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Ziva sighed softly, sipping her coffee, dark eyes looking around her apartment. In spite of all her things being present, it wasn't really home. It was just...a place, storage and little else. It was depressing if she let herself think about how little of her personality and preferences were actually reflected in her furnishings. There was no emotional connection. Everything was tastefully neutral and bland. It spoke of quality but little else.

Everything except for the piano. The finish gleamed dully in the low light, its unusual red lacquer made it stand out as a focal point in the otherwise uninteresting living room.

She sat down on the piano bench and lovingly stroked the ivory keys. Ziva, when she found time to play, played with more determination than skill. Her ability was more the product of hours of practice than passion or talent. The real musician in the family had been her brother, Ari. He'd loved this piano.

Keeping it was sentimental foolishness, but Ziva couldn't bear to give it away. Having Jimmy tune it for her was more sentimental nonsense but she couldn't ignore the instrument any more than she could dispose of it. It was the only thing of Ari's she been able to hang on to.

She fingered an easy melody with one hand, holding her mug in the other. Somehow she hadn't been at all surprised to learn Tony knew how to play. Or that he thought he played well. Of course, she'd have to hear him for herself to know if he'd just been bragging, but somehow she felt certain he was honest about his ability. She was equally certain he would never play for her.

Ziva shook her head. There was a great deal about Tony she really didn't understand. He seemed like such a child, and yet he was dedicated and capable when it came to the job. He wasted hours entertaining himself, but always managed to have what Gibbs asked for.

When they were undercover, pretending to be married, she knew he was never really interested in her sexually. It came as something of a blow to her ego to realize being pressed up against him, nearly naked, he was genuinely not attracted to her. There was no mistaking that. Oh, he'd flirt and tease and give her the once over, but she was clearly not his type. How was that possible? He seemed attracted to every other woman on the planet, acting like a horny teenager.

He knew women; that was certain. Tony couldn't do algebra or math in his head, but he could figure out a woman's height and weight just by looking at her legs. And he made no bones about his appreciation for their... assets.

It wasn't that she wanted him to be attracted to her. He was not her type. But if he was infatuated with her, even just a little, it would give her another leg up on him, a way to control and manipulate with greater ease.

She'd spent too much time involved in espionage to not want to have something on everyone. It was a survival mechanism ingrained for so long it was nearly instinctive.

McGee, he was like a puppy, eager to please and equally easy to cow. He really was afraid of her; knowing she was capable of torturing another human being had certainly cemented the idea in his head that she was dangerous. Jimmy was much the same way, although he was more in awe than fear. Ducky saw her as a lady, and treated her as such. A fatal weakness if it came down to it. He was a chauvinist, but gentlemanly about it. Gibbs, she knew, saw her as a capable agent, but she didn't think he really trusted her. He knew about Ari being her brother and her relationship with her father; she knew about Gibbs wife and daughter, it was a fair trade off.

Her efforts to befriend Abby had so far gone no where. Abby didn't like her and she really didn't know why. The lack of insight was more troubling than the animosity. Abby had hugged her when they'd gotten back from being trapped in the shipping container. Said she was glad Ziva wasn't dead, but that wasn't quite the same as being happy she was alive. Ziva was savvy enough to know the difference.

Tony should have been as easy as McGee. A few insults to his manhood... things like asking McGee to show her around town, questioning Tony's taste in women, making derogatory comments about his car. The sperm bank incident couldn't have given her greater ammunition.

And yet, no matter what she said or did, he never seemed to let it get to him. At least not for long. He was...irrepressible. Tony was forever rising to the bait and making a few hits of his own which surprised her. She never really expected that. It was frustrating and oddly endearing, forcing her to work harder than she thought she'd have to.

She sighed heavily. Getting in digs was less and less satisfying. She didn't want to think of her coworkers as potential enemies. She didn't want to feel the need to know their secrets to ensure compliance and assistance.

She wondered when getting to know her coworkers become more than just ferreting out weaknesses. Ziva wanted to trust them, and she wanted them to trust her. She wanted them to really like her and see her as a member of the team, not just a replacement for Special Agent Todd.

Inviting McGee and Palmer to dinner was more than just a ?thank you' for their help. Although, that had been a big part of it. She loved to cook and wanted to make the first step toward being more than just another coworker, working toward common ground and genuine friendship. It was stupid, but she wanted them to care enough about her to actually fight to leave her desk vacant the way they had for Kate. In Mossad, she'd be replaced the very next day. Her family would sit Shiva, not her coworkers. At the office, it would be business as usual, as though she'd never existed at all.

