A/N: I ask for your patience on this one. I haven't finished it (not close), so updates will be sporadic. And I state now that I may not ever manage to finish it. You'll get at least ten chapters, but I can't promise anything beyond that. I don't watch the show anymore and so I don't get that weekly dose of excitement to keep me addicted. I just hope I can get this whole story out before the love for it leaves me completely.
For those of you who don't remember/were still in daycare when the show began, Viv Blackadder was the token woman on the team back in the two pilot J.A.G. episodes. She didn't last any longer than that.
Also, just to confuse matters, I've used a minor character from my story Bound, but this story isn't a sequel to that one, or even in the same universe.

The snow had come early to D.C.

A week after her birthday in November, Ziva sat by the window in a cozy café and watched the delicate snow flurries falling from the clouds that had gathered the previous evening. Even after eight years in D.C. she was still enchanted by the first few flakes of the season. She found it easy to become mesmerized by the sight of the flakes rushing towards her, and more than once she had lost her footing after getting caught up in the beauty. It was a simple thing, really. She knew it, and she was even somewhat embarrassed by the effect the simplicity of nature had on her. But she couldn't help it. McGee said he always found the snow bleak, but Ziva found it magical. Tony said he always found it irritating, but Ziva found it exciting. She didn't have a clue how Gibbs felt about it, but she suspected he did not take kindly to it.

The first flakes had started falling at about eleven o'clock the night before. She had been leaving Tony's apartment after exactly one drink and one viewing of Charade when she had felt a cold spot hit her cheek. She had looked to the heavens, expecting to see rain coming down. But instead the streetlights had lit up a few lonely flakes of ice swirling down from the darkness above. She had smiled as she'd indulged in the sight for a few moments, and then she'd fished her cell phone out of her pocket and sent a text message to Tony, alerting him to the extraordinary development. Seconds later she'd seen him open his living room blinds and peek out through the slats, and she she'd smiled up at him enticingly, as if he might be convinced to come out and play. She'd received a text message instead—Come back in, you're terrible at driving in the snow—which she had disregarded with a hand gesture instead of another message. Yes, it was snowing, but it wasn't snowing. The ice flakes were melting as soon as they kissed the ground, and Ziva had not considered it a driving hazard. Spending the night at Tony's? That was a hazard. She'd jumped into her car and sped home, and then spent the next hour standing at her bedroom window and gazing at the show.

There was only a very light dusting on the ground outside the café now, but it was enough to keep her in a good mood. The same could not be said, however, for her dining companion. Cassie Martin was a fellow agent with whom Ziva had become friends when she started dating McGee five months ago. They had bonded over their shared fondness for McGee, mojitos and martial arts, and now met for lunch and drinks almost as regularly as Cassie and McGee did. Cassie was slightly taller than Ziva with porcelain skin and dark red hair. Tony liked to joke—privately to Ziva, when Cassie was far enough away to not punch him in the throat—that McAssie (the couple's nickname was private too) would have kids with skin so translucent you'd be able to watch their breakfasts digesting. It was still early in their relationship, but Ziva had a gut feeling that there would come a day when Tony would be proven wrong. The kids would not be translucent, but she thought the odds were good that they would at least exist. McGee was smitten, Cassie was smitten, apartment keys had been exchanged and parents had been met. More importantly, the two of them just sort of…fit.

At least, they usually did. On this afternoon, over vegetable soup and tea, Cassie was methodically working through some kind of relationship-related meltdown that Ziva had not seen coming.

"Have you noticed Tim being weird?"

Ziva paused with her soupspoon halfway to her mouth, and shot Cassie a halfway amused frown. "I frequently notice him being weird," she replied. "But not more so now than is usual."

Cassie let the gentle dig at her boyfriend go. "No, I mean has he seemed kind of cagey?"

Ziva didn't even have to think about it. Tim McGee was one of those people whose moods were generally so even that even the slightest deviance made it seem like there was a flashing neon sign over his head. "No."

"Has Tony said anything?" Cassie pushed.

"About McGee being weird and cagey? No."

Cassie sighed and slumped back in her seat, but didn't give in to defeat. "He is being weird and cagey," she stated.

Ziva put down her spoon and rested her elbows on the table. "In what way?"

Cassie shrugged. "I don't know. He's just nervous and he doesn't want to look me in the eye. He doesn't even really talk that much."

Ziva frowned. "That does not sound like him."

"Exactly," Cassie said, and then looked at Ziva sadly. "I think he's going to break up with me."

She didn't know what was going on with her teammate, but Ziva didn't believe for a second that McGee was thinking about ending the relationship. He'd been so annoyingly happy for the last five months that he'd driven Ziva, Tony and even Abby to drink on more than one occasion. For the first time since Ziva had met him, he really seemed to be comfortable and confident in his own skin, and she could think of no reason for him to give it all up now.

"No, Cassie," she said with a shake of her head. "He is crazy about you."

"Maybe he's not anymore," Cassie argued. "Maybe he's met someone else."

Ziva leaned over the table and looked her in the eye. "Timothy McGee is not cheating on you," she said firmly. "He is not that kind of man. Not now, not ever."

Cassie's shoulders drooped as she conceded the point. "I know. But maybe Abby finally wore him down."

"They are definitely not dating," Ziva stated, wagging her finger for emphasis.

"I know," Cassie said. "But she hates my guts."

"Well…" Ziva started to argue, but when Cassie raised a challenging eyebrow she found she couldn't really deny it. Abby had been nothing but painfully polite and forcibly civil to Cassie from the moment she found out she was dating McGee, and it made everyone uncomfortable. Ziva wasn't 100 per cent clear on what Abby's issue was. She'd been adamant that she didn't see a future for herself and McGee, and she hadn't really had a problem with other women he'd dated over the years. Ziva suspected she'd unloaded on Ducky or perhaps Jimmy Palmer (she wouldn't dare be so obvious with Gibbs, and Tony would have told Ziva), but whenever she tried to ask her about it, Abby insisted there was no issue that needed discussion. Ziva didn't want to be stuck in the middle, so she had given up.

