Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
Saturday, 19 December 2015
After being grilled over her tardiness the day before, Ziva made sure she was in the office before any one else the next morning. She spent the first half hour of her alone time cleaning out her inbox and doing a few checks on leads that had come in overnight, but nothing looked like it would pan out. Dejected, she put the case aside for a moment and tried to cheer herself up by giving some real thought to Tony's Christmas present. She knew it had to be a vacation somewhere. He was exhausted, and although he'd brought up their trip to the Bahamas last year as a way of calming her down after her nightmare last night, she couldn't help but think he was trying to give himself a calming and motivating memory to hold on to as well. She flicked through a couple of websites for some ideas, and found herself warming to the sound of Italy in the summertime. He'd talked for years about taking a 'pilgrimage to the mother country', and Ziva hadn't been back there for more than ten years, aside from their very quick trip over to meet Stan Burley a few years back. A little self-guided tour along the coast for a few weeks sounded like what they both needed. She smiled to herself and bookmarked a few pages for further research.
With that semi-solid plan in place Ziva felt like she had accomplished something with the morning, and she started feeling her motivation return. She checked the clock—it was a little before 0730. The others would start arriving soon. But she probably had a little bit of time to pull up the information she, McGee and Tony had gathered on Eddie Hertzog back in 2013. She knew that Gibbs had told her to drop it, and that she couldn't properly articulate to Tony why she still thought Eddie was involved, but her gut was telling her to keep looking. McGee, being the records freak that he was, had kept everything they had found in neat electronic files, and had even added in the evidence the police had used at Eddie's trial and all the transcripts that had been available. The day after Bonnie died he had brought all the information in and transferred it to the NCIS servers as background information. Ziva thought that she knew most of the details in those files back to front, but perhaps there was something in there that she had forgotten over time. It wasn't that she was still fixated on Eddie, she reasoned with herself. It was just that knowing about your victim's life was important when you were trying to solve the mystery of her death.
She opened the summary file and scanned the details. Eddie Hertzog was an only child whose mother had died when he was a kid. He had been raised by his father and a revolving door of stepmothers and girlfriends in New York in the late 1980s. In 2013 he had been working as some kind of financial planner for a mid-level firm and bringing home almost six figures. He had several restraining orders taken out against him and received a warning for assaulting a waitress, but had managed to avoid ever being charged for his harassment and physical abuse of several girlfriends. He was highly intelligent, highly manipulative and a control freak who seemed to get away with whatever he wanted via a mix of good looks and charm. But the first time Ziva had seen him up close, when he had stood on her doorstep and warned her to keep out of his business with Bonnie, she had seen through those good looks to the coldness in his eyes.
Ziva closed the summary sheet and selected one of the two-dozen image files named with sequential numbers. A large, close-up photo of a woman's bruised neck filled her computer screen, and it took Ziva a few seconds of staring before she realized the woman was her. She sucked in a sharp breath and felt her stomach drop. These were the photos taken after Eddie had attacked her. She opened them one-by-one. There was her neck, her bloodied knuckles, her fingernails stained with Eddie's blood, the torn and bruised skin over the side of her face that had bled so much. Most of the photos were taken by the Metro P.D. detectives who had taken up the case and worked with her, Tony and McGee to bring charges against Eddie for what he'd done to Bonnie (and Ziva). But some had been taken by Tony with his phone in the ER. She remembered the look on his face as he did it, like he could barely stand making her a 'crime scene', like he hated that he had to intrude on her vulnerable moment and record it for history, and like he was going to go out and find Eddie that night and beat the daylights out of him. He hadn't, of course. He had stayed right by her side in the ER, and then hadn't left her all night once they'd gotten home. That night, with her good sense dulled by painkillers, she had almost told him that she didn't just need him, but loved him.
"Morning."
Ziva jumped at being caught investigating what she shouldn't and quickly clicked the button that minimized all the open windows on her computer screen. She looked around as Quinn came around the side of the partition beside her desk, and she gave him a pleasant, innocent smile.
"Good morning," she returned.
Quinn dropped his bag beside his desk before taking a step towards hers. He gestured at her computer. "Were those photos of Bonnie?"
"Uh, no," Ziva replied. "Just an old case. It is nothing."
Quinn nodded easily, and Ziva relaxed a bit when it became clear that he really wasn't interested. His mind was elsewhere. "Listen," he began in a conciliatory tone. "I'm really sorry about yesterday when we went to interview D'Augustino. I didn't mean to touch a nerve. I was just trying to be honest with you."
Ziva rested her elbows on her desk and leaned forward. As she sighed, she let go of her somewhat unwarranted irritation with her partner.
"I didn't mean to imply that I don't think you can do your job," Quinn went on sincerely. "I'm just aware that the case is a rough one for you. And I know what it's like to have a rough case, so I wanted to reach out. We're partners, Ziva." He paused to give her a self-aware chuckle. "I know I'll never be Tony. I probably won't even be McGee to you, at least for another ten years. But we're still partners, and I want you to be okay."
Ziva stood up behind her desk to put them on equal footing. "I know," she told him. "And I am sorry for being so quick to snap at you yesterday. You are right. This is a difficult case for me. But I should not take that out on you. And you should never be anything but honest with me."
"Except about how bad your driving is," Quinn muttered, but then gave her a teasing smirk.
Ziva rolled her eyes. Sometimes it really did feel like Tony was still around in this team. She ignored the comment. "I promise I am trying to find some perspective in this case," she told him, half meaning it.
Quinn nodded, and the tension between them relaxed considerably. "Good." He walked behind his desk to sit down, and then turned back into his normal happy and easy-going self. "So, you make any more headway on Tony's Christmas present?"
