“You know, constitutionally, you don’t have to take a polygraph,” said Agent Lee as she sipped her drink.
“I’d have to give up my badge,” said Tim, pointing out the obvious flaw of that method for avoiding his test.
“Yeah,” said Michelle. “But you wouldn’t have to take the test.”
Tim just rolled his eyes.
“Relax, Probie,” said Tony, grasping Tim’s shoulder firmly. “It’s not like you’ve done anything to piss-off Homeland Security. They’re probably only testing you to hide their real target.”
“Yeah right. So who’s the real target?” asked McGee, obviously not appreciating Tony’s input.
“Perhaps it’s a spy.” Ducky’s voice cut through the racket of the bar as he and Palmer showed up. Jimmy immediately stood behind Agent Lee while Tony moved to give Ducky his chair. Ducky gestured that he was fine, and turned to Ziva.
Ziva looked surprised. “What are you looking at me for?” she said indignantly. “I’ve only been accused of spying against your country once and I was exonerated.”
“Relax, Zee-vah,” said Tony lightly.
“Yes, I was only joking,” said Ducky, patting the young woman on the shoulder.
Ziva smiled. “Of course, Ducky,” she said, putting down her drink. “I think I may have had one too many tequilas.”
“Are you sure?” asked Tony as Ziva ordered a coke. “Because I was this close,” he held up two fingers a millimeter apart, “to finding out where those friction burns came from last year.”
Ziva snorted. “Please, Tony,” she said. “It would take a lot more than tequila for you to crowbar that information out of me.”
“You mean pry, Zee-vah,” said Tony, happy to be back at their old games. He had missed goofing off with Ziva during the tension that had risen between them throughout his undercover op. He was about to say more when his phone went off. He answered, noticing both McGee and Abby reaching for their phones as Palmer and Agent Lee both headed to the bathroom. “Di…Hi, Honey.” Tony stopped himself just shy of answering, “DiNozzo,” when he realized which phone he was holding. Shaking off the close call, Tony ignored Ziva’s death-glare as he spoke into the phone.
“Tony,” said Jeanne’s voice over the phone. She sounded tired and a bit choked up.
“Jeanne, what’s wrong?” Tony asked with worry. He could hear Jeanne sigh on the other end.
“I lost a patient tonight, Tony,” she said tiredly. “I don’t know what happened. One moment he was okay, and the next he was flat-lining. All he had was a broken leg!”
Tony sighed. Jeanne reminded him of how he had been when he started out as a cop. Every time he lost a witness, or couldn’t catch a killer before they struck again, he had blamed himself. “Jeanne,” he said as soothingly as he could, moving away from Ziva to a more secluded area, letting her and Ducky talk. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know,” said Jeanne wearily. “I just hate to lose patients.”
Tony nodded in understanding. “Did you contact his family?”
“No,” said Jeanne. “His sister was already here with some guy. She was definitely a junkie who needed a fix. I would have gotten her medical attention, but the guy she was with was making a scene. Security had to escort them out of the building.”
“Hmmm,” said Tony. “Sounds like you could use some cheering up, Jeanne.”
Jeanne smiled. “I’d like that,” she said. “Why don’t you come over?”
Tony looked over at his co-workers guiltily. He had promised to be there, and he didn’t think his relationship with his partner would be able to withstand him ditching her again. “I’d love to, Jeanne…” he said, regret in his voice.
“But?” prompted the young doctor on the other end.
“But,” said Tony with a sigh. “I promised my co-workers I’d go to the bar with them tonight. I’ve already canceled on them three times.”
Jeanne smiled. “Okay,” she said benevolently. “I’ll see you after work. What bar are you guys at?”
“The Weighed Anchor,” replied Tony without thinking.
“Where’s that?” asked Jeanne. “Is that a new one by the University?”
“Um, no,” said Tony. “It’s by the Navy Yard. One of my colleagues is married to a sailor.”
“Oh,” said Jeanne, surprised. “So you all go out to the Navy Yard to hang out?”
