A/N: I have amythestice's comment on chapter 5 over on AO3 to thank for this one... got me thinking about Ziva and what I think about the character. I actually liked the character, although I never liked the idea of Tiva - and she definitely pissed me off at times. So this is an attempt to get inside her head. Not meant to replace this weekend's planned update.

A Ziva Interlude

Ziva David stood by the window, watching and thinking. Her room was at the back of the house, facing the woods; she stood to one side and watched through the lacy curtain as wolves occasionally crossed the small yard, going towards or returning from the forest. At one point, two naked men appeared, carrying a dead deer. Its throat was mauled, and one of its hind legs severely damaged. Ziva thought she'd read once that wolves liked to rip their prey's hamstrings, making it impossible for them to escape.

Ziva's life had changed this night, and she wasn't pleased. After so many years of moving from one place to another, one assignment to another, never knowing what was coming next and not in control of her own future, she'd finally felt settled at NCIS. She had a place, a permanence of sorts in both her job and her apartment. She had a new family, complete with adored but often irritating siblings and a father figure she loved and respected. She didn't like the thought that she let Gibbs down by being slow to adjust to the idea of werewolves.

It bothered her that McGee seemed to be dealing with it all better than she. Not that she ever felt she was in competition with McGee. She nodded to herself as she watched another wolf trot purposefully into the woods; McGee had spoken with Arina while they processed the crime scenes. He probably found it easier now to think of these werewolves as people.

Deep growling interrupted her thoughts; she watched as two large males faced off in front of a small group of other wolves. There was a fair amount of posturing and snarling, reminding her of teenagers. Neither backed down, so it soon escalated. The wolves charged, crashing together, a crescendo of snarling and growling filling the air. There was a yelp, and the wolves quickly separated. One held its head down and to the side; Ziva could see the nasty slice through its shoulder. The winner held his head high, staring down the loser, who turned and limped away. The wolves who'd been watching went about their business.

Ziva's fingers began tapping out a pattern where they rested on her hip. The wolves were quick; despite the posturing, she hadn't seen either one telegraph its intent to charge.

She pushed away from the window and went to her bag, opening one of the side pockets and checking for the silver knives she'd brought with her. They lay there, long and sharp, awaiting her command. She ran her finger along one of the blades, glad she'd brought them.

She heard more growling outside and went back to the window. Another challenge, this time between two females. This one never escalated to a fight, but the menace was clear to see. Ziva wondered if these challenges contested so close to the house were meant to intimidate the team.

That thought gave her pause; she decided she needed to do a sweep through the house, make sure all was as it should be. She returned to her bag, strapping a sheath to her right leg and placing one of the silver knives in it.

She opened her door soundlessly and made her way downstairs. All was quiet. The doors to the outside were still locked and deadbolted. The basement was clear. Dining room, kitchen, living room, den, all was in its place and as it should be. She made her way back upstairs, methodically checking in on her teammates.

McGee's room was closest to the stairs; she opened the door slowly and silently, looking in on him. He slept on his back, twitching a bit as he dreamed. She crept closer, smiling as he whispered 'puppies' in his sleep.

Ducky and Jimmy Palmer were sharing the next room, one with two twin beds. She could hear snoring before she opened the door. Jimmy was the culprit; he lay on his stomach, legs and arms sprawled across the bed, the sheets tangled around his feet. Ducky had fallen asleep with a book in his hands. The bedside light was still on, and his glasses were half off his face. She moved closer, gently taking the book and placing it on the nightstand, removing his glasses and putting them on top of the book, then turning out the light. She heard a quiet, "Thank you, my dear," as she crept out, but didn't look back.

Ziva hesitated outside the master bedroom at the end of the hall. She didn't need to check on Gibbs and Tony; they were accomplished agents and had each other's backs. She pressed her ear to the door, but didn't hear anything. She considered several courses of action before she turned the door knob very slowly and entered the room.

The windows on this side of the house faced the moon, and moonlight caressed the sleeping men. Ziva made her way cautiously to the bed; she was well aware of Gibbs' likely response should his sleeping mind believe he was under attack. Or that Tony was under attack – at that thought she almost turned around to make her way back out. She waited, but there was no sound or movement.

She drew closer. Tony lay on his back, his head turned toward Gibbs, chin resting against the team leader's hair. Gibbs' head lay on Tony's chest; his right arm encircled his second's torso. Tony's right arm held Gibbs, his hand resting on Gibbs' shoulder. It appeared to Ziva that their legs were tangled together underneath the sheets.

She watched them for a few seconds; anything longer would likely be dangerous. She committed the scene to memory, then made her way out of the room, oblivious to Gibbs' eyes slitting open to watch her leave, and to the small smile that graced his face as he slipped back into sleep.

Ziva made her way to her own room, back to her post at the window. There were no wolves in sight, but she could hear a howl echoing from another part of town. She reached up to rub at her neck as the night began to catch up with her. Making her way to the bed, she drew the silver knife and placed it under the pillow. She removed the sheath from her leg, then changed into shorts and a t-shirt before sliding between the sheets.

She lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the image of Gibbs and Tony together in her mind. They seemed so right together, like puzzle pieces that fit. She'd been mildly surprised when Abby had first told her of the pool a long time ago, when she'd been the Mossad liaison for close to a year. Abby had thawed toward her by then, and they'd spent some time together outside of work. She'd observed them closely, and had flirted with Tony to see if she could trigger any possessive behavior on Gibbs' part, thinking she could use her proximity to the two men to ferret out any secrets. She'd had no luck, and had never been certain whether they were actually a couple or not.

She felt she could understand why Tony would be attracted to Gibbs, what he would get out of such a relationship. What Gibbs could get from Tony, that part she found more mystifying. She'd thought to see them lying on opposite sides of the bed with their backs to each other, or Gibbs taking up most of the space with Tony squished to one side. Instead, she'd found a very real and honest physical manifestation of love.

She gradually let go of her wariness as she pondered the relationship between the two men, and soon fell asleep.