DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.
Ziva opened her eyes very slowly. She'd been awake for at least half an hour already, but for once the Israeli hadn't been able to force herself out of bed with the same kind of energy she always did.
The smell of bacon was what had forced her conscious mind to the surface, because the sizzling sound of the meat frying was bringing water to her mouth. She sat up, and immediately fell back on the bed, her head spinning and her entire body swaying.
She remembered now why she'd avoided thinking. The massive headache – her brain seemed to be literally throbbing as the blood rushed to it – had made sure her thoughts stayed to the bare minimum common to when she was asleep.
She gritted her teeth again and managed to stand up properly. Her head felt ready to explode. Was she hang-over?
Then she realized that her surroundings were unfamiliar and that she was dressed in an equally unfamiliar jersey – and nothing else. Correction – was she so hangover that she didn't remember picking up a guy at- wherever it had been that she'd made sure she'd be hangover this morning?
Whoa – smaller sentences or her brain would burst.
Then, very slowly and while she stood there – blinking in a daze – her memories returned – thankfully without the same scene of yesterday.
Her first thought once that was over and done with was: please, do not let it have been Tony to have undressed me.
Her second thought was how loud her stomach was when she was starved.
She prevented herself from stumbling instead of walking with a good amount of concentration. The shirt was big enough that it fit her like a dress, so she wasn't very worried about Tony seeing her like that.
She'd been in his apartment before, though never in his room-
Well, awkward. That wasn't exactly true, was it? Red spots warmed her cheeks, and she pushed the thought away.
She followed, down the hallway, the sounds of the TV, toward the kitchen where she came upon a rather surprising view. Tony was in an apron, absent-mindedly turning the bacon on the fryer while staring at a television screen, perched on a tall table on the other end of the kitchen. The sunlight coming from the window was hitting him directly in the face, and it seemed to be annoying as he couldn't watch whatever program he was watching properly – which she couldn't see at all.
She couldn't seem to bring herself to mind it as much as him.
Her 'ninja assassin' skills meant he hadn't heard her come in, so she entertained herself for a couple of more minutes, just staring at his homely behavior.
Definitely not the first time she'd been in either his apartment or his bedroom.
She cleared her throat quickly after that thought ran through her head. He jumped, swirling around with the kitchen tongues held in front of him very threateningly.
He was all set to deep-fry an assailant.
"Would you like me to refrain from mentioning… that" She gestured to the offending weapon, covered in grease. "to Special Agent Gibbs, Special Agent DiNozzo?" She questioned innocently, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and very inadvertedly raising the jersey a few inches higher than appropriate behavior for a lady.
He rolled his eyes – but then he couldn't contain a grin at her attire, and, she deduced, at the fact that she was feeling better. He looked her up and down very unabashedly, and she swiftly reminded him of her comment in the car the previous day by twitching her left arm. Even if she had deliberately provoked him into verifying her out.
"No, that's really okay." He grinned again, and turned back to his cooking so it didn't burn, though he kept talking to her. "Have a nice nap, sleepy head?"
It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Very." But then her curiosity won out her need to give a sarcastic retort back. "I did not know you cooked."
He threw her a smile – like the one he'd given her in the car the previous morning. "I'm a man of many talents." But she caught him making a face before turning back to the bacon again. "Nah, I know basics. I mostly rely on the capable grease of take-out."
That road of conversation had gone stale, so she asked a different question, leaning against the door frame and fighting the shakiness in her legs that told her to sit down. She'd shown enough weakness for a lifetime the previous day. "I am surprised that you woke up before I did."
He shrugged. "I didn't almost lose my mind yesterday." He reminded her over his shoulder. She could hear, more than see, the smile siding off his face. "Guess it's tiring, though I haven't had the experience myself." She grimaced, and the queasiness in her limbs and stomach prominently sharpened.
Desperate to change the topic, she balled her trembling hands into fists, schooling her expression into a serene mask when he threw her a worried look at her sudden silence. "So, what have you been doing then, while I was asleep?"
Maybe he was as eager to quit that train of thought as her, because he jumped at the opportunity. "Not much – mostly just eating, watching movies and having my wicked way with you in your unconscious state. Kidding!" He backpedaled at her murderous look. Then he grinned in typical DiNozzo fashion. "I only had my wicked way with you when you sleep-walked. Ow!" She was suddenly right behind him (the queasiness forgotten) and there was a new, throbbing pain in his side.