Palmer asking Abby was a bonus, she'd thought. It was a chance for her to improve her interactions with the other woman, establish a rapport that didn't feel quite so much like a pact of non-aggression. It wasn't a big deal to her that Palmer had lied to get Abby to come. She was fairly certain Abby wouldn't have come any other way, so Ziva had excused the little white lie.

Opting to make Palmer's untruth less of a lie, Ziva had even gone so far as to invite Director Sheppard. They'd been friends...in a manner of speaking. It seemed like the right thing to do to at least invite the other woman. And it never hurt to curry favor, even though she knew the rest of the team didn't hold Sheppard in the same regard as she did.

The last thing Ziva expected was for Sheppard to extend the invitation to Gibbs. Or for the man to show up. He didn't do things with his staff during their off hours, or so she'd been told. She was almost relieved that he didn't stay long. He'd made McGee and Palmer both so nervous Ziva was afraid they wouldn't be able to eat.

She fully understood Gibbs annoyance with Sheppard. She'd invited him or more likely ordered him to attend. Ziva cursed silently. More favors like that from Sheppard and Gibbs would be sending her on a slow boat back to the Middle East and her father. At least Sheppard could have had the decency to let her know she wouldn't be attending.

Ziva hadn't invited Tony because she'd initially only intended for it to be her, McGee and Palmer. It was supposed to be a quiet little dinner; an opening gambit into establishing a better friendship with her coworkers. It snowballed into more before she realized it.

And once it had grown, she'd made the conscious decision to leave him out. Ziva hadn't extended the invite to Tony simply because she hadn't wanted him there. Tony always managed to make himself the center of attention. She felt certain if he'd been there he'd have taken over and she wouldn't have achieved her goal of getting to know the others better or letting them get to know her.

Ziva winced and got up from the piano to dump the remainder of her coffee. She'd read that whole situation wrong. Being smug about getting one over on him hadn't quite panned out the way she'd expected. She thought he would roll with it the way he had everything else. No harm, no fowl? What sort of stupid expression was that anyway?

She shook her head. It was foolish to think offering to make him dinner would make up for it. Especially once he'd known about her deliberate exclusion. Her calculated insult telling McGee Tony's injury was just a scratch from flying debris, and not a bullet wound, certainly hadn't helped matters.

He had left the office without saying a word. It shamed her that she hadn't even noticed. How could she have missed him? She was a trained operative and a damn good spy.

Following him home and then picking the lock probably wasn't the smartest move she'd ever made. But she couldn't shake the feeling that everything would be worse if she didn't fix it right then. Not that she knew how to fix it, but she had to at least try.

He accepted her apology and sent her on her way. Ziva thought he believed her, that everything was okay between them. But when he didn't show up at work the next day, she realized he'd said enough to pacify her and make her leave. He'd played her, and done a good job of it. She'd never even realized his smile, the kiss on her cheek, the understanding words, it all meant nothing.

She'd gone home and baked a batch of brownies as a second peace offering, wanting to be sure things were good between them. But he wasn't at his desk in the morning. She'd kept the pan hidden in her desk drawer, waiting for him to arrive. He never showed.

Gibbs let them know Tony was taking a week of sick leave?after he'd checked his voice mail and e-mail. She took that to mean Tony hadn't cleared it with Gibbs. The angry countenance on the older man's face was too obvious a clue to miss.

Tony had refused pain meds for his arm, and managed to drive himself home, so Ziva knew his taking time off didn't have anything to do with that injury. She sent out a few feelers for confirmation with Sheppard. The only explanation for Tony's absence she'd gotten was a statement that he'd requested sick leave, and his injury on the job was a viable reason for her to grant it.

Gibbs was nearly impossible to be around all week. Abby was barely speaking to her, and was definitely not saying much to Gibbs. McGee kept sending worried glances towards Tony's desk but wouldn't talk to Ziva about the other man at all. Although, she knew for a fact he'd talked to Abby.

She could see them not being willing to discuss Tony's absence with Gibbs. He was about as approachable as an angry bear on a good day, and it hadn't been a good day since Tony hadn't shown up at work. But their leaving her out bothered her more than she thought it would. Did they really think her so heartless and callow that she would not care about Tony having left without a word? Did they think she wouldn't help them look for him, or join them in a united front to demand answers from Gibbs?

Ziva grimaced, rinsing out her mug. Abby had no doubt thought so. McGee...it was hard to say for sure. Other than not discussing his worry over Tony, he treated her the same way he always had.

