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:
Okay, so, I can't even begin to explain where I've been all this time; suffice it to say that this has been the absolute worst three months of my life—just one tragedy after the other… In any case, this is the second to last chapter that I have written. I have five other chapters written but there is a time gap between these Blowback stories and the chapters I have written for Recoil.
In any case, here's the newest chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. I am hoping to do some real writing once my semester is through, so the month of January I am going to try to be busy writing because I love this story and I want to see where it's going as well.
All my best!
"Renée Benoit," Gibbs said as he entered, accentuating every single syllable until he sounded like a toddler sounding out a word. "You've been a bad boy, Renee," he added, dropping into the seat across from the frog and letting the file in his hand fall to the metal table with an audible slap.
Grenouille straightened his wrinkled jacket in earnest and met Gibbs's stare head-on. "You do not intimidate me, Agent…"
"Gibbs," Gibbs answered happily, even adding a head bob and a smile. "And I'm not trying to intimidate you, Renée; there's no need, you see, because we've got you cold on buying ARES, my friend, so really I'm just here babysitting you until the boys come and get you." He paused, Grenouille saying nothing. Gibbs looked around the room, taking in the details that he had long ago memorized. "Kinda boring in here, isn't it?" He let his stare land on the small plasma flat screen on the wall to the left of him. He nodded to it and then to Fornell, who stood silently in the corner. "I wonder if we can get the game in here?—sure make the time fly by quicker." Fornell nodded eagerly and laughed.
Gibbs stood up and tapped on the glass to the observation room, "Hey, Jones, you think you could hook us up?"
"When did Gibbs learn to say 'hook us up'?" Tony asked, a little appalled.
"And who's Jones?" McGee wondered aloud.
Tony sighed. "There is no Jones, Probie!" Tony said, slapping him on the head for good measure. "Use your abnormally large head, McGee!"
"Ow, oh, yeah, right, gotcha, boss—I mean, Tony…Tony." Tony grinned manically at McGee as the Junior Field Agent mumbled his excuses to leave the room quickly, so as not to subject himself to Tony's ego any further.
"I love it when he does that!" Tony grinned and turned to Ziva, but she was quite plainly in no mood. He sighed. "You going to stay mad at me forever?" he asked, grateful that, for once, there were no other people in observation.
"No," she said simply, not moving her eyes from the interrogation.
"No?" Tony shook his head, a wry chuckle just barely audible. "That doesn't sound like the Ziva David I know," he said. Ziva swallowed hard and kept her focus straight ahead, her arms folded protectively across her chest. "I lied to you," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Repeatedly," he added, advancing towards her. I don't get it, he thought. "I gave you the brush off." She fidgeted slightly but still no contact. "I ruined your stew!" he said accusingly. What the hell? Why isn't she pissed?
She huffed and turned on him, throwing her arms akimbo. "I know all of these things, Tony!"
"Then why aren't you pummeling me into the ground?" he asked harshly, rather worried about her now. She turned back to the window, resuming her earlier position. Something's not right, he decided. He came right up to her, just barely touching her. "Why aren't you angry with me, Ziva?" He felt her stiffen.
Ziva was using every ounce of energy and determination within her to not flip out and to keep it together. But most of all, she was trying to keep from leaning into him. I could do it, she thought. Just a fraction to my left, that's all it would take…
"The truth," he demanded softly, his breath rushing against her ear and neck, tickling her senses and driving her from her thoughts with a sudden and jarring sense of looming self-implosion. He was completely unaware of the effect he was having on her, too focused on his own worry to realize that in that moment, he was, in fact, making the situation harder on her.
She leaned away from him and went to the door. She turned; her hand on the doorknob. "Because I am unsure as to whether I am entitled to be, Tony." And then she was gone.
Tony shook his head. What a mess…
It had taken about eight minutes for the frog to break. Guantanamo Bay for the rest of his life was not very conducive to La Grenouille's particular lifestyle. He preferred it when bars were restricted to fancy restaurants and hotels that serve only the finest of everything. Iron cages were most definitely not in his life's plan—and it showed.
