Ziva climbed out of Abby's hearse, smiling at the strange looks some of the other agents shot her before they looked away in fear.
"I bet they'd have all sorts of things to say if they didn't know you were fully capable of murdering them in their sleep."
"Shut up, Abigail," Ziva chided with a smile.
Abby pouted in return, which elicited a small giggle from Ziva and they walked the rest of the way to the elevator in the contented silence that they had easily fallen into in the few weeks that they had been lovers.. no, partners... no, girlfriends. The one thing they had not resolved was how to define their relationship. Although they were both committed to being together for the long haul, they could not find a satisfactory word to describe either their feelings or their commitment so, for now at least, they said nothing. Besides, Gibbs was the only other person who knew and he hardly required words to understand his girls.
Alone in the elevator, Abby gave Ziva a quick peck on the lips before the door slid open and a slightly flushed Ziva slipped out into an almost empty bull pen.
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"Load up. We've got a dead Marine."
Ziva smiled and jumped up from her chair, excited to be getting out of the office again. Momentarily overcome by dizziness, Ziva hurried to follow the team into the elevator.
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Everything had been fine. The signs of struggle, blood spatters, even the pallor of the body had not bothered her at all. She was, after all, quite accustomed to seeing dead, mutilated bodies. No. Her mistake had been focusing too much on the torso, which was crawling with blow fly larvae and black and wet with putrefaction. After turning six shades of green and making some lame excuse about getting more evidence bags, Ziva walked swiftly from the crime scene and vomited in a quiet, remote spot in the woods, far from the scene. When she got back to the truck, Gibbs was leaning against the back doors, staring calmly at her.
"What happened back there, Ziver?"
"Nothing. I am feeling slightly under the clouds, but it is probably a stomach virus or something. Or perhaps the pork I consumed last night. Maybe kosher laws are there for a reason after all..." Ziva trailed off and squeezed past Gibbs to get into the back of the truck and grab some more bags so that she would not return to the scene empty handed and incite DiNozzo's ceaseless curiousity.
"Uh-huh. Listen, Ziva, I want you to go to the doctor when we get back to the office. You've been acting weird since you got back from Israel. You've been snapping at everyone around you. You just threw up and Abby's pretty sure she's heard you throw up several mornings. You're going to see a doctor."
Ziva rolled her eyes and tossed a "fine" over her shoulder as she stomped back to the crime scene, happy to notice that Ducky, Palmer, and the body were already gone.
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Ziva impatiently flicked her knife open and shut, willing the door to open and bring Dr. Hansen back in. Finally, she saw the knob turn and quickly snapped the knife shut, stowing it in her waistband for easy access, should it be necessary.
"Ziva, I don't have all of the test results back yet, but so far there is no indication that you have a virus or food poisoning. I expect the rest of the tests to be back in by the end of the week, at which point I will call you and let me know what we have found. Meanwhile, I recommend that you take it easy. Try to avoid any strenuous activity at work until after we talk again."
Ziva groaned inwardly at this, knowing that she would have to tell Gibbs what the doctor had said and that it would mean desk duty for her. Not having a case was bad enough, but watching the others leave and being forced to remain at her desk was the worst punishmen imaginable.
Resignedly, she returned to the office, reported to Gibbs, and sat down at her desk for what promised to be an extremely long week.