“Yeah,” said Tony, wishing he hadn’t gotten into this conversation under the influence. “He’s a great guy and we don’t get to see him that often.”
“Okay,” said Jeanne. “I guess I’ll see you later. You’ll probably just distract me from my job anyway.”
“Okay. Love you Jeanne.”
“I love you too, Tony.”
Hanging up regretfully, Tony went back to his friends at the bar. “Sorry about that,” he said as he took a seat next to Ziva.
“Who was that, Tony?” asked Ducky curiously.
Tony shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of his colleagues. He was about to give a snarky answer like he had been giving Ziva, but realized that Ducky wouldn’t take that kind of attitude. He sighed in resignation. “It was my girlfriend,” he said reluctantly, not offering any more information than that.
“More problems?” asked Ziva. The touch of malice in her voice was hard to disguise.
“Actually, Zee-vah, things are going great right now,” said Tony defensively. “But thanks for asking.”
Ziva merely scoffed before going back to her soda, seemingly ignoring him.
“Well,” said Ducky looking from one agent to the other. “I hope you’re still available to us.”
“No problem, Ducky,” said Tony with a smile. “I talked her out of a curfew tonight.” Looking around, Tony noticed that it was still just the three of them. “So, what happened to McGee, Abby, Lee, and Palmer?”
“Both McGee and Abby were called into work. Mr. Palmer and Michelle haven’t returned from the restroom,” said Ducky.
Ziva suddenly barked out a laugh. “Yes, I think Jimmy and Michelle are probably enjoying themselves. I wouldn’t expect them back anytime soon.”
Tony chuckled at Ducky’s confused look. And so the tension eased again and the conversation turned towards work and the gossip related to it. The evening wore on and kept going after everyone had switched to nonalcoholic beverages.
Several hours later, a voice interrupted their conversation. “Tony?”
Tony’s eyes widened as he turned around and came eye to eye with Jeanne. “Jeanne?” he asked, pure shock in her voice. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work until morning?”
Jeanne smiled brightly, ignoring the other people staring at her from the bar. “It was a slow night, so they let me go, and I had someone I wanted you to meet.” Grabbing Tony’s arm, Jeanne started pulling him towards the door. Tony was barely able to unclip his badge and gun and toss them into Ducky’s lap without Jeanne noticing.
After staring at each other in shock, Ziva and Ducky got up to follow the couple out of the bar. Whatever was going on, they weren’t going to miss the opportunity to observe the relationship that had created so much drama at NCIS that year.
Unaware of his colleagues’ pursuit, Tony reluctantly followed Jeanne up to a limousine. He was surprised when, as Jeanne was about to open the door, it opened to reveal an older gentleman: La Grenouille.
“Tony,” said Jeanne with a huge smile. “This is my father, René Benoit.”
Tony had no time to respond before the arms dealer embraced him. “Professor DiNardo!” he said happily. “Welcome to the family.”
From the doorway of the bar, Ziva and Ducky simply stared. Ducky turned to Ziva with pure shock on his face. “Ziva,” he whispered, eyes wide. “That’s La Grenouille!” Before Ziva could stop him, Ducky approached the vehicle, trying to get a closer look.
du
Suddenly, a resounding crunch sounded out in the parking lot as Ducky stepped on an empty beer can. The Frenchman’s eyes locked on him. “Harrow?” the Frenchman looked confused at the appearance of the man who sold him ARES.
Tony’s fake smile disintegrated at the site of his coworkers standing just outside of the bar. In that moment, he knew that all the lying and secrecy had come to an end.
“Tony?” for the moment, the young senior agent ignored Jeanne as he tried to figure out what to do.
A sudden flurry of activity erupted as a man snuck up to Ziva from a car that had been tailing the limousine and grabbed her arm. Reacting to the threat, Ziva elbowed her assailant in the stomach and pulled out her SIG. “Don’t move!” she commanded as she trained her gun on La Grenouille’s stooge.
A gunshot exploded in the ears of all present.
