Chapter Seven

Ziva opened her eyes. As the décor of her hotel room swam into view, she sighed. She was hoping she could just wake up and have the past few days have been a dream. Suddenly she understood the inspiration behind soap operas.

The only thing that got her out of bed was the thought that tonight, they would hop on a plane and fly back to America and before she knew it, she would be in McGee's arms, safe and sound. She smiled and climbed out of bed.

"Well, that's a good way to start the day." Tony came into view in the bathroom doorway. "Just don't do too much of that today; people might get suspicious."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I am simply happy to be going home soon."

"Oh, yeah, I'm overjoyed to be going back to work," Tony said dryly.

"Have you forgotten about the two weeks Gibbs gave us?" Ziva asked, smirking as realization flashed across Tony's face.

He chuckled. "That's right!" he crowed. "What do you say, up for some Bahamas? Little sun, little surf, little bikini . . ."

"Perhaps," Ziva teased, and at Tony's surprised look, added, "but I may ask for a replacement."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "You would make me go back to work so you could have a romp with McGee?"

Ziva shot him a glare. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Tony smiled genuinely. "No. None at all."

Ziva dipped her head, grateful to have such wonderful people in her life. It hadn't always been like this, where her co-workers, of all people, actually cared about her, and she cared for them. To actually have it was somewhat overwhelming, but definitely something she did not want to lose.

"How long's it take an assassin to get ready in the morning?" Tony pondered aloud, earning himself an elbow to the ribs. He grimaced, grunting out a, "Sorry."

Ziva huffed, then announced, "I am going to shower. If I attempt you trying to sneak a peep, I believe the saying is, you can forget about having children."

Tony continued to grimace. "Peek, not peep. And yeah, I got it."

"Good." Ziva nodded and gathered her clothes, heading to the bathroom.

Once she was in the shower, Tony quickly made his way to the phone on the nightstand. There was a call he needed to make, and he needed to make it before they headed back to the States.

He tapped his fingers impatiently as he waited for the other person to pick up. Finally, there was the click of a person answering, and a voice said, "McGee."

"Hey, Probie, how's it hanging?" Tony grinned, hoping the smile came through in his words.

"Tony." McGee sounded surprised. "I didn't expect to hear from you." He paused. "Something wrong?"

"No, no, of course not," Tony said. "I just wanted to, um, let you know . . ." He scratched the back of his head, searching for the right words.

"Spit it out, Tony," McGee said, annoyed.

"I'm okay with you and Ziva," Tony said quickly.

"What?" McGee asked softly. He honestly hadn't been expecting that.

Tony sighed. "I was acting like a jerk, McGee. Chalk it up to insecurity, I guess."

"Tony, you don't have to . . ."

"I do, McGee," Tony interrupted. "I upset Ziva. And I mean, yeah, it's Ziva. She's usually pissed off at me. But this time? McGee, I was supposed to be comforting her, and all I could do was think about myself." He paused. "Do you know why Ziva chose me to come here with her?" He didn't even wait for McGee to answer. "She wanted to see if she could be away from you, Probie. And you know what? She can't." He was silent for a moment, so McGee took that as his cue to speak.

"Tony . . . I don't know . . ."

"You don't have to say anything, McGee," Tony said. "Just . . . I hope you'll forgive me." McGee didn't say anything at first, but then started to laugh. Tony frowned. "What? You think the idea of me asking forgiveness is funny?"

"Well . . . yeah," McGee said, still chuckling.

Tony's face fell. "Okay. I see how it is. I'll see you when we get back." He started to hang up, but McGee's voice prevented him from doing so.

"Tony!" McGee was saying just as Tony put the phone up to his ear again. "Would you listen to yourself? You're being ridiculous!"

"Okay, McGee, you don't have to rub it in," Tony mumbled.

"No, Tony," McGee said softly. "You're not listening. Of course I forgive you. I thought I would have to be the one asking you for forgiveness." He sighed. "I wish things didn't have to be so . . ."

"Complicated?" Tony supplied. "Yeah, tell me about it." He heard the shower stop and realized he needed to get off the phone before Ziva came out of the bathroom. "Well, now that that's settled, I have to finish getting ready."

"Oh, that's right," McGee said. "The funeral is today."

"Yeah, it is," Tony said, staring at the bathroom door.

"So, what kind of funeral is it, anyway?" McGee asked, unaware of Tony's urgency to end the call.

"You know, I'm not quite sure, Probie," Tony said quickly. "How 'bout I tell you about it when we get back?"

