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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ziva makes her choice.
Chapter thirteen

Ziva stood in front of the mirror, checking her outfit. She did not know the restaurant Jen had picked, but if she remembered correctly, Shepard preferred upscale places that offered a great deal of privacy. Dinner should be interesting. Tim might be right, maybe the Director did see her as a possible pawn. Thinking back at the lunch with McGee, she frowned. There was something she’d missed, something important. Shaking it off, she focused on the evening ahead.

“Well, two can play this game, Jenny.” Ziva said, as she did a twirl in front of the mirror. Yes, she would do. Red looked good against her dark hair and she felt comfortable in the two-piece suit. If tonight turned out as she suspected, it wouldn’t hurt to have that extra confidence. She picked up her purse and headed out the door, locking the door securely behind her. How Gibbs could leave his house open like that was beyond her comprehension. The man truly was an enigma.

They met at an Italian restaurant in Georgetown; Café Torino. The place was just as upscale as Ziva had expected. The walls were painted a pale yellow with framed prints scattered around the room. It had a warm atmosphere Ziva knew she would have enjoyed under different circumstances.

She was showed to their table where Shepard was already waiting, nursing a glass of red wine. The Director got up and the two women greeted each other with a kiss on each cheek.

“How are you, Jenny?” Ziva asked, eying her companion curiously.

“I’m fine,” she replied curtly. “Why do you ask?”

Ziva didn’t reply, just cocked an eyebrow as she gazed calmly at her boss.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Shepard said, reaching for her glass of wine. “It’s been a long day,” she offered as a way of apologizing.

“That’s fine, Jenny,” Ziva replied. “Why don’t we just order?”

A waiter appeared by their table, handing out menus. Browsing through, Ziva decided on a green salad with apples and endives, followed by pasta in a clam sauce. Shepard chose a mozzarella and tomato salad for her starter and grilled Alaskan salmon for her main course.

Conversation flowed easily for the first part of the meal. The food was delicious and they sat in a private corner of the restaurant. As they waited for their main course, Jenny seemed to be lost in thought, swirling the wine glass as she looked out the window. Putting her glass down, Ziva knew they had reached the metaphorical main course of the evening, the real purpose behind her invitation.

Shepard looked determined. Ziva waited, curious as to what came next.

“How was your lunch today with McGee?

“Spicy. Why do you ask?”

Shepard ignored the question, pushing on.

“Don’t play coy with me, Ziva. What did you talk about?”

“We talked about a concert at the Kennedy Center we’ve both been to this month.”

“And?”

“And? What is this about, Jenny? How did you even know I had lunch with McGee?”

“It’s my business to know everything that goes on at NCIS.”

“Including who I dine with. I see.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t talk about Jethro and the rest of the team?”

“Of course we talked about Gibbs. I asked how they were doing, and Tim said they will be fine.”

“They, as in DiNozzo and Gibbs.”

“Yes. Why do you ask, Jenny, why won’t you answer me?”

“There’s something going on that Ducky’s not telling me. It’s my responsibility to make sure that they’re fit to serve.”

“I don’t understand,” Ziva began. “Why wouldn’t they be fit to serve? His injury is healing, and Tony will be back in about a week. Besides, shouldn’t that be Gibbs’ responsibility, to run his team as he sees fit?” Ziva cocked her head and looked at Shepard, studying her intently.

“Tony’s a loose cannon. He’d be off the team years ago if Gibbs hadn’t developed this attachment to him.”

“Yes, he can be annoying at times, but he’s a skilled investigator, Jenny. He solves cases, he’s good at what he does. And he’s dedicated. Do you know how much time he spends at the office at night?”

“That only tells me he’s wasting time during the day, nothing else.”

“Really. To me it speaks of a man who’s not afraid to put in what it takes to get the job done,” Ziva argued. “And you know Gibbs doesn’t tolerate slackers. He comes down just as hard on Tony as the rest of us if his not satisfied with our efforts. He’s not playing favorites. That’s just not Gibbs’ style.”

Shepard huffed, before taking another sip of her wine.

“They are not being frank with me, she maintained. “I will get to the bottom of this, Ziva, and you will help me.”

“How so?”

“I need you to be my eyes and ears within the team. Report back to me anything that’s out of order.”

Ziva looked at her evenly, holding her gaze steadily. She took a deep breath and leaned forward, supporting her arms on the table.

“How would you describe what we do at NCIS? What’s our primary mission?”

“You want me to quote?” Shepard sounded incredulous. When Ziva didn’t back down, she relented. “Fine, our mission is to prevent terrorism, protect secrets and reduce crime.”

“What kind of crimes?”

“Homicide, fraud, espionage and computer intrusions, to name a few. Where are you going with this?”

“No, Jenny. Where are you going with this? You need to take a long hard look at what you’re doing. You’re seriously contemplating spying at your own Major Case Response Team, at a man who’s been named agent of the year several times, is highly decorated and is respected throughout the agency?”

“Are you refusing to cooperate, Officer David? That’s considered insubordination. I can have you sent back to Israel for this.”

“Yes, but you won’t,” Ziva replied calmly. “You’re not the only one with connections, Jenny. I’m not sure the powers that be will be happy to know that you’re letting a ridiculous personal vendetta against an ex-lover jeopardise a successful collaboration between our two countries.”

Shepard was stunned, paling visibly as she grasped for words. The waiter chose that moment to bring them their main course, silencing the Director momentarily.