"You want Kort," the frog stated plainly in his suave French accent. "And in return—"
"…Gitmo is off the table," Gibbs finished.
"And my family?" he asked.
Gibbs looked around in false confusion, landing on Fornell who showed an equal amount of false confusion. Gibbs leaned in full of mock-concern. "Are they terrorists too?" he whispered in a sotto voice.
"My life's goal is to provide for my family—to protect them, Agent Gibbs." He shifted in his seat. "I need assurances that they will be provided for—and kept safe."
"You want the Federal Government to pay your children an allowance?" Fornell asked, astonished. "You've got a brass pair, that's for damn sure," he said, running a hand through what was left of his hair.
"I am sorry, gentlemen, but I'm afraid this is what you call—a deal breaker." He sat back in his seat smugly.
Gibbs shrugged, picked up the file and motioned to Fornell who moved to do the same. "Okay. Rot or not, makes no difference to me—your family gets the same treatment no matter where we send you to spend the rest of your life." Fornell left the room first. Gibbs smiled as he made a move to leave. "Au revoir, Renée."
Tony scanned the squad room for Ziva as he walked, but she wasn't anywhere he could see her. Should I go find her? He was worried about her, just like he was worried about everything else. It was approaching 0700 quicker than Tony would have liked. Jeanne had started working nights a few days ago and he'd agreed to pick her up and take her out to breakfast. He was unsure how he should proceed, and he loathed having to ask Jenny permission to go on a date with his girlfriend. I'll have to go either way—she has no way home and I'm not leaving her to fend for herself. He caught himself smiling at the idea of seeing the face she usually made as she exited the hospital for the night. A cross between kill me and I'm free.
His cell rang, bringing him out of those thoughts—and then right back into them as he thought for a moment that it wasn't his cell that was ringing—it wasn't Tony DiNardo's cell and it wasn't Jeanne calling. It was his NCIS cell, Jenny's name appearing on the display. Weird, he thought. "DiNozzo."
"Have you made contact with La Grenouille?" she asked.
He hesitated. "I thought it best not to for the moment."
"Good. Keep your distance, Tony. I want your cover intact until after we have Kort in custody."
"I take it our friendly neighborhood arms-dealer broke under Gibbs's mindful stare, then?"
There was a pause. "He took the deal." Tony went to say something but Jenny beat him to it, cutting off anymore conversation on his end. "Keep your distance from La Grenouille, Tony, and maintain your cover."
"So then I take it I'll be leaving now?" he asked—a little sour at now being told to go out with his girlfriend. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, he thought to himself wryly.
"Like I said—maintain your cover."
"Understood," he said tightly, and disconnected.
Tony angled his car into a space on the street outside University Hospital at about 0715 and shut off the engine. He released a huge breath of air and felt himself deflate a little bit. It had been a long, long, long night and it looked like the day wasn't going to be any better. He shook his head back and forth vigorously, trying to reinvigorate himself on no sleep. He stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders. Show time, Mr. DiNardo, he said, hurling himself out of the car and towards the hospital entrance. Reminding himself of his alias's identity didn't seem to help his mood any. Probably made it worse, he commented idly.
When he made it to the reception desk at Jeanne's station he plastered on a huge smile and tried to shake himself out of Agent DiNozzo's personal blues and apprehension. "Dr. Benoit," he said suavely, coming up behind her and whispering into her ear. "Your driver has arrived, Doctor."
She laughed and turned around with a bright smile especially for him. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss. "Well it's about time," she threw at him playfully. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up."
Almost had to… "You?" he asked in shock. He shook his head and looked at her adoringly, "Never."
Then she gave him the look—the one he adored so much; the one that made him feel as if everything would be okay and all his problems would just disappear if only he could stay right here with her in this moment. "Be careful, Professor," she whispered close to his lips. "…a girl could get used to this." And then she kissed him and he went with her willingly.