"Perhaps you are not her favorite person in the world," she said diplomatically.

Cassie rolled her eyes at the understatement. "Maybe she's convinced him that I'm not good enough for him."

Ziva responded to her self-pitying talk with an annoyed glare. Being worried about something was one thing, but turning it into unnecessary drama was quite another. Ziva had no patience for it, and usually neither did Cassie.

"Would you stop it?" she said. "You know you are good enough. And Abby may not like you, but she would not say mean things about you to McGee. And even if she did? McGee would not listen to it." She pointed across the table accusingly. "You keep forgetting that he is one of the good ones."

"He is one of the good ones," Cassie agreed. "I just want to know what his problem is."

"Have you asked him?"

Cassie picked up her spoon and swirled it through her soup as she mumbled, "Yes, and he denies there's anything wrong."

Ziva fought the urge to kick her under the table. "Have you considered that he is telling the truth?" she asked obviously.

"I would if he wasn't acting so different to the way he usually does," Cassie returned.

Ziva sighed heavily and clasped her hands in front of her as she measured her words. "Cassie…I say this with love."

"That usually means whatever comes next is not said with love," Cassie shot in.

Ziva ignored her. "You do have a habit of worrying about things you do not need to worry about."

The corner of Cassie's mouth twitched in the barest of self-aware smiles. "Are you calling me a drama queen?"

"Right now?" Ziva nodded. "Yes. But not usually."

Cassie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and Ziva knew that she was searching for the level head that she usually had. She shifted in her seat and leaned forward over the table, and looked at Ziva with honesty. "I just really, really like him," she said softly. "Love even, if I had a gun to my head. It's the best relationship I've had and I'm happy in it, and I'm just don't want it to end. I want it to just…go longer."

Ziva smiled. "How long?"

Cassie twisted her lips. "Significantly," she finally admitted.

To the end, Ziva thought. She didn't make Cassie say it. She understood how hard it was to say such things aloud, particularly if you meant them. Admitting to deep feelings for another person when you had spent your life striving to be independent, impenetrable and focused on your job—particularly this job—made you incredibly vulnerable. And she spoke from experience. Although she and Tony hadn't discussed their feelings in detailed, plain English, they had given each other a brief overview and made loose agreements about what they meant to each other. That alone had terrified her. And it was why she envied Cassie and McGee's nerve. Ziva felt more prepared to disarm a bomb that just look at Tony and explicitly tell him what she wanted. If she was even clear on what that was. Sometimes, she found herself confused.

She cut the thought off abruptly and returned her focus to Cassie. "I would not bet against that happening," she told her. "Sometimes men are just weird and cagey."

"I guess," Cassie allowed, and the shook her head and swiped her hands in front of her, as if clearing the table. "Okay. I'm letting it go," she declared.

"Good."

"Until he breaks up with me," she continued. "And then I'm coming for your ass because you doubted me."

Ziva chuckled and returned to her soup. "All right."

Cassie sipped her tea as she gazed out the window and shook her head. "Can't believe it's snowing already."

"It is wonderful," Ziva insisted. "It may snow for Thanksgiving."

"What a treat," Cassie said flatly.

"You are still coming to dinner with us, yes?" Ziva checked. The team had plans to hold their regular Thanksgiving get-together at Ducky's house. He was the only one with a table large enough to accommodate their growing group.

"That's the plan."

"It has not snowed on Thanksgiving for a while," Ziva said, and looked wistfully out the window. "It will be nice."

"You're a nut job," Cassie told her, but her tone lacked malice and so Ziva ignored her.

"It was beautiful last night when I came out to go home," Ziva told her.

Cassie gave her a puzzled look. "Did you stay back late last night? Tim was home by 1900."

Ziva shook her head. "No, when I left Tony's."

A grin, almost predatory in nature, slowly spread across Cassie's face at the information. Ziva could have smacked herself for giving it up. She put on her Mossad-trained poker face and stared Cassie down as her friend gave chase.

"Oh. You were at Tony's," she said conversationally.

"Yes." Just the facts, nothing else.

"What did you guys get up to?"

"We watched a movie."

Cassie nodded slowly as her smile grew. She looked at Ziva knowingly, and although they both knew what was going on, Ziva held up her veil of innocence. She wasn't in the mood to deconstruct the feelings she and her partner had for each other, and since she'd never admitted anything to Cassie anyway she saw no reason to start talking about it now.

"Did he get you a birthday present yet?" Cassie asked.

Ziva shook her head, and made a face that made it seem like it was no big deal. "No. Why would he?"

"Because it was your birthday," Cassie stated. "And he's your partner."

"That does not mean he is obligated to get me a present," Ziva told her. And she honestly believed it. Their team would go to the ends of the earth for each other, but they'd never really been good at observing anniversaries or celebrating. It just wasn't their thing. Abby excepted, of course.

"Didn't you get him a present for his birthday?" Cassie asked. "I'm pretty sure you did. It was right after me and Tim started dating and he said something about you guys going off to do something."

Ziva tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yes. I took him to a motorbike racing track."

Cassie's eyes widened and her smile turned from smug to excited. "Really? Can you and me do that? I want to do that!"

Ziva chuckled at Cassie's enthusiasm. That was another thing they had in common. A love for machines that went extremely fast. "Yes, we should do that."

Cassie reached over to briefly grab her hand for a hard squeeze before letting go. "It can be our seasonal presents to each other."

"Okay."

Cassie clapped her hands together twice, and then dropped the excitement and leaned over the table again. "Great, but back to Tony."

"Cassie," Ziva groaned warningly.

"Why didn't get you a present?" she asked again. "Seriously, that's really bad form."

"No one else got me a present," Ziva told her defensively. "Except you. And Tim." She paused and thought a little harder. "And Abby and Ducky and Jimmy. But Gibbs didn't."