Ziva sat, and felt great relief at the easier turn in the conversation. "Yes. I think I will take him to Italy in the summer."
Quinn's eyebrows rose quickly. "Wow. That's better than a new sweater, huh?" He gave her a teasing smirk. "You going to elope or something?"
And just like that, the conversation turned again. Ziva stared at him as a funny, heavy feeling settled in her chest and her mouth went dry. She hadn't been thinking about eloping at all, but having Quinn sit in Tony's chair and ask her about that brought a strong memory back to her. Sitting here, late at night in the half-dark with Tony, right before…some major event. Was it the bombing? Ziva wasn't sure. But they had talked about all the things they hated about weddings, and had quietly agreed that eloping would be so much easier. The two of them weren't together back then. They were still years away from a relationship, but she remembered so clearly that at the time she had felt sure that they were on the brink of taking the step. She remembered so clearly the way he had looked at her that night, the way he had smiled and made her stomach flip and cheeks burn. She remembered how stupidly giddy she had felt for a few moments before the real world had encroached on their quiet, private space and they'd gotten on with whatever case they had been working. She remembered she loved him even then.
God, when she got home tonight she was going to kiss the man senseless.
"They're not allowed to elope," Gibbs said as he arrived for the day. He gave Ziva a quick wink as he passed her desk on the way to hers.
"How come?" Quinn asked. "Is that against the Marine code? Or a Gibbs rule?"
"Nope. It's against the family code," Gibbs said plainly as he took his seat. He looked over at Ziva. "Ten years of trouble, David. Don't cut me out of this now."
Ziva opened her mouth but closed it again when no sound came out. She didn't know what to say. She hadn't been talking about eloping in the first place. Quinn had. She had no idea if she would ever actually do it, but she had to admit that the look on Gibbs' face right now—fatherly affection and hope—made her think twice. It would kill her not to have him there. It would kill Tony not to have him there.
"We are not eloping," she managed to say.
Gibbs nodded to himself. "Good."
"Morning!" McGee called as he joined the team. "Who's eloping?"
"No one," Ziva said, and then looked up at Greg from the mailroom as he arrived with his mail cart.
"Morning, Agent David," Greg said, and placed a letter on her desk.
She gave him a distracted smile and muttered a "thank you" as Quinn eagerly filled McGee in.
"Ziva's taking Tony on a trip as his Christmas present, and I think she's doing it so they can elope."
McGee looked at Ziva, askance. "Really?" he asked. He didn't sound convinced.
"No," she said firmly.
Greg passed between them to hand out more mail, and McGee had to lean to the side to keep looking at her. "What trip?" he asked.
"It is a secret," she said.
McGee looked at Quinn. "What trip?"
"It's a secret," Quinn repeated, and then winked at Ziva. "For now."
"Are you making it official?" McGee asked her.
Ziva shook her head and held her hands out to bring him to a halt. "Nothing has changed since yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before."
"You've been engaged for a week already?" Quinn joked.
Ziva sighed heavily at him, and then tuned him and McGee out as she reached for the letter Greg had left for her. She loved Tony with all her heart, and she did intend to marry him. Of course she had thought about it in a broader context in the past. But was everyone else thinking about it as well? She turned the letter over slowly in her hands as she let herself think for a moment about what her life would be like if she and Tony actually went through with it now rather than later. Would she feel different? Some married people said that marriage made them feel different, but others said it didn't. Ziva couldn't guess which way she would go. She didn't even know if she wanted to feel different. She felt just fine now. She felt secure in their relationship, and she wasn't worried that dragging this stage of it out a little longer would make them worse off in the long run. She knew he was keen to have a baby soon-ish, but they didn't need to be married for that. And yet, there was a flutter in her heart that she couldn't deny when she thought of making the change. A flutter that told her that maybe it was time to do it.
"Would you do it in a church?"
Ziva looked up as Quinn's question penetrated her thoughts. "Hmm?"
Quinn grinned as he looked between Gibbs and McGee, and with a quick glance around Ziva realized that all three of them were looking at her. "If you're not going to elope, would you get married in a church?" Quinn repeated. "Or a synagogue or a park or Gibbs' basement…?"
Ziva blinked at him and felt her cheeks flush. While she had been lost in her thoughts, she hadn't realized that they were still talking about her. She sighed with exasperation. "Quinn!"
"I don't think you're allowed to use churches or synagogues for multi-denominational weddings," McGee said thoughtfully. "Me and Delilah have made some initial enquiries at some churches around, and we've been told that we're both going to have to prove we've been baptized before a church will accept our booking." He looked at Ziva. "You'll have to get a celebrant to do it instead of a priest or a rabbi."
"You should ask Abby to get herself ordained and get her to do it," Quinn said, before another thought occurred to him. "Wait, can women get ordained? By those online places, I mean."
"I think so," McGee said, then turned to his computer and started typing. "I'll check."
Ziva felt her eyes widen and her heart pounded as she lost control of the situation. "Stop it!" she told McGee, and then aimed a warning glare at Quinn. "Mind your own business!"
Quinn and McGee both grinned at her distress.
"We're helping!" Quinn insisted.
Ziva pointed at him with the envelope she had mangled without realizing it. "You are definitely not helping," she told him. "And if you keep trying, you will not be invited." She swung the envelope in an arc to point at McGee. "Nor will you."
McGee took his eyes off his computer screen to give her a fleeting, mournful look, and then Abby came running in like her pants were on fire. Ziva felt a moment of panic that McGee had already emailed Abby with the idea that she should preside over a wedding that wasn't even happening (yet), but Abby came to a stop at Gibbs' desk and slammed a piece of paper down on it so hard that all of them, Gibbs included, jumped in their seats.
