Revelations

A/N: Thanks to Loopygirl33, the crazy girl down the street from me (lol), for idea bouncing with me. Not that you helped very much. :) Also, I want at least twenty reviews on this chapter. I allow anonymous reviews, and I got over twenty emails last night from people adding me to their favorites! So this should be cake! Btw, I am not Belisarius. Therefore, I'm not responsible for NCIS. Pity...

Ch.2

"Don't kill him!" Ziva cried. "What do you need? Tell me."

The man smiled. "Tell me about this DiNozzo, and Scuito, McGee, and Gibbs. Perhaps even that Vance, as well. Everything about your team at NCIS."

Ziva nodded quickly, her eyes never leaving the image of Tony on the screen before her. His arm was still in a sling, and he was examining a report on his desk. "Tony…" she whispered.

"Go on," probed the man, holding up a remote. "I press this, and he's dead. You don't want that, do you." It was not a question. All the surveillance; they must know how she felt. But wait…

"Who do you work for?" Ziva murmured. "Tell me that, and you'll know everything, I promise." Only Mossad knew so much about her.

"That's for me to know, and you to not. Another out-of-line peep and the next target will be Special Agent McGee." The man brandished the remote menacingly.

Ziva narrowed her eyes before speaking without thinking. "Tell me who sent you. Then you can find out what I know."

She watched McGee deliver Tony something not water in a water bottle, speaking softly as Tony raised the bottle to his lips. "I want to know who pays you. I want to know why you selected Tony."

"Power of love. We thought you would not repeat the mistakes you made with Rivkin, but apparently you like signing your lovers' death warrants." With a laugh, the man pressed the button on his little remote.

"NO!" Ziva screamed.

****Squadroom

Tony sipped his new concoction, which actually tasted pretty good and cut the fog of drunkenness. Suddenly, the glass shattered in the window and the bottle was mangled, streaming the reddish liquid over his work. Electrical sizzling and McGee's yells of "Oh, my God!" made Tony turn to his partner.

"What the hell was that?" Tony mumbled semi-incoherently. McGee's eyes were wide, and Tony could see a bullet hole in the monitor of McProbie's computer.

McGee saw the shattered glass, and dived at the bewildered Tony. "Get down!" Another gunshot rang through the air as Timothy landed on his friend. "OWWWW!" McGee yelled. Tony looked up, and saw the graze wound in McGee's arm, leaking blood profusely.

"You know, McGee, that was a total moment killer," Tony said. "By the way, I think your computer's broke."

****

McGee dragged Tony out of the squadroom, looking closely at the dark nighttime skies for any trace of the shooter. Why would anyone want to kill Tony?

Scratch that. Lots of people wanted to kill Tony. Nevertheless, who would want to kill him by sniping him?

"The only person I can think of is Ari, but he's dead," McGee commented later as Ducky bandaged his arm.

Ducky glanced at McGee, thinking. "If you work in that direction, many of our suspects would be unlikely, except for a handful."

"Explain, Duck." Gibbs walked in, Tony following.

"Well, Jethro, Ziva prefers hand-to-hand combat or other similarly direct methods. Ari is dead, and you would not kill your own man. Mossad is a possibility, but I think Director David got what he wanted out of your visit to Tel Aviv last week." Ducky tied off the bandaging, and gave McGee instructions. "Treat the wound like a regular cut. The bullet didn't graze anything; it's just superficial."

Tony's face darkened at the mention of Ziva's name, something that the forensic psychologist slash M.E. did not fail to note. "Mossad is pretty likely, out of anyone, but Probie's right. This stinks of Ari-Sniper-Magic-Person."

Gibbs and Ducky looked at Tony, worried expressions on their faces. "Of course, the sniper is more likely to be… alive." Tony shifted uncomfortably.

"Tony, use the computers either here or in Abby's lab. She has bulletproof glass. McGee, you and I will go up to the bullpen and get portable computer-things, laptops, and go to Abby's lab. We're going to dig into Mossad and see what we find."

****

Tony rolled restlessly in his sleep, images floating randomly through his mind. Paula Cassidy seemed to be sitting before him through most of it, murmuring steadily in Hebrew and Arabic into his ear. Paula… Still as pretty as ever, even in death.

