Title: Picking up the Pieces and Filling in the Gaps
Author: ChelseaDaggerCinderella
Summary: Tony and Ziva spend the four months between 'Hiatus' and 'Shalom' strengthening their partnership…and their relationship, but Tony still winds up working undercover for the Director, and Ziva has demons of her own to deal with. Can they come together to make everything alright again?
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, although I'd like to. No infringement intended, Mr. Bellisario.
Author's Note:
Oh, my friends, I'm so sorry you had to wait all this time. My computer went crazy—I got hit by a virus that got by my anti-virus software and when I tried to fix it my computer completely died. This all took a week and then I had to put humpty-dumpty together again—hence the mondo-delay, for which I am infinitely sorry about.
Okay, so here's chapter 8, which is the first of a five-part re-write of "Blowback." You'll notice that I've started to really change things here because, ladies & germs, we have entered into our transition into stage three. Yay! It's about to get really good, so bare with me. I just moved back into the dorms and I'm starting my first semester in three hours, so I apologize if my updates are sluggish, but I promise you—I will update and I will finish this story.
On with the show!
Ziva felt a little exposed. She'd made a fool of herself this morning because she was worried about Tony. She kept telling herself that she wasn't actually looking like a fool because for all of Gibbs's ability to know what others didn't want him to, he did not know about her and Tony's less than platonic relationship while he was "retired." You do not look like a fool, Ziva! You are simply concerned with your partner's well-being. And it was true. There were far too many examples of how things with Tony were not one-hundred percent for her to just ignore them. She had a duty to her partner and to her team to make sure that she followed her gut—even if she felt a fool doing it. You wouldn't be feeling like a fool if you'd adhered to protocol, she chastised herself. And that was true, but everything in her told her that something was wrong with Tony and that was unacceptable no matter how foolish she looked.
"Uh, Gibbs," she started, turning to him in the car outside Asad's and Youssef's house. "About this morning."
He sighed. "Oh, come on. Are you starting this again?"
Does he really not see it? Am I truly imagining it? Is my judgment that flawed? "It's my Mossad training. They drummed it into us. Push, push, push, push, push, push, push; never give up until you get to the truth…"
He turned to her, "…or get your ass kicked."
Yes, that, too. "Or get your ass kicked," she nodded and paused. "I thought you sent Tony back because of his um…illness."
"His illness?" Gibbs asked, looking at her strangely, silently thinking back to their conversation about Y-Pestis relapses.
Here goes… "He has two cell phones. Makes furtive calls to the hospital. Goes missing for hours. Always lies about where he's been. I mean," she said, slightly exasperated, but confident that she was hauling out the big guns with this one, "…he doesn't even talk about women anymore." She sighed. "The only logical explanation is that he's receiving outpatient treatment for a serious medical problem."
Or not, Gibbs thought, thinking back to the errands Jenny had been sending him on. Not time to voice those suspicions yet, though. He looked at Ziva. "That's not the only explanation." Conversation over.
It was a few days later that Tony, Ziva, and McGee all found themselves at their desks with nothing to do. No cases, no calls; all reports had been written, typed, checked, and filed, and the entire squad room was eerily…calm.
"This is a bad sign," McGee said gravely.
"What is?" Ziva asked, looking up from her work cleaning her gun.
"This," he said, his arms flying out, drawing attention to the still squad room. "It's the calm before the storm, Ziva."
"What storm, McGee?—it is a beautiful day," she said, pointing to the window where the sun shone brightly in the cool, winter sky.
"He speaks figuratively, Ziva," Tony said, dropping his legs from where they were crossed on top of his desk. "And for what it's worth, I'm rather inclined to agree with Probie on this one." Ziva cocked an eyebrow and gave him a look that said, so what? He made his way over to her desk and leaned down, bracing his hands on the desk. "This rather tepid state of affairs is an omen—a bad omen—of things to come…and haunt us."
"What he said," McGee seconded, from across the room, now coming closer and joining them around Ziva's desk.
"Boys," she laughed, as she moved the slide on her Sig back with a click. She leaned in towards them as if she were going to tell them a secret and whispered. "Don't worry—I shall protect you." They both straightened up, each with an equally put-off look on their face—their dignity having taken a hit from letting themselves 'walk into it'.
She laughed again as McGee made his way back to his desk, his temperament not all that unlike a sullen child. Tony, on the other hand, nailed Ziva with his eyes. "Mark my words, Ziva David—there is evil afoot."
Ziva gave him a dry look. "There is always evil, Tony."
"Yeah, but this is different," he said, straightening, and traipsing around the bullpen. "It's in the air. You can feel it, can't you, McGee?"