"I got it I got it I got it!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "It took me all night and all yesterday and a bit of the night before, but I finally got the little toad!"
Gibbs blinked slowly at his disheveled forensic scientist before looking down at the paper. "What toad, Abs?"
"The toad who made the call to Bonnie," Abby said.
The news drove Ziva, McGee and Quinn out of their chairs to cluster around Gibbs' desk. Abby leaned over to grab the clicker and hit the buttons until a mug shot of a large, muscular but somehow peaceful-looking man with a brown beard came up on the plasma.
"Charles Fields," Abby announced. "I was finally able to track him from the payphone to a diner about five blocks away using traffic cameras. There was only one good shot of his face but it took me, like, a bazillion years and a dozen attempts to clean up the footage enough to actually see his face and get a shot I could put into our facial recognition software. I finally got a hit."
The agents scattered back to their desks to do searches on the suspect in preparation to answer the questions they knew Gibbs would start firing at them.
"What was he arrested for?" Gibbs asked.
"Assault and battery," McGee replied. "He's also got previous convictions for theft, break and enter, assault, assault, disorderly conduct, disorderly conduct, theft…Yeah. His rap sheet goes on like this for a while."
"Career criminal in and out of state and federal prisons for the last 15 years," Quinn added. "Has only been out on parole from his last stint in federal prison for a couple of weeks."
"Next of kin is his mother, Vanessa. She lives in Alaska," Ziva said, reading from the database on her screen. "No other family."
"But he's supposed to be living with a woman named Lori Baker in Fairfax since being released," Quinn went on.
"Employment?" Gibbs asked.
Ziva shook her head. "Nothing since he was released," she told him. "Nothing official, that is."
"Has he got a cell phone?" Gibbs asked Abby. "So you and McGee can do that…" he waved his hand around vaguely, "…ping thing?"
"Off cell phone towers," McGee said, picking up the thought. "So we can prove he was in the area of the pay phone when the call was made."
Gibbs nodded and waved at him to get cracking on the 'ping thing'. But after a few seconds of checking, McGee literally pouted at his computer screen.
"He doesn't have a cell, boss."
"Who the hell doesn't have a cell?" Quinn said, incredulous. "What is this, 1999?"
"Someone who got out of prison three weeks ago," Abby suggested.
Gibbs came around to the front of his desk. "Okay. Ziva, Quinn, work on getting a warrant to search his residence. McGee, with me. Let's go see if Mr. Fields is willing to talk to us."
"On it," Ziva said.
"I'll give his parole officer a call," Quinn added.
"Which prison was he in?" Ziva asked as Gibbs and McGee walked between them on the way to the elevator.
Quinn checked the record her was looking at. "Uh…looks like it was Greenvale."
It took Ziva a moment, but then the information clicked in her head and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
"Wait, Greenvale?" McGee asked, sounding alarmed.
Ziva looked up at him, and saw the alarm she felt reflected in his face.
"What?" Gibbs barked.
Ziva held McGee's gaze, and gave him a subtle, imploring look. She was already walking a thin line with Gibbs. If she let him in on the significance of Greenvale, he would immediately disregard the information. But he needed to know.
McGee turned to look at Gibbs. "Greenvale was where Eddie Hertzog was sent for stalking Bonnie Stewart."
Ziva's eyes were fixed on Gibbs as he drew in the information with a deep breath and rocked back slightly on his heels. He glanced in Ziva's direction, but his eyes fell on Quinn.
"OK. Get in touch with the prison," Gibbs told him. "I want to know if Hertzog and Fields crossed paths."
"You got it," Quinn said.
Gibbs cocked his head at McGee and then headed off to the elevator. Before he followed, McGee shot Ziva a look of solidarity. She nodded and gave him a small smile of thanks.
Perhaps her gut feeling about Eddie's involvement in Bonnie's death had been right after all.
Wednesday, 3 July 2013
It didn't look like his duffel bag could take even another sock, let alone a t-shirt. But Tony forced the crew neck into a tiny space that hadn't existed until a moment ago, and then pulled and cinched and wrestled with the zipper until finally (and with very sore fingers) he got it three-quarters of the way closed. It would have to do, he decided. The bag was only going as far as the car, anyway. It wasn't like he was taking it onto the Metro. With that done, he took a moment to stand back and look between his open closet and open dresser. Both were significantly emptier than they had been at the start of the summer. Several suits still hung in his closet, but that was only because he didn't really need them now. He'd been living in jeans, shirts and t-shirts since quitting NCIS, and most of those had migrated to his closet at Ziva's house. That's where this latest batch of clothes were headed as well. He supposed he could try washing the dirty clothes that were already over there, but he hadn't been in a laundry mood. Asking McGee or Ziva to do it for him would be met with scorn, accusations of being lazy and/or pathetic, and possibly a sharp kitchen utensil being thrown at his head. So either he did laundry or brought over more clothes. The later seemed easier.
He went to close his closet door, but swung it open quickly again when he remembered his birthday present from Ziva. They were supposed to go out on the weekend for the Fantasia orchestra thing. He wasn't sure whether he was supposed to dress up for it, but grabbing a suit now would save him from having to make a trip back to his apartment tomorrow. He flipped through the suit selection in front of him and, after a moment of back-and-forth indecision between a stylish dark blue and an equally stylish light grey, he grabbed the blue. It was more versatile to the situation and had a slightly better fit.