Hebrew? Arabic? Paula had been an interrogator, not a translator. She had died saving a group of Arab priests from a crazy suicide bomber. Arabic! Hebrew… Ziva? Tony knew his mind was drawing crazy mental conclusions, but it was possible.

"MaGoo!" Tony called, starting out of his heavy, dreaming sleep.

McGee started. "Tony, you scared the bejeezus out of me! What do you need?"

Tony raised a sleepy eyebrow. "What was on that laptop Rivkin swiped? Something about North Africa."

"Ah, it was about a terrorist training camp in North Africa. It was the info Rivkin was trying to get in L.A. Why?" McGee glanced curiously at DiNozzo.

"You… would never believe, McPractical."

****Africa

Ziva remained staring at the screens, watching a replay of all surveillance tapes taken of Tony. They went back much farther than her capture, which was just two days ago. The first tape was a video of her assault on Tony in Tel Aviv… with sound. How had these people gotten this?

"You weren't there…"

The words rang through her head, haunting her, as she watched Tony's agony over the week she had been away from Washington.

"You weren't there…"

Tony had been right. She was not there. Unfortunately, neither was Ziva sure she wanted to be.

Michael had become a bad seed. Ziva had known this; yet still she pursued him as lover. Tony… had been Tony. Now, viewing his life objectively in the harrowing week after her aliyah home, Ziva felt she could see his objective through her own tears.

Her Tony had not gone to work for three days after returning to NCIS and Washington. During those days, he spent most of his time in a bar near Ziva's old apartment, getting hammered. Drink after drink after drink, mostly of whiskey. Some bourbon. Then, each night, a cell phone call to McGee, who drove Tony home. The third time, the team cut him off.

*Flashback as Ziva sees it*

"John, hit me," Tony slurred to the bartender. The man slammed down a shot glass, which Tony gulped the contents of without looking. Then he gagged, recognizing the irrefutable flavor of the DiNozzo Defibrillator. "What the hell, John?"

"Courtesy of your friend." John beckoned with his head to a glowering McGee at the end of the bar.

Tony glared at McGee. "I can't believe you did that."

"I can't believe you're still coherent," McGee retorted. The younger agent hauled Tony up, dragging his protesting friend outside. "Okay, DiNozzo. Man up."

"I thought that's what I was doing, MaGoo. Drowning pain in alcohol has generally worked for me." Tony glared harder at McGee. Timothy head slapped Tony. "Ow! What was that for?"

"The first comment. This is for the second," McGee added, forcing Tony's head into the everpresent barrel of rainwater by the door.

Tony stood up, spluttering, wiping water out of his eyes. McGee raised an eyebrow. Wait, it wasn't McGee now- it was Gibbs. "Oh, no," Tony said. "No, no. Alcohol induced stupor! I plead the fifth!"

"I want three things from you, DiNozzo. I want you sober! I want you at work, tomorrow! And I want you to talk to McGee, damn it! I don't want to listen to you, but he's willing to! Believe it or not, we all know how you felt about her. It was damn obvious, DiNozzo." Gibbs stared at Tony, which made DiNozzo back up a step.

Tony nodded. That was all he really had a choice of doing.

Ziva watched Tony recover, and become mostly sober again, and do his job. Then, the team got a case, just a day ago- and he relapsed, returning to the bar and drinking all night before going to work the next day. Ziva was amazed he hadn't been hit, since he walked home. Tony the next morning was mainlining Defibrillator, and actually had McGee make a modified version of Ziva's own hangover remedy with hot sauce added to the jasmine tea and lime.

Then McGee had gotten shot, and Tony nearly was killed. Four more inches to the right… She didn't want to think about it.

She couldn't hold it in now, and let tears flow down her bruised face.

A/N Update: Judging by the four-odd more emails I have gotten regarding people favoriting my story, but none for reviews except for three people, two of whom were with me when I wrote chapter two, I would say that you people must not want me to update. (Moral: REVIEW OR NO CHAPTER THREE!!!!)

Thank you. Also, a reminder: I accept anonymous, signed, and flame reviews.