Cassie rolled her eyes like that was the most obvious thing in the world. "Well, no. Because your apartment's not big enough for a boat."

Ziva rubbed her thumbnail against the handle of her teacup. "I could probably fit a canoe in."

Cassie chuckled but didn't let go of her line of questioning. "So aside from Gibbs, who really doesn't count, Tony's the only one who didn't get you a present."

"It does not matter," she told Cassie firmly. "A present was not expected, and so it is not missed."

Cassie rested her chin on her hand and looked at her thoughtfully. "Did he at least say happy birthday?"

"Yes."

"Did he give you a birthday kiss?" she shot in quickly.

Ziva dropped her head to the side and looked at her wearily. She admired the woman's persistence, but wished she would turn it to other matters. "No, Cassie."

Cassie scrunched up her nose, suggesting that wasn't the answer she was after. But Ziva was saved from further grilling when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and then almost rolled her eyes. She'd been saved from questioning about Tony by…Tony.

"David," she answered.

"Hey, are you nearby?" he asked. Ziva could tell from his voice that he was walking pretty fast, and she was sure she knew what that meant.

"Yes, I am just at the café," she told him, and pushed back her half eaten soup in preparation to leave. "New case?"

"Yeah. I'm coming with the truck. Pick you up in three minutes."

"Could you bring my—?"

"Already got it," he cut in, and then hung up.

Ziva slipped her phone back in her pocket and gave Cassie a vaguely apologetic look that she knew wasn't necessary. "Duty calls."

"Where are you headed?" Cassie asked as they both stood and started gathering their things.

"He did not say."

"Case?"

"A murder, I assume," Ziva replied. "Murder is our specialty."

They left the café and walked a few feet down the street out of the way of pedestrian traffic to wait for Tony. Ziva did a mental inventory of her gear. She had her gun and badge on her, she was positive that her cap was in her backpack that Tony would bring, and she could grab a jacket from the truck. She looked down at her boots. They weren't ideal but she could certainly make do. Unless Tony had also thought to grab her combat boots from behind her desk.

"So, I guess this begins another week where I won't see you or Tim," Cassie said.

Ziva shot her a smirk. "You are more upset about not seeing Tim, yes?" she checked.

Cassie shrugged and played up her sulkiness. "I guess."

"You are not worried that I am going to break up with you, are you?" Ziva checked, mostly making fun of her.

Cassie crossed her arms against the cold. "Actually, yes," she said. "If me and Tim break up then you're probably going to break up with me too."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Oh, for…" she started with a groan. "We will never find out," she told Cassie. "I am sure you will still be together long after he and I finish working together. And probably long after I am dead."

Cassie's eyes widened a little at the statement and she shook her head in disbelief. "I swear to God, Ziva. The silver lining you put around your clouds also contains traces of lead and mercury and, like, asbestos and Agent Orange…"

"I am not saying it will happen next week!" Ziva argued as she spied the MCRT truck turn the corner and come towards them. Tony flashed the lights at her and she stepped closer to the curb. "I am trying to tell you to stop worrying about it."

"Okay, I've stopped!"

Tony pulled up beside them and Ziva pulled open the passenger door.

"Let's go!" he called to her. "Less yabba yabba, more go go."

As Ziva hauled herself into the truck, Cassie planted her hand against the open door and leaned around to look at him.

"Hey, can you put her in a more positive mood, please?" she asked. "She's talking about dying again."

"I am not talking about dying!" Ziva argued.

Tony gave Cassie a three-fingered salute. "Roger that. I'm on it. Of course we are headed to a horrible murder scene so…I might have to work a little harder than normal."

"I am already in a positive mood," Ziva continued to argue.

"By the way," Cassie called out. "Why didn't you get Ziva a birthday present?"

"What?" Tony asked, just as Ziva gritted her teeth and aimed a death glare at Cassie.

"Now my mood is less positive," she warned her friend, and then slammed the door on Cassie's grinning face. "Let's go," she told Tony.

Tony put the truck in gear and pulled out onto the street. "Birthday present?" he repeated. "Is that what she said?"

"Forget about it," she told him. "She is trying to create trouble where trouble is not welcome."

"But I did get you a present," Tony told her as he steered the truck towards the Navy Yard gates. "It just hasn't arrived yet."

Ziva shook her head and slumped back in her seat. The next time she saw Cassie she was going to wring her tiny little translucent neck. "Tony, it is not necessary."

"You're only saying that because you haven't gotten it yet," he told her, and then eyed her cautiously. "That's not why you're in a bad mood, is it?"

"I am not in a bad mood!" she cried. Off Tony's look of disbelief, she revised the statement. "I am in a bad mood with Cassie, not with you over anything to do with a birthday."

"Okay."

"Okay," she sighed.

He waited a beat. "Because I really did get you one."

She looked over at him, but held back her irritation with the conversation. She gave him a brief, gracious smile. "Thank you. I look forward to it."

"Okay."

They turned right out of the gates of the Navy Yard and Ziva turned the heat up just a little before settling back into her seat.

"What do we know about the case?"

"Navy lieutenant was found dead in his home by his wife," Tony told her. "She probably killed him."

Ziva looked over at him in time to see him smile. The wife/girlfriend/mistress did it was his favorite theory for everything. "How many times have you been wrong about that?" she asked.

Tony pretended to do a tally in his head. "As of this morning? Only about 87 times."

She smiled and returned her gaze out the window. "Where are we going?"

"Virginia Beach," he replied. "Gibbs and McGee are probably there already."

She arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No. But Gibbs is driving. They're closer than us."

"I could drive—"

"No."

Ziva sighed. If they were partners for the next 40 years, he would still never stop being a baby about her driving. She changed the subject.

"Have you noticed McGee being weird and cagey lately?"

Tony gave her a confused frown. "What does that mean?"

"I am not sure," she admitted.