"You did say I could hit you in the morning." She shrugged in a model innocent school girl act. "And I do not sleep-walk." She added with a glare.
"Actually, it's the evening, so that punch was completely unjustified." He answered in his whinny, reasonable voice. "And yes you do."
"I do not!"
"Do too!"
"I do n-" She scowled at the amusement shinning as brightly as the sun in his face. "I am not getting into this with you." She announced, interrupting herself.
"Are to- Ow!"
She ignored him, instead frowning at his handiwork. "Why are you cooking bacon at-" She glanced at the wall clock behind them. "six in the evening?"
He turned back to the stove, reminded of his task. "Okay, first of all: bacon is great at any hour of the day-"
"- to increase cholesterol-induced death numbers, maybe-" Her voice was sing-song.
"- and second of all, you need something light after not eating for so long." She could almost imagine him showing her his tongue.
She paused. She'd give him that. She didn't feel like she could handle dinner, but she was definitely nauseous with hunger. But she needed to do something first. "Toothbrush?"
"Unused ones under the counter on the bathroom in the hall." Was his immediate answer.
She was halfway out of the kitchen when she properly processed what he'd said. She stopped in her tracks with a horrified look crossing her face. She turned so quickly that her lulled headache sharply reminded her that it was still there, and the world rotated eerily around her for a moment.
Regaining control over herself, she hurriedly began speaking before Tony realized something had happened. "Uh-" She couldn't contain the slight groan. "Evening?" She asked, keeping her voice surprisingly normal.
She'd apparently not been convincing enough, because he glanced at her with a frown. She stood perfectly still with a blank expression, giving absolutely no clue that she'd just felt dangerously dizzy. Releasing a sigh, he appeared to reach the conclusion that he wouldn't get a word from her, so he offered her an answer instead. "Yep." He was amused again, grinning in delight at her. "Slept through the whole day."
She groaned and left the kitchen.
When she returned, teeth freshly brushed and a new toothbrush stationed in Tony's place, he was turning off the stove and placing a plate of just-made bacon on the table. Her stomach churned painfully at the heat coming off in condensation from the meat. Tony chuckled. "By all means, dig in." He mock-presented with a flourished wave.
She rolled her eyes again – it was becoming a bad habit. "Do you have anything to drink?" She suddenly realized she was really thirsty too, and she glanced behind him, as if a clue to that question would appear on the counter suddenly.
He turned to the fridge, opening the door and analyzing the contents. She sat down on the small table. "Hah!" He exclaimed happily, pulling out a bottle. "I knew I had something healthy in here." It was orange juice, she absent-mindedly noticed.
Ziva had her brows furrowed, playing with the hem of the table cloth as Tony reached for two glasses. She was so deep in thought about something that even Tony seemingly decided to wait until she decided to tell him instead of asking.
Since she had time on her arms, she was gingerly running through the memories her brain had decided to pull into safety in a not-so-safe method. She was careful not to try to go further than them – she had a feeling that she would never think about her recollections the same way again.
Most of them had her swallowing drily and flush with glances at Tony, and those she quickly urged to the side of her mind. Some were things Harry had gone over anyway.
Others, however, left her burning with curiosity. She chose to ask Tony the one that was the clearer and most complete. Her eyes were on the table still, her eyebrows furrowed as she considered it. "Do you think…" She hesitated, wondering whether she was being indiscrete. Then she remembered how Jenny had known all about their first meeting with the wizards and the guilt mostly faded. "That something is going on between Gibbs and Director Shepard?" She finally looked up, watching as he poured the liquid.
"Jenny and the Boss?" Tony frowned, plopping down on the other side of the table and handing her a glass. "Why?"
She grabbed the glass, drowning it in one gulp. His eyebrows were raised in a smirk when she put it down again. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue the same way he had refrained, instead making a face at him. "I am thirsty! I have not drunk anything in a day!" She defended herself, already filling her cup to the brim again. She took it in two gulps this time.
He grinned, taking a sip from his own glass. "But why?" He prompted, resuming their conversation.
She hesitated again, fingering the edge of the cup, already filled for the third time. "Because…" She drummed her fingers, drinking the orange liquid again. "I remembered something…" Her voice trailed off, eyes unfocusing. Her fingers stopped.