Ziva had been hesitant to do her own digging into Tony's whereabouts. The people she could ask would no doubt pursue deeper than she wanted them to go, assuming him to be a ?person of interest' with regard to an issue of security. And she wasn't prepared to explain to them why she wanted to know.

She'd planned to be to the office early Monday morning. She hadn't counted on the bus being late. She'd only gotten a glimpse of Tony, barely enough to see he looked okay, before being sent into the field to investigate the murder of Petty Officer Virginia Simms.

She'd expected him to go with them. She had thought perhaps Gibbs leaving Tony behind was a form of punishment until she'd asked McGee. It was embarrassing to realize she wasn't familiar with the regulations. She made a note to get a copy and read them as soon as possible.

Spending most of the day looking for the bullet or the casing hadn't been much fun. Even with a metal detector the job had been tedious and exhausting. She was surprised to find herself missing the companionship of the others.

She watched both Gibbs and McGee sending glances Tony's way as they worked on wrapping up the case and documenting everything. She'd sent him a few concerned looks of her own when none of the expected commentary had been made. Tony had barely spoken ten words when they returned.

She wanted to be amused and see Tony's silence as him sulking like a child, but she couldn't. He wasn't pouting, he was productive. He wasn't making derogatory comments or trying to show her up; he was focused on his part of the case. He wasn't trying to draw attention; he was the very model of professional.

Ziva hated it. She would never admit it, but she'd missed him. The week he was gone had been interminable. And it was worse with him back in the office acting?god, acting like an adult. It was unnatural.

She wanted to talk to him, but never got the chance to confront him. She couldn't tell if that was by design or just happenstance. Either way, it left her stymied.

McGee leaving as he had, telling her nothing was disconcerting. She'd grown accustomed to him offering information freely. Tony had told her in that box sharing information was a process of give and take. While Tony never seemed to mind continuing to give, perhaps McGee had begun to understand she rarely responded in kind.

Damn. Yet another pitfall in this friendship thing. She couldn't expect any of them to keep opening up to her if she wouldn't return the favor. Why the hell did it have to be Tony who managed to point this out? All without saying a word.

Gibbs had spoken to Tony before he left work yesterday. She hadn't been able to hear what was said, but things were clearly fine between them. She snorted delicately. It would take more than her and one stupid dinner party to drive a wedge between those two. Tony respected Gibbs; was more loyal to the older man than a good dog. And it shamed her to think she'd once given the same measure of loyalty and trust to a man who was far less worthy of it than Gibbs.

She tied back her hair and pulled on her shoes. She needed to talk to Tony, alone, uninterrupted. The others might not realize it, but they would follow his lead. If he was once more on good terms with her, they would be as well.

Her best chance of speaking to him was somewhere private, but she didn't think he'd take her up on a dinner invitation. Sneaking up on him and cornering him somewhere in the office wasn't a viable option either. So far she'd only managed to sneak up on him when he was otherwise distracted.

Following him home had already proven to be a mistake. She wasn't going to make that one again. She grimaced remembering the way she'd flinched away from him when he looked ready to hit her. She was not afraid of him, but he had both height and weight on her. If he'd wanted to inflict serious damage, he could. Given how she'd grabbed his injured arm, he had every right to want to.

Tony had to re-qualify on the firing range. And he should be doing that today. It might be her best chance of getting a moment alone with him. Gibbs had told her she needed to work on improving her aim, so it wasn't like she didn't have a good excuse for being there.

That chastisement still stung. She had defended her ability, mentioning the perp she'd shot in the foot though the barely opened container door. Gibbs had not been impressed, giving her an icy glare and telling her that hitting target of opportunity, out of desperation, was not the same thing as having good aim or being able to pick her shot. Damn, but he was impossible to please.

She locked the door behind her as she left her place. She'd picked this apartment because it was only a block from the bus stop. Although, the convenience of that was moot on days when Gibbs called the team in on a case before the bus began running or had them stay long after the busses stopped for the night. She might really have to look into acquiring a car or motorbike.

The office was quiet when she arrived. The security of the building was hardly up to Israeli standards, but then Americans didn't face the same sort of daily threats, or at least they hadn't until recently. She envied them their sense of invulnerability even as she considered them fools for ever thinking no one could or would attack them on their own turf.

She'd just settled in at her desk when Tony walked in. He was dressed a bit more casually today than yesterday. The jeans he had on really did nice things for his ass. Not that I really look, Ziva told herself, or that there is anything wrong with looking if I did.

