Consequences of Love and War: Chapter 19
A/N: So, talk about your frustrating computer woes... I lost my story, including the chapter and a half that I had written since the last time I backed it up (a chapter and a half that I liked, no less), and spent too much time trying to recover it, and then gave up and tried to rewrite it (not really caring much for the results). Well, to make a long story short--I found it! I'm still frustrated at how much time was wasted, but at least you get the good version.
So, your recap... Against the wishes of the State Department, the NCIS Bahrain team located and interviewed Ezra Hardoon before turning him back over to his control officer, Raanan Thal, for further debriefing in Tel Aviv. Unfortunately, he didn't prove to be the fountain of information that they hoped it would be. He doesn't know anything about Dr. Aachen, but did give them the name of a man financing Taliban cells around Kabul, as well as his current location: the Hamptons, about to attend a party hosted by Alessandro DiNozzo. Other things that have happened so far: Abby couldn't get anything probative off the video of the abduction, Gibbs and Ducky looked into the backgrounds of Peter Kirkan and Alyse Aachen (prompting Ducky to be less-than-convinced that we can explain this as an act of terrorism), and McGee has been backing up his co-workers.
Oh, and I recently watched the episode "Dead Man Walking" and discovered something I hadn't seen before on base while walking from NNMC to the gym, so I changed my avatar in honor of that.
DiNozzo descended the stairs from MTAC quickly, ignoring the protests of his coworkers and friends. It had been a long time since he had stormed out of a meeting like that, but he felt it was warranted this time around.
It had also been a long time since he had seen his father, but he didn't feel like working a case and chasing down an international arms dealer and financier of terrorists was the right time for a reunion.
He retreated to the back break area, by the vending machines, a space that was abandoned and darkened in the early morning hour. He took a deep breath as he leaned against the machine, reflecting on the sudden turns in his life, including this most recent one. Two hours ago, he was sleeping in Ziva's apartment, about to wake up and wake her up as well, for an activity infinitely more fun than going into MTAC to be ordered back to the estate he stopped thinking of as 'home' when he was fourteen.
"Can you please move, Tony?" He smiled slightly at that tone and opened his eyes to see Ziva standing just in front of him, an almost impatient look on her face as she looked past him to the vending machine. "I have not had breakfast yet, and you are blocking the vending machine."
He felt himself begin to relax at her commanding tone. "Next you're going to be asking me for a dollar," he teased, stepping aside.
"No," she replied. "Money is not necessary, yes?" It was a widely-known secret, almost to the point of being an urban legend within NCIS Headquarters, that Tony DiNozzo could release whatever was found at C5 without money, but despite many efforts, nobody else had been able to emulate it. He grinned and stepped aside, gesturing for her to try.
Just as he expected, she hit the machine a few times, but nothing happened, earning the inanimate object a long string of swear words in Hebrew, as well as a few kicks. "Here," he said with a chuckle, and with one well-placed smack, a Hershey's milk chocolate bar with almonds came tumbling down. "For you," he said chivalrously, bending down to retrieve it from the tray. As an afterthought, he decided to pound on the machine once more for his own breakfast.
"I still do not know how you do that," Ziva grumbled as they leaned side-by-side against the machine, both quietly eating their chocolate bars.
"You just have to have the magic touch," he replied, grinning after the double entendre registered in his mind. Ziva snorted softly.
"You will not get an argument from me on that point," she replied with a knowing smirk. He chuckled before they again lapsed into silence. "I am thinking that I should not have answered the phone earlier, yes?"
He chuckled again. "You'll never get an argument from me about that," he pointed out. He stared down at his candy for a minute. "I don't know how this is going to work."
"You have not spoken to your father in some time," she said. He wasn't sure if she was agreeing with him or trying to point out why this mission was a good idea.
"No," he said. "I haven't." He didn't say anything else, and after a few minutes of silence, he began to feel Ziva's frustration grow.
"What is the problem, Tony?" she finally asked.
"What am I supposed to say?" he shot back, turning to face her. "'Hi, Dad. Haven't seen you in awhile. Mind if I join the party and perhaps pull one of your guests aside for some questions about a missing Navy doc? Oh, and by the way, this is my girlfriend, Ziva. She's from Israel. And did I mention that she's a Mossad assassin well-trained in interrogation methods?'"
"If you explain the situation—"
"You don't know my father," he interrupted.
"And whose fault is that?" she shot back. He gave a frustrated sigh and leaned back against the vending machine. "Maybe it is time you repair the bridges." He smiled slightly, but didn't correct the idiom. "My father—"
"Your father was dying, Ziva," he interrupted. "Mine's throwing a party. Not exactly the same situation."