Ziva was clenching and unclenching her fists, wanting nothing more than wring the neck of the disgusting, little man who'd bound her, leisurely and arrogantly standing right in front of her.
At least, she mentally clenched and unclenched her fists. Physically, she was as capable of moving as the pot plant by the window in Jenny's office. She'd been told that it was a full Body-Bind curse – well, if they hadn't played dirty, the ones petrified would have been them. Perhaps for life, if she was filled with enough rage.
"Gibbs!" Ziva had hardly ever heard the Director using that desperate tone, or Gibbs' last name. She reckoned it was necessary, though – even though she fully backed Gibbs on this one. "Don't be difficult!"
"Difficult, Director?" His voice was so cold, Ziva almost flinched – if she'd been able to. "I'm being difficult to you, am I?" His voice was mocking.
He was angry – very much so. He was the only one not down yet. And that was only because he'd always managed to find a physical body to absorb the beams of light thrown at him. He had the Director's desk between them and the attacker, and every time he threw a curse at him, he'd move and find another shield. So they were at an impasse. Her boss was good, and Ziva was fiercely proud of the man right then. She hoped he kicked them to the curb, and accidently killed them.
If Ziva could have flinched, that was nothing compared to Jenny's reaction at Gibbs' voice. She took a step back, her whole body twitching in a mixture of a wince and a cringe. She was behind the attacking man, observing the scene with a pale, horrified expression.
Ziva blamed her – with furious passion – for all of this. She'd called them – all of them, including their forensic scientist and M.E. – and they'd been ambushed. Ziva had no pity for the woman under Gibbs' furious and betrayed glare.
All their weapons – which they only had because they'd been immediately told to come to the office as soon as they'd arrived from a crime scene - were strewn on the floor. And the worst part was that they had been the ones putting them there. You could not fight magic with bullets.
As soon as they had entered the office on Jenny's command, lights had flown directly at them. Gibbs had been quick on his feet – apparently he hadn't liked the summons for all of them, and had been on edge already before entering. Ziva, like him, had spotted the men coming inside that office earlier, but she, unlike him, had forgotten all about it.
She dearly mourned that mistake.
So Gibbs, the only one with half a mind, had thrown himself on the floor, and the rest were knocked to the floor - Palmer was the first to go with a nasty crack as his head hit the wall.
That, however, had not held the three special agents long. They had been quick to stand back up – unlike Abby and Ducky – which had distracted the three wizards in there long enough for them to draw their weapons and open fire.
It had been completely pointless. They had flicked their wrists, holding wooden sticks – wands – and the bullets bounced off, harmless, from the see-through shields. The knives they'd thrown had suffered the same fate. They tried again and again, and it seemed to bore the men enough that they started on the offensive once more.
Abby was the first to fall. Well, figuratively speaking. She had already been, dazed, on the floor. They had thrown a jet of light at her and suddenly, she was completely rigid, terrified and newly alert eyes bolting around the room.
Gibbs had been so furious, he'd bodily thrown himself, sidearm flying uselessly through the air, at the goon that had dared to harm his surrogate daughter. They'd been so shocked that he'd tried to do something so stupid, that the man their boss had thrown himself at fell to the ground, producing a cry when his head hit the floor and he passed out.
And Ziva, quick learner, realized that, though they would fend off their attacks with guns easily, they were completely unprepared in a physical fight – so she mimicked Gibbs in throwing her gun to the side and rushing another wizard. And it had almost worked.
After a second of shock, Tony and McGee took the hint. The four of them would have been enough to overpower the two left, but they had not counted an unfair advantage to the other side: while the NCIS agents' weapons were useless, theirs were not.
Jenny wasn't helping – she stood, trembling with the most awful expression, away from the fight, next to the door. Ziva had not been able to help but to notice that. And, apparently, neither had Tony, McGee and Gibbs. And the seconds of precious disbelief and distraction that that cost had been efficient to the point that they hadn't been able to knock the wands off the wizards' hands fast enough. Another jet of light meant for Gibbs, who'd ducked at the last second, hit Ducky in the chest. The old man, who had been trying to help Abby, gave a cry as he fell to the ground, not stiffening like Abby, but instead crumpling as if passed out – or worse. Ziva had been horrified at the prospect and Jenny had covered her eyes at the sound he'd produced.
The third blast of light had incapacitated McGee, who was thrown across the room to hit the wall, falling down and moving no more. It had spurred them into action, snapping them out of the shock that they were taking them out so easily.
Ziva had punched the man responsible for the junior agent's attack before he had been able to react, and he'd scowled through a bloody nose, attempting to hit her with another spell. But she'd been too quick for his disoriented mind, and the light had hit a pot in the corner of the room, which had blasted and given Gibbs the idea of the shields. Ziva had kicked the wand out of his hand, probably breaking his wrist. A round-a-house kick to his chest and he'd joined his buddy in the sweet-dreams land, head hitting the corner of Jenny's desk.
She'd looked around, and her eyes fell on Tony on the wrong moment. The last man standing had hit him with the same curse as Abby, and he'd fallen back with the power of the hit. Like a board, he'd hit the ground with a huff, too tired of ducking and running and trying to hit the man to avoid it.
He'd turned wide eyes to her, wildly looking around the room, and Ziva's breathing had become shallower as she took him in in mute terror.
The guy must have realized he'd made a grave mistake. Maybe Ziva just looked like his girlfriend, and maybe Gibbs just looked like his dad, because when the combined, feral glowering of the two remaining members of team Gibbs concentrated on him, he took a step back, nearly stumbling to the floor.
They'd charged at the same second from opposite directions, and he, with only a second to pick a target, had attacked Ziva. That, combined with his clumsiness, had saved him. In the fight, the office had become a mess, and he tripped on a broken frame, landing two feet behind. The spell he'd aimed at her, instead of hitting the chest like the others, hit her foot instead, and she became the only standing statue in the room. Gibbs missed, but instead of stopping and making an easy target of himself, he'd taken advantage of his momentum and jumped over the desk that was in his way, taking refuge behind it while aiming a vicious glare, filled with venom, at both Jenny and the wizard.
And the fight had fallen into a stiff, quiet and still hiatus. Ziva had been surprised that no one had come inside to check what was going on – the office was wrecked. The desk had been knocked down, there was a single vase still intact, and every cabinet was on the ground, which was littered with books, broken shards of a bit of everything, and the MCRT still bodies - plus Abby, Jimmy and Ducky, who were the ones she was more worried about.
"Agent Gibbs-" The man tried in a would-be reasonable voice –Ziva, however, correctly identified the exasperation and boredom in his tone. Now that he wasn't on the wrong end of an ex-Mossad assassin and an ex-Marine sniper, he didn't look as scared crap-less. The fact that his companions had been hurt didn't seem to bother him at all.
She wished she had a paperclip right then, and full usage of just her right arm. That was all she needed, and the guy would be on the floor in less than a second. Dead or permanently injured would be a question of whether her hand slipped – and it was so easy for her hand to slip.
She began seeing red with the effort she was making to move. It was hopeless. She could feel the sting of her eyes – the only part of her body she still had control over – as helplessness brought on the tears. She was reduced to watching a confrontation that everyone knew Gibbs could not win.
"Jethro," Jenny tried again. Her voice was shaking horribly, and she was repeating every syllable. "please, please¸ don't do this. Don't fight him – he'll hurt you." Ziva had a sudden urge to pick up a wand and curse her into oblivion. She was angry, and her mind was not thinking straight, but still, the desire to do it seemed pretty authentic.
"Listen to her, Agent Gibbs." The man said, in the same monochordic tone.
Gibbs replied with an insult so colorful that even Ziva had to avert her eyes, her cheeks reddening. The guy scowled, hand twitching. But he knew he'd never be able to hit Gibbs. The Boss was a lot better at ducking than the man was at aiming his wand.
Jenny took a step forward. The guy cleared his throat as a warning, and the filthy look she gave him spoke the lady appropriate version of what Gibbs had said. The man clicked his tongue impatiently, and Ziva swore one day she would get her hands on him.
Slowly, their Director walked around the desk, stopping a foot from Gibbs. Ziva saw the tears running all the way to her cheekbones, and her anger faltered at the same time Gibbs' face softened slightly.
"Gibbs…" More tears fell free from her eyes. "Please – I can't see him hurting you." Jenny covered her face with her hands, and when she looked up again, a flare of warning arose so great in Ziva's chest that she wanted to yell out so desperately, she felt her lips twitch. "I'm sorry." She sobbed, and she pulled him flush against her, gluing her lips to his.