McGee nodded. "It's there—laying in wait."
"Yes, Probie! Yes, that's it—it's laying in wait."
"And it's big, too," McGee added. "Yup, not your usual brand of bad—this is…"
"It is what, McGee?" Ziva asked after a few seconds of silence.
"It's, uh, well, it's—"
"Biblical," Tony finished.
"Yes!" McGee cheered, his fisted hand pumped in the air in victory. "Biblical. Yes, Tony, very good." Tony looked at him a moment with one of those 'what did you say?' looks. McGee gulped. "I mean, well, what I meant was, well, um, you see—"
"Ziva!" Gibbs shouted, walking briskly into the bullpen and saving McGee from any further torment.
"Gibbs?" she asked, standing up and coming towards his desk.
"Director wants to see you in MTAC. There's a feed coming in from Tel Aviv, Priority 1, for you."
Ziva nodded and made her way upstairs towards MTAC.
When she was safely away from earshot, Tony made his way over to Gibbs's desk. Nonchalant, DiNozzo—no need to rile things up. Nice and subtle. "Priority 1, boss?" he asked, curious.
Gibbs kept his eyes on the computer in front of him. "Live feed from the Deputy Director's office," he said plainly.
Her father, probably. A call from daddy?—that can't be good. Tony hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "DeputyDirector David's office, boss?"
"Yeah, DiNozzo," he said with a worn-out tone. "Anything else you'd like to know about?" he added, rising from his chair.
"Well there are a few mysteries I've always wondered about," he began with a sarcastically cocky tone. Gibbs head-slapped him and Tony shook himself. "Right, boss; shutting up."
Ziva put her face up to the optical scanner outside of MTAC and waited patiently as it scanned her eyes. The system made a noise signaling her approval for entry and she gripped the handle with a vice-like hold as she tried to convince herself that she was not concerned about a sudden tele-conference with her father. The Director, she chastised herself. Right now he is merely the Deputy Director of my agency…well, one of my agencies…
When she entered the command center, she saw the Director sitting in her usual chair, a folder open in her lap. She sat down next to Jenny, sliding into the seat with ease. She inclined her head in greeting. "Director."
Jenny silently passed the folder over to Ziva with only a sly look in her direction. The folder was marked "Eyes Only," so Ziva knew right away that the Director was actively not showing her this file that Ziva also knew right away she had absolutely no record of. In other words, Jenny wasn't supposed to be doing what she was doing right now, and Ziva wasn't supposed to be looking at what she was reading right now. So just another day at the office, Ziva thought with a shake of her head.
The file was a Mossad dossier on man named Goliath. There was a lot of information there but it was not very well organized. Compiled rather haphazardly, Ziva noted. Ziva tried to make as much sense of it as she could, but as she flipped the pages, she realized there was all kinds of information in here on an arms-dealer of Israeli descent code-named Goliath. Tony's biblical omen popped into her head of its own accord. Damn, Tony and his hunches!
There were a number of notes on communiqués Mossad had intercepted between Goliath and Iranian Intelligence regarding something referred to only as The Villa, but, Ziva noted, there were notations that indicated that there was more than met the eye. She closed the file and handed it back to Jenny wordlessly, who then tucked it back into her pile of paperwork.
"Danielle," Jenny said, "do we have Tel-Aviv yet?"
"Yes, ma'am," Danielle, said. "Should I begin the feed, Director?"
"Yes."
Ziva stood as her father appeared before her from his desk in his office halfway around the world.
"Good day, Director," she greeted her father in Hebrew, with a nod.
"Daughter," he responded in kind—and once again, in Hebrew—"it has been too long." His tone made Ziva want to wretch; either that, or scream. And whose fault is that, Father?
"Deputy Director David," Jenny began with authority, "It's good to see you again, but I'm afraid we'll have to dispense with pleasantries for the moment. NCIS received the intel you provided—it is greatly appreciated."
Deputy Director David nodded and began again, in English. "Mossad has been monitoring three known Iranian Intelligence operatives for a little less than a month. We had been hoping to uncover information regarding an operation that went awry several months ago when we discovered that this man," a picture of Goliath appeared on screen. "An arms-dealer and traitor to Israel known only as Goliath began gathering information about the sale of a Villa in Santorini. My analysts thought nothing of it until a man named Trent Kort began to engage in similar conversations with not only Iranian Intelligence, but your Central Intelligence Agency."
"Mossad is tracking CIA communications?" the Director asked, all business and very put-off at the thought of the possible ramifications. Ziva stiffened, feeling the tension knot between her shoulder-blades as she realized that her loyalties were split on the matter.