"No," she agreed softly. "It is not. But this is the best lead we have had so far about Dr. Aachen's location."
"It's not a lead," he argued. "It's so far from being a lead that it's practically a non-lead." She quirked an eyebrow at that, and he relented. "Okay, maybe not. But we don't even know that Dr. Aachen's abduction has anything to do with the Taliban," he pointed out. "There has been no increase in chatter; nobody is saying anything. It's been a couple of days now. Don't you think we would have heard something?"
"And that is a reason to give up?"
He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it when nothing came to mind. He gave her a self-depreciating smile. "Why does it seem like I can never win an argument against you?"
"Because I am always right," she shot back with a smirk. "So you will do it?"
He nodded, despite his better judgment. "I'll give him a call in a few hours."
"In a few hours?"
This time, he grinned as he held up his wrist, adorned with the watch that Ziva bought him for his last birthday, which made him suspect that Israeli government agents were paid much better than their American counterparts. "Normal people aren't exactly out of bed yet, Ziva. Not that my father is all that normal, but even he needs to sleep every once in awhile."
She nodded, even having the good graces to look sheepish that she had gotten carried away and forgot the hour before her expression fixed in one of determination. "It is the middle of the day in Moscow," she reminded him. "We should speak to the Eastern European contacts and see what they have on Zajac."
He groaned, but followed her back to their desks. "I would much rather be doing what we were doing before you decided to answer my phone," he grumbled. She just laughed.
---
Alessandro DiNozzo always woke up at 0430, spent at least an hour on his stationery bike or treadmill or elliptical while reading the market reports from Asia, showered while his butler prepared his breakfast, and ate by himself while analyzing the business forecasts for the upcoming day. It was the same routine he had had for about fifty years, and everyone who knew him knew that he didn't like to be disturbed in those hours. Deals have been broken by those not in the know or thinking that they were exempt from the rules interrupting those few hours that DiNozzo had to himself.
Which was why Anthony DiNozzo waited until 0800 to call his father.
He retreated to the area behind the stairs and stared at his cell phone for a long moment before scrolling through his contacts to the one that was transferred from one phone to the next without fail, but hadn't been called in, well, in a long time. Before he could talk himself out of what he was about to do, he hit the 'send' button.
"DiNozzo." Tony winced at the greeting, the same one he gave whenever he answered the phone.
"Hi, Dad," he finally said. He cleared his throat slightly. "It's Tony."
"I figured that, Anthony." The elder DiNozzo sounded almost amused—almost. "There is only one person who could call me 'dad'."
"Right," Tony replied, flinching slightly. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
"Is there something you needed?"
"Uh, yes, actually." He glanced up to see Ziva standing by the stairs, watching him with interest but still giving him space. He gestured for her to come closer and rested his free hand on her hip before resuming his conversation. "I—actually, my girlfriend and I—have a couple extra days off this weekend. She's never been to the Hamptons, and I know the off-season isn't the best representation of the Hamptons, but—" He cut himself off when he realized that he was rambling, and cursed himself for still allowing this man to intimidate him, even after so many years. The whole conversation had gone so much better in his head. "I figured that the estate would be empty, and was wondering if we could borrow it for the weekend." He glanced down at Ziva to see her smiling at the cover story.
His request was met with silence before his father spoke again. "Actually, Anthony, I'm currently at the estate. There is a pre-season event this weekend."
"Oh," Tony replied, as if that was news to him. "Okay. Uh, I guess we'll figure something else out for the weekend. Sorry to bother you."
"It's no bother, Anthony." There was a long pause. "If you'd like to show your girlfriend what the Hamptons is truly like, the two of you can come to the event. I can have one of my assistants take you into the city in the helicopter to get you something to wear." Although the offer grated on Tony—yet another reminder of how the cop son didn't fit into Alessandro DiNozzo's image-important world—the idea of a new Armani suit and pair of Salvatore Ferragamo shoes distracted him momentarily.
"I'll see what she wants to do," he finally said. "I'll give you a call when we decide."
"I look forward to hearing from you," Alessandro replied. "Whatever you choose to do."
"I'll let you know before the end of the day," Tony promised. With nothing else to say, he ended the call. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before he opened them to Ziva's questioning expression. "We're in," he informed her. She smiled and squeezed his hand before he leaned down and kissed her lightly, surprising her. He gave her an ironic and slightly sarcastic smile. "Happy anniversary."