He slung the suit on its hangar over his shoulder, closed the closet with his foot and grabbed his duffel bag before going out to the living room. Bonnie and Kavita looked up at him from the couch, wearing almost the exact same pleasant, grateful and slightly awkward smile.
"You get everything?" Bonnie asked, making awkward small talk.
Tony nodded. "All set. Have you been able to find everything you need?" McGee had moved the women to Tony's apartment while he was with Ziva in the ER. For Tony, it felt kind of weird to have two relative strangers in his place when it had been his private sanctuary for so long. But he was barely using the apartment these days, most of his valuable possessions that could be broken or were worthy of being stolen had migrated to Ziva's, and Bonnie and Kavita needed a place to stay. So he was making the effort to get over the strange, vulnerable feeling their unsupervised attendance in his house gave him.
"Yes, thanks," Bonnie answered him. "I hope you don't mind that we're filling your trash with take out containers."
"I'm kind of scared of using your kitchen," Kavita chimed in. "It's so…clean."
Tony shrugged. "That's because I don't use it. I get take out." He hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder. "Give me a call if you need anything. One of us will come by to check on you tomorrow."
Bonnie got off the couch and approached him, crossing her arms. "Have you got anything more on Eddie yet?"
Tony nixed the idea of telling her about Ziva's ill-fated trip to his apartment. "We're close," he partially lied to her. "It should only be another few days." And he meant it. If this went on for much longer then the team would definitely resort to less legal methods of trapping Eddie. Ziva was clearly already out of patience, and he and McGee weren't far behind. "If he contacts you, let us know."
Bonnie nodded and walked him to the door. "Yeah, don't worry. I'm not going to keep that to myself."
Tony paused with the front door open and met her worried eyes. "Bonnie," he said, using the voice he knew worked to reassure people. Especially women. "I know it's taking time. But we'll get him. And you'll be safe."
Bonnie watched him for a few hesitant moments before she drew a calming breath and nodded. "I know," she said, and she seemed to believe it. "Thank you."
With his guests safe and sound, Tony left Bonnie and Kavita in his apartment and headed downstairs and onto the street. Dusk had fallen in the time he'd been inside, and he figured it would be dark by the time he got back to the house. He hoped that meant Ziva or McGee had made dinner.
Speak of the devil, McGee called as he walked down the sidewalk towards the car. "DiNozzo," he answered automatically.
"Hey, where are you?" McGee asked.
"Just leaving my place," Tony told him. "The cats are in the cradle."
There was a pause. "You got a cat?"
Tony rolled his eyes to himself as his covert message went over McGee's head. "Damn it, McGee."
"What are you talking about?" McGee asked, making it sound like Tony was the crazy one.
"My houseguests are fine," Tony told him, trying to make it a bit more obvious.
It took McGee a moment, but then Tony heard a long "Ohhhhhh" of understanding over the line. "Got it," he assured Tony. "Good. Okay. So, did you or Ziva have plans tonight?"
Tony made a face at McGee not making sense this time. He pulled his keys out of his pocket. "Why? Do you want to go on a date?"
"Actually, yeah. If you guys aren't planning anything."
Tony hit the button to unlock Ziva's car, and opened the back door. He threw his duffel bag into the foot well. "Just to be clear," he said to McGee, "which one of us are you hoping to date?"
"Tony!" McGee said with exasperation. "I want to go out with Delilah unless you or Ziva had plans for the three of us to do something on the case."
"Ohhhhhh," Tony returned as he caught on. He laid his suit carefully over the back seat and slammed the door. He really wanted to wrap this case up, especially after seeing the worry in Bonnie's eyes. But she was safe for tonight, and Tony really didn't want to rob McGee of the opportunities they'd all passed up or denied over the last decade or so. "No, go out. Have fun. But be home by early morning, because we've got to kill this thing."
"Sure."
Tony walked around to the driver's door and got in. "You sure you're not settling in to this relationship too fast?" he teased.
"I want to spend time with her," McGee defended. "Like you want to spend time with Ziva."
Tony ignored the deeper meaning to that, and replied without thinking. "Because you're worried that Delilah will end up in hospital if she's left alone for half an hour?"
McGee went to Ziva's defense. "Go easy on her, Tony."
A flash of frustration made Tony jam the key into the ignition with a little more force than necessary. He didn't turn the car on yet, though. He wanted to argue McGee's point, and he couldn't do two things at once. "You don't think I go easy on her?" he asked, incredulous. "I am the easiest on her. I am always letting things go to keep the peace. Things I shouldn't let go." He paused as a thought occurred to him. "Is this about last night? Did she tell you about last night?" He thought they'd worked through that, and that the fight was over. He thought they'd reached an understanding. But was Ziva was complaining to McGee about it?
It didn't appear so. "What happened last night?" McGee asked, sounding genuinely clueless. "Aside from her falling off a wall? By the way, do you think she was being honest about that?"
"Yes," Tony replied without even having to think about it. He knew when Ziva was lying as sure as he knew when he was lying. Yesterday, she had told the truth. "So she didn't tell you about the fight we had?"
"No," McGee said on a sigh. "You had another fight?" He sounded as tired of it as Tony and Ziva were.
"We sorted it out," Tony assured him.
"Sorted it out, how?" McGee asked. "With your usual let's just forget about it method? Or did you actually talk about the issue and find a solution?"
Tony supposed that the tone in McGee's voice was akin to one a mother would use, and he didn't appreciate it. "Yes, we actually talked it out," he replied testily.
"Well, good," McGee said. "You two need to keep doing that in the future. You know, if you're going to have a shot."
Tony turned the key and the car engine roared to life. "A shot at what?" he asked, and reached back for his seatbelt.
