Chapter 34: Sitting Together

Gibbs falls uncharacteristically behind as DiNozzo leads the way through the terminal. Ziva is between the two men as their remaining field agent is keeping his feet planted in American soil as requested by Gibbs.

The flight to Tel Aviv will take hours and the three Agents understand this.

Tony leans his head against the back of his airplane seat. His style in dress is primitively casual; a simple t-shirt that most likely came from an American Eagle outlet though he will most likely swear it came from a more upscale outlet, and a pair of warn-out jeans without any noticeable holes. Sunglasses curve into the collar of his shirt making him look as if he is a returning visitor ready to embark on one hell of a vacation. If the outsiders looking in had any idea…

Ziva is within the same category. Her shirt simple, but loose fitting as she needs room for her bodily wounds to heal, and her pants, the usual khaki cargo. Her hands lay folded on top of her legs as she tries to find the reason she is studying the ordinary floor of the plane hallway.

Their superior is clad within his usual means; a pair of dress slacks and a polo shirt with a dress jacket thrown over it. He sits with his hands straight out in front of him; almost looking as if he is going to clasp them over each knee. As he inhales sharply, Ziva shifts next to him. Her thought as to why the floor of the plane is so interesting has been successfully answered.

The plane engines are at a buzzing calm as the head flight attendant explains safety in case of an emergency.

Ziva takes in the flight attendants' appearance and sizes her up as someone that would be within the usually unlimited filter of Anthony DiNozzo's tastes. After several more minutes of listening, she looks through the isle and watches as Tony peacefully rests in his window seat on the opposite side of the plane. An action that makes her wonder just how deep his damage goes and if he will ever truly return to the Tony she once knew, or would he be the man she sometimes thought existed somewhere within himself.

Gibbs stares out his window at the runway operatives that are buzzing around underneath the plane's wing. With their large headphones over their ears he smirks at their obvious complications with trying to speak and 'listen' to one another.

The first beverage cart begins its journey from the front of the plane. Its wheels along sends a message directly through to Tony's ears. His eyes pop open and he straightens himself as he nearly leans over the elderly woman sitting next to him.

"Excuse me, young man!" She hollers; one corner of her book is being bent by the force of Tony's shoulder.

His eyes open in surprise and he tries to find a minute to apologize, but falls short as the woman uses her fist to hit him right in the shoulder.

"Hey!" He rasps while rubbing his shoulder. "Where'd you retire from?"

"I'm not retired!" She punches him again.

"Ow!" He cries; a slight pout forming. "I'm sorry!"

"Young man I will not tolerate this form of behavior the entire flight so I suggest you straighten your posture and you refrain from leaning into my personal space."

"What if I've got to use the bathroom?"

"You hold it!" She glares at him, then continues to pleasantly read her book.

Tony shrinks into his eat; wanting to mutter some unkind words, but figures if better keep whatever he feels like saying to himself…for now.

The Israeli turns her head again, making her vision direct with anything or anyone that is straight ahead of her. A small smile lingers on her lips, but she does not dare to laugh.

Gibbs finds boredom with staring out the window. The plane is flying above the thick, puffy clouds causing the land behind it be hidden. Trying to stifle a yawn, he moves his neck and orders his head to look in a completely differently direction.

"Did I miss something?" He tries to be casual, but there is still so much rigidness there.

"Tony seems to be getting into trouble."

He looks across the plane at a semi-fearful Tony who seems to be sitting between a rock and a hard place. "Hmm…"

She begins to open her mouth again, but closes it to pause as she wonders what will happen if she chooses to elaborate.

He senses her want and decides to give her a moment. "What'd he do?"

"He accidentally leaned over his seat when he heard the wheels of the beverage cart-"

"He better order something practical." Gibbs mutters; the gruffness in his voice full-fledged.

"…He has not ordered yet." She tries to sound casual, but the tension in her voice plows through full force. "The woman sitting next to him put him in his place."

Gibbs nods, then shrugs. "She looks like she an take him."

"Should we be offering her a position on the team?"

Ziva instantly looks down at her lap; mentally scolding herself.

"Your team…should you be offering a position on your team."

"Gotta put it back together, first." He says lowly.

She nods once at him and quickly returns her gaze straight ahead as a means to end the already short conversation, but Gibbs wants to talk more, causing him to shift slightly in his seat and stare at the side of her face.

"Is there something you want?"

"Oh yeah…" He admits. "…more than something…"

"Everything, then?"

"Impossible." He states, a sigh threatening to escape him. "What about your team?"

"My team is dead." She looks as if she is having a flashback; their bodies bleeding and still on the warehouse floor. "My team…is dead…" She says again; this time almost as if she is only now realizing this.

"How do you feel about that?"

"I am afraid there isn't much time for that."

"It's a long flight."

"It is need to know…" She turns to stare at him sharply. "…and you need not know."

"You want my help?"

"Not if it means you're going to turn me into your own personal interrogation."

"Thought never crossed my mind."

"I do not believe you." She feels an instant chill; causing her to momentarily shudder. "I have no reason to believe you."

"I could say the same thing."

"You already have."

