"Get your bags, we're headed out. Dead sailor found in a public park."
"Is it my imagination or is there an extra spring in his step?" McGee asked under his breath.
"What do you think? He just escaped an entire afternoon with the director," smirked Tony. "Conveniently timed if you ask me. Ow!"
The last came from the sharp smack delivered by Gibbs to the back of his head.
"A soldier's death is never convenient," said Gibbs.
"Yes boss."
"Heh-kpfff!"
Gibbs whirled around to see Ziva sheepishly holding a napkin to her nose.
"You sick, David?"
She made sure to clear her throat before replying. "No Gibbs. I am fine."
He eyed her for a moment. "Well then what are you doing standing around for?"
She scurried to grab her bag and sprint to the elevator. Only a moment behind her, McGee thought to grab a handful of tissues from the box on his desk. He would slip them to her in the van, discreetly enough not to injure her pride.
Later he was glad he had thought to. While Tony drove, Gibbs read through the preliminary information from the case. Ziva and McGee sat in the back and, while he took notes, she pinched the tip of her nose with a Kleenex in an obvious effort not to sneeze. It was painful to watch and McGee wished he could comfort her without running the risk of being put into a choke hold.
"Hello Jethro," boomed Ducky as the foursome stepped from the van into the frosty afternoon air. "I think this may be a first. I don't know that we've ever before beat you to a crime scene, something for which we can surely not credit Mr. Palmer. You know he insisted I needed to take a left on 12th St.?"
"I maintain, doctor," spoke the slender assistant, "We would have gotten here just as quickly had we taken 12th."
"Well with your track record, Mr. Palmer, you can hardly blame me for doubting you."
"Hey! Guys!" yelled Gibbs. They fell silent and looked at the team leader. "Body?"
"Oh yes," returned Ducky, pushing up his glasses. "He was found in situ here at the edge of the lake."
"Are you sure he was killed there?" asked McGee while he snapped a photograph of the lake as a whole.
"Oh yes, Timothy. In forensic pathology determining the location of death is often the easiest part. You can see by the purple bruises surrounding his back and buttocks…"
"Ducky," snapped Gibbs.
"Jethro the thing is, our victim has not been moved… but he has been undressed."
The team looked up in interest as the ME walked them to the crime scene where, sure enough, a dead and naked man lay in the frost-covered grass.
"Well," started Tony. "Clearly he was undressed before he was killed."
"Why do you say that?" asked Jimmy.
"I'm just saying," smiled Tony through his teeth and raising his eyebrows suggestively. "He looks like he felt the cold."
Each man tilted his head for a moment, looking oddly at the corpse. McGee lifted his camera and Ziva coughed quietly into her arm.
Gibbs recovered first and started barking out orders. "McGee, you start photographing the crime scene. Ziva and Tony… see if you can find his clothes. We need some sort of ID at least."
As the trio headed off to their respective duties, Ducky tugged on the sleeve of Gibb's jacket.
"Jethro, is Ziva alright? She looks to be coming down with something."
Gibbs watched his team fan out and replied, "She's sick all right. But until she admits it, I need her to do her job."
"Poor girl," clucked the doctor. "She is very proud. Not unlike someone else I can think of."
Gibbs smiled absently as he moved to begin the investigation.
"Heh… heh-kpfff!"
"Bless you."
"Thank you, Tony," Ziva replied through a blush.
"You know it really isn't good to hold them in like that." He knelt to sift through some dead leaves as he spoke.
"And you are a doctor now?"
"I've just had my share of illnesses. That's all."
"I'm not sick, Tony," she kicked over a rotting piece of wood.
"Yeah, sure you're not. You're just pale and shivering and can't go five minutes without sneezing…"
Surprised at the lack of angry interjection, Tony looked up to see the petite woman staring vaguely into the air. Her nose twitched and her eyes teared up.
"Don't hold it back," Tony told her adamantly.
"I… ha.. haacheww!" She doubled at the waist as she let out a powerful sneeze.
"Aha," said Tony triumphantly. "Now that's the sort of sneeze I'd imagine a hard-ass Massad agent having."
Ziva groaned and wiped her nose. "I hate you so much right now."
"Why? Doesn't that feel better?"
Ziva didn't reply, instead darting forward.
"Tony, I think I see something."
The two looked out across the sparkling white lake, frozen through in the late January ice. There, about 3 yards out, lay a wallet.
Ziva moved forward to retrieve it but Tony held a hand out.
"No way. I'm not letting you fall through that ice. Let me. Or ever better, let's go get the Probie."
"Do not be ridiculous, Tony. I weigh half as much as either of you. I will get the wallet."
Without allowing for further discussion, Ziva began to inch onto the ice. Without a slip she snatched the wallet and tossed it lightly back onto land. Tony picked it up and was rifling through when he heard a loud cracking noise. His heart was into his throat when he saw the flash of curly, brown hair disappearing below the surface of the ice.
"Ziva!" he cried, rushing forth.
Fortunately she had fallen very close to shore and Tony was able to pull her out without falling in. He dragged the soaking wet woman onto land as she shivered spasmodically. Instantly Tony had ripped off her heavy and sodden jacket and replaced it with his own. The hair on his arms stood as cold air bit him and he ached to think of the pain Ziva must be feeling.
"You- you have- have the wallet?" She sputtered through clenched teeth.
"Shut up, Ziva," he hissed. "Worry about yourself for once." He wrapped both arms around the tiny woman and tried to press his body heat into her.