Disclaimer: I own nothing but the typos. If you recognize it, it isn't mine.
Title: Trojan Horse
Summary: Ziva is caught spying during Tony's time as team leader. A story in 6 parts. Not for Ziva fans.
Rating: Teen
Spoilers/Warnings: General series spoilers though chapter 5. Some canon typical violence.
Author's Note: This really isn't for Ziva fans.
The story is already complete and up on AO3. I'll update it over here every few days or as I'm able until it's complete.
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An aggravated huff echoes across the bullpen as Ziva David glowers at her computer screen. She smacks her hand against the poor computer tower, making Tim McGee cringe. While it might not be one of her hardest strikes, it's enough to rattle the internals and possibly, damage the delicate motherboard.
Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. He just had to rebuild Tony DiNozzo's computer after he accidentally fried his motherboard by spilling a huge cup of coffee on his computer tower. Tim didn't mind rebuilding the team leader's—it still feels weird to say that, team leader—computer, but Tim is senior field agent after all. His time should be spent doing senior field agent tasks like paperwork and investigations and being out in the field.
Ziva lets out an actual growl. Her hand clasps around her letter opener as she shoves her finger against the power button. Her face is going slightly red, just barely tinging her cheeks. She doesn't get frustrated easily, but there is something about technology that drives her absolutely insane. She is more of a Luddite than Tony, almost as bad as Gibbs is. Used to be, Tim reminds himself. Used to be.
Her computer must boot up again because she relaxes in her seat.
Crisis averted. Thank G-d.
Then, she throws her hands out. "The screen, it is blue! Why is the screen blue?"
Tony DiNozzo swivels in his chair, bemused smile on his face.
"Blue screen of death, Zee-vah?" he asks.
Ziva's face folds into a scowl. "I do not know. The screen is blue and there are numbers and letters. I do not understand this. Why would it do this?"
"Maybe it doesn't like you. Or maybe the grim reaper got your computer. We better call Ducky. Or maybe it could be haunted." Tony waggles his hands, making a spooky "Oooohhhh" noise like a ghost at her.
"I do not find that amusing, Tony." She tilts her head. "And there is no such thing as ghosts."
Tony's grin broadens. "'So, what are we doing today, Zuul'?"
Ziva shoots him a curious look, but she has been on the team long enough to know not to engage Tony. While Tim doesn't recognize the movie, if Ziva draws attention to it, Tony will spend the rest of the day crowing quotes from it. The last time Tim made that mistake, Tony called him Oda Mae McBrown for an entire week. Thankfully, something else distracted Tony and he forgot about it.
From his desk, Tim is doing his absolute best to blend into the cubicle walls. If they don't notice that he's here, they can't ask him to help. For all they know, he could be at lunch or running down a lead or asking Abby for details about their case. Senior field agent things.
Right now, their probationary agent, Michelle Lee, is down in autopsy with Dr. Donald Mallard. Tony sent her down there to request a photocopy of their most recent autopsy report. Even though it's sitting on Tony's desk in a folder, he wanted a fresh copy straight from the source. She has been gone for over an hour. If Tim had to guess, she's probably having tea with Ducky and Jimmy Palmer. Tim wouldn't mind doing that either. Maybe he'll add that to his list of senior field agent things.
It doesn't take more than a moment for Ziva's eyes to float towards Tim. Cringing inwardly, he tries to look busy at his computer. Really, he just opens a file window, but neither of them knows enough about computers to know exactly what he's doing. He brings up his e-mail for good measure.
If I look busy enough, maybe she'll call IT.
"You could help, McGee." When Ziva speaks, it's a statement, not a question. "I believe I have a virus on my computer."
"A BSOD—" When Ziva's eyelid twitches, Tim clarifies, "—Blue Screen of Death could be caused by anything, Ziva. Hardware problems, software problems. An out-of-date driver. A – " When he notices their eyes glazing over, Tim bites his lip. "Did you write down the error code?"
Ziva blinks at him.
Tim sighs like no one ever understands him. "The letters and the numbers?"
She purses her lips, twirls her letter opener around in her hand. The silence speaks for her and tells Tim that the answer is a resounding, No.
He sighs again, deep and world-weary. He wishes he was doing senior agent things, not IT work.
Tony tries a playful smile to ease the tension. "I'm glad you stopped talking about hardware and software there, McStud. I thought I was going to have to refer you for the annual sexual harassment training session."