"To be fair, Director Shepard, Mossad was tracking Kort's communications with the Iranians first, so, it was quite surprising when he began dialing the United States as though they were old friends." Director Shepard motioned for him to continue. "It was only after Kort appeared in our investigation that we began to track his communications. We were far from intercepting Agency communiqués, Director. We were monitoring from his end—not yours."
Jenny bristled and swallowed a response. "Continue."
"Mossad believes that both Goliath and Kort are planning on purchasing a rather sensitive system of the US Military's—and Goliath is in your nation's capitol right now."
"What system, Director?" Ziva asked from her stiff position at Jenny's side.
Her father leaned in close. For dramatic effect, Ziva thought wryly. He looked straight into the camera—into the heart of MTAC, and NCIS—and said, as thought it were nothing in the world, "…ARES."
Tony sat down at McGee's desk and started bringing up the files connected to the match. "It looks like McGee's got a name match off of Harrow's e-mails. Trent Kort. He's on the FBI arms-dealer watch-list."
"How old?" Gibbs asked.
He hit some keys, bringing up more information. "Ah, five days." Uh, oh. "Uh, bio's thin." It popped up on the screen and Tony started reading. "Trent Thomas Kort, thirty-seven years old. British National. Believed to have recently joined…" but Tony froze as the picture of Kort appeared on-screen. Oh crap! He flashed back to the air-strip. 'Smile's for me, dear boy…" This isn't good…well, it is, because yay for the mission, but this is not going to be a pretty picture for me. Oh god—Jeanne…Gibbs...Gibbs…Gibbs?
"Hey, do you know this guy?"
GIBBS! "No," Tony lied, "I've never seen him before." Make it about the horrible shirt, DiNozzo… "Those Hawaiian shirts…" he shook his head and returned his eyes to the screen, reading diligently so it looked like he really did know nothing—not that he thought Gibbs bought it for a second…but hey, never blow your own cover, right? "…believed to have recently joined La Grenouille, an international arms dealer, fronting corporations in Paris, Nairobi…Cape Town."
Tony attempted to steer the Director and he away from the awkwardness of the moment and gestured to her computer. "May I?" He pulled up Harrow's file and the NCIS case file they'd just opened. "Charles Harrow. Retired puzzle maker."
"For who?"
"Us; literally us—he designed ARES. It's the Navy's cruise—"
"…Missile targeting system." She paused, her poker-face in place. Sorry, Tony, she thought. "He come out of retirement?"
"In a way; he's offering ARES in a one-off to the highest bidder."
Tony could hear the sound effects in his head as the Director put it together. She's a very smart woman…
Why didn't I put that together myself, she screamed in her head. Of course! "La Grenouille?"
Tony nodded. "He's one of the bidders."
"How did we come by this?"
"Mossad passed intel onto Ziva about an international arms dealer, code name: Goliath…"
This part I know, DiNozzo! Get to Grenouille! "I've heard of him; he's Israeli."
"…And Ziva didn't take too kindly to that." I'll say—I think I may have actually seen smoke come out of her ears. "He's rumored to be bidding on a stolen Navy weapons system. We snatched him this morning. Got him downstairs on a visa violation. His computer is in Abby's lab." Tony moved to the computer again and started punching keys. "And we were running Harrow's cell calls and e-mails for known arms dealers when…" the picture appeared on the Director's plasma, capturing her full attention. "…this guy popped off an FBI watch-list. Name is Trent Kort."
Jenny stood up, everything coming together a little better now. "You took that picture eight weeks ago. Why are we just getting a name now?" Deputy Director David seems to have left out a few things…
"I have no idea. I ran that photo against all agency watch lists, including the FBI, and I got nothing." Really nothing, like not even a whisper of a spec of dust. It was almost too clean—organized.
"It doesn't matter. This is good."
"And it's bad. I had to lie to Gibbs." Yes, we're pretty much set up to nab your guy, Director, but I lied to Gibbs—directly—after lying to the entire team for months. And then—there's Jeanne. We nab Grenouille and what happens there? I ditch her? Blow my cover and let her kick my ass? I end it? And then I have to explain to…no! This assignment is no longer making me eager, Jenny. Let's just get it done and I'll worry about this later…after Gibbs kills me.
One would have thought that she'd never ever worked with Gibbs judging by her tone—as if she had no idea what it meant exactly for him to have lied to Gibbs. "You were on an undercover mission."
"He's my boss."
"And I'm his boss." She was getting defensive…and territorial. "You leave him to me. Your ass is covered."
"I'm not worried about my ass, Jenny!" he bellowed. I respect the man, and he trusts me and you've had me betraying them all…and myself…and Jeanne…
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