"Well…being together," McGee said simply.
Tony froze, just as his seatbelt clicked into place. "Being…?" he started, and despite his wish for a change to their relationship, eight years of conditioning sent him automatically into panic and deny mode. "We're not—"
"OH MY GOD!" McGee suddenly cut in, yelling with frustration. "Are you kidding me?"
Tony jumped at the sudden noise and held the phone away from his ear. "Why are you yelling at me?" he yelled.
"Are you seriously going to keep up this stupid charade of not being in love with each other?" McGee demanded to know. "Seriously? Because if you are, I am done with both of you! I swear to God. I've had to put up with this for eight years already, and I can't stand any more of it! Do you have any idea what it's like being the third wheel all the time when the other two people refuse to acknowledge that they're the primary wheels? You don't know suffering! And I'm fed up with it!"
Tony stared straight ahead at the par parked in front of him as shock sank into his body and stole his strength. McGee never yelled like that. Never. And Tony didn't know how to respond. Not just because they were in unchartered Probie Hulk waters, but because he didn't know what he and Ziva were doing, and he didn't know how to reply.
For a few moments the only sound in Tony's ear was the humming of the car engine. It dragged out for as long as he could stand until finally he said, "Um…"
"You can't tell me you haven't looked at this great opportunity in front of you right now," McGee said, much calmer now that he'd gotten the yelling out of his system. "That you haven't looked at this world without Gibbs' rules, and thought that if you were ever going to make a move, now is the time to do it."
An unexpected lump formed in Tony's throat. He thought about denying it more—like he'd trained himself to do for the last few years—but in the end, he couldn't see the point. "Yes," he said thickly. "But there's stuff to work through." They had talked things out last night and found some kind of resolution. Or at least some common ground. And Tony did love her—straightforwardly. But Ziva's reluctance to rely on him when it really mattered still weighed heavily on his heart, and he needed to find a way past that.
"Of course there is," McGee said with understanding. "But don't wait until you think everything is perfectly aligned. Because it never will be. That's not how relationships work. They're not neat. They're messy, all the time."
It was solid advice, and Tony took it to heart. But he wouldn't be himself if he didn't take a little dig. "You've had a girlfriend for a few months and suddenly you're Dr Phil?"
"No need to be a douche about it," McGee muttered.
"I'm just joking," Tony said quickly.
"I know," McGee said. "But still."
"Sorry," Tony told him. "Thanks, Tim."
"So, I'll see you in the morning?" McGee checked.
"Yeah. I'll tell Ziva. Have a good night." He hung up and then plugged his phone into the car with the intent of listening to some calming jazz on his way back to Ziva's. But he paused. There was still stuff to work out with Ziva. But McGee was right. There was probably always going to be stuff to work out. Nothing was ever going to be perfect. But with a little bit more work now, things had the potential to get as close to perfect as they ever would. He was already being far more honest with her about how he felt than ever before. Ziva was being honest too, if not for one or two indiscretions. Time would tell whether or not she would start relying on him or including him more when it came to the things that really mattered. They both had adjustments to make on that issue. But he had a choice now. He could sit back and wait for something to happen that would prove her promises were ironclad. Or he could give them both the benefit of the doubt, give them both a break from the expectation of perfection and just treat her like his best friend, partner, confidant and object of deep affection.
Tony chose the latter.
He checked his cell phone was paired with the car (man, he really liked the toys in this car) and hit the button on the steering wheel for voice activation. "Call Ziva," he instructed, and weaved his way out and into traffic as the phone started ringing over the car's speakers. Ziva answered almost immediately.
"David."
"Hey, it's me."
"Is Bonnie all right?" she asked quickly.
"Huh? Yeah, she's fine," Tony assured her.
Ziva sounded relieved. "Good. Are you coming home? I mean, here," she quickly corrected. "Here to my home."
"I'm on my way," he told her. "But it occurred to me while I was checking out my closet that I don't know what to wear to this thing on Saturday." He tried to inject his tone with just enough vapid sorority girl breathlessness to cover his nerves about the night.
"The Fantasia thing?" Ziva checked.
"Unless you had another thing planned for me," he replied, playing up his hope.
It was rewarded. "I was going to buy you dinner," she told him.
"Oh, really?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "Well, that adds another challenge to my wardrobe selection."
There was a pause, and he imagined that Ziva was trying to work out whether he was being serious, or whether he was just amusing himself. "I suggest that you wear whatever you want to wear," Ziva replied haltingly.
Tony sighed briefly to himself as he pulled up at a red light. "So…sweat pants would be appropriate?"
"You never wear sweat pants out of the house," Ziva pointed out. "You do not even like to wear them when you are working out."
He frowned to himself. Sometimes he felt that they knew too much about each other. "Okay, not sweat pants," he allowed. "I'm just trying to work out if this is a high falutin' kind of hootenanny, or a low-key shindig."
"I do not think I speak whatever language it is that you are speaking now."
He chuckled as the light turned green, and then turned right towards Ziva's neighborhood. "Suit, tie and jacket? Suit but no tie? Jeans?"
"Are you honestly worried about this?" Ziva asked. She sounded like she couldn't believe that he was asking for so much detail, and Tony started feeling a little embarrassed for pushing it. But he wasn't interested in her answer as much as he was interested in just talking to her. He liked talking to her. So, sue him.
"No," he told her. "I'm just in traffic and I'm bored, so I thought I'd get you to entertain me."
"And you are asking me about your clothes instead of requesting a detailed description of what I am wearing?"
One of Tony's eyebrows arched. She had a point. "Like…now? Or what you're planning on wearing on Saturday?"