Ducky’s leg collapsed as a bullet ripped into his leg and buried itself in his thigh.
“The next one goes in his ear!”
Tony and Ziva looked on in shock as Trent Kort walked casually up to the group, ignoring the crowd gathering outside the bar. His gun was trained on Ducky who was squeezing his upper thigh and grimacing in pain.
Sparing a glance at the crowd, the CIA operative addressed the gathering as he flashed his badge to the crowd. “This is government business,” he said sternly. “Anyone remaining after thirty seconds will be charged under federal investigation statutes.” The crowd needed no further prompting to disperse, many casting concerned looks towards the older gentleman on the ground. Most of them doubted that this was legal, but they certainly didn’t want to get involved in it.
Knowing she’d been beaten, Ziva laid her weapon on the ground. The man lying nearby jumped up, grabbing Ziva’s gun and shoving it into her back. He wrapped his sizable arm around her neck to restrain her.
René smiled at his associate. “It’s about time. Call an ambulance for the good Englishman.” he said, ignoring the horrified look on his daughter’s face. The arms dealer gestured to Tony and Ziva. “Take them. I have grown tired of playing this game with Miss Shepard.”
Without warning, the man restraining Ziva smashed her own gun into the back of her neck, sending her reeling. Once she was down, the beefy thug ran his hands along her body, searching for weapons.
Jeanne squeaked in shock as she saw the other woman go down. She stared at her father in disbelief while Tony glared with utter hatred at the man feeling up his partner. That guy was way more thorough than he had to be.
With a grunt of triumph, the minion held up Ziva’s knife and stuck it in his own belt. A moment later, he had also acquired the back up that had been strapped to the Mossad assassin’s ankle. After one last bit of digging, Ziva’s cell phone was thrown into the parking lot. Now semi-conscious as well as completely unarmed, Ziva was unable to resist as she was dragged into the limo.
“I suggest you two follow her,” said René coldly, turning to Jeanne and Tony. Addressing his daughter for the fist time since they got to the bar, the elder Benoit took on a softer tone. “All will be explained, my dear,” he said gently. “I’m sorry you had to become involved in this.”
Unable to speak, Jeanne just nodded mutely and got into the large car. She tried to sit as far away from the injured woman as she could.
After his daughter was safely in the vehicle, La Grenouille faced Tony. “After you, Special Agent DiNozzo.”
Tony was unable to hide his surprise. He thought it was Ducky who blew his cover, but it was apparently already blown.
“Yes,” said the arms dealer. “I know who you are. And for the health of your partner, I recommend that you get in the car.”
Tony glared at the man he had dedicated the last year to bringing down, but got in the limo all the same. La Grenouille followed with Trent Kort who closed the door behind him. The goon went back to his own car to follow them.
Tony couldn’t help but think that the scene inside the limo would be great for McGee’s next book. A CIA operative, Mossad liaison officer, an internationally known arms dealer, a federal agent, and a young doctor all riding in a very nice limousine was certainly up Probie’s particular alley.
While Tony was thinking, Jeanne managed to come out of her trance somewhat. She looked around from the woman who was slumped against Jeanne’s boyfriend, to the accented man with the gun, to her father who seemed very calm throughout the mayhem of the last few minutes. It was obvious that they all knew something she didn’t. “Will someone tell me what the hell’s going on?”
Tony wouldn’t meet her eyes. The two strangers remained silent; one too disoriented to respond, and the other obviously unconcerned with her. Her father, however, gave her the same smile he had given her when she was little and asked him questions like why the sky was blue. “I’m afraid you will have to wait to hear the entire story,” said her father. “But the simple explanation is that you were being used,” he gestured to Tony and Ziva, “by these people.”
Jeanne’s eyes widened as she turned to stare at her lover who was avoiding her. “Tony?” she asked her voice trembling.
“Jeanne…” Tony started only to be cut off by La Grenouille.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, Agent DiNozzo,” La Grenouille’s voice was still calm, but still held a deadly undertone.
