Broken Silence, Chapter 6
Previously..While investigating another murder in the warehouse where attacked, Ziva has an intense flashback of Somalia. The team is there to calm her down, and she later talks with Tony and Gibbs, telling them that she is confused as to why she is feeling this way. She admits that without her tough exterior, and because she allowed herself to get captured twice, she doesn't know who she is anymore.
The bullpen is comfortingly silent, peaceful for once. But McGee can't shake the eerie feeling that's settled over him. Just a few hours earlier a girl he didn't know was huddled on the floor, terrified, slowly slipping away from them.
He glanced at his watch, eyed the three empty desks around him. Tony and Gibbs were at the seventh victim's house, looking for clues and signs of evidence. And Ziva was….downstairs with the shrink. The officer had dropped her off nearly two hours ago, and McGee had yet to see a sign of her. It made him nervous, and he wondered what they were talking about.
He tapped his pen slowly, the files for victims number one, two and three on his desk. Now that several weeks had passed, and several bodies had been added to the count, he was revisiting the original victims to see if any clues or links could be found.
As he worked, Dr. Nicholas came down the stairs. "McGee," she started. He gulped at the sound of her voice, remembering their three dates that had ended with some drunken sex – very drunken sex, actually, McGee couldn't even remember if it was good or not – and a mutual decision to part ways. "Uh, hey, Jenny. How's it going?"
"I'm looking for Ziva, she missed our appointment."
"She what?"
"We had an appointment. She didn't show. She missed it."
McGee's chest started to pound. Where was Ziva? Was she ok? "I'm sure she just got tied up, maybe with the case or something and she'll…"
"McGee, you don't seem to understand. Ziva's already on desk duty for the immediate future. And if she doesn't keep up her appointments with me, she'll be suspended."
"Jenny, I mean I know she's going through some stuff, but…"
"McGee, wake up. Do you understand what happened to her over there?"
His throat tightened. He lowered his head and solemnly replied. "Yea, I do."
"Until she learns strategies to cope with what happened, how she's feeling, she's not going to get any better." Jenny paused for a moment. "Do you know when Gibbs is coming back? I need to talk to him."
He protested. "Jenny, you didn't even see her. Cut her some slack…"
"McGee." Jenny was harsh this time. "She's a liability to this team right now."
He knew this much to be true. "But suspension…C'mon…what harm can desk duty do?"
Jenny shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, 'it's out of my hands.'
Out of the corner of his eye, McGee saw Vance come out of MTAC.
Standing up, he leaned close to Jenny. "Look, what if I go get her, bring her back? Will you wait for her – just 30 more minutes?"
She sighed, checked her watch. "30 minutes. That's all."
McGee beamed, started to lean in to kiss her cheek before pulling back with an awkward head nod. "Thanks, Jenny, I owe you one."
"Tim," she started as the agent grabbed his keys. "No promises. If I think she's able to handle it, we'll put her on desk duty."
…
Tony set down the fingerprint powder as he heard his phone beep, signaling a new text message.
Ziva no show appt. Gttg her now or shell b suspended. Dnt tell gibbs.
Tony cursed as he closed his phone.
"Problem, DiNozzo."
"Oh, no boss!" Tony laughed as he pointed at his cell phone. "That was my, uh, dry cleaners. They couldn't get a stain out. Favorite shirt. You know."
Gibbs eyed Tony.
"Right. So, I'm going to go into the kitchen and talk to the wife," offered Tony, making his way across the room.
He took in the now widowed woman, sitting at the dark mahogany breakfast table. Petite, blond hair, green eyes. In shape. I would probably be hitting on her right now, if her husband hadn't of just died and if I wasn't….
Whoa. He stopped himself. Do not go there, DiNozzo.
"Are you up to answering a few questions?"
The woman shrugged. Her eyes were red and a box of tissues sat on the table.
Tony flipped open his notepad. "Can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt your husband?"
She shrugged again, shaking her head no.
"Ma'm, I'm going to need a verbal answer."
"No." She was curt in her reply. "But then again, I'm not sure if I really knew my husband at all, Agent DiNozzo."
Tony leaned a little closer. "Why is that?"
At this her eyes began to fill, and she tore a tissue from the box. "He cheated on me. Same woman, two years. Three times a week at the downtown Marriot. I found out just a few weeks ago." She blew her nose.