Five minutes later she was signed out, packed up and walking hand-in-hand with him back towards his car. He put his arm around her and held her close as she told him about her night and stories here and there about her co-workers or the occasional patient. She laughed at something, but he wasn't really paying attention. For some reason he was suddenly hyper-aware of their surroundings and a feeling that something just wasn't right. Cop-gut, he thought to himself. He took another look around but he couldn't come up with anything to support his feeling, so he tried to shake it off and return his attention to Jeanne before she realized that he wasn't exactly 100% with her.
"Tony, what is it?" she asked from her seat next to him, freezing his movement to insert the key into the ignition. She took his hand, key included, and brought it into her lap comfortingly. "What's wrong, Tony? You can tell me."
He laughed bitterly to himself. No, I really can't, Jeanne, and thanks for reminding me of that. He smiled at her, all teeth, "It's nothing, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night and I'm a little…" he didn't finish his sentence, just rocked his head back and forth with a silly, sloppy grin on his face, rolling his eyes for good measure as well.
She laughed. "Are you sure that's all? Because you know you can tell me anything, right?" He didn't respond. "You know that, right, Tony?"
He swallowed hard and brought his other hand up to the side of her face for sincerity's sake. "Of course I know that, Jeanne. And it means a lot, especially in my line of work," he said, a little too sincere. Shit! he thought.
But she didn't think much of it; she just laughed. "Teaching, Tony?"
He kissed her lips quickly to distract her and cocked an eyebrow at her dramatically. "Well, ya know—it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it." She laughed again. "Breakfast?" he asked, removing his hand from her grasp and starting the engine.
"Breakfast," she agreed.
Tony walked back into the office two hours later, thoroughly exhausted and emotionally angered. He'd spent all morning lying left and right. He couldn't give Jeanne one real answer all day; everything was falsified or edited or an outright lie. It wasn't usually this hard—most days it was just the two of them doing whatever they wanted and it wasn't all about him.
He supposed that it was his own fault in more ways than one. He'd taken the assignment, willingly—even eager at the time—and since then he'd let himself grow attached to her. Sometimes he wondered how out of all the women he'd gone out with—and there had been many—it had been this one who had made him feel so vulnerable and emotionally involved. Then every time he thought that, it made him realize that it wasn't just Jeanne that made him feel this way—because there were always the feelings he had for Ziva. But that's yet another complication, DiNozzo. Because technically he wasn't allowed to have Ziva any more than he was allowed to be with the subject of his assignment; it just wasn't as uncommon, unheard of, or taboo to fall for one's partner as it was to fall for your mark.
Bang up job, DiNozzo, he thought self-deprecatingly as he walked behind his desk, and turned to see Ziva giving him a look from across the way. She had changed out of her black utilities and into her normal clothes: desert camo cargo pants, black turtle-neck, boots, and a look that could kill.
Well that's not good… "Something up?" he asked. Her hair was swept up into a pony-tail, which told Tony she was going for function and ease today as opposed to comfort. So it's going to be one of those days, he thought, wishing he'd worn something more appropriate for ass-kicking and sleeping at his desk.
Ziva looked at him again, her feet up on her desk, legs crossed, and her emotions tightly in check—she was in no mood to deal with their more personal situation right now. "They know, Tony," she said simply.
"Who?" he asked, sitting down. "And what do they know?"
She brought her legs down and leaned on her elbows, "The team; they know about you—and her," she said, proud that she revealed no emotion. I will not be weak—for him or anyone…
Tony knew it would happen. He wasn't too upset about it, really. Wonder how pissed Gibbs is…
"The Director had to read them in when Gibbs and Agent Fornell began to formulate the plan for using La Grenouille as bait for Kort. They are reformulating as we speak."
There was something in her voice that rubbed Tony the wrong way. She's acting strange…something was off. He looked around the bull pen and realized that McGee's desk was empty. Huh. He turned back to Ziva and was taken aback by the scornful look he saw in her eyes. "Where's McGee?" he asked, trying to be nonchalant but failing miserably.
The look in her eyes intensified. "As I told you, Tony—they are planning."