“DiNozzo?” asked Jeanne, anger now added to the boiling pot of emotions tainting Jeanne’s quavering voice.
Tony wanted to say more, but was prevented from doing so by Ziva grabbing his leg. He looked down to see her shaking her head.
“Now’s not the time, Tony,” murmured Ziva quietly. Her eyes had cleared up a bit and she seemed to be regaining her bearings.
“You should listen to your partner, Agent DiNozzo,” said Trent Kort, speaking up for the first time since they’d all piled into the car. “I’m sure Officer David has had more experience in this area than you.”
Tony glared at the CIA operative. The man’s familiarity with his colleagues didn’t surprise Tony. He imagined that CIA had supplied dossiers on the top NCIS agents in case NCIS interfered with anymore of Kort’s assignments working undercover with The Frog.
“Ah,” said Mr. Benoit, smiling. “So this is Deputy Director David’s daughter. The Iranians would certainly pay handsomely to get their hands on you, my dear.”
Ziva’s head lolled over to meet La Grenouille’s gaze. “Is that supposed to be a threat, Master Frog?” asked Ziva, glaring at the Frenchman.
La Grenouille just chuckled as he looked out the window. “Well,” he said happily as the car pulled to a stop. “It seems we have reached our destination.”
Surprised, Tony also looked out the window. “The Barclay?” asked Tony as he recognized the hotel from their undercover mission.
“Great,” said Ziva as she, too, saw the five star hotel. “Our race record here sucks.”
“Track record,” corrected Tony, shooting his partner a smile. The familiarity of the conversation helped to settle his nerves a little.
Before the conversation could continue, the guy who hit Ziva and followed them in his car opened the door. Reaching in the vehicle, the minion grabbed Ziva and pulled her out of the car. Once again, her own weapon was jammed into her back.
Ziva rolled her eyes. She was getting tired of being the damsel in distress. Silently she vowed that, the next time this guy touched her, at least one of his bones would be shattered.
Inside the car, La Grenouille smiled at Tony. “Agent DiNozzo,” he said, raising an eyebrow and gesturing to the door. “If you’d step out of the car, we can get this night over with.”
---
Jennifer Shepard stared out the window of her office, taking in the lights of the harbor at night. She regretted dragging Abby away from the rest of the team and making her work on her night off, but she had to know if it was true. Was her father alive?
As if that possibility wasn’t stressing her out enough, she also had to deal with the CIA. She didn’t appreciate their interference with her investigation, nor that they felt the need to harass her people because of whatever vendetta they had against her.
The buzzing of her cell phone’s vibrator interrupted her thoughts. Looking at the screen, Jen sighed. “What is it, DiNozzo?”
“Well, it seems the mission was a success, Director,” said Tony, not wasting time on a greeting.
Jen’s eyes widened. “You mean…you’ve made contact with La Grenouille?” she asked with excitement.
“Indeed he did, Jennifer.”
Jenny froze, her eyes widening at the new voice. “Who is this?” she asked nervously, sitting at her desk.
“I’m insulted,” said the thickly accented man. “All that time you spent hunting me and you still can’t recognize my voice?”
Jen’s eyes narrowed into slits. “La Grenouille,” she growled, clenching her tightly as her knuckles turned bone white.
“Ahh,” came the sigh of satisfaction. “So you do know who I am.”
“What do you want?” asked Jen sharply, already running through the consequences of Tony’s cover being blown.
“Right to the point, aren’t you?” asked the arms dealer, chuckling. “Very well, we’ll get down to business. I have in my custody two of your agents…”
“Two?” asked Jen, interrupting her nemesis.
“Yes,” said La Grenouille impatiently. “Two. Agent DiNozzo and Officer David are currently enjoying my hospitality.”
Ziva? What the hell was Ziva doing there? The situation had suddenly grown far more complicated.
When La Grenouille began speaking again, Jenny was forced to focus on the conversation at hand. “Now, as you may have figured out, I am not a fan of physical or direct violence,” said Benoit, taking on a very businesslike tone. “I have no desire to harm your agents more than necessary.”
