Making Mistakes

The rating has risen quickly to a T. And maybe a high T, but no one gets naked, so I don't think it warrants M. Did I just give too much away? Also I've never written McGee before, believe it or not, except in passing glimpses. So if it's not quite working let me know how.

I came up with the chapter title in the middle of posting this. I think it is the stupidest title ever for a Bond movie, but it actually fits this chapter. And Tony would like it.

Ziva sighed as she walked into her apartment and set her things down. She rolled her eyes as she crossed the living-room; there on the charger was the cell-phone she'd been insisting all day was mixed up somewhere in a bag of evidence or in the back of the car. She sank into the couch. Three days after the break-up, all she wanted was to crawl into a hole where she wouldn't have to see Tony DiNozzo every three seconds anymore. Of course, if she did she'd probably find him inside, brushing up against her accidentally and reminding her of all the comfort and pleasure she was missing.

She reached for the phone and frowned at the voice-mail alert the screen displayed. Ziva pressed her code in to play the voice-mail. A familiar voice rang out. "Hey, Ziva, it's Damon. I'm in town to pick up the last of my things and I've got a job lined up in Iowa so tell me when I can take you for that dinner I owe you. Call me." As he stopped speaking, the electronic recording began to give her options, but Ziva wasn't paying attention.

She stared down at the phone for a long moment before turning off her voice-mail and finding his name in the call history.

"Hello?" Damon answered at once.

"Hi," Ziva said nervously.

"Ziva!" his voice was warm. "I'm glad you called. I'm only here one more night, but I got all my business taken care of for the move. Are you up for dinner?"

She smiled faintly at the enthusiasm in his voice. It was perhaps the first time in three days that she'd felt like smiling. "Sure," Ziva said firmly. "What's the plan?"

He named a restaurant and promised to pick her up in an hour, and Ziva hung up, rushing toward her room. She showered quickly and looked for a dress to wear. She'd stayed pretty casual last time, because things were getting more serious with Tony and she didn't want to give Damon the wrong idea. But this time she was single and lonely and he was leaving tomorrow. Something silky and black would do nicely.

*

Across town, Tony slid onto the bar stool beside McGee with a disconsolate sigh. McGee glanced over at him imperturbably. But when he saw the weariness in Tony's face, McGee frowned in concern.

"How's it going?" he tried lightly.

"Depends what we're drinking, Probie," Tony tossed back.

McGee rolled his eyes and signaled to the bartender for another beer. Then he rested his head on his hand and watched Tony, who was staring up at scores flashing across a television with a level of enthusiasm he usually reserved for old evidence logs. "You know," McGee offered, "I remember when I broke up with Abby."

Tony turned to him in surprise, and a spark of his usual self hiding in his eyes. "You never talk about it."

His partner shrugged. "I figure you're probably too screwed up to use it against me in the next five minutes. Or not screwed up enough?"

"What happened?" Tony asked.

McGee winced. "What always seems to happen. We weren't in the same place. I wanted more from her than she wanted from me. At first it didn't matter, or maybe we didn't realize it, but in the end...we were probably doomed."

Tony accepted his beer from the bartender and took a long swallow. "Was it worth it, do you think?" he asked softly.

McGee's mouth opened in startlement. He'd expected Tony's questions to be more about the bedroom. Then he nodded. "Of course."

Taking another gulp, Tony waited intently for an explanation.

"I mean...I got to know her. In the way that you let someone get to know you when you like them. Better than I would have if we'd only just been friends."

Tony sighed. "See family pictures, smell her shampoo."

"Something like that."

"But you got over it." Tony stared down into his drink.

McGee shrugged. "It took a while. At least we didn't work together every minute, but those couple months of the summer right afterward...yeah, it was a little uncomfortable to go down to the lab and remember--" McGee cut himself off before he admitted to something that Abby would probably prefer kept a secret.

"Remember what?" Tony asked, grinning.

McGee drank his beer. "Oh, you know. Just Abby."

"Coffin sex?"

He nearly choked as he swallowed. "I'm not describing it for you, Tony."

Tony laughed, and McGee felt something inside him ease. After all the summer months of monitoring Tony, he was still somehow attuned to his partner's dark spells, still worried automatically about what Tony might do if he decided again that he had nothing worth living for.

"It's hard to see her everyday," Tony said softly, to McGee's surprise. "But I'm the one who ended things. It's not that I'm uncomfortable so much as...if she is, it's my fault. And if I could just get around things, we'd be together."

McGee frowned. "What things?"

*

With a nod to Ziva, Damon accepted the check at the end of dinner.

She smiled back. He'd been a perfect gentleman, but he also hadn't taken his eyes off her since he'd picked her up. Ziva took one last bite of her cake as Damon got out his credit card. Her smile faded while he looked away. She wasn't quite certain what she was doing. She wasn't being herself, exactly—if Tony were here she would have been laughing more genuinely, answering more thoughtfully. But she was being a version of herself, one she knew well how to put on: charming Ziva, flirty Ziva. She hadn't tried it on since the first days with Michael, but it certainly seemed to be working on Damon. And it was good to be someone else for a few minutes.