"Didn't you just have one, Tony?" Tim asks, narrowing his eyes.
Tony releases a painful laugh. Rubs at the back of his neck. "The director prefers that I stay up to date on all of the issues that could arise in the office setting. As a team leader and all."
Tim wears a triumphant smile. "I'm sure that's it."
Tony allows Tim that small victory because he jerks his head towards Ziva's desk as if to say, Fix it and fix it fast. Tim stays in his chair, hands poised over his keyboard. If he's going to do the IT work, he wants to be asked to do it. Assumptions are only carrying them so far and NCIS has a wonderful IT department. Sure, they take a few hours to show up when Tim could fix it in minutes, but still…he has more important things to deal with.
At least, Tony has the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Can you take a minute to look at Ziva's computer, McMicrosoft?"
Tim blankly stares at him.
"Please," Tony adds, sounding like he means it.
Tim is annoyed and agitated. No, he might even be downright angry. Still, he forces as bright a smile as he can muster.
"I'd be delighted," he says through clenched teeth.
Rising from his chair, he crosses the bullpen to check on Ziva's computer. She never actually turned it back on. Instead, she left the machine completely off. He rubs his hand against his forehead as he presses the power button. While it goes through the boot process, he takes in the Spartan arrangement of Ziva's desk. The only clue that it's inhabited are a few pebbles strewn at the base of her monitor. He wants to ask, but he doesn't need the distraction while he's working.
Across the bullpen, Tony stands up and gives a glorious stretch. Arms reaching for the ceiling and head rolling with a loud, Ah, to match. His back pops loud enough for Tim to hear it clear across the bullpen. Tony slides his hands across his suit jacket, cracking his neck as he smooths his lapels.
The elevator doors ping and Agent Michelle Lee comes clambering out of the car. In one hand, she clutches a piece of paper like it's a lifeline. The other holds a tea cup, which is desperately trying not to spill. Michelle rushes back into the bullpen as quick as she can.
She slides in front of Tony's desk. Shifts her weight and watching Tony carefully. Placing the cup of tea on Tony's desk as though it is an offering to a minor deity's alter.
As if Tony's ego needs more stroking.
She appears as though she has something to say, but she is holding back. She and Tony have a staring match until his shoulders slouch, and he nods at her. She still doesn't say anything.
Tony raises his eyebrows. "What's up, Lee?"
"Well, sir, I was waiting for you to say it was okay."
Tony blinks. "What was okay?"
"Okay for me to talk, sir," she rambles. "Probies should only speak when spoken to. That's what you said, sir. So, I was waiting for you to tell me I could."
"That was only when I'm in the Cone of Silence," Tony says as though it explains everything.
Michelle glances over to Tim and Ziva for an assist, but neither of them knows what Tony's talking about. All Tim has to offer is a small shrug and a downturned mouth.
Michelle's eyes widen as she turns back to Tony.
"Right." She nods carefully. "I brought the paper you requested from Dr. Mallard, sir. Though I don't know why you need another one. He already has sent up several copies for your review. He sent you a cup of tea with his regards."
"Great, thanks."
And Michelle just stays there, staring at him. Tony makes an awkward look at her to the paper to the cup of tea and back again. He glances at Tim and Ziva. All Tim offers is yet another shrug. They're still trying to get used to how Michelle works and at some point, he thought she would fall into the team dynamic. Yet, she never did, and she is still as awkward and as green as the day she started. Tim doesn't like to think about how he might've been the same when he was a Probie.
Tony squints at her as though trying to figure out how to make her leave.
"Good work, Lee," he tries.
She beams at him. "Thank you, sir."
She still doesn't move.
"Dismissed," he tries.
And that sets her heading back to her desk. Tony has never looked more relieved in his life. While her back is turned, he shoves the autopsy paper into the folder with the others. By Tim's count, Tony must have a dozen copies.
"And on that note, I think it might be lunch time for me and the probie," he says.
Tim can't keep the smile off his face. Ziva's computer has already booted up, but the deep dive into the internals can wait until after lunch. He can't remember the last time he and Tony had lunch together. Sure, they have, what Tony calls their "Meeting of the Minds" complete with jazz hands, but they haven't shared a casual lunch since before Gibbs hightailed it to Mexico.
Tim is already halfway out of Ziva's chair when Tony approaches Michelle's desk. She glances up, shocked and wide-eyed. Deer in the headlights.