"Either. It seems strange for you."
He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he thought about that. "Saturday should be a surprise," he told her, forgetting for a moment that she hadn't actually said anything about it being a date, even if he was thinking of it that way. "But what are you wearing now? Can I guess?"
He heard her chuckle. "I will give you a hint: there is a sling involved."
Tony smiled briefly to himself, but he felt his stomach fall just a bit at the reminder of yesterday's crap storm. He tried to joke it off, though. "Hot." The car in front of him slowed prematurely to turn right, so Tony quickly checked over his shoulder before changing into the left lane. "It's not black lace, is it?"
"That would not be practical," Ziva pointed out sensibly. "And black lace does not go with the leggings I am wearing."
She said it casually, but it grabbed Tony's attention. Ziva in leggings was a rare but blessed sight. Whenever he saw her in them he had to wonder if she had any idea just how good she looked in them, and whether she wore them just to torture him in the sweetest way. Rationally, he knew she probably didn't. But that didn't detract from his voyeuristic enjoyment of it.
"You been running?" he asked, succeeding in sounding like he didn't even care that the world's most outstanding ass was currently encased in nothing but Lycra and waiting at the end of his trip to her place. Then, his mind went in an entirely different direction. "Hang on, didn't the doctor say you should avoid running for a while?"
"Yes, he did," Ziva replied with just enough edge to her voice to tell him to back off. "I have not been running. I did some simple, gentle stretching. That is all."
Great. Now he had the image in his head of Ziva in Lycra leggings doing stretches. He felt a stirring in his pants, and so tried to think of something else. "Well, good," he mumbled. "Hey, um, McGee's going to be out tonight with Delilah because the two of them are becoming codependent, but he said he'd be back early tomorrow so we can work out how we're going to wrap this case up."
"All right," Ziva said, sounding a little confused by the quick change in conversation. "Have you eaten? I started preparing some chicken for all three of us."
Leggings and dinner. Sometimes Tony felt like she was subtly asking him to marry her. "I'm ready to eat," he assured her, nodding at the car in front of him for emphasis she couldn't see. "You need anything from the store?"
"No, I have everything."
Tony heard her reply, but he didn't really register what she said. Because at that moment his brain was busy registering what he was seeing in front of him. The car he'd pulled in behind was a familiar-looking dark blue Ford Fusion with a license plate that Tony had seen a dozen times in the last week. Through the back window, he could see the outline of the driver, a man with a familiar profile and haircut. And that man was leading him into Ziva's neighborhood.
"Tony? Are you still there?" Ziva asked.
Tony licked his suddenly dry lips. "Hey, Ziva? I'm driving behind Eddie Hertzog."
"Where?" Ziva asked. He recognized the shift in her voice to her professional tone, as she had probably heard the change in his.
"We're on Morehead and 98th," he told her. "Close to you."
"How long have you been following him?"
"I just realized," he admitted. "Maybe three blocks." He let off the accelerator a little to put a touch more space between the two cars. He doubted that Eddie could make out who was following him with Tony's headlights on—a quick glance in his own rear-view mirror confirmed Tony couldn't make out anything of the driver behind him—but he wanted to avoid making Eddie feel like he was being tailed. Because he would be, now. Eddie took a left and Tony's stomach tightened in response. He was heading in the direction of Ziva's house. It didn't mean that was where he was going, Tony told himself. But his gut said otherwise. "Now we're on Sussex."
Clearly, Ziva was thinking along the same lines as him. "Why would he be coming here?"
"He probably saw both of us on the footage from Bonnie's apartment," Tony said. "Did you see a camera in his courtyard?"
"No, I checked," Ziva said. He heard her moving quickly, followed by the distinctive click of her racking her gun as she checked the chamber. "How far away are you? Five minutes?"
"Less."
"Is there anyone else in the car?"
"No, he's alone." Tony watched as Eddie took a right, but instead of following him along the arterial streets to Ziva's house, he sped ahead down Sussex. "I'm going to take a shortcut and try to get there before him."
"Do not drive recklessly," Ziva told him firmly, and without a hint of self-awareness. "I can take care of him. Until you get here," she added hastily.
He figured she was probably thinking about their fight the night before, where he'd swallowed significant pride to tell her she made him feel useless. She'd assured him several times that she did indeed need him, and it sounded like she was making the effort to show him now. He appreciated it—sincerely, he did—but when his partner was potentially in trouble, he wasn't going to come to a complete stop at stop signs.
"I'll be right there," he told her, then hung up and accelerated.
He made pretty good time right up until he got to the narrow cross street that ran perpendicular to Ziva's. Both sides of the street were lined with parked cars, and taking up the middle of the street was a shuttle bus unloading three elderly passengers (one with a walker), two adults and three kids. There was no way of passing them, and so Tony was forced to sit and wait as all their luggage (he reckoned it was at least two bags per person) were unloaded. He groaned aloud to himself and thumped on the steering wheel, and then laid on the horn sooner than he should have. The shuttle driver made a 'shut up' gesture as one of the women paid him. She shot Tony a filthy look as he laid on the horn again.
"Come on!" Tony yelled in frustration. "Move it!"
The shuttle driver returned to the shuttle, and after yet another blare of the horn from Tony he took off down the street. Tony didn't feel much relief, though. He was stuck behind the shuttle until it turned left a hundred yards down the street, and then he hit the accelerator. His heart was pounding wildly as he made it to Ziva's block. He caught sight of Eddie walking down the sidewalk a couple of houses up from Ziva's and swore under his breath. There was no parking spot free along her street (there rarely ever was at this time of night), and he considered doing what the shuttle had done and double-parking by her door.
