A/N: Thanks for the fabulous replies and feedback – much appreciated and means so much to me!
Previously…After Ziva leaves Tony in the middle of the night, it is clear that she wants to pretend like nothing ever happened. But internally, she is grappling with her feelings for Tony. Feeling unsure and weak for leaning on him, trying to push away her feelings and desire for him. Tony and McGee share an uncomfortable car ride while following up on a new, solid lead on the case, while Ziva, just learning she's on desk duty, sees Dr. Nicholas. During her appointment, Ziva reveals that she has recognized the importance of starting to take care of herself, something she is hoping will do the trick to get her back onto Team Gibbs.
After finishing with the weights, Ziva slipped out of the gym for a quick run throughout the base. While she was clearly out of shape – both in terms of cardiovascular capacity and muscle strength – she felt good. Stronger.
It was warm out, and the sun felt soothing on her skin. It made her feel light inside – the exact opposite of how she felt in Saleem's darkened cell. She lifted her face to the sun as she ran, thinking back to today's appointment with Dr. Nicholas. She felt slightly bad for lying to the doctor – she was only trying to help, after all – by saying that she wanted to work on her feelings.
But that is irrelevant, Ziva thought, as she focused on keeping her breath – now coming short and uncomfortable – even.
Finally, she couldn't go anymore, and Ziva came to a halt, bent over, hands on her knees. It frustrated her that she couldn't knock out her usual 3-5 miles. She estimated that today she'd only log 2.
As her breathing slowed, Ziva stood up and checked her watch, knowing she had about 20 more minutes till the team came back from interviewing the rest of the widows. Wanting to shower and change so that no one would make a big deal out of her work out, Ziva mustered her last bit of strength and kicked into a slow and comfortable jog.
Her legs were heavy. Her lungs burned. And it felt….great.
She pushed harder, aiming to get in another half mile, and let her mind wander to the case. She though through the evidence and original interviews with each of the victim's friends and loved ones. We've found the connection. But how did the killer find all these cheating men?
And then it hit her. One of the earlier victims, his brother mentioned something about a support group. He thought it may have been for single, middle aged men, or maybe those recently separated. She remembered that interview clearly now – she and Gibbs had spoken with the brother.
And with that, Ziva pushed her pace into a fast sprint, back toward her desk and her notes.
…..
Tony, McGee and Gibbs trouped into the squad room, finally wrapping interviews with all widows. The connection was now 100 percent clear – the killer was targeting men who had cheated on their wives.
As the three men rounded the corner, they stopped upon reaching Ziva's desk. Her face was flushed. She was in workout clothes and a light sweat stain was apparent on the front of her shirt. A near-eaten PowerBar sat on her desk.
Ziva felt eyes on her and looked up to see the three men crowded around her desk. "How did it go?"
After Tony filled her in, she put on her best business as usual tone, masking her excitement and pride. "Have any of the people we questioned mentioned a support group"
McGee spoke as he walked back to his desk. "Yea, victim number four. One of his work buddies mentioned he was going to some kind of support group. Thought it had something to do with the divorce, but he wasn't really sure."
Ziva stood up. "Same with victim number one. He may be identifying victims through a support group, one for cheating men, perhaps."
Gibbs nodded. "Good, Ziva. Do a search for…"
She stopped him, flicking images onto the screen. "There are 20 support groups in the DC area that could be relevant. Some focus on men who cheat, some are for newly separated men, some are for sex addicts. Five are specific to marines."
Gibbs studied the screen as Tony and McGee gathered next to him.
"Tony, McGee, go check out the first three groups specific to marines."
Ziva's face fell. She had been hoping that this lead, this new discovery she brought to the team, would do something….
"Gibbs, I…."
"You did good, Ziva. Finish up here. Go home. Shower. Tomorrow, we'll talk." He gave her arm a squeeze as he walked past the group, heading up to MTAC to brief Vance.
Ziva sat angrily in her chair, though Tony had a feeling that the anger was mostly a show. He could see underneath her armor that she was elated at the prospect of being released from desk duty. Plus, she had that energy, adrenaline pulsing from her that had been absent post-Somalia.
"McGoo, go get the car. I'll meet you down there."
"Right." Came McGee's dry reply as he headed for the elevator.
Ziva looked up at Tony as he sauntered toward her desk. "What is it with you two?" She asked, feigning annoyance in a way that only Ziva could, a way that Tony loved. That he was glad to see again.
"Oh, McPMS? Don't know."
"Tony, you should really lighten up on…." Ziva scolded, before he shifted the conversation.
"So how does pasta sound?"
She crinkled her nose. "What?"
"You know, the long, stringy, carb-loaded goodness that people like to put marinara, pesto, or even Bolognese on? Sometimes it's short and hollow, or corkscrew like, or even…"
"I know what pasta is!" she insisted.
"Great, so should we say 7?"
"Tony," Ziva hissed, not sure why he expected last night to turn into a regular thing. "No."
"Come on, Z," his voice turned soft.
"What happened last night, it was a mi—"
He cut her off before the words could cross her lips. "What's the harm in two friends getting together for dinner? We can talk about the case, how to get rid of McMoody's attitude, who got voted off American Idol last night."
Ziva hesitated. She knew that she needed to keep her distance; keep her strength, her fight, her independence.
"Go, Tony. McGee is waiting."
His face fell. Eyes pleading.
The words crossed her lips before she could stop them. "I will call later. Let you know." And with that her eyes and head reverted back to the files scattered on the desk.
…
After briefing Vance, Gibbs made his way down to Dr. Nicholas' office.
"How is she, doc?" He sauntered into the room, standing before her desk.
"You know I can't discuss her sessions with you."