"Ah. Is there trouble in McAssie Town?"

"Tony, you must stop calling them that," she warned. "One day you will make a mistake and say it to them, and then Cassie will break your fingers."

"You two are just peas in a pod, huh?"

"No. If I found out you had a derogatory nickname for me I would break your legs."

"Seems like overkill," Tony muttered. "Good thing I don't have any derogatory nicknames for you then, sweetcheeks."

Ziva grunted.

"So, as much as I don't like gossiping about my friends," Tony started, and then pointedly ignored Ziva's snort of dispute, "what's Cassie's problem?"

Ziva weighed up the pros and cons of repeating Cassie's concerns but, like she almost always did, she told Tony anyway. "You cannot tell McGee," she warned.

Tony nodded easily, because they had already done this a hundred times since the beginning of McGee and Cassie's relationship.

"She feels that he is nervous about something and has stopped talking to her about things," Ziva said. "She thinks he is going to break up with her. Which I told her was ridiculous, but she is not convinced."

There was a pause before Tony offered, "Hunh."

Ziva's head whipped around to look at him. Her partner was wearing a pained expression that confirmed he knew the other side to the story. She shifted in her seat to angle herself towards him and zeroed in on him.

"What do you know?" she asked.

Tony shook his head. "Nothing."

"Tony."

He glanced at her and the pointed a warning finger. "You can't tell Cassie."

Ziva nodded impatiently and gestured for him to hurry up with the information.

"He's going to ask her to move in with him."

Ziva's mouth fell open and she stared at Tony as she processed the information. It was good news. Very good news. And she was extremely happy to hear about the development in their relationship. She loved McGee like a brother, she had grown very close to Cassie, and she had no reservations about their relationship. So why didn't she feel like smiling?

"That is wonderful," she said, and then turned her head to look out the window.

"You don't think she's going to say no, do you?" Tony asked, trying to work out her reaction.

Ziva looked back at him again and shook her head. "No, of course not. She will be very excited."

"Are you sure?" Tony pressed. "Because I think I could talk him out of it."

"No, don't do that," Ziva said. "I am sure she will say yes."

Tony eyed her with suspicion. "Okay. But if she says no and McGee ends up sulking for months and listening to Phil Collins, I'm going to blame you."

"Mhmm," she grunted distractedly, giving the threat about as much weight as it deserved. She didn't know why she felt so underwhelmed by the news. Yes, she was happy and she couldn't wait for McGee to ask Cassie, but there was something in her chest that was holding her back. A weight. Was it jealousy? McGee and Cassie had only met a few months ago and they were already taking steps to make things official and permanent. Ziva had been coming to realize for a while now that those were things she wanted in her own life. But while she knew who she wanted them with, she honestly didn't believe it would happen. Not now, and maybe not for a long time, if ever. Because surely if it was going to happen, it would have by now.

It wasn't just a dismissive, overly dramatic thought. The truth was, she and Tony had plenty of chances over the years. Particularly over the last one. Certain things had happened between them in that time. Things that involved physical and emotional intimacy. But they'd only ever happened when the two of them were stuck together in confined spaces or far away from D.C. and out of the ever-watchful gaze of Gibbs, McGee and Abby. They'd even slept together before—twice—but never at home. If they did it at home, that would mean they were in a relationship. And the last time they discussed it—it was during a post-coitus dinner in San Diego five months ago after Harper Dearing had nearly killed them all—neither was ready for that. Or, rather, neither was ready to deal with the repercussions of taking it public. Ziva thought she was ready to take a stab at the relationship, but she was not ready for the scrutiny of co-workers and possible burning at the stake by Gibbs. A year into the affair, things hadn't changed a bit. And if they hadn't by now, Ziva had to accept that they probably never would. But that didn't mean she was quite ready to let go of the idea yet.

She swallowed hard to push down the sharp and sudden feeling of sadness in her chest. If she and Tony were more like Cassie and McGee, then maybe they would have brought things out of the hotel room by now. If they didn't work together on the same team then they would be able to bring things out into the open and give themselves a proper chance. God only knew if they'd actually make it in the long run, but surely they would have a better chance at success if they didn't have to worry about hiding things.

"Hey."

Ziva blinked and turned her head at Tony's soft call.

"You've gone all introspective and girly." He made a face like that terrified him, but there was enough warmth in his eyes to assure her that he was actually making sure she was okay and not suddenly upset about something. She was, but she didn't see any reason to start a discussion about it on their way to a crime scene. If they were to have the conversation at all, it would be in a hotel room 500 miles from D.C.

She gave him the vaguely annoyed eye roll she thought he was after. "Well, obviously I am thinking about McGee and Cassie's translucent children and whether I will be their favorite aunt."

Tony's eyes lingered on her for a moment, just long enough to tell her he knew there was something going on under the surface, and then turned his eyes to the road and played along. "God, you're such a girl," he muttered.

Ziva saw him tense in expectation of a punch to his shoulder or side, but she elected to keep her hands to herself. There was always benefit to be had from keeping him on his toes.

They reached the address that Gibbs had scrawled down for Tony in the nice, neat, upper-middle class suburb in Virginia Beach not too long after the boss. Gibbs was talking to McGee and scanning the street by the rear of their Charger as McGee unloaded his backpack from the trunk. When he laid eyes on the MCRT truck he didn't look even a little bit pissed, and so Tony guessed that they had made it there no more than three or four minutes behind the others. Pretty good considering the traffic and his refusal to let Ziva the wildcat take the wheel.

"Game on," Tony said to her, and they both swung themselves out of the cabin and headed to the rear of the truck.

McGee had jogged over and had the back doors open by the time they joined him. The three of them started unloading the equipment they would need while Gibbs strode across the lawn to meet the local PD.

"Nice neighborhood," McGee noted to them, and then bent to check that his evidence case was properly stocked.

