Chapter Three

"Me?" Tony said incredulously.

Ziva nodded somberly, almost regretting her decision. But it was too late to turn back now. She looked over to McGee. He looked crushed. "I'm sorry, Tim," she nearly whispered.

He nodded. "No. I, um, I understand. It makes more sense for Tony to go. Logically."

Tony had been preening in his luck at being the one Ziva had chosen, but sobered once he heard McGee speak. McGee always seemed to get the short end of the stick. And he . . . well, Tony just didn't.

"We should go." Ziva's voice brought Tony back to attention. He simply nodded his agreement. Ziva stood, avoiding McGee's eyes as she shuffled to the elevator, Tony tailing her.

McGee watched the pair leave with sad eyes before turning back to his computer. He was at a loss as to why she had picked Tony instead of him to go with her. They had gotten close over the past few months, as Tony had said, and it seemed to him that Ziva was tired of Tony's games. Not to mention, if he were Ziva, he would much rather have someone like himself around during an emotional time.

"You'll forgive her."

McGee looked up in confusion at Gibbs' voice. "What?"

Gibbs was sitting at his desk, hands folded neatly in front of him, watching McGee. "Ziva. You'll forgive her."

McGee scoffed lightly. "Of course I will. I'm not that petulant."

"That's why she took Tony, Tim," Gibbs said.

"You think Tony wouldn't have forgiven her if she had chosen me?" McGee sounded incredulous. "No . . . I mean, he's self-absorbed, sure, but he's not that cold-hearted."

"No, but it would have taken him a lot longer to not be hurt."

McGee gave Gibbs a pained look. "But I am hurt, Boss. I thought Ziva and I were . . . I just thought we were closer than that." He sighed and lowered his voice. "I guess I'm just not as impressive as Tony."

Now Gibbs was wearing the pained look. "What makes you say that, Tim?" he asked calmly.

McGee stared at his desk as he responded. "Tony's handsome, suave, charming . . . He's confident, an ex-cop and has been to the Middle East."

"So what, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm not any of those things," McGee responded, looking up at Gibbs.

"And you think that's what Ziva's looking for in a man," Gibbs said.

"Well . . ." McGee shrugged. "What else would she be looking for?"

"Listen. I can't pretend to know all the mysteries of women, Ziva especially, but you said it yourself. Something drew her to you, and it's because you're not like Tony."

McGee still looked frustrated. "Then why have him go with her to her father's funeral, of all places? They do nothing but fight! She needs someone . . ." his voice dipped and he suddenly turned bashful, "someone who'll be there for her."

Gibbs took McGee's words in for a few moments, then said, "Maybe she doesn't want to think about it."

McGee looked up in confusion. "And what does Tony have to do with forgetting about her father's death?"

Gibbs remained patient in his explanation. "Maybe she's using Tony as a distraction, an excuse to not show how much it's bothering her."

McGee looked concerned. "Is it bothering her? I mean, of course it is, it's her father, but . . ." He looked pleadingly at Gibbs. "Do you think she at least knows?"

"That you care about her?" McGee didn't respond, just looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, yeah, Tim, I think that's fairly obvious. You're her friend, aren't you?" McGee nodded slowly. "Alright then. Problem solved." Gibbs turned back to his work.

"But Boss . . ." McGee plead again.

Gibbs looked up again. "You're not going to help her by worrying, McGee. If she needs you, she knows how to reach you. Now get back to work."

McGee reluctantly turned back to his computer. Gibbs was right. Ziva wasn't the type of person who dealt with her emotions head-on. Having him there would probably make things more difficult for her. Still, it didn't stop him from wishing he would be the one there to comfort her when she needed it.

He stared at the phone on his desk. She knew how to reach him . . .

"I cannot get through!"

Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Is there an alternate number you could try? Some private extension?"

"And why would I know a private extension for the Director of Mossad?" Ziva asked angrily. "Just because I am a Mossad officer does not mean I am privy to the Director's private phone lines."

Tony sighed and attempted patience. "I just thought that . . ."

"You thought that because my father was the Deputy Director, I would have such access," Ziva finished. "I hate to break your bubble, but we have tighter security than that." She shoved the cell phone in her pocket and turned back to her half-packed suitcase, folding a shirt sharply before throwing it in.

Tony stood there for a moment, thinking of possible things to say and, finding nothing that wouldn't get himself killed or at least seriously maimed, said, "Burst."

Ziva turned to him, a pair of socks in her hand. "What?"

He shrugged. "You said break your bubble. It's actually . . ." Ziva began to descend upon him and he swallowed. Hard. "Burst."

She was now standing toe-to-toe with him, staring him in the eye. Tony returned the gaze, not willing to back down to whatever she was threatening. After a long moment, Ziva broke the focus, looking down at his chest. She gave it an absent-minded pat, nodding her head.

"There are some things about Americans I don't think I will ever understand," she muttered, walking back to her suitcase.

Tony nodded, still recovering from the moment. He wasn't even sure that it classified as a moment, but whatever it was, it showed that, yes, even big, bad Mossad officers have emotions.

"Tony?"

Tony looked over to Ziva, who had her closed suitcase in hand. "Yeah?"

"I asked if you were ready to go," Ziva said. She looked confident and ready to conquer the world, but Tony knew it was an act she put on to avoid confronting her emotions. He should know. He did the same thing.

He swallowed again and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Ziva led the way out, Tony following closely behind, not making any sort of physical contact. They reached the door and she opened it, then turned, flipping off the light, before stepping out and waiting for Tony to join her. She locked the door.

It was time to see her father.