But then, he had a moment of not-quite-brilliance.
All this time they had been struggling with how they were going to prove that Eddie was stalking Bonnie. They had circumstantial evidence, but nothing concrete. If Eddie was going to see Ziva, though, he obviously had something to say. And if Tony knew Ziva, he knew she would take a pretty good shot at getting him to admit his involvement. Simply getting Ziva's account of any admission would end up being a he said/she said deal. But if the conversation was recorded, that was something else all together.
So, when he came to Ziva's house, Tony kept rolling by the next three houses instead of stopping. He pulled up in a space around the block and then jogged down to the wall on the side of the house at the end of Ziva's row. The wall was double brick and about five feet tall. The yard beyond the wall was dark. It wasn't lost on him that he was about to do exactly what Ziva had been doing when she'd injured herself at Eddie's, but he figured that just meant that she wouldn't be able to yell at him if he hurt himself too.
He looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and then hoisted himself up, scrambled up to the top of the wall, and pushed himself off to land in a complete stranger's back yard. He felt a twinge in his ankle when he landed, but it went away after a few ginger steps. He started creeping across the paved area, staying low as possible, until he got to the opposite wall. One house down, two more to go.
When he landed in the second yard, he heard a dog bark and froze on the spot. He waited in the flower bed for what sounded like a very large and angry beast to come running full speed at him and attach its teeth to his jugular, but then worked out that the dog was probably the Labrador that a couple living in the row of houses backing onto this one owned. He let out his breath before his lungs exploded, and crept forward again to the next wall. Hoisting himself up this time was a little more difficult. He hadn't done an obstacle course like this for some time, and he was getting a bit breathless. But he made it, and swung himself into the Ziva's neighbor's yard.
This time, he landed on something hard that cracked and gave way, and sent him to his hands and knees. He quickly pushed himself up and scrambled over to the wall separating this yard from Ziva's, and put his back against it as he crouched low. Heat blossomed in his cheeks and he was puffing harder than he would have liked, but he waited in position and kept his eye on the back door of the house in case anyone heard the smash and came to investigate. After a count of ten he figured he was okay, so he stood up, took a deep breath and let it out, and then pushed himself up and over the wall into Ziva's yard.
Tony felt a pang in his chest that was either discomfort from the unexpected exercise or relief that he'd made it. Either way, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and jogged to the full glass back door. The kitchen beyond was dimly lit. There was a little light coming from the dining room door and also the hallway. He couldn't see Ziva or Eddie. Quickly, he let himself into the house and then crept through the kitchen to the dining room. He pulled his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and peeked out down the hallway to the front door. Ziva stood before the open door, her right arm still in a sling but her left pointed at an angle as her hand rested on her hip. Her gun was tucked into the waistband of her leggings behind her back. Eddie stood on the doorstep in front of her, wearing a smarmy smile that made Tony's lip curl. He could hear them arguing, and since Ziva didn't seem to be in any trouble at that moment, Tony lifted his phone and started filming them.
"I don't know what you think is going on. I can only guess at the twisted and misguided thoughts in your head," Eddie told Ziva. "But I'm telling you to stay away from her."
"I did not think that you listened to such threats," Ziva replied calmly. "Bonnie has told you many times to stay away from her, but you have ignored her. It is hypocritical of you to expect others to do the things that you refuse to do."
Eddie took half a step forward and leaned in. "Listen, kitten," he said with an edge. "You don't know shit about me and Bonnie. So keep your pretty little nose out of it."
"I know that you recorded videos of Bonnie in her own house and without her knowledge or consent," Ziva said, letting some fire creep into her voice. "And that you sent her stills from the videos to rattle her."
"Got some great shots of you and your boyfriend as well," Eddie told her. "You had a good look around, didn't you?"
Ziva didn't miss a beat. "So you are admitting that you placed cameras in Bonnie's house without her permission?"
Eddie leaned back again, and Tony felt a little moment of victory as realization ghosted across Eddie's face. He recovered quickly, though. "Calm yourself, kitten. I'm not admitting to anything."
"How do you know anything about me and my boyfriend if you are not stalking Bonnie?" Ziva asked.
"Bonnie told me. She tells me everything."
Ziva snorted. "Yes, it certainly must feel like that if you have her apartment under surveillance."
Eddie stared at her in anger for a few moments before collecting himself and sliding into a charming smile that made Tony's stomach turn. He pointed at Ziva's arm. "I sincerely hope that your injuries from yesterday aren't too bad, kitten," he said. "And that you heal quickly, before anything else should happen to you."
The comment sounded like a threat to Tony, and he quickly pushed himself off the wall and walked down the hallway to the front door. Eddie seemed surprised to see him and took another half a step backwards. Still recording with his phone (the video would be useless, but the audio would still work), Tony slung his arm casually around Ziva's shoulders and kissed her cheek.
"Who's at the door, honey?" he asked.
"It is the man who is stalking our client," Ziva replied, not taking her eyes off Eddie. "And he has just admitted to doing so."
"Well, that was a silly thing for him to do," Tony said. "But it makes our job easier."
"I thought so."
Eddie looked between them, but his cool demeanor stayed intact. "You don't have anything," Eddie told them, but then turned and walked down the three steps to the short path leading out of Ziva's tiny front yard. At the base of the steps he turned to look up at them again. "Heed the warning," he said, "and stay out of Bonnie's life."
It wasn't a warning, but a threat. And Tony didn't like it. He let go of Ziva and walked out the door to advance on Eddie. "Here's our warning," he told Eddie. "If you don't stop making threats against Bonnie, if you keep stalking her, and if you don't stay away from my partner, I will make sure that you go to jail for a long time."