Ziva met Tony's eyes over McGee's back, but Tony read her thoughts and shook his head firmly. She wasn't supposed to know about McGee's cohabitation plans, and if she let on that she did know then McGee would stop feeding information to Tony. And where would the fun be in that? Ziva sighed softly but kept her mouth shut, and Tony responded to McGee.

"And they're all made out of ticky-tacky, and they all look just the same, McSuzieHomemaker," he said.

"No, I just mean it looks quiet and safe," McGee said. "Kind of like the street I grew up on."

Tony looked around at the clutch of almost identical and soulless houses. "That explains a lot," he muttered, just loud enough for McGee to hear.

"There is no such thing as quiet and safe," Ziva said. "Particularly not in these Sunnydale-looking places." She gestured at the houses around them.

Tony and McGee paused collecting their things and stared at her. She'd clearly mistaken Sunnydale for another town, but neither could work out which one.

"Sunnydale's the one with the vampires, Ziva," Tony told her. "That place was never safe."

"Horrible murders. Every night," McGee added. "Demons and witches and something about an apocalypse…"

Ziva looked between them. "Where is that old fashioned small town from television?"

"Mayberry?" McGee suggested.

Ziva clicked her fingers. "Yes! Mayberry. Is that not the place that is held up as the epitome of simple living and small town values? And yet there was a lot of crime under the surface."

"I guess," Tony said.

Ziva picked up one of the crime scene kits and nodded with satisfaction. "So, my point is made, yes?" she said, and then turned and headed for the house.

Tony and McGee looked at each other, silently agreed that she was kind of crazy, and then picked up their own kits.

"Let's go see how many bodies the vampires left for us," Tony said.

Gibbs met them halfway across the lawn, his silver hair curling over his brow in the icy breeze, to give them a rundown on the case. "Victim is Tom West, aged 43. Lieutenant working out of Fort Story. Wife found him when she came home from work for lunch. Ziva, talk to the wife, she's around back. Victim's in the doorway. One of you two come through the back of the house. I don't want to step over the top of him."

Habit had Tony shadowing Ziva as she made her way up the driveway and towards the back of the house. Both of them scanned the tree line that marked the boundary between the victim's house and the neighbor's for anything that seemed off, but the area was as immaculate as the rest of the suburb looked. When they reached the side of the house Tony did a little twirl to take in which windows from which houses overlooked the area, made a mental note to question those residents about whether they saw anyone creeping around, and then turned again and jogged a few steps to catch up to Ziva. He reached her as they came up on the back door, but then paused again when a brightly colored swing set in the large, leafy back yard caught his attention. There was at least one kid involved here, and Tony felt his stomach sink. A spouse being left behind to deal with their partner's death was bad enough, but when kids were left behind as well it was always much worse.

He followed Ziva up the steps to the back door where they both paused to put booties on over their shoes before stepping into the neat, roomy kitchen. Upon first glance everything looked undisturbed. There were no obvious signs of a struggle. No blood or smashed windows or overturned chairs. It looked like every other upper-middle class kitchen Tony had walked into, right down to the finger paintings stuck to the fridge. Right off the kitchen was an informal meals area where a woman with tightly curled red hair sat at a round dining table. Tony was expecting the woman who lived in this house to be a tailored pants and silky blouse kind of woman, but instead he saw a woman about his age in black work boots, jeans and a loose grey t-shirt under a thick blue winter coat. Her legs were crossed so that the ankle of one foot rested against the knee of her other leg, and one hand was lifted to her face so that she could bite her thumbnail. She was completely still and stared off into the distance at nothing as tears rolled down her cheeks, and she looked so ashen that it took Tony a full five seconds of looking at her to realize that he knew her.

"Mrs West?" Ziva began.

The woman slowly blinked herself into the present and then turned her head towards them. Her eyes paused on Ziva for just a moment before continuing on to rest on Tony. Her expression didn't change, and he realized that she had probably expected to see either him or Gibbs in her house this afternoon.

"Viv?" he said, and stepped towards her.

One corner of Viv Blackadder's mouth barely turned up in greeting. He didn't take her subdued reaction to their reunion personally. "Hey, DiNozzo," she said.

Tony crouched beside her chair and found himself putting a comforting hand on her knee. "This is your house?"

One eyebrow barely lifted, like she couldn't believe she was the one at the centre of a crime scene for once. "My house, my nightmare."

Tony squeezed her knee and then cocked his head towards Ziva. "Viv, this is Special Agent Ziva David. She's going to take your statement."

Viv nodded dully and attempted a polite smile. "Sure."

Tony met Ziva's curious eyes and made the other half of the introduction. "Ziva this is Viv Blackadder. She—"

"West," Viv cut in, although not with offence. "It's Viv West now."

Tony could have smacked himself for getting that wrong on the same day her husband had died, but went on. "Viv West," he repeated. "She worked with me and Gibbs for a little while about ten years ago."

Ziva's eyebrows went up with surprise, before they fell into a curious frown. "Oh, are you an NCIS agent?" she asked.

Viv shook her head. "Not for a long time," she replied, and then looked at Tony. "You still with Gibbs or did you kill him and take his job?"

Tony smiled for her. "Tried to. He's indestructible. He's out front. Ducky'll be here soon."

The information actually brought a snort of disbelief out of Viv. "Ducky's still working?"

"Just try to stop him," Tony said, and then pushed himself up to his full height. He looked down at Viv with no small measure of sympathy. "We'll find out what happened, okay?"

Viv held his gaze and nodded slowly. "You always do, DiNozzo."

Tony nodded to her and hoped his expression was at least somewhat reassuring before glancing at Ziva. His partner nodded, indicating that she would be especially careful with her interview of a fellow law enforcement officer, and then Tony left them in the kitchen.

He scanned his surroundings carefully as he walked towards the front of the house. With Viv's involvement the case would end up being a little more personal than the rest, and for that reason it was even more important to pay attention while they did their work. Complacency was never tolerated on Team Gibbs, but even more so when another agent or ex-agent was involved. Their case would need to be air tight to get a conviction when they found the killer so that the prosecution couldn't argue that their emotions had gotten in the way of evidence that could have exonerated the person they charged.