"Good morning, Tony."

"Morning." He nodded to her, dropping his pack on the floor. He powered up his computer and proceeded to ignore her.

She wanted to say something, but had no idea what. Until recently, Tony had always given her an opening, a starting point. To her chagrin, idle conversation was a hell of a lot harder than Tony made it seem.

McGee breezed in a moment later, interrupting her search for something to say. He smiled at her and tossed a DVD case lightly on Tony's desk as he walked by. Tony gave McGee a quick grin, raising both eyebrows.

"You watched it already?"

"Yeah."

Tony chuckled. "Like it?"

"I did." McGee dropped his pack near his desk, pulling his chair out before turning to face Tony again.

"Told you so." Tony laughed. He waggled his eyebrows. "It was her ass in those leather pants, wasn't it?"

McGee rolled his eyes, but didn't deny it. "You see the sequel?"

"Not yet." Tony shrugged. "Was going to catch it this weekend, if we aren't tied up with a case. You want to go?"

"Sure." McGee smiled.

Ziva bit her tongue. She wished Tony would include her in the invitation as well, even though she had no idea what they were talking about. She envied McGee's easy rapport and wished she knew how he'd managed to re-establish an even keel with Tony. Apparently, McGee was even smarter than she realized.

"I should invite Abby." McGee looked at Tony, making the statement sound more like a question.

"Definitely." Tony agreed with a nod. "Sort of thing is right up her alley."

"What is right up her alley?" Gibbs asked, startling Ziva as he rounded the corner, coffee cup in hand.

"Vampires and werewolves." Tony answered without missing a beat.

"Okay." Gibbs didn't even blink. If anything he looked relieved to have walked into the midst of a 'normal' conversation.

"What time is your appointment, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he powered up his computer.

"Nine thirty." Tony grimaced. "Couldn't get in any sooner."

Gibbs nodded, glancing up from his computer screen. "Shooting range afterward."

It was not so much a question as an order, but Tony answered anyway. "That's the plan, Boss."

"Good." Gibbs nodded, lips curling upward in a small smile. "Want you back in the field, ASAP."

Tony tipped his head, smiling broadly in return. He was obviously taking that statement and little smile as a compliment. And well he should, Ziva thought to herself. It was as close as Gibbs seemed capable of getting when it came to handing out praise.

"Take Ziva with you." Blue eyes pinned her with a hard look. "She could use the practice."

"Will do, Boss." Tony arched an eyebrow at her but didn't comment directly. He hadn't been present when Gibbs had dressed her down about her aim and she didn't see any reason to rehash that with Tony if she didn't have to.

"I'll be in MTAC." Gibbs picked up his coffee and headed upstairs without another word.

Ziva sighed, wondering why she still found it hard to get used to someone as brusque as Gibbs. Sheppard apparently had no trouble getting used to it, or even looking past it to find it attractive. Although, she definitely hadn't been pleased when Gibbs failed to notice her new hair cut. Maybe that was why she made him go to Ziva's dinner party. Tit for tat. Another strange expression Ziva didn't understand.

She immersed herself in work, doing her best to ignore the fact that she still had no clear idea of what to say to Tony. She was sorely tempted to e-mail McGee and ask for advice. He'd obviously known what to say or do to make things right. But then she'd have to admit she'd noticed things weren't right, and that she might be the reason. She was beginning to understand why Gibbs said so little.

"You ready?"

The question startled her. Only habit and good training kept it from showing. "Excuse me?"

Tony cocked his head to one side. "Are you ready to go?"

He tapped his watch, drawing her attention to the time and making her realize just how long she'd been lost in thought. "Takes twenty minutes to get to the doctor's office. Should take less than five minutes to get the stitches out. Only ten to the shooting range from there." He shrugged. "Figured you'd want to ride along?unless you'd rather meet me?"

"I'm ready." Ziva stood up, not wanting him to leave her behind. Maybe she would think of something to say along the way. Tony had to be easier to talk to in the car than it was trying to have a conversation with Gibbs.

She was wrong she discovered. Tony had the radio on and seemed perfectly content to let the music fill the silence. He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, keeping time with the music.

He drove without the casual disregard for other drivers that Ziva and Gibbs typically had. While he didn't obey the speed limit, Tony didn't have his foot to the floor either, maintaining a smooth, steady pace. Ziva should have expected that. Tony's car was his pride and joy; he wouldn't treat it badly.

"This is a beautiful car." Ziva tossed out in desperation hoping to get him talking.