Gibbs moved closer, placing his hands firmly on her desk and leaning forward.
"That's not what I'm asking."
Right. Thought Dr. Nicholas, as she put her pen down and leaned back in her chair, a bemused smile on her face as she looked at Gibbs.
"You want to know whether to put Ziva back in the field."
Gibbs nodded his head. "Something like that."
"Frankly, Agent Gibbs, I don't know. She's stronger than most – usually able to suppress events such as what happened at the warehouse a few days ago." Spoke Jenny, mentioning Ziva's momentary breakdown.
"And because of that, I just don't know. I can't get a good read on her."
"She knows the right things to say." Agreed Gibbs.
Jenny smiled, almost sadly, nodding her head.
"Are you making progress in the sessions?"
"I can't answer that, Gibbs. I've said too much already."
Upon Gibbs' silence, the doctor continued. "I would say, Gibbs, go with your gut. If you think she can handle it, send her out. Maybe send her on interviews to start, avoid crime scenes because that seems to be a trigger for her."
….
The cool water slid down her tanned skin in rivets, washing away the sweat, the emotions of the day. She hummed a tune softly as she washed; an old Israeli nursery rhyme her mother used to sing. She and Ari had begged for the song each night as children.
She closed her eyes as water ran down her face, the back of her head, washing away a conditioner that smelled faintly of coconut. Her hair felt silky between her fingers, and actually….everything seems a bit brighter she thought with a smile.
She had stayed at the office later than planned. Had not called Tony to cancel dinner. He will understand, her thoughts continued, as she lathered shaving cream on her lower leg. The invitation from Tony had been tempting, sure, but by the time she got home she was exhausted. She didn't want to have to put on an act, force flirtatious banter and witty comments.
She felt no different than she had today – excited at the connection she discovered, flushed with adrenaline from her run. She still felt hopeful, determined, plotting her way back into the field.
But tonight she was simply tired and drained. A glimpse of weakness she couldn't let Tony see.
And so Ziva ran the razor up her legs, turning her thoughts to the frozen entrees she had in her freezer for dinner. She felt a slight sting as the razor nicked her, and entranced, she watched a stream of blood trickle down her calf and drip downwards, creating a spot of harsh red on the floor before washed away by the cool water.
She watched the blood continue to flow, and within seconds was taken back to the cell. She was naked from the waist up, her arms pinned above her head. Saleem crouched over her, creating light scratches on her concave stomach with his knife.
…
"McGee! You're just in time!" Abby greeted, as he entered her lab.
"In time for what?"
"Saving me from boredom!" She groaned, taking a long sip of her caf-pow and twirling round on her stool. "You guys haven't brought me new evidence in days. I have nothing to do but boring paperwork and back projects."
McGee pursed his lips and spoke dryly. "Yea, sorry about that."
Abby took in his response, his downfallen attitude. "Buuutttt…I heard you guys had a major break in the case, which is great because I don't want anymore marines to die, even if they did cheat on their wives. I mean they don't deserve to die, right, McGee?"
He was silent. "Helloooo, earth to McGee."
"Tony and Ziva got the break in the case." He glumly sat on the stool opposite Abby.
"Aw, McGee, but you guys are a team. You feed off each other, share your evidence that might help someone else formulate a new conclusion…"
"Abby…" McGee warned, not quite feeling her attempts at making him feel better.
"Oh, McGee," she gave her friend a hug, hating to see him so down.
"Can I ask you something, Abby?" Asked McGee once she released him.
"Of course!"
"Do you remember when Tony went after Rivken that night, without telling anyone where he was going or what he was doing."
"McGee," Abby breathed, not quite sure why this nightmare was being brought up again.
"Why do you think he did that?"
Abby gave him a half smile and shrugged. "I don't know. You'd have to ask him."
"Yea," he muttered sarcastically, knowing that such a conversation would likely result in disaster with Tony.
Abby took another long sip of caf-pow thoughtfully. "Why are you asking?"
"It's just so strange to think how that one night has completely changed everything that came after. Ziva in Somalia, the rescue, our ability to solve this case…"
A horrible thought crossed Abby's mind. Her words were laced with questions, accusations. "Do you blame Tony for what happened?"
He hesitated. "McGee!" Abby scolded. "Tony is on your team! And he was only trying to protect Ziva! He knew that Rivken was up to no good and that Ziva would never believe him…"
"Why didn't he loop me in?"
It dawned on Abby. So that's what this is about, she thought, pulling him into another hug.
"You need to talk to Tony." She whispered into his ear.
…
Her hands found the scars on her abdomen and as she felt the cold metal of Saleem's knife make the first cut. Ziva cried out and the razor dropped from her hands, sliding down the tub and halfway into the drain.
And then she lost her footing, and was transported back from Somalia to DC just as quickly as she slipped backwards and hit her head on the faucet.
When her eyes slowly opened, thanks to the now frigid water hitting her face, Ziva wasn't sure how long she had been out for. Her head was throbbing.
Pulling herself up, Ziva relied on the edges of the tub to help her to a standing position.
She turned off the water and grabbed a tan towel from the rack, wrapping herself in the warmth as she sat for a moment on closed toilet seat. She felt slightly confused, not able to remember why she was in the shower or what she had planned to do next. She tried to remember what time of day it was, whether she was supposed to go to bed or get ready for work.
And that's when she heard her doorbell ring, followed by an all too familiar voice. "Ziva! Let me in! I brought dinner!"
Tony.
A/N: Just before posting I re-read this and just wanted to clarify something that may be confusing – Ziva didn't cut herself, was just holding the razor and then dropped it during the flashback about being hurt by Saleem.