The formal living room was as neat as the kitchen had been. Nothing looked out of place, and Tony decided that the fact in and of itself was worth looking into. From what he'd seen so far, and with the exception of the kid's play set out back, the house didn't look lived in. Either the Wests weren't home much, the killer had cleaned the place, or Tom West was the kind of Navy man who loved things ship shape. Tony cast his mind back to try to remember if Viv had struck him as a neat freak when they'd worked together, but he didn't think he'd ever had that impression of her.

The formal living room took him through to the hallway that ran down to the front door. Tom West lay in the doorway with one hand stretched out over the threshold, as if he'd been reaching for something at the moment he died. Gibbs stood by his hand and was bent forward at the waist as he tried to get a look at West's face, and McGee stood to the side and took the photos that would set the scene for how the body had been found. From a cursory glance, Tony couldn't see any injuries on West that would give them an indication of how he died. The collar of his light blue shirt was darkened with what could have been water, and his hair looked either damp with water or possibly hair gel at his temple. Aside from that, he looked like he'd just curled up on the floor for a nap. Tony wondered if this was the position Viv had found him in.

"Boss?" he called.

Gibbs pointed a gloved finger at West's temple, and spoke over his shoulder to McGee. "Get a shot of that. Looks like a bruise or graze or something."

McGee leaned in and took a few shots.

"Boss," Tony tried again.

Gibbs glanced up at him. "How's the house looking?"

"Immaculate," Tony replied. "But the wife?"

Gibbs' piercing blue eyes took on the slightest edge of interest. "She's not?"

"She's Viv Blackadder," Tony replied softly, not wanting to be heard in the kitchen. "This is her husband."

One white eyebrow arched over eyes that turned more sympathetic. "You sure?"

Tony nodded. "I just spoke to her."

"That name sounds familiar," McGee said.

Gibbs held Tony's gaze for another second, and then nodded and returned his attention to West.

"She used to work with me and Gibbs," Tony told McGee. "Pre-Kate."

Realization filled McGee's eyes. "Right. But she's not NCIS anymore, is she? I think Abby said she quit."

Tony nodded at him and then crouched by West's shoes. "Not much trauma here, by the looks of it," he said to Gibbs. "He's not bleeding through his chest, is he?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Don't think so. Start looking around, will you?"

Tony pushed himself to his feet again with the slightest of pained groans. "On it," he said, and headed upstairs.

Back in the kitchen, Ziva took a seat at the table with Viv and flipped open her notebook. "I am going to have to ask you a whole lot of questions now that you have probably asked other people a hundred times before."

Viv nodded and wiped her cheeks. "I know."

"Why don't you start by taking me through your day?"

"I got up at six. Tom was already out of bed, but I didn't see him before I went to take a shower. Got out about ten minutes later, got dressed and then got the kids out of bed, laid out their clothes and tried to encourage then to get dressed on their own." She shot Ziva a tired and familiar smile, as if the early morning routine for kids was something Ziva would be familiar with. Ziva smiled politely and nodded at her to continue. "I came down at about 0620. Tom was here in the kitchen making breakfast for us all. He likes to do that when he's home," she added, and her affection for it was clear on her face. "Pancakes. Not the most nutritious way to start the day but the kids eat every bite so I think it's fine every now and then."

"Of course," Ziva said, trying to let her know that she wasn't interested in judging her parenting techniques.

"Tom said he was going to go to the garden nursery today to try to find some vegetables to plant. He's always wanted a vegetable garden. But he didn't get to tell me much else about his plans for the day before Zoe called out from upstairs. She's our youngest," she told Ziva. "She couldn't get her pants on. Like every morning. So I went up to help her and sent Jack down to help Tom."

"So, it was just a regular morning?" Ziva asked.

"Normal for when Tom was home, yes," Viv said.

"And when you say that Tom was home, you mean he is on leave at the moment?" Ziva checked.

Viv sniffed and Ziva reached for a box of tissues from the counter. She slid it over and Viv plucked a tissue free with a smile of thanks, and nodded. "Yeah, he's been deployed for six months in Southeast Asia. He got back a few weeks ago and was due to have the next six months on leave."

That sparked Ziva's interest. "Any reason he took leave?"

Viv shook her head. "Just needed a break."

Ziva noted it down and made a mark next to the information to flag it for further investigation. "So, your husband was home when you left for the day?"

"Yes," Viv said. "I got the kids ready and kissed Tom goodbye…" She faltered then, and took a moment to compose herself. Ziva could see her struggling, but she managed to pull through without breaking down. Ziva didn't think much of it. Viv was in law enforcement. None of them liked breaking down.

"He said he looked forward to seeing me for lunch," Viv went on. "I said I'd come home and meet him. Then I took the kids to school and went on to work."

"Did you have any communication with him during the morning?" Ziva asked.

Viv pushed her hair behind her ear and reached for another tissue. "He called me about ten," she said, and blew her nose. "Not for any reason. It was just one of those calls, you know?"

Ziva was vaguely familiar with the calling-for-no-reason call. But not for a very long time. "Did he sound upset or anxious? Strange at all?"

"No," Viv said. "He was completely normal. He was on his way to the plant nursery."

"Do you know which nursery?"

"Not for sure. He didn't confirm it," Viv replied. "But we usually go to a place called Rodney's Plant Nursery. It's about a 20-minute drive from here."

Ziva wrote the name of the nursery down, and the time Tom called. "Did you speak to him again after that?"

"No," Viv said softly. "But I wasn't expecting to, so when I didn't hear from him I didn't think anything of it."

Ziva nodded easily so that Viv would know she thought it was a normal reaction. "When did you get home?"