Cheated….Tony racked his brain. Something there struck a familiar chord, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
…
Ziva fought to keep her eyes open as she sifted through files for the first six victims. Phone records, evidence, crime scene photos.
Ugh this is useless! No leads. No connections.
She lowered her head in her hands, running her fingers through her thick, dark hair. For just a moment she gave in, squeezing her eyes shut in hopes of getting rid of the twitch that commandeered her left one. If only she could find a lead. Show Team Gibbs that despite what happened at the warehouse, at Bayliss' safehouse, she is not weak.
As she looked at the next photograph, the doorbell rang, followed immediately by pounding fists.
"ZIVA," yelled…McGee? What is he doing here?
"ZIVA, LET ME IN." She closed her eyes, hoping that if he'd go away if she stayed silent. The door jiggled. She sighed. It was highly unlikely that McGee could pick her lock, but it was clear that he wasn't going away. "I'm coming, McGee."
The pounding continued. "Hold on!" She shouted, impatient, opening the door to find a frazzled McGee, mid-pound, trench coat on inside out.
She looked at him, her eyes and facial expression screaming, 'What do you want?'
"Uh, Ziva," McGee stammered. "We need to go, now."
Ziva turned from McGee, grabbing her backpack from the hall and swinging it over her shoulder. "Has there been a break in the case," she asked, as she started to close her front door.
"Ziva, I'm bringing you to your appointment with Jenny." His tone was soft, but firm.
She froze. Set her backpack down. "Since when did it become your job to monitor my personal affairs?"
"Since missing this appointment means a possible suspension."
The look of pain that crossed her face surprised him. These days she seemed to be drowning in such sadness, he wanted to touch her, put his arms around her. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was.
But she only questioned him, taking a step back to lean against the doorframe. "Did Gibbs say this?"
"He doesn't know you missed it Ziva. Neither does Vance. I convinced Jenny – er, I mean Dr. Nicholas – to still see you this afternoon and not tell the boss that you didn't show."
She was silent, her eyes staring past McGee and at an invisible spot on the ceiling.
"Ziva, please. We need you on this team."
She sighed. She needed them, too, more than she would ever let on.
"Ok," she picked up her backpack again, brushing past him. "Let's go."
….
She stands just inside the closed door. "I am here."
Jenny checked her watch. "An hour and a half late. Glad you could make it."
Ziva is silent. Defensive.
The doctor leaned back in her arm chair, crossing her legs and gesturing to the seat across from her. "Why don't you have a seat, Ziva."
She walked a few steps closer. "Thank you, but I prefer to stand."
Jenny shrugs. "So tell me, how have you been feeling recently?"
"All right."
"No headaches, your appetite is all right? No flashbacks?"
"No, yes and no," she replied, answering all three questions at once.
"Ziva, I'm not here to be the bad guy. Yes, I will deliver a recommendation to Vance, but everything you say in here is confidential."
Ziva only looked at the woman. A double edged knife, she thought. Open up to the woman like you're supposed to, and get recommended for suspension. Don't open up, and meet the same fate.
The doctor spoke again, her voice softer, warm this time. "Frankly, Ziva, if you weren't having any of these symptoms I'd be worried."
Ziva cocked her head, ever so slightly to the side.
"When we first met after Somalia, you were shaken up, sure, but you weren't going through the normal stages that someone in such a situation would experience. While troubling, it didn't give a legitimate reason to force you to continue coming here."
"Did you forget that I am Mossad?" Ziva said, coldly. "We train for such situations."
"And what does that training do, specifically?"
"We are trained to deal with and process situations that most could not handle, could never recover from. Whether consequences of war or a random act of violence, we carry out the mission. Move on."
"Has there been a time where you've had difficulty moving on?"
"No," she was quick to reply.
Jenny nodded and made a small note.
"Tell me more about these symptoms you've been experiencing."
Ziva shot a challenging glare towards the doctor. "I never said I was experiencing…symptoms."
"You are a strong woman, no doubt, carrying out one dangerous mission after another, no matter the cost." Ziva pursed her lips at the doctor's words, trying to force an indifferent face as Jenny continued.
"I don't see why these sessions with me should be treated differently, when quite frankly, it's another step, a mission if you'd like, toward staying a NCIS agent."
Ziva was silent.
"I know how much NCIS means to you, Ziva."