“And what injury is necessary?” asked Jen, worrying for her agents.
“I’m afraid Officer David had to be subdued, while we were apprehending her, but she is already looking much better. Unfortunately, your medical examiner had to be taken care of more harshly.”
Jen’s eyes widened more. “What did you do to Ducky?”
“Relax, Miss Shepard. Dr. Mallard was shot in the leg, but has undoubtedly found his way to a hospital by now,” said La Grenouille in his most reassuring tone. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard from him yet.”
Just as he finished speaking, Cynthia walked in. “Director?” she asked.
Jenny turned to face her. “What is it, Cynthia?” she asked curtly.
“We just got a call from a civilian hospital off the Navy Yard,” she said urgently. “They say they have Dr. Mallard there for a gunshot wound. They say it’s minor, but they sedated him for the pain. Should I tell Agent Gibbs?”
“Get him in here,” said the Director. “I’ll tell him myself.”
“Right away, Ma’am,” said the assistant, nervous at the tone of her boss.
Once she left, Jenny went back to her conversation with the internationally known arms dealer. “That was my assistant,” she said shortly. “Dr. Mallard is fine.”
“You see?” said La Grenouille smugly. “I am a man of my word which is more than I can say of your agency.”
“How’s that?” asked Jen shortly.
La Grenouille’s tone took on a dangerous edge. “You and your agent DiNozzo manipulated my daughter to try and get close to me,” he said angrily. “She has done nothing to deserve getting involved in this mess, and I have worked very hard to keep that from happening. Now, thanks to you, I have to try and explain to her why a man was shot by one of my employees right in front of her tonight.”
Jenny scoffed. “Right, because that wasn’t the fault of you being an arms dealer.”
“I may be an arms dealer,” said La Grenouille darkly. “But doing whatever it takes to get what you want is supposed to be a part of my profession, not yours.”
“Oh trust me, René, if I were at that point, you would have been dead months ago with one of Ziva’s bullets in your brain.”
“Yes,” said Benoit. “Your medical examiner was quite the actor. I’m surprised you didn’t take the shot.”
Uncomfortable discussing her failure, Jenny changed the subject. “What is it that you want?” she asked curtly.
“I want protection from some enemies I seem to have acquired working with your CIA,” said La Grenouille in a professional manner. “And,” he said, humor in his voice. “A bottle of scotch.”
Jenny didn’t notice Gibbs come in. Her whole attention was focused on La Grenouille’s last words. “You bastard,” she said darkly into the phone.
La Grenouille just laughed. “I will call back later with details. I’ll call you at your office. It seems only fair that the government picks up the tab. Say high to Special Agent Gibbs for me, will you?” With that, La Grenouille ended the call.
“Damn him!” yelled Jen. Unable to control her rage, she threw her cell phone at the door. The phone smashed into the paneling right next to Gibbs’s head, surprising Jenny more than Jethro. “Jethro!” she cried in shock, holding a hand to her chest. “I thought I told you to stop just coming into my office!”
Gibbs looked down at the remnants of the phone calmly before turning his eyes back on the director. Taking a sip of coffee, Gibbs narrowed his eyes at his former partner. “Just responding to your orders, Director,” he said matter-of-factly. “Who was that on the phone?”
“Jealous?” asked Jen sharply. “Afraid someone else is the bastard in my life?”
Jethro raised his eyebrows slightly. Turning around, he was halfway out the door before Jen stopped him.
“Jethro, wait,” said Jenny, letting out a sigh. “I need you.”
Jethro turned and silently went to stand in front of her. “Talk,” he said simply. He already had a good idea what this was going to be about. He figured it was only a matter of time until Jen dug herself in too deep with this whole frog business.
Jen sighed. She really didn’t want to have this conversation. “We have a problem,” she said reluctantly.
“What kind of problem?” asked Gibbs, pressuring her to continue.
“The kind that involves two of our best agents being abducted by an arms dealer and our medical examiner being admitted to the hospital with a gunshot wound,” she said in a rush. She then waited for the explosion. She was not disappointed.
