Chapter 26

Guardian

(Tony's POV)

I get in my car and debate whether to call or just stop over. In the end I pull up outside her apartment before I come to a decision. I let out a deep breath.

Here it goes.

I knock and there is no answer. What to do? She has given me a key, but it was given in case of emergencies. I see her car parked out front so she could be in the shower or out for a run. Then again she could be hurt or in trouble. Okay, logically there is no reason why she should be. I think Probie's mother hen instincts are rubbing off on me. After all, if someone tried to attack her it would be them that would most likely need an ambulance, but then if there were a lot of them and she was taken by surprise . . .

While my mind races I knock again, harder than I mean to. I hear movement on the other side and she opens the door far enough to let me in. As I enter I kick myself for overreacting then I see her wrapped in a towel, her hair strewn about, obviously fresh from the shower. "What are you doing here this early? Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Yeah . . ." Focus, DiNozzo, focus. I shake my head to clear it. "Gibbs thought you would want to come in early."

She starts patting her hair dry with a smaller towel she was holding. I see that she is not hiding any of her scars. I was worried that it might have just been one moment of intimacy that would have been buried, but it seems to be permanent progress.

"Is the case resolved so quickly?"

I am trying hard to reconcile the beautiful sight in front of me with the ugly facts that I have to tell her.

"Not exactly . . ."

She snaps her fingers in front of me, wrinkles her brow and says, "Perhaps if I get dressed properly I will get more information from you, yes?"

"Uh, yeah, I'll just wait out here."

"Do not worry, Tony, you are not the first man who has drooled over me." Touche.

I smile but can't utter any sort of intelligible response. As soon as she shuts the door I can't help saying, "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" as I head slap myself with each word. Focus on the case, not on her legs or how natural that felt for her to have no inhibition towards showing her scarred skin. I'll just wait out here? Seriously? Where else would I wait? I'm not going for stalker here, and staring at her like that doesn't promote the whole, 'you can trust me as a friend and partner' role I'm honestly trying to fulfill.

I pace around the room still not sure where to start.

She emerges fully clad, braiding her damp hair. She sees me pacing with my hand scratching the back of my head. "Tony, tell me what is going on." She is using her calming voice and sits down on the couch, as if to urge me to do the same. I sit with a sigh.

"Okay. Gibbs asked me to bring you in early . . ."

"Yes, you have told me that much so far. Why, Tony? You are clearly agitated." She places a hand on my knee

"Sorry. Uh, I guess after we left last night McGee and Gibbs looked into your hunch about previous crimes and based on that they found two suspects. We arrested one this morning, PFC Brandon Sanchez, and Gibbs is interrogating him now."

"I am not allowed to witness interrogations."

I nod, "I know, but he wants you there after he's done. I can't say for sure, but I think he's offering you a chance for some sort of closure or something."

She stiffens. "Oh." I put my hand over hers on my knee and close my fingers around it.

"Listen, Tim thinks it's a bad idea, this guy has him creeped out and he doesn't want you to see him. I had to promise him that I would warn you what you will be walking into. Gibbs thinks it will be good for you to come in and face him."

Ziva looks down at her knees then looks me in the eye. "What do you think?"

"I trust Gibbs, but I can see Tim's point. This guy . . . he has that same feel about him as Salim did. I really don't know what to think."

She nods, puts both her hands on her knees, pushes herself up slowly and says, "Okay, let's go."

"You're sure? You don't have to do this." I can't keep the stern doubt out of my voice.

She avoids eye contact. "I am thankful for your concern and McGee's, but in this case I have promised to follow any orders from Gibbs and he always has his reasons. You will not be far from me, and I will be at NCIS, not some dark hole in the wall." She tries to look certain of herself, but I'm not so easily fooled. "Okay, if it makes you feel any better, I am glad you are driving me because I honestly do not know what to expect of myself. That is what scares me the most."

I appreciate how far she's come this week. Admitting fear is a new thing for her so I try to soften my expression. I go to put my arm around her and she puts a hand on my chest. "Not now, Tony. I will need your assurances later, but right now I need to focus on keeping myself in one piece until after I do this. Call it a deeply embedded Mossad coping device, or whatever you wish, but I have to be in the right frame of mind to face this."

I retreat, trying to quell the feeling of rejection. "Okay," I walk to the door and open it, "After you." I can't help but make a show of pulling out my key to lock up, at least that earns me a slight smile.

Aside from me whistling now and then, the ride is spent in silence. Her eyes are closed and she seems to be getting into some sort of untouchable mindset, which is actually freaking me out a little bit. I have no idea what to say so whistling seems like my safest option. I pull into the car park and she gets out as soon as I pull on the parking brake. I walk behind her but she doesn't look at me. We ride in the elevator and again she ignores me. She does, however, notice the fist sized dent that was not there yesterday. When we reach the bullpen McGee is there ready to take us down to Gibbs.

