Tony ripped open his desk drawer. The phone was dead. God, he hoped this wasn't a sign. He plugged the phone into the charger and waited. "Come on, come on, come on," he muttered impatiently to himself as he repeatedly pushed the power button waiting for the phone to pick up a dribble of power from the charger. "Rule three DiNozzo!" he grumbled, giving himself a sharp slap to the back of the head. As he waited, a conversation replayed in his head.
It was raining in DC this particular Saturday night as her face came into focus on the screen, illuminating the room. "Hello Tony. Did you have a good week?"
"Yeah, fine. But it just got a whole lot better." She could hear the exhaustion in his voice and knew it must have been a long week, but if he wanted to share, he would. "How are things going with the little swans?" he asked indicating her latest class and the performance they were working on.
A smile graced her lips. It was good to see her smiling so much more than he could ever remember. "They are doing well. A little hard around the edges, but much improved from where we started. Our performance is next week. Everyone at the orphanage is very excited. I will record it for you."
"Rough. Rough around the edges. You need to come home soon, Sweetcheeks. Your English is slipping." Tony couldn't wait until she was home with him, and he found himself dropping more hints the longer it took her to find her way. Sometimes they exasperated her, and sometimes they made her sad, but this time, she just poked back. She seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood.
"I speak nine languages, Tony. I believe I am permitted an error every now and then," Ziva chided. Then, in a snap, her demeanor turned serious. "I heard about Parsa, Tony. I was worried about you and the rest of the team for days. And I am finding it more difficult to stay away. Now that you and everyone else are back in my life, if only at a distance for now, I feel a need to be closer to everyone, especially when the danger becomes great. But, at the same time, I want to come back whole, and I am so close, so close Tony."
Tony was still getting use to the open and honest Ziva that she was transforming into. He was silent for a long moment, squinting at the screen before him. "I think I like the 'post-tarmac' Ziva. Sharing is easier for her now."
"'Post-tarmac,' Tony?"
"Yeah. Ya' know. Kinda like the post-elevator us, when we shared more about our personal lives. The post-tarmac Ziva is an open book. I think your journey has done you good." Tony paused, making sure he wanted to add the rest. "And… if you need more time Ziva, take it. While I wanted you back like yesterday… I also want you back whenever you're ready, whenever you feel whole." Wanting to lighten the mood and return to jovial Ziva, he added, "Besides, now that Parsa has been eliminated, you don't have to worry about me or anyone else."
"There will always be other threats, Tony. And I will always worry as long as it is not me there to have your back." Ziva continued on a sigh, "But, I suppose you are correct. This has helped me and I should see it through."
They managed to steer the conversation back to safe territory, laughing and joking, talking about the latest pranks Tony played on McGee, the newest tattoo that Abby got, and the latest project Gibbs was working on in his basement. Tony complained about the July heat while Ziva simply scoffed at his discomfort.
Before signing off for the week, Ziva suggested that it was safe to discontinue carrying their emergency phones, that they no longer needed to worry about being tracked by Parsa. Tony didn't like the idea, his resistance leading to an exasperated Ziva. "Tony. You can still reach me at any time on my regular phone. We no longer need to worry about Parsa. I am safe."
"I still don't like it Ziva," Tony replied with a frown. "What if someone else comes after you, or us? Huh? Or, what if there's a zombie apocalypse that I need to warn you about? What then?" Ziva furrowed her brows and playfully scowled at his childishness, but he pressed on. "Besides, you put so much work into getting me that number, it would be a shame to waste it."
"I sent you postcards, Tony. I wrote a simple code and an address on them and mailed them. There was not a whole lot of effort required."
He thought back to when he received fifteen postcards in one week. Clearly, it had been Ziva's way of communicating secretly to him. He never told her that he had Bishop help him decode the message in order to arrange the hidden numbers in the correct order.
When he remained silent, continuing to lean forward and stare at her with his chin resting on folded hands, she huffed and compromised. "Fine," she bit. "I will keep the phone, but I will not carry it around with me everywhere I go. In fact, I will probably throw it in my suitcase and forget about it."
Realizing this was the best he was going to get, Tony relented. He ran a hand down the length of his face, clearly tired. "Ok." After a second he continued, "I love you Ziva. Just want you home in one piece." Soon, he thought again, but didn't want to push it.
"I know Tony. Do not worry about me. I can still take care of myself. I carry a paperclip everywhere I go," she smiled, knowing he was tired and that he would worry about her even if she was in the same room. This, at least, earned her a smirk.