The warning in her chest was dimmed by shock. Ziva instinctively searched Tony's eyes to find them already looking in her direction. She could imagine his jaw dropping in surprise. It would have been comical if his lips weren't hard as rock against each other.
But as soon as she looked back to the two, she realized the plan. Jenny took a large step back, and the strangled sound from her throat was so painful that Ziva felt her belly tug for her even as it chilled.
The air went as chilly as a refrigerating camera, and all she could see was Gibbs' shocked features, completely concentrated on Jenny – he was not paying attention at anything else. Ziva counted two seconds of stillness that seemed to drag for two hours – the attacker was a moron. One more second – just one more second – and Gibbs would have come to his senses.
But he wasn't completely stupid, apparently.
And the curse hit their boss, the light illuminating Jenny's cheeks like fireworks because of the water pools. Ziva tried to move again as he fell to the ground, and from the corner of her eyes she saw Abby's scared eyes and streaming tears, and Tony's accusatory and obviously mute expression, jumping between Jenny and the man.
And then the wand was trained right between her eyes and Tony's green eyes were the last thing she saw.
Ziva heard crying and sobbed screams. Her head was buried in her hands, and there were two warm objects shaking her shoulders.
And then she grasped them suddenly, gritting her teeth as her self-protection mechanisms kicked up. She realized she'd grabbed wrists, so she let her hands slid quickly to the middle of the attacker's forearms before she stood up from her chair. Ziva twisted the arms around so that she was behind him, pulling his arms to opposite directions behind his back.
Her foot was in the middle of placing a well-aimed kick to the middle of his column when he produced a strangled yell, and Ziva's eyes widened when she recognized the voice as Tony's. Her hands dropped and her knees buckled.
The crying started again. And she realized that she was the one making the sounds.
Tony dropped to his knees in front of her and she saw the eyes again, even if through blurry tears.
"Ziva!" His voice was as wild and terrified as his eyes had been before her memories had been modified.
"Here." She gave him a muffled response as if in a classroom, hands covering her eyes again. And she was being crushed against his chest with an impossible amount of force. He was shaking.
He swatted the back of her head and she muttered a half-hearted protest. "Don't do that ever again!" He reprimanded in a more controlled voice.
"If you do not mind me asking…" Ziva mumbled, feeling her tears finally dry. "What exactly did I do?"
He head-slapped her again. She became mildly annoyed. She hoped he realized he was putting himself in assassination's way. "You suddenly froze, and then you burst into tears." She figured he was so freaked out because he'd lost count of the amount of times he'd seen her cry – and because the very first time had been the previous day. "Then I grabbed your shoulders and you nearly broke my arms, almost dislocating all my junctions while you were at it!"
And came close to paralyzing you with a good blow to your back. She thought, guilt eating at her like the plague. She pushed him off her, needing space to breathe all of a sudden, and stood up. This time she didn't fall down again. She was getting good at this.
As soon as she lost contact with him, she felt the urge to cry again. What was wrong with her?
So she sent the self-defense packing and pulled him against her again, pushing her face into his shoulder as the tears threatened her again. His hands immediately began rubbing her back vigorously and she calmed down after a while.
Taking a last, shuddering breath of his scent, she pulled back and accessed the kitchen. Both their glasses were in pieces on the floor, the juice having already spread to cover a quarter of the kitchen. The bottle – closed – was on the floor too, the outside cardboard encasement soaking up the spilled liquid. She guessed he'd knocked the contents of the table (only the bacon had been spared) to the floor getting to her. She scrunched up her nose and looked away, not needing anything else to feel guilty about.
He pulled her toward the living room – he was good at reading her thoughts like that – and they fell to the couch. "Well," He began, voice emotionless. "you're obviously not better."
She rubbed her eyes, cleaning the last remnants of the tears. "No, I- I am." She ran her hands through her face. "It- it was my fault."
She felt his incredulity as he bristled rather than saw it. "I mean that." She hastened to say, regretting it when her voice cracked. He found her hand and gave it a squeeze. "It is true. I- I thought too much about something and then- And then-" She began to feel a constriction in her chest as the oxygen became too little for her.