Eddie backed up to the front gate and gave Tony a look of derision. "I'm shaking."
Tony kept coming at him. "Don't test me," Tony warned. "Get out of here."
Eddie paused on the sidewalk to look up at Ziva and blow her a kiss. "Sleep tight, kitten."
Tony's hand curled into a fist, but he controlled the impulse to grab the guy and deck him. He waited at the gate as Eddie turned and sauntered off back towards his car, then got in, started the engine and drove off. When he was gone, Tony let out a breath and turned to head back into the house. Ziva was waiting at the front door with a small smirk on her lips.
"Where did you come from?"
"Out back," he said simply. He joined her inside and closed and locked the front door.
"That was our proof," Ziva said. "If we can actually prove it."
Tony grinned and held up his phone. "I got it. Want to watch a home movie?"
Ziva looked at the phone and broke into a smile. She tugged on his hand and led him back to the kitchen. "I would love to."
Tony turned on the light as Ziva grabbed her laptop and turned it on. They sat together at the kitchen island as they waited for the computer to boot up, and Ziva looked him up and down with curiosity.
"Why are you so sweaty?" she asked, and then lifted two fingers to swipe them across his cheekbone. "And dirty?"
Tony shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."
She gave him a strange look, but didn't say anything more. She got up to find the cable to connect his phone to her laptop, but was distracted when the doorbell rang. Tony sat up straighter as Ziva reached for her gun at her back to make sure it was still there.
"It can't be him," Tony said, incredulous.
Ziva cocked her head like she wouldn't have much trouble believing it, and headed down the hallway. Tony put his foot up on the seat beside him to grab his backup from the ankle holster he'd taken to wearing again since quitting, and crept through the kitchen once more to the dining room to peek around the corner at the action. Ziva left her hand on her gun as she looked through the stained glass panel beside the front door. She pulled her head back abruptly, and swiveled around to look at him.
"It is the police," she said with disbelief.
Tony frowned at her—he hadn't been expecting that—and popped his head back as she opened the door to two men in police uniforms.
"Good evening, ma'am," one of the cops said. "Sorry to disturb you, but we were patrolling the neighborhood and received a report of a prowler in this street. One of your neighbors thought he might have gained entry to your home. Are you in need of assistance?"
In the dining room, Tony's eyebrows shot up before they crashed down again with his grimace. Damn it! He didn't think he'd been seen, but clearly he had. He thought fast as Ziva tried to assure the police there was nothing to worry about. He put his gun down, and before he fully worked out what he was doing he stripped off his t-shirt, toed off his shoes, yanked off his socks and dropped his jeans. He ran his hands vigorously through his hair to make it stand up at all angles (like a porcuswine, his brain supplied), wiped sweat and dirt from his face with his t-shirt, and then wandered sleepily out of the room and down the hallway to the front door again. The cops looked over Ziva's shoulder at him, and they both looked him up and down. Clearly, they thought that a sleepy man in nothing but his boxers wasn't a threat (at least, not in this nice neighborhood). Ziva looked over her shoulder to see what the officers were looking at, and Tony watched her eyes widen momentarily before she put her poker face back on.
"What's going on?" Tony asked, rubbing one of his eyes.
"We had a report of a man running through yards in this street," one of the officers told him. "A neighbor thought he might have come in here."
"In here?" Tony repeated as he leaned against the doorframe. He crossed his arms and looked at Ziva. "Are you seeing other men?"
Ziva regarded the officers. "It is just the two of us here," she told them. "We have been here all night."
"Mind if we take a quick look around?" the second officer asked.
"Yes," Ziva said. "We are fine. There is no one else here. But thank you for your concern."
Tony gave them a two-fingered salute to punctuate her statement.
Both officers looked them up and down again, but stepped back from the door.
"Well, stay vigilant," officer number one said. "If you see anything, give us a call."
"Thank you, officer," Ziva said, and closed the door on them. She turned to look at Tony and lifted an eyebrow in a request for further information.
Tony sighed. "I thought chances were good that you'd get Eddie to talk," he explained. "But we'd need evidence of it. I couldn't film it from the front yard because he'd see me, so I had to come through the back."
"So you jumped through my neighbors' yards?"
"Yeah, well your adventure yesterday inspired me."
To his relief, Ziva chuckled with good humor and patted his chest, then cocked her head towards the kitchen. He followed her back to the laptop, Ziva found the cord, and they sat down together again as he connected the phone and loaded the video onto her computer. In a stroke of good luck, the sound on the recording was clear enough, and so was Eddie's face.
"We just got Bonnie's ex on tape admitting to knowledge of surveillance equipment inside her home," Ziva said.
"Yep."
They looked at each other with proud smiles, and then Ziva impulsively leaned over to kiss his cheek.
"You can be brilliant at times, DiNozzo," she said, before looking him up and down. He was still just in his underwear. "Crazy," she added. "But brilliant."
Tony shrugged with nonchalance. "When you've got it, sweetcheeks, you've got it."
A/N: A lot happening but I hope you followed it easily. I couldn't find a natural break to turn it into two chapters. But at least you get movement on 2013 case and Tony and Ziva, plus movement on 2015 case and Tony and Ziva ;)
I got behind on responding to your lovely reviews but I think as of tonight I'm caught up with everyone who signed in to review. If I missed you, I'm so sorry! But thank you. And thanks to everyone leaving guest reviews. I've been worried that people were drifting from this (as is their right), but there is also a bunch of you who keep coming back, and that means a lot. See you next week.