"I haven't said a damn thing to you about this!" He finally snaps; his eyes growing small, yet angry.

"It goes without saying."

"Christ." He smacks his hands on top of his legs. "I don't need another DiNozzo-"

"Tony has nothing to do with this."

"You sure about that, Ziva?"

"You want to drill me for information-information I already gave to Agent Fornell. I have got nothing left to give, Gibbs-nothing!"

"Did you know your husband had been an Agent for the FBI?" He asks; the question leaving his mouth semi-sour.

She keeps her vision off of him, but her mind begins to buzz from the question.

"Better give up the information before this plane lands, David." He speaks harshly to her. "Once we're on the ground, you're on your own unless you give me reason to back you up."

"I will not have you save me, Gibbs-I am not Abby." She is just as harsh. "As far as I am concerned I deserve to not only pay for the death of my team members, but for putting Tony in this position." She sighs. "There is nothing you can do for me and there is nothing I want done by you…so leaving me on my own is not the worst thing you could do to me…it isn't the worst thing you have done to me."

"Thought we patched that up." He runs his hand over his face; scrubbing at it slightly. "Thought you accepted my apology- thought you understood that I understood-thought that we-"

"I am not speaking about that." Her eyes flash with hurt at his instant and careless reaction. "When I came back the first time, I had found a way to deal with what happened…but now I see that you will never forget what did."

"Ziva-"

"Admit it, Gibbs-you burn so much from that memory alone."

"I've got every right to." His voice low, but sharp. "It is my job to protect my teammates, not to hurt them-not to take something, anything, away from them."

"You hadn't been the first."

"Missing, my point." His eyes flicker to the snack cart that is beginning to make its rounds. "…I took something from you that you didn't want to give-that wasn't up for grabs."

"Think of the situation-"

"Don't want to." He stares back at her. "Every time I do…I want to blame DiNozzo and McGee for losing connection." He throws his head back against the headrest and takes a deep breath as his eyes slip close.

"That hardly seems fair."

"It doesn't." He confirms, then opens his eyes. "…can't tell me you've never thought abut it."

"Stop it, Gibbs." She keeps her eyes away from his general direction. "What's done is done-"

"Just because you've found a way to do deal with it and what's come after it doesn't mean I've gotten there!" He snaps; his voice raising in volume and making the man behind him clear his throat either on purpose or needed. "You left me in the dark, Ziva!"

"And how many times have I apologized for doing so?" She snaps right back; the man behind them clears his throat once more indicating that he is doing it on purpose. "You have never once taken my apology for what it is. You never once gave me a real chance to be let in!"

"I took you out on the water." Saying this alone makes him feel ridiculous. "…I thought that meant something."

"You only took me out on the water to pry me open. You only wanted information on my position with the CIA."

"Only because I didn't want to see you get hurt-I didn't want to see you suffer whatever consequences they were setting you up for."

"Well that is over now. I overstepped my boundaries and I ended my position with that agency. They were my choices-I brought the suffering to myself."

The flight attendant appears with the food cart. Smiling at them both, she waits for their order.

"Bottled water, please."

"Coffee."

The attendant pours a rich cup of black coffee, tries to offer cream, but Gibbs refuses. Handing it to him, he mutters a thank you. As soon as Ziva feels the bottle of water within her hand, she uncaps it and takes a large gulp.

"Why?"

She takes another gulp of her cold water and then twists the cap back on top of the bottle.

"Habit." She says almost icily. "Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to."

"How would I know this?" He wonders out loud. "You never gave me enough time to study you." He catches her sharp look as if a knife had been thrown at him. "Easy-I study all my agents so I know who to give my direct orders to."

She does not speak as her eyes wander over to Tony's general area. His gaze is back settling on what is outside of his window.

"I know their weaknesses, I know what makes them comfortable…uncomfortable…I know-"

"Your most favorites and your least favorites. I get it, Gibbs." She looks at him. "Like the rules you have tucked away in your memory bank, you've got a little department where you rank people you run across."

"I didn't run across you, Ziva-you ran across me and I took you on." He corrects her. "…and I don't rank my people or people in general."

"Then why is it that Abby carries herself in a way I was almost certain you would disapprove of?" She jumps to answer for him. "…because she is your favorite. You know it, I know it, the team knows it, and she knows it."

"Abby's been through a lot. She needs more than a considerable amount of time to heal." He speaks without truly thinking.

She laughs flippantly. "I never thought you'd spend your life holding someone's hand."

He shuts his mouth with a sip of his steaming hot coffee.

"Considering what you have just told me, the both of you should find comfort in the production of healing-"

"Knock it off, Ziva." He almost orders. "Abby and I are close-we always have been and we always will be-and I don't hold her hand, I help her along. She's not like you-she gets easily bothered by things."

"Right." She says simply. "Nothing can ever bother me."

"I didn't say that."

"It goes without saying." She offers him a glance.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he only succeeds with taking another sip of his coffee. As soon as he realizes that his the sips were larger than he intended, he hears a buckle being unbuckled. Looking over, he watches as she stands from her seat and leaves her seatbelt at either side of her chair.

He almost asks her where she is going, but refrains when he sees her eyes catch the location of the bathrooms.