“WHAT?” yelled Gibbs. He placed his coffee cup on the director’s desk and stalked up to her. Putting his face right in front of Jen’s, he asked, “What happened?” His voice was deadly.
“I don’t know,” said Jenny honestly. “La Grenouille just called and said he had Tony and Ziva in his custody.”
“Wait,” said Gibbs, now angry and confused. “Why was Ziva involved? Out of she, Ducky and Tony, she is the only one who’s never done undercover work with La Grenouille. Were you going for the complete set? Were you going to get McGee involved as well?”
Jen sighed once more in frustration. “I don’t know,” she said. “Whatever happened occurred when they were off duty.” At Gibbs’s incredulous look, she said, “I swear.”
“So what you’re telling me, is that my people are now in trouble because of your grudge and in a situation you have no control over?” said Gibbs harshly, zeroing a glare on his boss.
There were a couple things Jen could have said then. She could have pulled rank and told Gibbs it was none of his damn business. She could have made a speech about priorities and the risks in their line of work. But saying either would not change the facts. “Yes,” she said solemnly, lowering her eyes.
Jethro looked surprised at her admission, but it did nothing to stem his anger. “Who do you think you are?” he asked angrily.
Jen regained enough composure to respond sharply. “Last time I checked, I was the Director of NCIS, Agent Gibbs.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to abuse my agents and put them in unnecessary danger to fulfill your personal vendetta!” yelled Gibbs, his restraint gone.
Jen opened her own mouth, ready to scream back, but closed it. Taking a deep calming breath, Jenny spoke softly. “I’m sorry, Jethro,” she said quietly.
Gibbs sighed tiredly, his anger flowing out of him at the words. “Look,” he said gruffly. “We’re wasting time fighting. What hospital is Ducky in?”
“Cynthia has the address.” Jenny was pleased to be changing topics.
“I’ll take McGee and see what Ducky can tell us. I should probably take Abby too so he has some company,” said Gibbs, turning to leave.
“Gibbs!” called Jenny, stopping him from leaving. “Keep your phone on. La Grenouille said he was going to call back with the details.”
Without a word, Gibbs turned and left. Jen could hear him shout at McGee from her office. Putting a hand to her forehead, Jenny opened her liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of bourbon and a glass. Pouring, Jen went back to glaring out her window. “How did this go to hell so fast?” she asked herself as she took a long swig.
---
After La Grenouille ended his conversation with the director, he had called a meeting with his people in the sitting room of the suite. “I’ll leave you three in here to talk,” he had said smugly as he left the bedroom, leaving Tony, Ziva, and Jeanne alone. Tony and Ziva were bound to chairs with duct tape while Jeanne sat unrestrained. The only thing keeping her from leaving was the now overwhelming desire to learn what in the hell was going on.
“Agent DiNozzo?” asked Jeanne the moment the door closed, narrowing a glare at her boyfriend.
“Professor DiNardo?” asked Ziva at the same time, not looking angry so much as surprised.
Tony sighed. As if being kidnapped by an arms dealer wasn’t bad enough, he was now stuck in a room with two women who he had been lying to for the past year. “I’m dead,” he muttered to himself.
“What was that, Tony?” asked Ziva, surprising Tony with the laughter in her voice.
“Nothing, Zee-Vah,” said Tony lightly. Her tone made him hopeful that she wasn’t planning on killing him when they got out of this mess.
Jeanne just stared at the both of them. “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on here?” she asked angrily.
“Don’t ask me,” said Ziva simply. “This wasn’t my op that blew up.”
“Op?” asked Jeanne, turning to Tony. “What is she talking about, Tony?”
Tony sighed. There would be no more stalling. “Jeanne,” he said reluctantly. “Your father is an arms dealer who does business with some of the worst terrorist organizations and corrupt governments in the world. I am a special agent for a government agency called NCIS that has been investigating him.”
Everything was silent for a moment.