"I packed today, sir," she says, reaching into her desk drawer for a hot pink cooler bag.
"Eat it tomorrow," he says.
She makes a face as though she'd rather chew glass than go to lunch with Tony. She already has her bag open to display a salad and other, what Tony likes to call, rabbit food.
"'Oh my G-d, look at all the junk food'," Tony crows.
Michelle's brow knits in confusion. Even Tim knows it's another movie quote.
Don't ask about it, Lee. Don't do it.
Thankfully, she doesn't.
"Come on, Agent Lee. I'll even let you pick the spot," Tony offers. "Consider it a 'get to know your team leader' day. Though on the way back, we need to stop for coffee."
After what feels like a long time, Michelle nods. Begrudgingly, she slides her bag back into her desk drawer. When she stands, she shoots Tim and Ziva a helpless look. Ziva raises her hands as if to tell Michelle that she's on her own.
"McGee and Ziva, you can grab lunch after you're done with – " he waggles his hand at the computer " –whatever that is."
"Right," Tim says icily.
As Michelle and Tony head to the elevator, their conversation carries. Michelle asks, "So, Agent DiNozzo, I didn't have any junk food in my lunch box. Was that a movie quote?"
Of course she asked. She always does.
"Oh yeah," Tony says. "It's from Ghostbusters."
"I'm not familiar with that one."
The last thing Tim hears is Tony shrieking, "You've never heard of Ghostbusters?!"
Once he and Ziva are alone, Tim begins the dig into her computer. He starts by checking her drivers and her disk space and the memory. The easy things that could've caused a blue screen on her computer.
Without paying any attention to him, Ziva heads across the bullpen. She grabs the cup of tea from Tony's desk, drinking it quickly. Then, she stands in the center of the bullpen, arms crossed and eyes shifted towards the elevator. Tim already knows what is about to happen.
"You would not mind, McGee, if I stepped out for lunch." When she says it, she sounds almost guilty. At least, there's that.
Tim doesn't even take his eyes off the computer. "Not at all."
"Thank you."
And with that, she's gone.
Rolling his eyes, Tim continues to work at her computer. Ziva just broke the most sacred unspoken rule of IT work. If you mess something up, you stay with the guy fixing it. As a penance or a punishment, it doesn't matter. But if you cause the problem and can't fix it, you should watch the guy who is fixing it for you. Or at least, offer to bring the IT guy—senior field agent—back lunch so he isn't hungry and cranky. Tim should have said something, and he wants to kick himself for not.
Instead, he works at the computer. He runs the virus scan, but it comes back clean. He checks the hardware, software and everything else. Eventually, he takes to checking for corrupted system files.
During the search, he notices one that isn't where it should be. It's PDF with the most garbled file name he has ever seen. He shouldn't look at it because he believes computers and files are almost sacred. Still, curiosity gets the better of him.
What appears on the screen makes his blood run cold.
At the top of the document are the words TOP SECRET.
Tim releases an incoherent sound, something between a cry and gasp. His mouth hangs open like a fish. He snaps it closed, scrubbing his hand across his face. He blinks as if it could make the image on the screen change into something completely different. He scrolls down to find something way above his clearance level. Way above Tony's clearance level. It's probably straight up to the Director and SecNav.
What is this doing on Ziva's computer?
His eyes scan the screen as he scrolls to the bottom of the document. His brain barely registers the schematics for a nuclear submarine on screen. Blueprints and detailed information Ziva shouldn't have. He goes through it again and again, trying to make sure he isn't hallucinating.
Oh my G-d, why does she have this?
He looks around, trying to make sure no one catches him.
Something strange comes over him as he tries to think of who he should call. His brain isn't functioning at full capacity. He considers copying the file to his computer in case Ziva deletes the evidence, but he doesn't want to take a chance of being caught with it.
Without thinking, he hits print. As the pages slip out of the printer, he is teetering on the edge of panic. His heart is threatening to beat out of his chest, his hands trembling. His breathes near hyperventilation. None of this should be happening.
Tim stares at the papers in his hands.
He shouldn't have these either. But it isn't like he can just throw them in the wastebasket.
He darts to his desk, buries them under in a random casefile.
I need to talk to Tony.
He sits in front of Ziva's computer, eyes wide at the screen and silently hoping Tony returns soon.
