A/N This chapter has been reviewed under the influence of Nyquil. If I massively messed anything up, I will deny all responsibility when I am again of sound mind.
'Foreign' terms:
PCS – stands for Permanent Change of Station, and is a standard military verb for move. I'm surprised I haven't heard it used on the show because you don't hear people say, "We're moving to Barstow," it's always, "We're PCSing to Barstow." That differentiates it from a deployment, which can be up to a year or more, but is not considered permanent. Gibbs who was active duty and Tim who grew up military especially would use this term, along with all the suspects and witnesses. However, with it being a show watched mostly by civilians, I'll cut them some slack if you do the same for my ignorance in other areas.
CO – I think this is common knowledge, but this stands for Commanding Officer.
Stabilizers – British for training wheels.
Chapter 23
Better
(Ziva's POV)
Next time I wake up I am curled in my bed and see no evidence that the other side has been touched. I pull myself to investigate. I find a yogurt, banana and a glass of juice waiting for me along with a note from Tony saying that he went home to get ready and would be back before noon to pick me up. He is granting me some time to myself. I have a few errands that I need to run so I drive myself around. Driving feels normal.
I arrive home in time to grab a quick lunch then I wait outside for my ride. He is punctual and looks rested. He lets me open my own door despite the bouquet in my arms and things just seem more normal. The normalcy comes to an end in the elevator. THUMP THUMP. I should not be nervous. THUMP THUMP. I talked to everyone yesterday and it is all sorted. ARGH. Why can I not master this? I do nothing to betray my thoughts yet Tony puts his hand on my shoulder, and I welcome the assuring gesture and the wave of dread passes before I hear the familiar ding.
We walk into the bullpen, and I feel comforted by Gibbs' familiar greeting, "DiNozzo, BOLO on the car – info's on your desk, David, phone records . . . " He notices the bouquet of black roses in my arms, "after you see Abby in the lab. Actually, I need to see Abby as well, so I'll go with you."
Once we are out of earshot I squint at him.
"Liar."
He smirks at me then lightly rests a hand on my back as we walk into the elevator. That is new.
I take the flowers to Abby and get a big hug in return.
"Welcome back! I know you weren't even off work for a whole day but I feel like you're finally back with us like for real, like you should be. Everything will be okay now." I know that my problems are not all gone, but I encourage her enthusiasm.
"Yes, Abby, I believe it will. Thank you for pushing me in the right direction." She gives me a knowing smile. "Any time." Gibbs seems to ignore our girly hug fest, but I know he is feeling very satisfied.
After my brief talk with Abby Gibbs herds me into the conference room.
"What now? More rules?"
"Nope. I thought you would like an update on the case. I asked McGee to brief Tony and give him his assignments. Tim's got his head on straight now and asked to take the lead on this." I understand that he's thanking me for the outcome of our discussion. "So, what's going to happen is I'll fill you in, then Ducky wants to see you in autopsy."
"Gibbs, I have already spoken to him and he cleared me."
"I didn't say you needed to be cleared. He said he had crumpets or something. Don't know any more than that."
"Gibbs, I will never get any work done if my limited time is taken up by social calls."
"You shouldn't be here anyway, so any work you get done is a bonus." Touche. "Unless, of course you'd rather take some more time off."
I know I am cornered so I smile sweetly and reply, "You were saying . . ."
"The victim's name is Staff Sergeant Sarah Masters, 25 years old, single. She did not show up for duty Monday and as you know her body was found Tuesday morning from an anonymous tip. The barn's been abandoned for years and we found no connection between any prior owners or neighbors and the victim. McGee traced the call to a burn phone. This morning he discovered a similar case near another base in Barstow, California eight months ago, so we are thinking that the suspect may be another service member that PCSed from there. Since she was a Marine we will be looking for someone who would be skilled at overpowering one. Her CO said that she had an exemplary record and was very skilled at hand-to-hand combat. You will start by reviewing the in-processing records of all marines who came to the DC area from Barstow, AFTER you see Ducky."
"Understood."
"Shall we?"
"I suppose you just happen to need to see him as well?"
He smiles again, "Well, as a matter of fact, I do." He offers me his arm and we head down to autopsy.
"Thank you, Jethro. I will bring her back to you in due time." Gibbs leaves and Ducky pulls out a chair for me. "Ziva, I took the liberty of steeping another pot of Betty's tea but today I have proper homemade scones complete with strawberry jam and clotted cream."
"Thank you, Ducky. That was very thoughtful." I sit down and while he pours the tea I split my scone the spread the cream then jam on each side.
"My Dear, how are you?" He is the first one to come out and ask today, and honestly I prefer it to be him.
"Ducky, I feel rested, but I am still uncertain of myself and not comfortable with so much attention. I am pleased to be at work and I know I have you to thank for that. I suppose I feel like I am headed in the right direction and hopefully things can return normal before long."
He takes a long sip of tea. "Normal is not a bad thing, but perhaps a more satisfying goal would be 'better.' I doubt that what was normal before your exile will ever be again but that does not mean that the alternative cannot be more desirable."
I nod my head in understanding. "Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better."
"Exactly. And I believe you have now been through the worst and are finally ready to accept a new reality with a brighter outlook."
A new reality. I had not considered that before. I have been so stressed by trying to reclaim my former life that in truth no longer exists.
"Gibbs once told me that the assassin part of me died in Somalia, but I cannot believe him. That would absolve me of all my sins and I know what people have suffered at my hand, especially the ones I have cared most about. I cannot accept forgiveness and a fresh start where none is warranted."
"But, My Dear, forgiveness is a gift and is only bestowed in those relationships that are truly precious and worth maintaining. You do take too much upon yourself."