"And why aren't we in there with them then, Zee-vah?"
She laughed bitterly, only with Ziva, a bitter laugh was a sign of danger. "You are not in there Tony because you were not here when they started and now you are here with me as opposed to being in there" she rambled, motioning to the conference room. "And I am not in there because I am—"
"—out here?" Tony interrupted, tongue-in-cheek.
"…being punished," she finished tightly.
"Punished?" he asked.
"The Director vouched for me, saying my knowledge of your assignment had been very short-term and kept secret under her direct orders, but Gibbs did not take very kindly to the amount of secrecy of late."
"Are you telling me that you've been exiled out here?"
"Pending Gibbs's change of heart or the need for my participation in this master plan of theirs, yes." She resumed her earlier position. "I am in the dog house, so to speak."
Because of me, he cursed himself.
"At least he's not making you wait in the elev—"
"DiNozzo! David!" Gibbs barked from the conference room door. "Get in here!"
Tony rose quickly to acquiesce. "You're not alone, though," he whispered to Ziva with sincerity as he passed her. She just scowled harder.
"…and then my team will move in and grab Kort," Fornell finished. "Any questions?"
"Yeah. Do we have a backup plan?" Tony asked tongue-in-cheek. Gibbs slapped him. "Ow!—right; gotcha, boss."
"DiNozzo, I want you wired when you go to the hospital tomorrow," Gibbs said. Well, that'll be cozy, Tony thought. Just me, Jeanne, and Gibbs—and the entire NCIS/FBI tactical team. "You understand me, DiNozzo?"
"Yeah, boss," Tony sighed. "I gotcha."
"Ziva—" Gibbs started, but was cut off by a ringing coming from Tony's pocket. Everyone stopped to stare as he pulled out his other cell phone.
He looked at the caller ID and internally cursed. Damnit! He looked up at Gibbs. "It's Jeanne—should I answer it?" Please say 'no,' boss; please tell me I don't have to have this conversation in front of—everyone.
"If that's what you usually do, DiNozzo," Gibbs said dryly.
"Well, I usually make an excuse and duck out…" Gibbs gave him a look. "Right, boss, answering the phone now." He flipped it open and put it to his ear. Gibbs gave him another look—one that said are you stupid?—and Tony realized his mistake. He put it on speaker, begrudgingly. "I thought you were going to sleep," he said, trying to maintain his usually happy demeanor with Jeanne while under the watchful eyes of his co-workers—and Ziva.
"Well the darnedest thing happened," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I was just about to crawl into bed when I got a call from my father…"
Tony locked eyes with Gibbs, "Your father, huh?" Gibbs made a motion to Fornell who took off out the door.
"He's in town," she started, "only for a day or two, of course, leave it to Papa to make an international drive-by, but I told him that I'd meet him tomorrow after my shift at the hospital." To a casual observer it would seem as if she was getting ready to give him the brush-off for tomorrow, but Tony knew that the higher inflection of her voice meant that she was excited, and not worried about having to break a date…she wanted something.
"Oh really? Blowing me off for an older man?—how passé." Gibbs made a wild motion with his hand as McGee looked nervously to Tony, both of them convinced that the plan had just been shot to hell. Tony held up a hand and shook his head. Trust me.
"Well, actually, I was kind of hoping that you might be inclined to join us. I know meeting the father after less than four months isn't exactly an easy proposition but he's in town so infrequently, I was sort of hoping to appeal to your sense of natural logic."
Gibbs cocked an eyebrow at that while Ziva could no longer hold back the look of stunned horror that she'd been feeling since she'd finally heard the voice of the other woman.