"It wasn't until 1.30. I'd planned to come earlier, but I got held up at work. I tried to call him to tell him I'd be late, but he didn't answer. I left a voicemail." She paused and her eyes wandered out the kitchen window. "I should have known something had happened then, but I was so preoccupied with work."

"What time did you call him?" Ziva asked. They could compare the information to Ducky's estimated time of death.

"Midday," Viv replied. "I had planned to leave work then, but I couldn't. So I called."

Ziva noted it down. "Okay. So, what happened when you got home?"

Viv bit her lip and took another moment to compose herself. "I saw the front door was open as I came around the bend in the street, but I didn't see Tom until I was in the driveway."

"Where did you see him?"

"He was lying in the doorway, like he is now."

"You did not move him?" Ziva checked.

Viv shook her head firmly. "No. I lifted his head, and when he didn't respond I checked for a pulse." She gripped her hands together and shuddered. "He, uh, he was cool to the touch. No pulse. He wasn't breathing. It was clear to me that he was…gone."

"Could you see any signs of trauma or injury?" Ziva asked. She hadn't seen the body herself yet, so she hoped Tom West didn't have a gaping head wound—that would make her sound insensitive.

But Viv shook her head. "No. His hair and collar were wet, like he'd just taken a shower. But he had no visible injuries."

Ziva wondered about that. If he hadn't been clearly shot or stabbed or beaten, if he just looked like he always did, but with wet hair, why didn't she make an attempt to save him? "So, you did not attempt CPR?" she asked gently. She wasn't accusing Viv of giving up, exactly. And she didn't want Viv to think that she was. But she needed to confirm that Viv really hadn't moved Tom at all.

Viv clenched her jaw and closed her eyes briefly, but seemed to have the presence of mind to understand Ziva didn't mean offence. "No. I didn't touch him or move him. But I sat by him on the step as I called 911."

"And did—"

Viv held up her hand. "Wait, I need to correct that. I touched his face. As I was sitting by him, I was stroking his face and talking to him."

Ziva felt a stab of empathy for her. Viv's restraint was admirable for a law enforcement officer. If she came home and found Tony dead on the floor—Tony, who technically wasn't anything to her except her friend and coworker—she didn't know that she'd be able to follow protocol and leave him alone.

"Thank you," she said to Viv, and corrected her notes. "Did you see anyone in the area when you came home? Anyone who did not look like they belonged?"

"No. No one."

"Viv, did you check your house at all?" Ziva asked.

Viv stared at her for a moment, and Ziva could see her investigator brain starting to turn. "No," she admitted. "I didn't enter the house until the paramedics and the police showed up. They didn't move him either, although the paramedics checked for signs of life. Um…" she took a moment to think and rubbed at her forehead. "I told the police that Tom is Navy, and that they should call you. One officer led me here, but I don't know where the other one was. He might've checked the house."

"But you did not."

"No."

Ziva noted it down. She had no idea what Tom's cause of death was, or if it at all suspicious. But if he had been killed, they had to consider that the killer was in the house when Viv had arrived home.

"Viv?"

Ziva looked up as Gibbs entered the kitchen. He glanced at Ziva before coming to stand beside his ex-team member, and put a hand awkwardly on her shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked her.

Viv gave him a brief smile, but there wasn't a whole lot of warmth to it. "Not really," she admitted.

"I'm sorry," Gibbs told her gently, but again, there wasn't the warmth there that Ziva expected. She wondered what had happened between them. Ziva knew that Gibbs wasn't a warm and cuddly kind of man, but he still enjoyed a level of camaraderie with the people who worked for him. He had clearly enjoyed working with Stan Burley, and although Ziva had never witnessed it she had plenty of evidence that he had great affection for Kate Todd. And his friendship with Mike Franks had been strong to the end. She wondered why he and Viv didn't have the same affection.

Viv wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up to face him. "I'm glad it's you and Tony on this," she told him. "I need answers. A healthy man doesn't just drop dead for no reason."

Gibbs nodded for her. "We'll work it out, Viv. Ducky's arrived. He'll get to the bottom of it."

"Of course."

"You got someone you can call?" Gibbs asked her.

Viv nodded as she jammed her hands in her jeans pockets. "My dad will be here soon. I asked Mom to pick up the kids from school."

Gibbs seemed to warm a little at that. "You got kids?"

"A boy and a girl."

Gibbs nodded knowingly. "Good," he said, and then looked over at Ziva. "Head upstairs and help DiNozzo," he told her.

Ziva stood and nodded as she flipped her notebook shut. "On it."

She walked through the house to the staircase and looked at family photos covering the walls on the way to the second floor. Beaming parents and giggling kids, studio portraits and happy snaps in the garden. Ecstatic kids holding their uniformed father in a death grip as he returned to shore. Grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. It looked like they'd had a nice life, and Ziva felt a touch of envy. This was evidence of another couple who had made it work despite the difficulties their jobs threw up. More evidence that it could be done if you just tried and committed.

Ziva still held firm that it would be easier for couples who didn't work together.

She found Tony in the master bedroom, taking photos of the Wests' nightstands. He looked up at her footsteps and gave her a quick onceover out of habit before taking another shot.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Composed," Ziva replied. "Trying to be, anyway."

"That's a cop for you," Tony said, and snapped another shot.

"Anything of interest up here?"

Tony gestured towards the door to the en suite with his chin. "Bathroom's wet."

Ziva walked over and peered inside the bathroom. She found out-of-date tiles, fixtures and fittings covered in water, and the bathmat that had been left on the floor was soaking wet in a large puddle of water. She looked down at where the bathroom tiles met the bedroom carpet and found another wet spot.

"Did it flood?" she asked.

"Local LEO said the faucet was running when he searched the house," Tony said. "Spilled out of the sink and soaked the floor."

"But the mirror and the shower and even the walls look wet too," Ziva noted. "Viv said Tom's hair was wet when she found him."

"Still is," Tony said. "His head's been out in the freezing cold all afternoon."

"That's odd," she said, mostly to herself.