Tony smiled, long fingers moved to lightly stroke the dash in a loving caress. "That she is."

"She?"

Tony glanced her way. "She."

"Cars do not have a gender," Ziva asserted.

"Only because you drive them that way." He shrugged one shoulder, and reached to turn the radio up.

"What does that mean?" She was tempted to turn the radio off but refrained uncertain of how he'd react.

"You don't get it." Tony made a meaningless gesture with one hand. "And I can't explain it."

She stifled the urge to scowl. "I'm tired of not understanding." She muttered quietly to herself.

"You'll get the hang of it...eventually," Tony offered with a smile, sounding encouraging rather than condescending as she'd expected.

"Thanks." Ziva blinked in surprise when it registered that he'd heard her. That was amazing given how softly she'd spoken. The volume of the radio and road noise should have covered her voice completely.

His smile morphed into a smirk. "I got good ears."

That wasn't in his file. His better than average eyesight had been noted, but nothing about his hearing.

"Might come as a shock to you...but not everything worth knowing about people is written down." Tony grinned at her, green eyes bright with merriment. "It's what makes them interesting."

He executed a surprisingly fast turn, pulling into a lot and parking place with seamless precision. Tony turned the car off. "Can wait here if you want. Or come in. Choice is yours." And with that he was out of the car.

Ziva huffed out a curse in Hebrew. He was more frustrating than Gibbs some days. At least Gibbs she understood. Or at least she thought she did. Tony was just so...so...confusing.

She got out of the car and followed him, stretching her legs to catch up and then keep pace with Tony. He wasn't even actively trying to outdistance her, but his longer legs simply made it easier for him to cover more ground. At times Ziva hated being so short.

Tony held the door for a pretty woman who was on her way out. They exchanged smiles and greeted each other with a polite good morning. It annoyed Ziva that this stranger got a warmer response from Tony than she had. He didn't hold the door for her either.

Tony checked in with the receptionist. Her name tag indicated her name was Nancy. She smiled warmly at Tony.

"Hello again, Mr. DiNozzo."

"Hello yourself, Mrs. Kennison." Tony leaned against the counter. "When are you going to come to your senses, pretty lady, and let me take you away from all this?"

"To the Casba perhaps? The French Riviera?" She winked at him, dark eyes sparkling. She clearly didn't mind his flirting.

"Those places are overrated." Tony countered. "I was thinking something more tropical. St. Thomas perhaps?"

Nancy appeared to be thinking it over. She looked coyly up at Tony. "And what about my husband?"

"Bring him along." Tony shrugged, giving her a sly look. "He can look after the children. He loves spending time with the boys."

Nancy laughed out loud, a rich, warm sound of amusement. "I'll be sure to tell Larry you said so."

"Tell me what?" Asked a man in a white lab coat, stethoscope draped around his neck.

"Just trying to convince your wife to run away with me." Tony answered with a cheeky grin. Ziva was surprised by the honest answer, and that the doctor didn't appear at all upset by it.

Larry raised both eyebrows. "You take the damn dog with her and it's a deal."

Tony snickered. "Puppy eat another pair of shoes?"

"Second pair." Larry confirmed with a scowl. "The little menace."

"If you picked up after yourself and didn't leave them in the hallway--"

"Yeah, yeah." Larry rolled his eyes at his wife. He handed Nancy a chart. "Mr. Samuels is getting dressed. He should be out in a minute or two."

Nancy nodded. "Are you referring him?"

"Yeah. Fax the information over to Dr. Martin, will you?"

"I'll take care of it, honey." She handed him another chart, nodding to Tony. "Mr. DiNozzo is ready for you."

"Come on back, Tony."

Since no one told her to wait, Ziva followed. If Larry thought it odd that she went with them or that Tony didn't introduce her, he didn't say anything. Larry led them to an examine room; it was the same small space that nearly every doctor's office in the world had.

Tony shrugged out of his jacket and swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. He laid both on the table. The sleeveless undershirt he had on revealed the small bandage still covering the wound on his upper right arm.

"Kept it covered like I told you to?"

"Mostly." Tony admitted ruefully. "Forgot a couple of times."

Larry sighed and shook his head. He pointed to the table. "Have a seat."

Larry undid the bandage with neat, elegant movements that spoke of both practice and compassion. The black thread of the stitches stood out in contrast to the newly healed pink skin. Ziva knew it would ultimately fade to a pale scar after time. She had similar scars of her own.

