Disclaimer: When I woke up this morning, I thought I owned NCIS. Then my brain kicked in.
Chapter Three: A Continued Conversation
It is later.
On Gibbs' orders, Ziva picks Wendy up at her grandmother's.
The house is a sprawling one-story affair with navy shutters and a white picket fence out front. The lawn is well-watered and neatly-trimmed, and all of the windows are adorned with brightly-colored flowers in window boxes. It is wholesome, all-American, and utterly without character; Ziva irrationally hates it.
Stepping up to the stoop, she rings the doorbell.
Ding dong.
There is no response.
She presses the button again: Ding dong.
The door opens slowly, and an elderly woman peeks out.
"Hello?" she says.
"Agent Ziva David, NCIS," Ziva says, showing the woman her badge. "I'm here to talk to Wendy."
"Wendy!" the woman calls. "There's an agent from NCIS here for you." Turning to Ziva, she adds, "Where are my manners? Please, come inside."
"Thank you," Ziva says, stepping through the door and into a well-lit entry hall.
"Back already?" Wendy calls teasingly, coming into view. "Oh. Agent David. Hi. How can I help you?"
"We have a man whom we believe to be Felix Quintero in custody, and could use your assistance in verifying his identity," Ziva informs her.
"Of course," Wendy says agreeably. "Just let me grab my coat and tell my son that I'm heading out again."
"Of course," Ziva echoes.
"Fred, sweetheart!" Wendy calls. "Can you come here for a minute?"
There's no response.
"He's probably caught up in one of his video games again," Wendy says with a sigh, turning around and walking out of the room.
Ziva follows.
They step into a small den, where a young, blonde-haired boy sits intently in front of a brightly-colored screen, a game controller in his hands.
"C'mon, c'mon," he mutters, jerking the joystick from side to side. "Almost there…"
"Fred," Wendy says.
"Ergh!" the boy half-screams, as an explosion occurs on the screen. "Now look what you made me do."
"Fred," Wendy says commandingly.
Pouting, the boy presses a button and the game freezes.
"Yeah?" he asks, turning around to face them.
"I have to head out for a little bit," Wendy tells him. "NCIS needs my help. I should be back before supper, though, so I expect you to be done with your homework by then."
"Mooom," the boy – Fred – whines.
"No excuses, young man," Wendy scolds. "You've had plenty of time."
"Fine," Fred mutters. Seemingly only just noticing Ziva, he asks, "Who are you?"
"Fred!" Wendy says. "Manners."
"Sorry," Fred says, only slightly chastened. "Hi, I'm Fred Miller."
"Ziva David from NCIS," Ziva tells him, offering a hand.
The boy reaches out and shakes it.
"I like you," he says forthrightly. "You don't treat me like a baby."
"You do not look like a baby," Ziva says, confused.
"That's because I'm not. I'm seven and three-quarters," Fred says importantly.
"Ahhh," Ziva replies. "You look older than that, if you do not mind my saying so."
"I get that a lot," Fred says, grinning. "Mom says I'm mature for my age."
"Sometimes I swear he's already a teenager," Wendy says quietly, rolling her eyes. "Just let me grab my coat, and we can be out of here."
Ziva nods, and Wendy leaves the room briefly.
"You aren't going to play kissy-face with my mom, are you?" Fred asks.
"Wha… no," Ziva says in amusement. "Where did you get that idea?"
"The last agent who came here did," Fred says.
"How do you know that?" Ziva asks.
"I walked in on them," Fred says, making a disgusted face.
Interesting.
She pushes back the pinch of something that she refuses to call jealousy, and focuses on the boy in front of her.
"Well I can assure you that I have no interest in making 'kissy-face' with your mother," Ziva tells him. "And I will keep an eye on the other agent for you. It was unprofessional of him to kiss your mother in the middle of a case."
"Thanks," Fred says.
Wendy emerges from the other room, a coat across her arm.
"Let's get going," she says briskly.
"Tell that other agent that I said 'hi'," Fred says, a slight smirk crossing his face.
Wendy doesn't appear to notice the smirk, and simply says, "Will do."
Ziva winks quickly at the kid, and follows Wendy out of the den.
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
In the car on the way to HQ, Wendy says, "I'm glad that Fred and Tony got along. Fred doesn't normally take to strangers."
"Mmmm," Ziva murmurs noncommittally, before saying, "If you do not mind my asking, how did you and Tony meet?"
"It's a little embarrassing," Wendy admits, clinging to the dashboard with whitened fingers.
Honestly, Ziva isn't driving that fast.
"I was in the process of getting my Music Education B.A., and I was the teaching assistant in his Senior High School music class," Wendy continues. "I know that makes me sound like a sexual predator or something, but I swear it wasn't like that. Tony was the one to make the move, and I refused to have anything to do with him outside of class until the semester was over."
Ziva looks at her, and Wendy says defensively, "He was very persuasive."
"That does sound like Tony," Ziva agrees ruefully.
"We were only a few years apart, and he was of legal age," Wendy adds.
Ziva simply shrugs, and says, "It is none of my business. So how did you end up with a career in the news business?"
"Fred was born," Wendy says. "Don't get me wrong, I still love kids, but I didn't want to spend all day at work with children only to come home and do the same thing. I wanted to spread my wings, I wanted to be challenged. But enough about me, how long have you and Tony been partners?"