There is the word 'precious' again.
My teacup shakes in my hand. I put it down and place my hands firmly on my legs to still them. I cannot imagine my father's contempt if he could see me on edge because I am for once being cared for without expectations or a greater agenda. Maybe that is the point. I have had blame heaped on my shoulders, even when it was not mine to bear, but never has anyone said that my own guilt could be cast off. I think of how Abby described family: we would do anything for you, we love you and you're part of this family and family does things for each other without a second thought. My own father's attentions were always conditional and the requirements for them kept getting steeper and steeper until they were entirely unattainable. Even fulfilling and surviving a suicide mission did not make me worthy.
I finally look up at him. "Ducky, I am so altered that despite my physical rescue, I cannot see how their mission to Somalia could have been considered a success. They have been supportive yet I cannot help but feel that a grudge against me must exist. They were willing to pay the ultimate the price to redeem me and all I have done to repay them is hurt them further and confirm my brokenness. Ducky, I will admit this to you, and only you. Part of the reason I decided to become a US citizen initially was so that I would not be deported once NCIS realized that I am no longer useful."
Ducky takes a long sip of tea. "Ah, your exit strategy. Given your past I can understand how you could grow accustom to seeing every stage of your life as a short-term mission. You needed to survive one to get to the next, and so on." He gently takes one of my shaky hands into both of his. "Ziva, I think it would be safe to assume that your worst fear is not being deported, but rather that you will truly believe that you belong here with us. Only then would the last emotionally healthy part of you be vulnerable to death by bitter rejection if you are turned away."
The awful dread that has been residing in my heart has been unearthed. I am at a loss.
"The flaw in your exit strategy is that it is a strictly hypothetical endeavor. You have not factored in the character of your fellow teammates. You are free to stay and you are also free to build long-term relationships that are not based on strategic positioning. You and I are transplants. We bring with us different cultures and social expectations. Some parts of that culture will always remain." He motions to the tea things. "However, I have been here for some time and I can say that as a general rule, while Americans do tend to be a bit excessive, they also tend to be open and kind. I know that in your Mossad training, assimilation is a valuable tool, which you have employed remarkably well over the years. Now I would advise you to cease hindering yourself and simply take off your cultural stabilizers and for the first time really enjoy the ride. After all you are nearly an American yourself now."
He always has a way to make me smile despite myself.
"Ziva, you have a clean slate. That is a new opportunity, and while trust may not come naturally to you, I believe it will end up being one of your most valuable strategic advantages. Your friends here not only have your back at work but they are a fiercely loyal lot and you can depend on them for more than your physical safety. You are precious, and although that concept may have been foreign to you before, I have made it my mission that it will never be again, and I can assure you that I am not be alone in this endeavor."
He gently lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it like the true gentleman that he is. I do not shed tears this time, but I feel his words envelop me in undeserved kindness. It is uncomfortable, and I would not stand for it with anyone else, but this is Ducky. I know that while he can be long winded and the others may find that tedious, I appreciate his intelligence, his insight and his objectivity. Yesterday talking to Ducky was a requirement that I initially resented but today I appreciate having this time with a friend who will not be hovering over me at the next crime scene and someone to whom I do not need to provide assurances of my sanity.
"Despite all I put them through, some days I believe they must be mad to still want me here. Yet this seems to be my home, and I hope that is the case for a long, long time. Right now I am focusing on getting through this day and the next and I cannot think about the distant future. It is a luxury I never thought I would have, but one I that I am truly grateful for."
"It was not my intention to have a heart-to-heart when I extended an invitation to afternoon tea, but rest assured, what is shared over tea, stays amongst friends. Now that I think about it, I believe we can strike a deal to our mutual advantage. If Jethro sees us regularly taking tea together, no matter what we talk about, he will be less likely to threaten you with another psychological evaluation, and I would have the honor of a beautiful and intelligent woman's company in this otherwise sterile room from time to time."
"Ducky, I would be honored to take tea with you any time."
How can I refuse? I know he will be doing unofficial psych evaluations of his own, but not for the benefit of Director Vance and there will be no report, not even to Gibbs. The way I see it, I have Ducky to help with my overall insecurities, Gibbs for guidance and protection, and Tony for, well, I am not sure how to put it in words. He is my best friend? Yes but too cliché, my partner? Not quite accurate either. He is my stability and this week my comfort, beyond that I cannot name. McGee an Abby fill in the edges. I am a blessed woman.
We finish our tea over pleasant conversation then he escorts me back to my desk.
I finally begin to search the PCS data and look for possible suspects. Tony and McGee are at their desks, continuing their work but both shooting glances in my direction. Finally I pound my hand on my desk, "What?"
"Nothing." Come two meek voices, neither one looking at me.
"McGee, you found that there was a similar crime 8 months ago that remains unsolved? Were there any other similar crimes that predate it around other marine bases? The more dots we have to connect the easier it will be to hone in on the correct suspect, yes?"
Tony looks up at me, "The BOLOs haven't turned up anything so I can look into that."
"Good idea, Ziva. Thanks, Tony."
Okay, this is strange, Tony is accepting McGee's leadership and not insulting him? I know my suggestion is a long shot, and in truth I uttered it more to get their minds off of me and back on the case, but neither one seems willing to shoot down any suggestion of mine.
The rest of the afternoon we work on our respective tasks. I narrow my list and give it to Tony along with the information on bases where those men had been stationed before Barstow in the unlikely event that Tony did find a predated case.
At the end of the day, despite being resigned to innocuous tasks, I feel satisfied. At 4:58 Gibbs walks by my desk, obviously looks at his watch and clears his throat. Tony and I dutifully get up, grab out things and make our exit.