"Hey, Ziva. Did Tony fill you in? You okay with this?" He asks in a very tentative way.

She is still all business, but her look softens just a little for him, "Yes, Tim, I will be fine. Is Gibbs ready for me?"

Confused, he looks behind her to me for some sort of explanation and I just shrug. "Yeah, the guy pretty much just bragged his confession and now Gibbs is sitting on him. I'm supposed to take you down there."

"Okay. Thank you, McGee."

We walk down in silence. Tim opens the observation room and we walk in. As she studies him I watch her hands and her breathing. She is intentionally breathing slower than normal, and her hands are fisted to mask the shaking. She closes her eyes to try to control her physical reaction to her mounting anxiety. Tim looks to me to jump to her rescue. I don't touch her, just quietly say, "Ziva . . . "

She opens her eyes, looking at PFC Sanchez with a blazing intensity that I hadn't witnessed in her since she had her gun pointing at me in Isreal. Her hands steady and she simply says, "Excuse me," and walks out the door.

Tim bangs on the glass to warn Gibbs that she is coming. A second later the door opens and she starts slowly pacing the room, arms crossed, and a seriously hard look on her face that is focused on him.

Gibbs gets up and says, "Leave no marks, Agent David." He nods then exits the room. He's in with us a moment later, arms crossed, ignoring us but studying Ziva intently. Here we are again, her three guardian angels, watching from a distance. The suspect is cuffed but the intensity is palpable. She is still pacing and Sanchez is suddenly looking very unsure of what he is in for. She suddenly slams both her palms on the desk in front of him and starts ranting at him in Hebrew. I can't follow what she's saying, but I can guess it's everything she ever thought of spouting out to Salim but never got the chance to say. All the crap that she was dished from him, her father, Mossad, and everyone who ever hurt her, she focuses on him while she paces, slams her hands uncomfortably close to him, and generally does anything she can to put him on edge. For Sanchez the venom behind the words is as clear as the language is confusing to him. He starts sweating and twitching in discomfort. When he is nearly writhing she finally lets loose one last malicious string of insults, spits in his face, and walks out the door in defiant control of herself and the situation.

Tim and I watch her with dropped jaws and Gibbs just has a slight smirk on his face, enjoying that he was finally able to do something to help her get past this. As soon as Ziva leaves interrogation he addresses Tim, "Go get his CO and start processing him."

When Tim leaves Gibbs looks at me, "DiNozzo, that will be all for today. Vance has taken our team off duty until Tuesday. McGee will finish the paperwork, you take Ziva home and let her know that I'll expect her here at 7 Tuesday morning. Neither of you are to do so much as drive by the Navy Yard until then. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Boss." I pause. "Thanks." He waves me out with mock irritation. I go looking for Ziva and after checking the bullpen, lab and autopsy, I swing open the ladies' room door and see her rinsing her face with violently shaking hands. I walk up to her slowly, "Hey, you okay?" She puts her palm up to stop me from touching her. "I guess that's a stupid question. Gibbs said the team is off duty until Tuesday, can I drive you home?" She doesn't look at me, just nods. We take the least public route to the garage, I open the car door for her then hurry to my side and drive as quickly as I can back to her place. She spends the drive with her eyes closed, her elbow propped on the door and her head in her hand. She's breathing very slowly to combat anxiety. Meanwhile my heart is racing, worrying that she may have another full-blown panic attack.

As soon as we get to her place I unlock her door and let us in. As soon as the door closes she leans forward with her hands on her knees, just as I saw her do outside the barn. My heart's breaking for her again and I'm trying not to panic myself. "Do you need a bucket?" Her head shakes no. I place my hand on her back and start rubbing it slowly. "Hey, it's over . . . it's over." She starts sobbing. I scoop her in my arms and sit on the couch. All the anger and sorrow that she had pent up seems to have finally surfaced. I kiss her head, sweep the loose hairs back from her face, and just keep her close. Her normally solid body trembles in my arms and my shirt is spattered with tears. The thought passes through my mind that it is possible that I won't wash it again to preserve the monument of trust. Strange what goes through your head in moments of profound sorrow.

I have no idea what to do. Should I call Ducky to come and make sure she's okay? I'd like to deck Gibbs for this. Should I call him and chew him out, or at least demand an apology, not that he ever would give one? I decide at last just to keep her close and monitor her myself. If she starts throwing up or passing out I'll call Ducky, otherwise I'll look after her the best I can. After a long time her tear ducts run dry and the sobs give way to post-cry hitched breaths, then the even ebb and flow and snores that comes with a deep sleep. I know she will sleep better if she is in her bed, so I carry her into her bedroom, take off her shoes and pull the covers over her. I have to keep contact with her to make sure she's okay, but I am fighting my own exhaustion so I decide to pull off my shoes, climb under the covers on the other side and lay next to her with my arm slung over her, trusting that if she gets in trouble I'll sense it and wake up. She unconsciously laces her fingers with mine and we both sleep the rest of the day away.