"Looks like you popped two." Larry's hazel eyes met Tony's green counterparts.

"Better than I usually do." Tony's cavalier reply made Ziva wonder just how often he'd had stitches in the past.

Larry gave Tony a hard look. "I told you to take it easy."

"I did." Tony protested. He jerked his head in Ziva's direction. "Can ask her. I even took a week off."

"Who is she anyway?" Larry asked reaching for sterile tools to remove the stitches.

"Ziva David." Tony glanced down, watching Larry work. "New teammate."

Ziva resisted the urge to growl that she was right there. They didn't have to talk about her like she wasn't. But she was oddly hesitant to interject. If Larry acknowledged her presence, he might just ask her to leave, and she found she didn't really want to do that.

"Permanent replacement?" Larry leaned in closer as he worked.

"Looks that way." Tony hissed when the thread pulled at tender skin.

"Sorry." Larry offered, and he sounded sincere.

"S'okay."

"Healed well." Larry nodded as the last one was removed. "It would have been a nice clean line if you'd done what I told you to."

"You're just mad 'cause I messed up your handiwork." Tony chuckled. "Not like it'll be my only scar, Doc."

"You shouldn't be proud of that." Larry grimaced. "Nancy worries."

Tony looked away, a trace of genuine remorse in his expression. "Sorry about that."

Larry smiled. "If she didn't like you--"

"So you're okay with it if I send her flowers?" Tony asked, grinning broadly.

"If you sign my name to the card like you did the last time, sure."

"Can do." Tony laughed. He patted Larry on the shoulder, reaching for his shirt. "Damn glad you still work those hours at the ER, Doc. Best thread man in the business."

Larry snorted. He pointed to the ragged scar on Tony's left shoulder. "Better than the guy who did that one, that's for sure."

"That one didn't have stitches." Tony pulled on his shirt.

Larry's eyes narrowed. "It should have."

"Was a long time ago, Doc." Tony swiftly did up the buttons. "Healed okay. No worries."

Ziva's curiosity was piqued. Why would he not have gotten stitches for a wound that required it? Macho stuff or something else? He hadn't hesitated to get stitches for the bullet wound. Maybe the other was something embarrassing?

Tony undid his pants and tucked his shirt in without a hint of embarrassment. But then, she'd already seen him practically naked, there was no reason for him to be modest now. He grabbed his jacket.

"Thanks again, Doc."

"You're welcome."

They stepped into the hall where Nancy met him with another chart and pointed to the exam room door across the hall. She took Tony's chart from Larry. He nodded to her and said good-bye to Tony again before heading off.

Tony followed Nancy back to the front of the office. Ziva trailed after, feeling more like an outsider than ever before. Tony leaned into say something to Nancy and she laughed again, backhanding him lightly in the chest.

Tony slid into his jacket with an economy of grace Ziva unconsciously envied. He did move well. His file said he knew how to dance, but didn't give any indication of his expertise or what style. She had a feeling, that like his skill with the piano, his ability to dance would never be something she'd get to experience first hand. There was a strange ache in her chest at that thought.

She followed him to the car. "You could have introduced me."

"Could have introduced yourself, Officer David." Tony pointed out, meeting her gaze squarely over the roof of the car. "You've never had any trouble doing it before."

"I didn't want to interrupt," she said rather than admit she hadn't even known why she'd followed him like a second shadow, staying mute the entire time.

"Then you should have stayed in the car." Tony opened the door and slipped into the driver's seat.

"It's cold out."

"We spent ten hours in that shipping container." Tony gave her a considering look. "And ten minutes in the car would be too much?"

Ziva's jaw tightened in annoyance. "You said it was my choice."

"Staying silent was yours too." He started the car, effectively ending the conversation.

She clenched her jaw in annoyance. It was a good thing they were going to the shooting range. She could take out some of her frustration there.

Tony changed the radio station before pulling out into the street. Ziva didn't recognize the song, but Tony evidently did. He was once more tapping his thumbs against the wheel, even humming along with parts.

He hadn't lied when he told her the shooting range was only a few minutes from the doctor's office. Ziva made note of the location for future reference. She would have no trouble coming back here on her own in the future.

He pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car. Tony reached across to open the glove box, his knuckles lightly brushing her knees in the confined space. He reached in to the compartment and withdrew two clips of ammo.

"You keep extra clips?"

"And you carry a spare gun." He arched an eyebrow. "Any other statements of the obvious you'd care to trade?"

"No." She bit out, surprised by how much his sarcasm annoyed her.