Of course, Ziva shows up first. Tim feels the blood drain from his face and his soul leave his body. His stomach drops straight to the floor. Quickly, he closes out the file and brings up the virus scan. When he gestures at her computer with his hands, he notices they're shaking. He ends up hugging them to his chest so tightly they're shoved into his armpits. The virus scan ends as soon as Ziva round her desk, screen flashing to show a completely healthy computer.
"There, all fixed." His voice jumps a full octave.
She looks at him curiously. "So, it was a virus, yes?"
"Oh yeah," he rambles. "It was a Trojan Horse that got into your files. You usually download malicious programs from insecure websites or by opening an attachment in an e-mail. It was…"
His voice trails off. She tilts her head, listening closely.
"You don't really care how a virus works, do you?" He laughs, tight and nervous.
Thankfully, she shakes her head. When she draws closer, his entire body tenses. She isn't paying attention to him now. Instead, she is studying her computer monitor. Tim doesn't think she'd know he accessed the file, hopes she doesn't know how to check. He didn't get a chance to clear his tracks.
"Thank you," she says sincerely.
Tim nods like a broken wind-up toy. "Any time."
She stares at him for a long moment. He hadn't even realized he was still in her chair. Laughing awkwardly, he scrambles out of her space. Tripping over his own feet to get back to his desk.
As soon as he collapses into his chair, his eyes land on the file housing the Top Secret document. He knows it's there, wonders how long it'll take before everyone else knows too. He can almost hear it pounding like The Telltale Heart.
He keeps his eyes fixed on it until Tony and Michelle head back to the bullpen. As they arrive back, Tony is throwing his hands out dramatically as he described proton torpedoes from Ghostbusters in excruciating detail. Michelle looks like she wants to die.
As soon as he enters the bullpen, Tony's expression turns serious. His eyes are flashing as he tries to work out what is going on. He glances from Tim's haggard face to Ziva working at her desk. He fixes Tim with a concerned look. Tim needs to talk to Tony, but he doesn't want to make Ziva suspicious. He tries to throw Tony a subtle hey, can we have a super-secret meeting in the elevator so I can tell you that Ziva is spying on the United States face.
Tony doesn't get it.
"Are you okay, McGee?" he asks.
Tim nods again, struggling to plaster a smile on his face. "Never better, Tony. Never better."
Oh no, he knows what's on my desk. I'm going to be fired.
Tim swallows hard.
I'm not going to be fired. I'm going to prison…
Tim's hands land on the folder as if he could keep the document from beating. It grates on his nerves, and he is struggling to keep his panic in check.
Tony's brow knits together. He studies Tim for a long time and it feels as though Tony is staring deep into his very soul. As much as Tony doesn't want to admit it, he is starting to become more and more like Gibbs with every passing day. Right now, Tim is about to crack harder than their last suspect.
Tony's expression softens. "Did you eat lunch yet?"
"I'm not hungry," Tim replies.
"Okay." Tony's voice calls him a liar. "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go."
And with that, Tim tries to focus on their most recent case. Something regarding financials and bank transfers for some dirtbag who did something with drugs. His focus keeps going in and out. Wire transfer. Trace the wire transfer.
He keeps a protective arm on the file.
When someone's presence looms by his desk, he forces as brave a face as he can muster. He thinks it's security, ready to escort him down to the holding cells for interrogation.
Instead, it's just Michelle with her hot pink lunchbox. She holds it out, a friendly gesture from an aspiring junior agent to her superior. Brownnosing at its finest, but with a good heart behind it.
"What do you want?" Tim snaps.
He doesn't mean to bite her head off, but he is nearly losing it. Even Tony looks over, poleaxed.
She blanches. "I thought you might…I thought you might be hungry, sir."
He pushes a bright smile, but it comes as a grimace. He is trying so hard to be a good senior agent—supportive and patient and kind. All those things Tony wasn't except when Tim had his darkest moments.
Right now, Tim is failing the test. Epically.
"Thanks," he says.
And with that, Michelle slips back to her desk. Her shoulders are slumped, and her expression is crestfallen. To try to make it up to her, Tim glances inside her lunchbox. Maybe if he eats something she gave him, it could be a peace offering. Inside, he finds a salad with no dressing, three whole carrots and a tomato. He chooses the lesser of the evils and eats a carrot.
It weighs heavy in his stomach for the rest of the day. Gnawing at him from the inside out.