"Okay, sure . . ." McGee agreed dubiously.

"Great!" Tony broke in. "Well, gotta go." He hung up, McGee calling his name as he did so, and relaxed.

The bathroom door opened and Ziva exited, drying her hair with a towel. She noticed Tony's position near the phone and grew suspicious. "Tony?"

He popped to attention. "Yeah. Oh. Are you ready? No. You have to put your clothes on yet. I'm assuming this isn't some weird funeral where everyone wears bathrobes, because I am way overdressed for that."

Ziva stared at him. "Tony." He didn't say anything, just looked at her. "You are starting to sound like Abby."

Tony attempted a smile. "Heh. Well, they say the longer you work with someone . . ."

"What is going on?" Ziva's question was blunt.

Tony feigned ignorance. "What do you mean? There's nothing . . ."

She stalked closer to him. "I walk out here and suddenly you are acting as if you must walk on egg yolks around me."

Tony frowned at her slip-up, but said, "I wasn't . . ."

"Whom were you speaking with on the phone?"

Tony chuckled. "What makes you think I was on the phone?"

She glared at him. "I can always dial star 69."

"They have that in Israel?" Tony asked, genuinely surprised. "Wow."

"Who, Tony!" Ziva exclaimed, getting more and more frustrated by the moment.

"Alright, you got me," Tony gave in. "I was talking to a florist, ordering a nice arrangement for the funeral . . ." He shrugged, trying to look sincere.

Ziva softened, then thought about his claim for a moment and asked, "And how did you find the phone number of a florist in Tel Aviv?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "The phone book?"

She continued to stare at him. "There is no phone book in here."

"There isn't?" Tony asked. "Huh."

"Who, Tony." This time it was said quieter, more deadly in nature.

He sighed. "Like you don't know."

Her expression changed to surprise. "Tim?"

"Yeah, I called McGee," Tony said. "Happy now?"

Ziva was quiet for a moment, then said, "Why?"

Tony snorted. "Why else? I had to make sure he knew I wasn't pissed off at you guys." He paused, then continued emphatically. "McGee's, like, my best friend, Ziva! I wasn't about to let something like you two hooking up ruin that."

Ziva nodded. "Thank you," she said. "But you do know this is more than 'hooking up'?"

"Yeah, of course," Tony replied. "I don't think either one of you would risk pissing Gibbs off for a one-night stand."

Ziva smirked. "Depends on how good he is in bed."

Tony grimaced. "I really . . . don't . . . need to think about that, Ziva." There was a brief silence, then he continued. "You should probably get dressed."

Ziva looked down at her still robe-clad body. "Oh. Yes. Right."

As she headed back to the bathroom, Tony called out, "Unless it is some weird tradition to wear robes to funerals."

She slammed the door. Tony smirked.

Back in Silver Spring, McGee was climbing into bed, a smile on his face. Jethro came padding into the bedroom, walking over to McGee for a scratch behind the ears before contently making his way to the dog bed at the end of McGee's bed and laying down.

"That's right, Jethro," McGee said. "Ziva's coming back in no time at all. And you are going to be seeing a lot more of her. Though just between you and me, I might have to kick you out if she spends the night here." Jethro gave a plaintive whine. "It's for your own good, boy. There are some things that happen in a man's bedroom that his dog doesn't need to know." Jethro chuffed lightly in response. McGee laughed. "Good night, Jethro." He rolled over. "And good luck, Ziva. I hope you find peace with your father and come back to me safely."

He turned out the light . . .

. . . at the same time Tony turned off their rental car's ignition. They were outside a temple, one Ziva was very familiar with.

"I used to come here at least once a week for worship," she confessed.

Tony nodded. "Your father make you?"

She shook her head. "No. He was not a religious man." She paused, letting her memories invade her senses. "It was more of a way to affirm what I was doing was just. My faith was the only constant in my life. It is why I wear this." She fingered the Star of David pendant around her neck.

Tony nodded, knowing all too well those feelings to which she referred. Ziva was a much more schooled person than he, though, and he thought how appropriate it was that she would have the discipline to attend a place of worship at night when she spent her days spying and assassinating, among other questionable activities. Still, there was a question that begged an answer. "But if your father wasn't religious, why have his funeral at a temple?"

Ziva gave him a wan smile. "So that his soul might encounter the same truths mine has."

Tony smiled. "That's beautiful, Ziva. Come on." He rested his hand on her shoulder, giving her the signal that it was time to go inside.