“I think it would be best if we didn’t speak of this again, yes?” Ziva stated as she picked up her fork, ready to tuck into her pasta dish.

Shepard got up so fast her chair fell to the floor. Snatching her purse off the table, she threw a few bills on the table to cover the cost of the meal. She leaned close, whispering hotly into Ziva’s ear.

“I think it’s time, Ms David, you decide where your loyalties lie. This is not over.” With that, she walked out, not paying any attention to an elderly gentleman on the other side of the bar, enjoying what looked to be a very expensive Scotch. He got up and joined Ziva at her table.

“I am very grateful you stood up to her, Ziva. I’m sure Gibbs and the rest of the team will be, too.”

“Thanks, Ducky, I just don’t understand what’s gotten into her. It is like she’s possessed.”

The waiter appeared again, asking whether Ducky was joining Ziva for dinner.

The doctor eyed the plate of food in front of him. The fish looked very tempting.

“You know, I’ve always been fond of salmon,” he said, “would you be so kind and bring me a glass of red wine. Thank you.”

“As a child, I used to visit my uncle Alistair in Scotland. Now, there’s a very interesting story involving him and a milk maiden, but that’s for another time.

Ziva didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Ducky continued. “But that’s not why I thought of him now. We used to go fishing for salmon every year, and then cook it over an open fire, right there by the river.”

Letting Ducky’s voice wash over her, Ziva contemplated what to do next. After a few moments, she decided not to worry about it now, tuning back to the lengthy story and enjoying her meal.

******

Tony put down the phone, having sent out a few text messages requesting a quiet night with Gibbs. He wanted an evening alone with him, to reconnect after all that had happened. The house had been filled with people since they got home from the hospital, and that had been great, but now he needed the piece and quiet solitude offered.

He got a cold beer out of the fridge, poured a glass of juice and went to join Gibbs in the living room. As he passed through the hall, the doorbell rang. He looked at the silhouette through the window and cursed silently. Ziva. He’d forgotten to text her. Not that it really mattered. She would have been walking up the driveway as he sent it anyway. Putting down the drinks, he opened the door.

Ziva was looking very beautiful in a red suit and high heels, her hair loosely pulled back from her face.

“Hello, Zii-vah,” he smiled, “what brings you to my door. Or Gibbs’ door, that is.”

“I’m not staying, Tony,” she began. “I just wanted to ask how Gibbs is doing.”

“Come on in, you can ask him yourself.” Tony opened the door widely and stepped aside to let her in. Hesitating only slightly she followed Tony through to the living room.

Gibbs was sitting on a loveseat, working on a piece of wood. He looked happy, Tony thought, feeling very glad to see him like this.

Ziva gave Gibbs a kiss on the cheek, asking him how he was doing.

“I’m getting there,” Gibbs smiled,” thanks for asking, Ziva.”

“I’m glad,” she replied. “Listen, I just had dinner with Jenny and she’s acting very strange.”
Tony and Gibbs exchanged a look before she continued. “She wanted me to, well, spy on you, to be her eyes and ears within the team. Naturally, I declined. I wouldn’t do that to you, either of you.”

“Thank you,” Tony said quietly, “that means a lot to us.” He went to look out the French doors. “She’s clearly got it in for me. Let’s just hope I pass this psych test she wants me to take.”

“She wants you to take a psych test?” Ziva sounded incredulous.

“Yeah, apparently I have this big daddy complex when it comes to Gibbs.”

“I see,” she replied. “Well, I just wanted to let you know, give you a heads up. I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Gibbs…Tony.”

“Thank you, Ziva. Come by another night, for dinner. Maybe Abby’ll cook for us again,” Gibbs offered.

“I’ll cook,” Ziva proposed. “Let me know what you’d like and I’ll do the shopping.”

“Sweet, it’s a deal!” Tony got up and walked her to the door. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, “Thanks, Ziva, for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled and walked to her car. Waving goodbye, she got in and drove off.

Locking the door behind him, Tony fetched the drinks off the hall table and returned to the living room.

“You think Shepard’s done with us now?” he asked, handing Gibbs his glass.

“No, Tony, not by a long shot. We’ll just have to deal with it as it comes. C’mere.” He reached out for the younger man, pulling him close. Tony sat down and rested his head on Gibbs’ shoulder, entwining their fingers. Taking a swig of his beer he turned to look up at the man he loved.

“We won’t let her separate us, Jethro, we’ll just have to be careful for a while, that’s all.”

“No sex in the conference room, is that what you’re saying?”

“Maybe just the once,” Tony grinned, pulling Gibbs in for a kiss. Gibbs’ mouth opened, inviting him in. The kiss was hot and wet and tasted faintly of orange juice and…Gibbs. Tony slid a hand into his hair, holding him close, not wanting to let go, not wanting to breathe ever again. Gibbs’ hand ran over his body, touching, exploring, and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Panting, Gibbs pulled back, resting his forehead against Tony’s.

“I’m not able to do anything yet. It’s too soon, Tony.”

“I can wait, Jethro,” Tony whispered as he kissed his way down Gibbs’ neck. Pulling back reluctantly, he looked into those icy blue eyes. “I love you, Jethro, being with you is something I’ve longed for so long. Waiting a few more days means nothing.”

Gibbs stole another kiss, before leaning back into the couch. “Will you read for me, Tony?”

Tony picked up his book from the coffee table and opened it where they’d left off earlier.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks to Oygunn for the beta :)
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