"Six years," Ziva says, not volunteering any more information than necessary.
"That's quite a while," Wendy says. "You must know him pretty well by now."
"As well as anyone knows him, I suppose," Ziva says, shrugging. "Tony is… guarded. Was he always like that?"
"Not to the degree that he seems to be today," Wendy says, frowning. "Don't get me wrong, he's always been very honest; he's probably the most honest person I've ever known, actually. But… he has a tendency to lie to himself."
Ziva nods seriously.
That definitely sounds like the Tony she knows.
"I bet you have lots of good stories on him," Wendy says suddenly, a mischievous expression lighting up her face. "Want to swap?"
And even though Ziva doesn't fully trust Wendy, this is too good an opportunity to pass up.
A wicked smirk crosses her own face.
"Oh, yes. It was before my time, of course, but I heard that he woke up next to an iguana once, and almost shot it. Apparently he screamed like a little girl…"
-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-
By the time they reach HQ, Ziva has shared numerous tales. None of them are too serious, of course – Ziva wants to embarrass Tony, not betray his trust.
She tells Wendy the tale of the stakeout where Tony got raccoon eyes; the story of how Tony pretended to be a Level 5 sorceress on a dating site, and IMed the night away with McGee – "You know, Tony actually played a warrior in a fantasy RPG when I knew him," Wendy tells her, and Ziva grins with unholy glee; the stories of all the times she snuck up on Tony and caused him to clutch his chest in fear.
In return, Wendy shares her tales.
Stories of times that Tony got high on painkillers – "Ah, I have also seen that!" Ziva responds eagerly; the first time that she'd caught Tony singing ("rather off-key, might I add") in the shower, and how he'd been so surprised, he'd slipped and had to do a strange wiggly dance to keep from falling; the tale of how he'd made a drunken bet with his frat brothers and ended up naked on a Ferris wheel at Coney Island.
While a large part of Ziva wants to demand to know Wendy's intentions towards Tony, she suspects Wendy isn't sure of them yet herself. Another part of her wants to mark her territory through catty little comments (ex. "How on earth did you put up with Tony's snoring?" or "Was Tony's butt always that hairy?"), but she fears that that might be counterproductive; Wendy seems like the sort of woman who'd have a competitive streak. So she plays nice. There'll be plenty of time to play bad cop later if Wendy sticks around.
Once established in the Observation Room, it doesn't take long for Wendy to positively ID Quintero. So they move onto a new round of Tony tales.
In fact, they're still laughing at Wendy's latest story (this one involving a seasick Tony), when the man in question bursts through the door.
"See, this I could have done without," Tony grumbles, strolling over to them.
"I did not know that Tony got motion sick," Ziva tells Wendy, temporarily ignoring her partner.
Wendy smirks, and says, "Well, he probably would if he wasn't on his meds."
There's something familiar – almost possessive – in her tone, and Ziva doesn't like it. Wendy is implying that she knows Tony better than Ziva does, that she has a better claim on him.
Ziva bristles instinctively at the veiled threat.
Tony steps between the two of them, almost as if he knows that a fight is brewing.
Wendy greets him with a smile. "Hi."
"Hi," he returns in a low voice, body angled towards her.
Ziva waits for her own greeting, and, when it is not forthcoming, she has to fight back a glare. Wendy is trying to establish dominance, and Tony is going along with it. Tony is supposed to back her; he is her partner.
"Hi," she prompts him through a smile of gritted teeth.
"Hi," he replies awkwardly. He then turns to Wendy and asks, "So… how's things?"
Wendy's lashes flutter as she briefly looks down and back up, and says, "Good. You?"
Ziva tries not to fidget. Wendy is flirting with Tony.
Tony gives Wendy a short nod and a smile.
It may be unconscious, but he's flirting back. Ziva sniffs as Wendy and Tony's eyes lock and their postures begin to subtly mirror one another. This is… extremely uncomfortable. Perhaps a strategic retreat is in order?
"Actually," she says, starting to inch away, "I will –"
Tony's hand flies out and grabs her arm to stop her from leaving. Even through her sleeve, she can feel its warmth.
"You know what, I'm going to go," Wendy tells them hastily, "because I need to get back to Fred – oh, who says 'hello' by the way; I think he likes you."
She directs this last part to Tony, who looks every bit as politely skeptical as Ziva herself feels.
If that was meant to be a last ditch effort at one-upping Ziva, it is a poor one.
Tony's gaze follows Wendy's coy exit, but then it snaps back to Ziva, who is having a hard time restraining her chuckles.
She exchanges a look with Tony, and the door closes behind Wendy.
And then they are alone.
A/N: Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter up! Since we've barely met Wendy, I find her somewhat difficult to write. So now you have my fix!it explanation as to how Wendy could be Tony's High School music teacher and teach pre-schoolers how to sing "Puff the Magic Dragon": she TA'ed at a High School for experience while she was in college, then she went on to become a preschool music teacher after she got her degree. Additionally, by making her closer to Tony's age (and only a TA) at the time, I lessened the squick factor. Teacher/student romantic relationships are almost always unethical in real life due to their inherent lack of power balance, in my opinion.
My apologies in advance, but I may not be able to get the next chapter of this fic up until early April. I'm leaving for Israel tomorrow and won't have internet access at a lot of the places I'll be staying while I'm there. I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises.