A/N: I will be persona non grata after this one. But that's ok - I have broad shoulders. Just don't give up on me, folks. There is a Master Plan. *evil laugh*
Warnings/Spoilers: The Usual.
Disclaimer: Ditto.
Sunday, June 6, 2010 1:32 a.m.
Abby and Jimmy had finally made their exit. Ducky had left after the first feature, around 9:30 p.m. – everyone suspected he wasn't going straight home, but no-one dared to ask. Alone at last, Ziva could finally ask Tony the question she'd been mulling over in her mind all evening.
"Something is bothering you, and it is not this assignment. What's wrong, Tony?"
"It's nothing," he muttered under his breath, as he popped the DVD back in its case and scanned the living room for anything still out of place.
"Bullshit." Ziva put her hands on her hips and stood stock-still, forcing Tony to engage her. "You obviously need to talk, so do not try to avoid it." He stood up and stared at her blankly. "Something has gone wrong between you and Louisa, yes?"
DiNozzo picked up several empty glasses and headed for the kitchen. "I dunno. I'll never understand women."
Ziva smirked, following behind him. "You...will never understand women? I thought you had us all figured out."
"So did I."
Ziva took the glasses out of Tony's hands and placed them in the sink. "Sit." She pointed to the kitchen table. He was trapped. Any other time, he'd never subject himself to interrogation like this, but until Gibbs showed up at 07:00, he couldn't leave, and Ziva wasn't about to let this go. Perhaps it was just as well – maybe she'd have some insight that could help him fix this. He pulled out a chair and sank down heavily. "Talk."
He looked askance at her. "Nothing much to talk about. She's not answering my phone calls. She's pissed off... I was supposed to call her at one o'clock on Friday. I overslept. Haven't heard from her since."
Ziva furrowed her brow. "There must be more to it than that."
"Nope." He looked truly morose. "She hasn't dated much. I think she decided I was dumping her."
There was a long silence, as his partner sized up the situation. "She was never right for you anyway, Tony." Instantly, he tensed up. There was that firmly-set jaw again, the fire in his eyes. But he needed to hear this, Ziva decided. "Think about it. She is Catholic, yes?"
He nodded. "So am I. What's that got to do with anything?"
Ziva laughed. "When was the last time you darkened the door of a church?" She did not bother waiting for his answer. "She will never be intimate with you." She couldn't tell whether the look he gave her was one of dumbfounded shock or blinding rage. Either way, she couldn't stop now. "Not until you put a ring on her finger. And that will never happen, because you are not the marrying kind."
It was a line of reasoning he hadn't considered. He hated to admit it, but Ziva could very well be right. Louisa was a devout Catholic. If they continued seeing each other, sooner or later he'd want to make love with her. And the odds were about 100% that she'd say no. Then what? Was he prepared to wait for her?
He had to challenge her on one point, though. "Who says I'm not the marrying kind?"
"I have never known you to keep a relationship going longer than a few weeks at most. You cannot count Jeanne – breaking up with her was not an option available to you. Admit it - you get cold feet as soon as things begin to get serious."
He rested his chin in his hands, and stared off into space. "Ok, I'll grant you, the idea of spending my entire life with one person does kind of scare me. But then I look at my buddy Pete, and I find myself envying him, and I wonder, would it be so bad? Every night, he goes home, he knows there's someone waiting for him - someone who loves him, and takes care of him. Kids who worship the ground he walks on. He's got stability... security. What have I got? Kraft Dinner, Letterman, and an empty apartment."
"So... the reports of your active love life were greatly exaggerated." He rolled his eyes. She hadn't intended it, but she found herself actually feeling sorry for him. "You are lonely." The surprise in her voice was not lost on him.
"Yeah, I guess I am, sometimes."
"I have never pictured you as a 'family man'."
"Neither have I, believe me. But the idea's starting to appeal to me, I have to admit. I never had that when I was growing up, y'know? It wasn't exactly a 'normal' household. About as far removed from 'Leave it to Beaver' as you can get." He glanced at his watch - 2:03 a.m. "McGee, this is Tony. All clear."
"Is that what you want? 'Leave it to Beaver'?" Ziva chortled.
He shook his head vigorously. "No, no! I'm not dumb enough to think that world really exists. I've seen enough of Pete & Julia's life to know what it's really all about. But there's gotta be something better than what I've got now... which is a whole lotta nothin'... Why the hell am I telling you all this, anyway?" He got up from his chair and threw his arms in the air.
Then he froze, holding up one finger to his lips and concentrating on the silence that abruptly enveloped the apartment. Although she hadn't heard anything, Ziva trusted Tony's instincts. Slowly, she reached for a butcher's knife and grasped it in her fist, blade facing down. Tony drew his weapon, and made his way stealthily towards the door leading to the living room.
Then she heard it. The soft creak of a floor board. Stewart was supposed to be watching the front door. He would not have entered the apartment without announcing himself. It could mean only one thing. Noreen Jessop was making her move, and Stewart must be in trouble.