"Okay." He smiled, unrepentant, and got out of the car.

She followed him, wishing she knew how to read him better. Was he angry with her or not? Did he really not care, or was he doing things deliberately to piss her off?

Tony showed his badge at the door. It was required to gain access because the shooting range was reserved for government personnel, and was used by multiple agencies. Ziva's badge, which had both Hebrew and English lettering, earned her a second look, but Tony's 'she's with me' was enough to make the guard let her pass without comment. She was fully capable of ensuring her own clearance, but Ziva was glad she didn't have to. It was oddly reassuring to have Tony 'claim' her.

Tony pulled a pair of soft earplugs from his pocket, offering her a pair still in a sealed plastic bag. She pointed to the hard plastic hearing protective devices that hung from various hooks along the wall. "You don't use those?"

"I use both." Tony shrugged. "Good ears and I want to keep them that way."

Ziva nodded, appreciating his practical explanation. Even with a wall separating them from where shooters were currently practicing, the low thunder echoed, carrying to them easily. She took the earplugs he offered before grabbing a pair of others from the wall.

There were only a few spaces available in the gallery. Ziva made a note to check and see if there was a time when the facility was less crowded. Tony moved to the end of the row, shrugging out of his jacket as he went, hanging it on one of the hooks provided for that purpose.

Ziva took the spot next to his. She pulled out her primary weapon as well as her back up. She clipped a fresh paper target to the line and sent it out to fifty feet. She saw Tony's target move out to the same distance.

She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as she aimed. Her father had taught her how to shoot. Had shown her how to take her time and squeeze the trigger not jerk it, how to brace for the recoil without flinching, how to shut out sounds of things going on around her. She aimed for center mass first, emptying the clip with steady precision.

As she hit the button to retrieve the target she saw Tony doing the same. She pursed her lips when she saw his shots hadn't been placed in a grouping like her own. Tony clearly hadn't been aiming for lethal hits. He'd neatly place three shots in each arm, and three in each leg.

Not technically within the standard bulls-eye, such wounding shots didn't result in a high score. But they were accurate and had definitely been placed intentionally. There was less than an inch between each shot, the tightly grouped holes covering less than a hand span on each of the target's limbs.

Ziva frowned. She didn't actually know what was required to qualify. She cursed her ignorance of the regulations. She should have looked before leaving the office. They didn't officially apply to her since she was a liaison and not a special agent, but she didn't want to give Gibbs any reason to find her wanting.

She reloaded, and sent out a second paper target. She took a slow breath and this time aimed to take the same shots Tony had the first time. It proved to be harder than she thought, forcing her to tighten her aim more than she expected.

Ziva grimaced as she brought her target back to her. Hitting each arm and leg once was fairly simple. Repeatedly was definitely more of a challenge. She shook her head, impressed in spite of herself with how much better Tony had done than she had. Her groupings were no where near as tight, and she'd missed the left arm twice.

She felt somewhat vindicated when she saw Tony's new target come back. He'd gone for center mass shots this time. His grouping was similar to hers, except that he had selected the center of the target's chest where as she'd aimed for the heart.

It would give her a higher score. Which in here was what she thought counted. But had the target been moving, Tony's choice would have improved the odds of a kill shot. She was beginning to suspect that Tony wasn't shooting to meet NCIS requirements but rather to meet Gibbs no doubt more exacting standards.

She cursed again and reloaded. Nothing was ever simple. Ever.

She sent out another target. Took careful aim and emptied the clip. Pulling the target back to her she smiled. Head shots were always satisfying.

She glanced over at Tony's target and noticed he'd aimed for head shots as well. His aim had placed his shots lower than hers so that he'd have been taking out the targets eyes, if it had them. Hers would have been in the forehead.

She saw Tony attach a new target, sending this one out to seventy-five feet. She stepped out of her cubicle to stand behind him. She waited, leaning against the wall as he took his shots, curious to see what he had in mind this time.

His stance was relaxed, natural. His focus was solely on the target. She doubted he even knew she was behind him. He emptied the clip with neat efficiency, unhurried and smooth.

As the target came back, she saw he'd put placed two shots in the head, two in the heart, and one in each limb. Ziva had never even seen him adjust his aim. She stepped back to her own cubicle determined to do as well. She attached a new target and sent it out to seventy-five feet. A slow deep breath and take aim. She didn't fire as rapidly as Tony had, taking her time to do it right and correct any earlier mistakes, sacrificing speed for accuracy.