Tony stared out the window, watching the blue-gray autumn clouds rolling in, shielding the yellow, red, and orange leaves of the trees from the still rising sun. She knew then about her security detail, he thought. That's why she had been so insistent about her safety and getting rid of that damn phone. Dammit, Ziva.
A sharp "DiNozzo" pulled him from the memory. He whipped his head to the right to find Gibbs striding through the bullpen. "What'd'ya got?"
Tony held up the charging phone in answer. Gibbs just stared at him.
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked.
"Sorry boss," Tony replied stoically, looking at the phone he held. He drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, before sighing and relaying his hunch. "The one and the nine. On the phone in Ziva's apartment. I think they were a message for me." He looked up to find Gibbs and now the rest of the team watching Tony intently. "Ziva and I exchanged emergency numbers when Parsa was still a threat. Nine one one. On the phone buttons. Emergency number. Emergency phone," Tony looked at his team with raised eyebrows as he wiggled the phone. "I think Ziva either called or I'm to call her."
"If it was an emergency phone, why isn't it charged and in your pocket, Tony?" McGee asked, the bite in his voice clearly communicating his concern for Ziva.
"Because, Tim. Ziva refused to carry hers around once Parsa was taken out," Tony bit back. "She said there was no point."
"Rule three, DiNozzo."
Tony knew he was right. "I know boss."
Gibbs approached Tony, stopping inches from his face, speaking in a rough whisper. "I know you know. I saw. We will find her and bring her home Tony."
He swallowed, afraid to ask, but wanting the reassurance, "But what if…?"
"She's not. I would know."
"I hope you're right," he said, voice tight. Then in a frustrated whine, he turned his attention to the phone he still clutched. "What is taking so…" The phone chimed, indicating the battery had picked up enough of a charge to be turned on. Tony pressed and held the power button, the phone vibrating to life.
After another second, a chime indicating a message sounded. Tony stared at his team, then punched in the necessary code to retrieve the voice mail. Holding the phone to his ear, he turned around, wanting this to be as private a moment as possible.
"Hello Tony. I suppose if you listen to this message… in the next few days…, then you got my other message from Mossad." He could hear the labored pain mixed with regret in her voice and steadied himself for the rest. "You were right. I should not have insisted… on getting rid of these phones." He could almost see her rueful smile as he heard her sharp, painful intake of breath between each phrase. "I can only assume… my past is after me yet again. I was attacked… in my apartment. Someone with a Russian accent. I do not know… who is after me…, or for what reason. I will still try to make it… home to you, but… I will not bring this fight… with me. These are my sins to face." Another pause, then a resigned, "I love you."
Tony stood for a long moment staring at the phone now palmed in his hand. He had heard the unspoken goodbye. Anger. The anger he felt was almost palpable. Anger at those targeting Ziva. Anger at Ziva for her stubbornness. Anger at himself for leaving her behind all those months ago.
"Tony?" McGee called his name a third time. Tony turned a pained expression toward his partner. "What did she say?"
Chest tight, Tony could only think of one word. A word she hadn't voiced, but said all the same. "Goodbye."
Unwilling to accept the finality of that one word, Gibbs barked, "McGee," as he stepped and snatched the phone from Tony's hand. "See what information you can get on the number that Ziva called from," he finished as he tossed the phone to him. "Bishop. Use your NSA contacts. See if there's been any interceptions about former Mossad officers or US agents. Especially from Russia." Gibbs turned to face Tony, again a few inches from him. "Hey. I need your head in the game, DiNozzo. You want to get her back? Then fight for it." Tony stared at Gibbs another five seconds. Then, as if a hypnotist snapped his fingers, Tony blinked and sat down at his desk.
"McGee. I need that phone back when you're done."
"A few more seconds, Tony," McGee replied, as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "Ok. Here you go." McGee tossed the phone back. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to call her, McDuh," he called as he strode toward the elevator.
Once the elevator doors slid shut, Gibbs called over, "McGee. Trace Ziva's number if she answers."
"You don't think she'll pick up, Boss?"
"I don't know, McGee." Gibbs stared at his computer screen. He knew that Ziva would do anything in her power to protect them. Even if that meant not answering the phone and taking on the men after her alone. But he also knew if the call was coming from DiNozzo, she would have a hard time denying it.
Silence descended on the bullpen as everyone worked to find a lead on Ziva's whereabouts. Bishop spoke quietly to NSA contacts on the phone while sitting on the floor behind her desk. McGee used his computer trying to establish search parameters according to her last known location and the time of the attack. Gibbs searched out Leon in the hopes that he would contact Director Elbaz and ask for a list of Mossad safehouses located near Ziva's former apartment that she would know about.
The silence was broken by the chime of McGee's computer, indicating a trace had begun.