Ziva sidled back to the kitchen window, intending to alert Travis. She slid the window open and poked her head out. All she could see was a pair of legs emerging from the bushes... Travis was either unconscious or dead, lying face-down in the grass. She closed the window again and made a slicing motion across her neck, telling Tony that Travis was out of commission. She glanced at the clock – 2:05 a.m. The question was, had Travis checked in with McGee as expected? If not, Tim would make a move to investigate. But if he had, McGee would be blissfully unaware that there was a problem, and they would be on their own. She could not see Tim from this vantage point, nor could he see her, so there was no way to alert him.
She could not leave her partner alone with Jessop. There was only one course of action left open to them. In complete silence, each signaled to the other their intended move. Hand signals, head nods and eye movements all spoke volumes, as they got into position. With his back against the wall, to the left of the doorway, Tony extended his Sig in front of him, knees bent, braced and ready to fire. Ziva took the right side of the doorway. DiNozzo nodded to her, and in a single, explosive move, she kicked open the door. Tony swung around into the living room, sweeping his aim from one side to the other, and found... nothing.
He motioned to Ziva to stay put, as he began working the perimeter of the room, hugging the wall as he went. It took every ounce of her willpower not to mirror his movements in the other direction, but a butcher's knife was no match for a gun, and they had to assume Jessop was packing heat. She was in no position to go on the offensive.
He got all the way around the room, past the powder room, and up to the front door. Nothing. Had they imagined it? Were they hearing things?
Tony decided to check on Stewart. He moved to the other side of the door, and opened it, just a crack.
Ziva gasped as her partner sank to the floor. Jessop's weapon bore a silencer – the only sound had been a muted thud. The blonde assassin climbed over Tony's limp form and quickly scanned the living room. Ziva flattened herself against the kitchen wall. All she could do now was wait for her would-be killer to approach, and hope she could maintain the element of surprise.
2:05 a.m.
"Travis, this is McGee. Report."
Silence.
"Travis?"
Silence.
"Stewart – report."
Silence.
"Stewart...report."
Silence.
"Tony – it's Tim. No report from Stewart or Travis. What's your status?
Silence.
"Tony – come in!"
Tim activated his com link to NCIS Headquarters.
"This is Gibbs. Go ahead."
"Boss, this is McGee. We have a situation. Requesting backup. I'm going in."
"Tim, wait for assistance!"
"No time, Boss."
McGee pulled the building key from his jacket pocket and entered the lobby. He drew his Sig from its holster and took the stairs two at a time, all the way up to the fourth floor. Once there, he stopped a moment to catch his breath, and opened the fire door just a crack to peer down the corridor. He saw what looked like a body, lying just outside Ziva's apartment; her front door was ajar.
He could hear Gibbs' voice in his head, telling him to stay put. He also knew that, were he in Tim's position, Gibbs would do nothing of the sort. Six years of working at Tony's side had given McGee a mature confidence, and calm descended on him as he assessed the situation. He wore a Kevlar vest under his nylon jacket, as did every member of the team. He had to trust that it would be enough to protect against whatever weapon Jessop might be carrying. He inched his way forward, his weapon firmly grasped in both hands, approaching the doorway. Peering forward, he caught a glimpse of another body, just inside the door. His heart sank, as he realized it must be Tony. There was no time to lose – Ziva was in grave danger, if she was even still alive. If he was too late to save her, at least he could try to take out Jessop before she managed to escape.
He made his move quickly, stepping over Stewart's body and thrusting the door open. Jessop was in a brawl with Ziva, the two of them struggling over a Beretta .22-calibre pistol bearing a silencer. A kitchen knife lay on the floor, out of reach. It appeared to have blood on it - McGee couldn't tell whose. The would-be assassin muttered something in Hebrew, and thrust her knee into Ziva's chest, winding her and causing her to fall back against the sofa, but Ziva didn't let go of the gun.
"Federal Agent! Let go of the weapon!" McGee called out. Jessop ignored the voice behind her, and with Ziva off-balance, she managed to wrestle the Beretta out of her hand. Ziva kicked her in the shin, and she winced, but still she was able to spin around and fire off several rounds at Tim. He took a direct hit in the chest, and although his Kevlar vest did its job in preventing the bullet from penetrating his body, the force of the shot drove him back against the wall, and he slunk to the ground in shock.
Jessop turned back towards Ziva, aimed the gun directly at her head... and fired.
Just as quickly, another shot rang out. Noreen Jessop fell forward to the floor, eyes wide open, still clutching the Beretta in her right hand.
Tony groaned, and slumped back down to the floor, fingers loosening around the handle of his Sig as he lost consciousness.
McGee pulled himself together, and activated his com link. "This is McGee, requesting immediate assistance. Target neutralized. Agents Down!"
A/N: This is my first fight scene ever in fanfic (well, in writing, period - yes, I'm a virgin). *smile* Is it at least slightly believable? Or unbelievably stupid? Feel free to tell me, either way.