She glared at the target when she saw she'd still missed two arm shots. Damn. It was definitely harder to aim to wound than kill. It was a smaller target area, and in the real world, arms and legs had greater range motion making them harder to hit.

The tap on her shoulder startled her. She looked up to find Tony standing behind her. He didn't say anything, and she belatedly understood she wouldn't have been able to hear him through the ear protection she still wore. He held up one hand fingers splayed before tapping his watch. She nodded her understanding, five minutes and he'd be ready to leave.

He stepped back into his cubicle and sent out a final target. Ziva sent a final one for herself as well. She picked up her back up piece. Her arms and shoulders ached slightly from emptying four clips in such a short time frame, but she was game for one more.

She saw Tony had only sent this target out thirty feet. Ziva sent her out the same distance. The target seemed huge in comparison to the earlier distance. She put three in the head and three in the heart.

As Tony's target came back she saw he'd opted for head and chest shots as well. Ziva smiled. At least this time she felt they were equal.

She reloaded her weapons, and holstered them. Ziva gathered up her targets. She already knew Gibbs would want to see them. She wondered what sort of comment he'd make about her misses, and wasn't really looking forward to it.

Tony had shrugged into his jacket, his own targets in hand. As they walked past the other shooters, Ziva noted a few more cubicles had opened up. She nodded herself, noting the time for future reference.

She hung up the hard plastic ear protectors on the wall. Tony did the same, pulling out his ear plugs. He pinched his nose and she knew he was popping his ears. She resisted the urge to do the same, not wanting him to know wearing the protective devices had bothered her.

She followed him out, blinking the bright sunshine. Ziva sighed softly. She felt more relaxed than she had in days.

She saw Tony rub his arm and wondered if he'd overdone it. "You okay?"

"Fine." He immediately dropped his hand. "Just a little sore."

Ziva found she preferred his overdone play for sympathy to this polite, not quite honest answer. He was shutting her out again. Determined to act now, she stepped in front of him. She had already waited too damn long.

"Is everything okay between us?"

He cocked his head, looking down at her. "Why wouldn't it be?"

She bit back the urge to shake him. They'd already had this conversation, or at least a version of it. And he'd pacified her with what she'd wanted to hear. She didn't want to go that route again. She wanted to start over, fresh, on equal footing this time.

"I want a do again," she declared firmly.

He frowned. "A what?"

"A do again." She made a frustrated hand gesture. "You know...when you get another chance."

"You mean a do over."

"Yes," she agreed. "I want one of those."

He arched an eyebrow, green eyes regarding her steadily. She felt like he was looking through her, into her, searching for what hidden agenda she might have for making the request. That dull ache in her chest was back as she realized she'd given him every reason to question her motives, to be suspicious of her offering an olive branch. Ziva tried not to fidget under his gaze and waited for him to say something.

"That's only going to work if you intend to actually do something different this time." He spoke softly, a hint of wariness in his voice. "Otherwise it is just the same song and dance."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "New song. New dance." She didn't want to always be at arms length, never fully trusted or liked or a real part of the team. She wanted to be climb out of the box her father and the Mossad had trapped her in, to start fresh, be something and someone new. She wanted?needed this chance. "Please."

"Not everyone gets a second chance."

She bit her lower lip, trying not to read too much into that comment. "I know."

He nodded once, and smiled. It was the same warm, open smile he gave her that night in his apartment. She couldn't tell if he actually meant it this time or not, but he held out his hand. "Hi. I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. I hear you'll be working with the team for awhile."

She found herself smiling back, and shook his hand firmly. "Officer Ziva David. It is a pleasure to meet you, Agent DiNozzo."

"Call me Tony." He grinned and gave her a wink.

She grinned back. She felt more lighthearted and positive than she had since she walked into the NICS office with her transfer orders.

"Let's grab lunch." Tony tossed out as he unlocked the car door.

"It's only eleven." She slid into the passenger seat.

"Will be nearly noon by the time we get back to the office," he pointed out. He held out his spare clips to her, and Ziva automatically took them, returning them to the glove box.

"We'll get something for McGee and Gibbs while we're at it."

"What about Abby?"

"Her too." Tony reached once more to change the radio station as he pulled out into traffic. He pulled a pair of high end sunglasses from the visor and put them on.

"What are you in the mood for?" He asked as he headed back toward the office.

"Whatever you'd like." At the moment she didn't care, just as long as she was included, was considered part of the team.
Chapter End Notes:
I'm not entirely sure where this story is going. It may ultimately end up as a slash story, but for the moment, it's gen.
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