After a few moments of silence had passed, she finally relented, sitting on the arm of the chair before speaking. "I have been thinking about Somalia, yes. And I will admit that it has been difficult. I have not been taking care of myself as I should."
Jenny nodded, prompting Ziva to continue.
"But perhaps I need to allow myself to have these…. 'feelings' about what happened, and in the meantime make a conscious to eat and sleep and…." Ziva trailed off, watching Jenny's reaction. Hoping her words had, per usual, done the trick.
"Ziva, I appreciate you sharing this with me. But I do want you to understand that I know you well enough by now."
Ziva gave a questioning look, as Jenny continued. "I know your history, and I know what happened in Somalia as well as what happened today in the warehouse. You know all the right things to say in here, and I think I accepted too much of that the last time we met."
Ziva simply shrugged. It was true. She had played the doctor last time and had every intention of doing it again.
"Tell me about today."
Ziva finally slipped into the arm chair across from Jenny, perching herself stiffly on the edge. She looked at a painting on the wall, 10 inches to the right of Jenny's head.
She hated to do this. It made her feel so vulnerable, exposed, unable to protect against oncoming attacks.
Her heart thundered as she spoke.
"I went up to the room where Bayliss held me, and I was…confused. I didn't know where I was." She confessed this simply, showing the rare, vulnerable side of Ziva, who when she talked about her feelings, did so matter of factly.
"Where were you," prompted Jenny.
Ziva hesitated before replying, shrugging her shoulders lightly. "I do not know. It was like watching one of Tony's movies. I saw myself. I saw Saleem. Bayliss."
"And what did you see?"
"Bayliss tying me up. Saleem hitting me."
What else did you experience?"
Ziva thought for a moment. "In Somalia, I would often wear a burlap sack over my head for days, preventing sight. I could feel that sack, the way it would scratch my face and…"
She stopped, suddenly, aware at how much she was sharing. She sat up a little taller.
"Go on, Ziva."
She shook her head. "I just…I just could feel the sack."
Jenny nodded, understanding that Ziva was stopping herself from going deeper and allowing her, for the time being. "And now. How are you feeling, Ziva, after this flashback today?"
"I want it to stop."
Jenny looked up from the notes she was jotting, surprised.
Ziva's voice was rushed, forceful. "I have taken down five guards at once, have broken into some of the most secure facilities in the world. I do not understand, no, I can not allow…feelings to stand in the way of my place with NCIS."
"And that's what I'm going to help you with." Jenny checked her watch. "This is a very good start, Ziva. We're past time today, but I want to see you back here tomorrow."
Ziva pressed her lips together. She hadn't really thought that she'd be forced to come back, again. But it hadn't been that bad. And if she could learn tools – same as she learned how to pick a lock or take down an armed suspect – to stay with NCIS, then it was worth it, right?
….
Tony couldn't concentrate. Every time he heard the elevator ding, he watched in suspense as the doors slowly opened, hoping to see Ziva after her appointment.
He shook his head. Concentrate DiNozzo, he thought. The case. This is what we know.
Seven marines are dead. No apparent connection. Two killers, one dead. The other unknown with no solid leads. He had a hunch to go back and interview the six widowed wives, there was something about that mention of cheating earlier today that sounded so familiar.
He pushed on his Mighty Mouse stapler, a lone staple falling onto his desk, as the elevator, once again, slid open.
As Tony watched, Ziva made her way to the bullpen and sat slowly, carefully at her desk.
"How'd it go?"
She ignored him, her cheeks burning, heart racing.
"Ziva," he stated, soft and pleading this time.
"It was fine, Tony."
He couldn't stop watching her. Black circles lined her eyes, her hair, wild and curly. Her arm, so painfully small, and he could see the bones in her chest.
He made a show out of checking his watch and stretching. "I'll grab us dinner. Your pick."
Ziva shook her head as she stood up to retrieve documents from the printer. "I am going home, Tony."
"Oh, well in that case I could bring…."
"Goodnight, Tony." Ziva finished the conversation, picking up her backpack and documents and leaving without meeting Tony's eye.
Next Time…
"Tony…" she leaned toward him, placing a hand on his chest. He turned to look at her. "Ziva this is the best part…"
She kissed him.
PLEASE give me a quick review. This chapter went in a completely different direction thanks to feedback from a reader - I really value and welcome your input, and it gives me motivation to write and post more!