He glanced up at her and Ziva smiled again. "Thank you for dinner," she said graciously.

"Thank you for joining me," Damon answered with charm. He looked down at the table. "Even if you're done, I'm sure we could still sit and finish the bottle of wine," he offered, clearly trying to extend the evening.

Ziva studied him enigmatically, then reached out and poured the rest of the wine into her glass and drank it quickly down. "Or we could go somewhere else," she said, staring straight into his eyes. She saw the question there. "Tony and I are no longer together," she said casually, dismissively.

Damon grinned. "The hotel where I'm staying is just around the corner from here."

*

McGee gestured for another round, then glanced at Tony out of the corner of his eye. Four beers and some wings in, his partner was barely seemed tipsy, a signal that Tony's drinking habits were up again. His own four beers had him stumbling every time he got up to pee.

"You're staring, McDrinky," Tony accused.

Rolling his eyes, McGee turned to face him. "You know, when she was gone, I was your best friend."

Tony turned to him, his face a mask of surprise. "I...I didn't mean to..." he sputtered.

McGee waved it off. "I'm not complaining, Tony. Don't get me wrong, I prefer Ziva alive to being your best friend." He caught Tony's wince. "But I saw what you went through for her. She was an assassin then, too. Maybe more than she is now. And you loved her so much that I got to wake up on the dirt floor of a cell somewhere in Africa."

"McGee," Tony began softly, then stopped. He had no argument. "I never meant to put you in danger. I wasn't," he snorted, "wasn't thinking very clearly."

"We all wanted to go," McGee said firmly. "But we all knew she was dead. Without you, I doubt we'd have gone all the way there to take out her killer."

Tony nodded, downing a shot he'd ordered during McGee's last bathroom break. "Yeah."

*

At first it was alright. They'd held hands on the way back and it didn't feel right but pretending felt like enough. And then they were in the dim, warm room and Damon was kissing her and she was kissing him back and the wine was making her dizzy and it was enough.

Then Damon dipped down to kiss her neck and he found the spot that Tony loved and Ziva felt such guilt sweep through her that she gasped in shock at what she was doing. Whether Tony wanted her or not, she felt like his. She felt like 'Be Faithful' still meant to Tony. Damon's kiss swept up her chin and back to her lips and Ziva tried to dismiss the sudden emotion. Tony didn't want her. Damon did.

It all fell apart in a moment. They had made it to the couch and his shirt and her dress had come off; Damon had begun lazily kissing his way down her torso. Ziva was starting to give in to the alcohol and the sensation of his stubble grazing over her belly as he turned his head to kiss her hip when suddenly Damon slid up and sank down on top of her. As Ziva's eyes opened wide he was just a silhouette above her, his hands squeezing her hips too tightly. She had been pinned like this so many times. A wordless cry slipped her lips.

He didn't understand, pulled her even tighter as he lowered his head to kiss her.

Ziva butted his head with hers and Damon reared back.

"Careful there!" he burst out, half-laughing to show he was uninjured, only to gape in confusion as Ziva darted away from him and into the bathroom.

Damon sat bewildered for a full minute. When he heard the shower start to run, he hesitantly got up off the couch and knocked on the door. "Ziva?" he called loudly. He heard a gasp—of fright?--but no other response. He knocked again.

After ten minutes of pounding and shouting, Damon had grown completely sober and deeply worried. So he did the only thing he could think of. He called Gibbs.

*

Tony frowned down at his cellphone. Finally he found the button he wanted. "McGee?" he moaned.

"Tony!" McGee exclaimed. "What happened to you? I went to the bathroom and when I came out you were gone."

"Oh." Tony frowned. "Thought you left. Ziva's not answering her door."

There was a long pause.

"When I said 'Don't give up on her' I didn't mean 'Show up drunk at her apartment,'" McGee said slowly.

"She's not here," Tony tried to explain.

McGee sighed. "Maybe she's just not answering."

"Ziva!" Tony's fist pounding on the door was audible even to McGee. "Nope. She'd at least come out and tell me to be quiet because the neighbors are sleeping."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. Except that you should probably go home and sleep it off, Tony. There'll be a good explanation in the morning. If you even remember this." McGee hung up.

Tony knocked one more time, then dialed Gibbs. His phone rang and rang. The man hadn't even set his voice-mail up. Finally Tony pocketed his phone and headed down the stairs.

Outside he was lucky enough to hail a cab, but when he opened his mouth to give an address, he paused. Sure 'No Gibbs' was a rule, but Tony knew he was the one she turned to. If she wasn't here, she'd be with him. He told the cab driver where to go.