Finally, Jeanne spoke up. “So, you were using me? I was just some sort of government tool?” she asked, the hurt coming off of her in waves. “I was just some sort of bait you could use to get close to my father?”
Tony’s silence was enough of an answer for her.
“I can’t believe this,” she said, sitting on the bed heavily and placing a hand to her forehead. “I think I’m getting a migraine.”
“Welcome to the club,” said Ziva curtly, wincing at the pain that sliced from her neck to the top of her head continuously.
Jeanne started. She had forgotten the other woman’s presence. “Were you in on this?” she asked harshly, eyeing the strange woman suspiciously.
“Trust me,” said Ziva curtly. “If I were a part of this, I would not be tied to a chair trying not to vomit right now.”
Tony rolled his eyes. Typical Ziva. She never did miss the opportunity to brag about her training.
Jeanne was suddenly struck by the pallor of the other woman’s skin. The doctor in her took over. She stood up from the bed and walked over to where the woman was bound.
Ziva tensed. She didn’t trust the daughter of the man who had obviously caused Jenny so much pain. “What?” she asked aggressively.
Jeanne sighed and rolled her eyes. “Look,” she said bluntly. “I’m a doctor. You’re hurt. We were meant for each other.”
To Tony’s utter surprise, Ziva didn’t retaliate. She started laughing. “Alright,” she said through her laughter. “Though I assure you, I’m fine.”
Like the trained doctor she was, Jeanne ignored the patient’s own view of her wellness and went to the task of checking for a concussion.
Ziva was actually a pretty good patient. She allowed herself to be poked and prodded and did the whole, “follow my finger” thing without complaint.
“I guess you were right,” said Jeanne as she leaned back with her examination completed. “You are, in fact, fine.”
Ziva smiled wryly at the young doctor. “In my line of work, you quickly learn how to judge the severity of your injuries. You need to know when it’s appropriate to continue the mission and when retreat is the only option.”
“Really?” said Jeanne. “And what line of work is that?”
“She’s a spy, Jeanne,” said Tony simply, obviously feeling the need to ad input.
“A spy?” asked Jeanne incredulously. “You’re kidding.”
Ziva glared at Tony. She didn’t like parts of her identity being divulged to civilians without her permission. “He’s right,” she said as she sent a death glare Tony’s way. “I am a spy. I work for Mossad.”
“Mossad?” asked Jeanne with surprise. “You mean like in Munich?”
“No,” said Ziva testily. “That operation was hardly our finest hour. My current division would never be so careless.”
“Sorry,” said Jeanne, a little surprised at the other woman’s reaction. “I didn’t realize…”
“It’s alright, Jeanne,” said Tony. “You should have seen her when I made her watch the DVD. That’s a mistake I’ll never make again.”
“Don’t worry Tony. You have other mistakes to fall back on,” said Ziva mockingly. “Like this one, for starters.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who intruded on another agent’s undercover op,” said Tony, trying to save face.
“No,” said Ziva sarcastically. “You’re the one who crossed his cover and his agency. Tony DiNardo and Tony DiNozzo should never have been in the same place at the same time.” Ziva paused in her rant before cracking a small smile. “And I thought Mrs. Doubtfire was one of your favorite movies.”
“Oh, you mean how Robin Williams kept having to improvise excuses for why Mrs. Doubtfire and who he actually was were always together, but never seen together?” asked Jeanne, her eyes lighting up.
“Yeah,” confirmed Ziva. “You’ve seen it?”
Jeanne smiled nostalgically. “It was one of my favorite movies as a kid.” She paused before continuing. “Tony and I watched it on our second date.”
Ziva nodded sympathetically. “I’m not surprised,” she said dryly. “Dating Tony must be like dating a movie critic.”
“Or a film professor,” said Jeanne bitterly, glaring at Tony.
Tony gulped painfully as an uncomfortable silence fell on the group.
---
Author's Chapter Notes:
What if Tony had joined the team at the bar during "Angel of Death"? Story features Ziva and Tony. In 2 parts.