly aloof approach.
"Yes." A grateful, spontaneous smile graced Ziva's features; he understood. For once she didn't have to attempt an explanation of worries or concerns.
The realization Ray had tuned into her wavelength was surprising and pleasing. His inability to appreciate her meaning on numerous subjects was disappointing. Not intrinsically adept in matters of feelings, Ziva found frequent qualification for her perspective tiresome and frustrating. They didn't fight; that is they didn't fight like she and Tony quarreled. Ray and Ziva either agreed or disagreed. On the latter occasions, if the dispute revolved around personal experiences and insecurities, Ziva usually capitulated. She would withdraw from any effort to enlighten him. And, significantly, Ray's failing in this area acted as a secretly cherished veil. One which Ziva subconsciously cultivated and the long-distance nature of the relationship aided the barrier. She could preserve a measure of anonymity - not relinquish her entire self. Yet Ziva was acutely aware a thriving partnership should involved unreserved commitment.
"He is clever, this one." Encouraged, Ziva continued. "Four murders, on four continents, and we know nothing about him."
Ray stood up and stretched. "The Port-to-Port case will be resolved."
Ziva sighed. "At present, it is hard to see how. We…."
He moved around the bed, sitting beside her.
"Eventually he'll make a mistake and be neutralized." Ray's soothing interjection was also a signal the discussion was finished.
"And perhaps you won't need to worry about these maniacs for much longer, mmn?" He smiled, placing one hand either side of Ziva.
"Why not?" Ziva laughed an inquiry as Ray began kissing her shoulder. "This is not the first such killer for our team and it will not be the last."
"Perhaps you won't always be on the MCRT?" Ray hooked one finger under a strap of her cami pajama top, sliding it down. "You could want a change."
"I believe I have had sufficient changes in my career." Nestling into the pillows, Ziva drily discounted the concept.
Within the past six years, she had morphed from Mossad control officer to Mossad liaison attached to NCIS; through Kedon unit combatant to NCIS apprentice. She didn't want more upheaval.
"And, despite these cases, I like the my team." Ziva remonstrated playfully.
"Some might think crime-solving for the Navy police is a waste of your extraordinary talents." Ray's lips spread along her throat and he lowered the other strap. "I've made inquiries at the Agency; if there are any openings for analysts or support staff."
Ziva stopped his hand, pushing him away slightly. "I have never asked you to do that for me."
She was frowning; he didn't understand. Ziva was immensely proud of her achievements and the organization to which she belonged. After the debacle of Somalia she had healed, in part, by pouring her energies into a fresh, positive beginning. Tenaciously Ziva rebuilt her life, her career and relationships as an emphatic validation of survival. She saw proving her worth fitting repayment for the team's faith and sacrifice on her behalf. The discovery that Ray considered NCIS beneath Ziva - unsuitable in some way - was disturbing.
Ray was pondering whether this would be an opportune moment to tell Ziva he loved her. For the second time tonight, he shelved the plan. He read the adjustment in Ziva's mood correctly, despite wrongly identifying the trigger.
"You wouldn't be a probie." He shrugged, ignoring the disapproval and smiling a light appeal. "And Gibbs' rules don't apply at the CIA, we could be co-workers."
"I will be promoted to Special Agent…" The disparaging reference to her lowly rank irked Ziva and she launched into protest.
"It's only something for consideration; a possibility." Ray cut her off; backtracking with the suggestion he was harmlessly proffering alternatives.
At times, he showed a distinct tendency toward dictating her options and directing her wishes. Ziva ascribed altruism to this defect; on the whole Ray was kind, loving and attentive. Blurred against the unthinking thrill which envelops a new romance, imperfections can pass unnoticed. However, familiarity can breed sensibilities other than contempt. What were once minor blemishes were gradually mutating into major faults, and these accrued each time she contemplated her future.
"There's no rush for our decision." He climbed onto the bed fully, nuzzling her ear. "But it's a good choice"
Ray's final statement denoted arguing the point was futile; he was trying to railroad the outcome. She abandoned the debate, closing her eyes and feigning investment in Ray's kisses. That behavior in and of itself was an unwelcome development. Ray was a competent lover; albeit in a restrained, somewhat staid fashion. Nevertheless, Ziva recognized her mind shouldn't wander during sex nearly as much as it did.
The physical injection of Ray into the mix combined with E.J.'s presence and resulted in shockwaves of instability. Mutual sins of omission – over Ray's profession and Eli's connection - had caught up with them; condemning Tony and Ziva to further discord by default. Moreover, Tony and Ziva discovered a firsthand, thumbnail view of how life would be if they each chose a different partner. Unfortunately, like fun house mirrors at a carnival, the image beamed by their optical nerves was distorted and confusing. The ramifications of why neither approved of the other's respective love affairs, with such zealous determination, were only partially processed. And, instead of analyzing the turmoil, Tony and Ziva were unconsciously using Ray and E.J. as armor to preclude their own incubating romance.
Huge thanks to my lovely reviewers; their encouragement is wonderful and much appreciated. Please post a comment if you have the time; what's working, not working, and likes or dislikes.
Thanks also for the alerts. As ever, make of it what you will and hope you enjoy the read.