Tony grabbed her other hand, and his grip tightened on both of them, his face a mask of flickering emotions. She felt herself relax. "I think- I think I understand how it works now." She breathed as long as she could as if it could cleanse her from the one memory she was better off not having. She wanted to keep her stance and her voice steady when she spoke. "Every time I get a - prompt, shall we say, I have a choice not to see where it - leads me. If a few words, or an image, triggers a memory, I can choose not to remember that memory. If I want to remember, it is a flash, except it is as if I am really there, and I feel everything as if it's happening then, and it can be overwhelming. Yesterday there were only fuzzy… flickers, and today it was a full-blown flashback." She shook, not able to control herself. She struggled to find the right words, but she thought she was able to convey what she wanted to very well.
Tony was frowning, obviously trying to sort through that, while rubbing soothingly and mind-absently the back of her hand. Then, his face cleared as if he'd made a step-by-step plan to seek all the answers he wanted. "What did you see, in the kitchen?" His vice was soft and hesitating, like he was unsure whether he was asking too much. "I mean, I don't want you to-" He started to backpedal, but she shook her head to stop him.
"It is fine." She told him sharply, pleased when her voice didn't sound like a croak. "You do not have to babyme. I can take care of myself."
"And that is how I know you're back to yourself."
Now she hit the back of his head.
"It was-" She hesitated, and he fell into an expectant silence, knowing that the jokes were over and she was going to start explaining what had happened. "It was when our memories were erased." Tony clenched his teeth and his hands, which hadn't left hers, tightened involuntarily. "Tony…" She could feel the tears brimming by the edges of her eyes again. "They destroyed the Director's office to get us."
He swallowed, pulling on his dry lips to wet them. She found herself staring slightly at the motion, distracted for a moment. Another memory pulled at her mind, and, terrified, she immediately swatted it away.
She shrugged it off and straightened, because she was feeling stronger now that her own thoughts weren't knocking her to the ground all by themselves.
"Well," Tony said. "I would guess there would nearly be an apocalypse, since I really doubt Gibbs would have gone down without a fight." Ziva remembered the way their boss was winded by a kiss and she wasn't so sure.
"You are underestimating the meaning of a fight." She said darkly. "We did not even stand a chance, and there were three of them, and seven of us."
Tony blinked, frowning as he did a head count. "Eight, don't you mean?"
She shook her head, slowly. "No. Jenny… Jenny helped them." She hesitated in saying. He opened and closed his mouth several times, like she imagined he'd do in the flashback.
But she was instantly regretful of her words. The anger she'd felt had been temporarily blinding – but since no one was there to do it for her, she felt the need to defend the Director. "It was the law, Tony. I do not think she had a choice." His mouth closed for the final time and his teeth clenched, and she wondered with curses were running through his head. "She did not do much, I can assure you. She only made sure they did not have to hurt Gibbs."
He furrowed his brow, rubbing his neck. "How'd she do that?"
Her lips suddenly twitched. She couldn't help it – it wasn't funny, but she was amused at what she was about to say. "She kissed him."
Tony's hand dropped with a start, and he looked at her like she was crazy. "The guys going to hurt Gibbs?" He asked in bewilderment.
She shook her head, feeling lightly light-headed at the quick movement. Forcefully clearing her head, she answered him. "No. She kissed Gibbs."
His jaw dropped again. "Close your mouth, DiNozzo, or you will trap a fly." She smiled a small grin.
"Catch – She kissed him? Seriously?" He sputtered in awe. "Wayto go, Boss!" He beamed, before freezing. "He's behind me, isn't he?" He asked in a whisper anyone in the room would have heard.
Ziva laughed. "Not unless he found a way to turn invisible."
Tony was exhaling through his nose in relief when he stopped abruptly. "Didn't Potter mention something about an Invisibility Cloak?" He was becoming paranoid.
Ziva rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair and deciding she needed to wash and brush it. "I do not think Gibbs is behind you under an Invisibility Cloak." She scoffed at the idea, standing up, and feeling her legs weaken. "I will take a bath, now, yes?" She asked permission, clenching her teeth against it – she was resolute in terminating any and all displays of her (currently) fragile state.
He nodded, rolling his eyes and standing up himself. "You didn't need to ask permission. Mi casa es su casa, yes?" He asked, in a terrible imitation of her accent. She smacked the back of his head.
"I do think, DiNozzo, you will be very sorry for head-slapping me earlier." She informed him, and he cringed. She yawned. "But right now, I need a bath. And food. And then, I will go to sleep again."