The other woman?—Ziva thought, disgusted with her choice of words. She's just a person, Ziva assured herself…who Tony got close to, another inner voice reminded her. Ziva thought of the smile that graced his features every time Jeanne called him at work; the look of calmness that seemed to overtake his body whenever they talked; and the smile that threatened his features at this very moment, even as he sat in a room full of his scrutinizing co-workers who were all planning her father's take-down. Ziva swallowed painfully, her stomach twisting in a painful knot that only got worse when she berated herself for opening herself up to this weakness in the first place. It is your own fault, Ziva…
Tony leaned back in his chair, concentrating on playing the situation to his advantage because he couldn't seem too eager—it had to be realistic. Playing the situation to my advantage?—he repeated to himself in horror. Wow, DiNozzo, real nice. "And flattery, apparently," he said with the smile he couldn't afford to show on his face plainly evident in his voice.
"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do," she said with a girlish whisper. Tony stretched uncomfortably as Ziva turned her head away in disgust.
His tone changed—it was more serious now. "I don't know, Jeanne…" He let that hang in the air for a moment, allowing the tension in his voice to do that talking for him. He still had his hand outstretched to Gibbs, a reminder that he knew what he was doing.
"Please, Tony," she said seriously a few moments later. "I know it's a lot to ask but it would mean a lot to me."
Bingo, Gibbs mouthed to him, pointing to the phone. Tony nodded solemnly and waited a beat or two. "Okay, Jeanne. I'll see you—and your father—when I pick you up tomorrow."
"Thank you, Tony," she said happily, and hung up. Tony looked up into the faces of his team. Gibbs looked satisfied and proud; McGee looked impressed, and Ziva—was gone.
I really do suck, Tony thought. I just turned a phone call with Jeanne into a strategic tactical scenario, I stepped all over Ziva to do it—and I'm not even dating her anymore… Tony flipped the phone closed and sighed. "Don't thank me yet," he said under his breath.
Tony had been planning on dealing with this earlier, but he'd gotten sidetracked by, well, life. He took a breath and then pushed the door open, following Gibbs into the restroom and going to work at the urinal next to him. Gibbs was slightly amused. "Are you following me?" he asked.
Tony chuckled "No…" I wouldn't call it following boss, I'm merely cornering you in a place where we can be free to speak plainly and as men—who need to apologize. "Why would I do that?"
Gibbs cocked his head. "I was just asking myself the same question."
Wow, a little awkward isn't it? I suppose urinals get like that when two men are standing next to each other, holding what they're holding, and unable to actually pee. Tony started to whistle, hoping to ease the absolute tension.
Gibbs shook his head and smiled. "Want me to run some water?"
Tony smiled. Nice to see the boss gets awkward too. "No, I'm all right. I just…" need to tell you how sorry I am.
Gibbs finished up and flushed, his shoulders slumping slightly and his bluster giving way to a wry smile. "Ah, just say it, DiNozzo."
Tony didn't hesitate. "I'm sorry, boss. I uh…" feel like a shit. "I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, but the situation is…" messy.
"Complicated?" he guessed.
That works too. "Exactly. The Director's got this really strict rule about—"
"—secrets?" Gibbs finished.
"Yeah…" Damn, he's good—the man knows everything. "The point is…I owe you everything. You taught me how to do this job. I never wanted to lie to you." But I kind of fell apart after you left—not for long—but long enough to…
Gibbs sighed and pulled paper towels from the dispenser, drying his hands. "Hell, DiNozzo, you were following orders. I would have done the same thing."
Would he really? Tony wondered. "Would you?" Did I actually manage to do something right in all of this?
"Yeah." Gibbs balled the paper up and gave Tony a look that said duh!
Tony wasn't so sure. He would have deceived the man who gave him a new start? His mentor? Just like that? "You would have lied to Mike Franks?" Tony asked despite his hopes that perhaps he hadn't screwed up after all. Tony silently prayed for Gibbs to reassure him once more—to tell him he really would have kept it from Franks and that Tony hadn't misused Gibbs's trust and lost his respect. Come on, he pleaded with whatever powers there were. Please. Gibbs just tossed the paper ball into the trash, gave him a look that Tony couldn't read for the life of him, and left the bathroom.
Previously on NCIS : .com/watch?v=X8Zpz6b47FM
Ziva's Nightmare: .com/watch?v=fazvhWTrS2A