"Guess we should investigate that," Tony said, and then snapped a photo of her just as she turned to give him a withering look. He grinned at her predictability.

"I guess so," she replied.

She walked to the wardrobe and opened it up. Tom's side was very neat and tidy. Viv's was crammed full. It didn't look as though anything was missing; certainly no one had been packing to move out. And Ziva hadn't gotten the impression that their marriage was in trouble, anyway.

"Typical," Tony said over her shoulder. "This is why you need separate closets. So the wife's side doesn't start consuming her husband's."

Ziva looked over her shoulder at him in disbelief. "You have more clothes than anyone I have ever known," she told him. "Your closet is so full there could be a door to Narnia in there and you would never know."

Tony stepped back and gave her his patented half caught out, half defensive look. "I like suits," was his only argument.

Ziva closed the closet doors, and then peeked into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before gossiping to him. "I do not know about McGee's closet, but Cassie's is almost as bad as yours."

Tony made a face. "They're going to have to work that out before they shack up, or else it'll never work." He paused and gave her a considered look. "You'd need a whole separate room just for all your coats."

Ziva imagined that and found that she liked the idea. "Like a big coat room like they have at the theatre? That is a good idea, DiNozzo," she said, and gave his arm a little smack before moving past him and into the hallway. She followed it down to the kids' room and stepped inside.

There weren't any surprises in the room, aside from how clean it was. Twin beds with bedspreads covered in illustrations of superheroes. Wonder Woman and Superman. A large container full of toys. A bookshelf with more toys and some books. A little desk with an iPad, and a TV bolted to the wall. Ziva approached the window and found it locked tight, and so she turned and went to the next room, a bedroom that had been converted to a study. Tony was already in there, poking through a few sheets of perfectly stacked paper on the desk. The rest of the room was immaculate, with the desk blotter, pen and computer screen all placed perfectly. The chair was pushed in, all the drawers were closed and the books on the shelves were lined up with precision. Ziva resisted the urge to tiptoe through the room to check the window. It was locked as well.

"Neat and tidy," she commented to Tony.

"Understatement," he replied. "I bet the desk has even recently been polished. It's like the rest of the house." He paused and looked up at her. "How many people with two kids under six manage to keep their houses this clean?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Ziva stepped closer to him and cocked her head to the side in interest. "Do you think someone tidied up after Tom died?"

Tony blinked at her. "No, I just meant they're really super neat."

"Oh," Ziva said, and moved away again. "Do you recall Viv being like this when you worked together?"

"No, but that doesn't mean that she wasn't," Tony said. "Just means I didn't notice."

Ziva went back to being interested. "What happened?" she had to ask.

"When?"

"When she worked with you," Ziva said. "You don't remember what she was like—and you are someone who remembers everything about what everyone was like—and her interaction with Gibbs downstairs was…strange. Like they were simply acquaintances. It is unlike you two to be so distant with someone you used to work with."

Tony tugged on a few of the locked drawers. "We just didn't get to know each other," he told her.

Ziva eyed him. There was something he wasn't saying. She could tell by the way he avoided her eyes and hunched his shoulders. "But something happened," she said. "What was it?"

Tony looked up as footsteps came up the stairs. He moved to leave the room, but brushed past her on his way. "We'll talk later," he said to her, and then left the room. Ziva had no choice but to follow.

They ran into Gibbs standing in the doorway to the master bedroom. He lifted his eyebrows at them in question, and Tony gestured with his head towards the room.

"Bathroom," he whispered. "Something happened in there."

Gibbs nodded, and they all walked a couple of steps down the hallway away from the master bedroom door. "She's grabbing clothes for her and the kids and then we'll go over every inch of the place," Gibbs said. "Ducky'll do an autopsy tonight."

"Where's McGee?" Tony asked.

"Helping Ducky," Gibbs said. He looked at Ziva. "Anything from your interview?"

"Normal morning routine for when Tom West is at home," Ziva said. "He returned from Southeast Asia a few weeks ago and has been on leave ever since. He had six months' leave planned."

"Why?" Tony asked with a slight frown.

"Needed some time off," Ziva replied, and looked between her teammates. They both wore the same vaguely suspicious expression, and Ziva nodded. "We will look into that. Mrs West said they made plans to have lunch together at home today. She was running late and tried to call him at midday to tell him, but he did not answer. She got home at 1.30 and found him in the doorway."

Gibbs nodded as Viv came out of the master bedroom, carrying an overnight bag. She looked worried.

"There has been a flood or something in the bathroom."

"We'll check it out," Gibbs told her. "Best to stay out of it for now."

Viv looked back towards the bedroom, as if she was trying to think of a reason for the mess in her otherwise pristine house. But it was beyond her at that moment. She dropped her overnight bag by the stairs, and then came towards them to access the kids' room. Tony and Ziva moved out of the way and tried to make it less obvious that they had all been talking about her. But of course they had been. Ziva felt badly enough to follow her into the kids' bedroom.

"Let me help you," she offered.

Gibbs watched them until they were out of sight and then addressed Tony. "Go over the bathroom first and work your way down to the front door before going over the rest of the house."

"Got it."

Gibbs hesitated, and looked fleetingly appalled with himself before getting back on track. "And look for signs of marital problems."

Tony arched an eyebrow. It wasn't as though people in law enforcement never crossed the line and turned to murder, and it wasn't as though sometimes, those people weren't women. But Viv had been on their team, and accusing a team member of murder always felt so wrong.

"You saw something that pointed to her involvement?" Tony asked, lowering his voice as far as it would go.

Gibbs glanced towards the kids' bedroom before giving Tony a labored, one-shouldered shrug. "Can't say. But sometimes you're right, DiNozzo. Sometimes the wife really did it."

I hope that's enough to get you interested :)
It should be obvious if you've made it this far that this story isn't for people who dislike Ziva or wish all trace of her was gone. No hard feelings if you want to let this one go quietly.