Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, but at least my desk lamp still respects me.
Spoilers: Um…I don't have anything specific, I guess.
Summary: Inspired by celestial's cheesesteak comments on Special Ops. Ugly sweaters, blimps, people who don't wash their hands and sandwiches – sad that these are the things I'm inspired by. Anyway, Ziva explores the sandwich underworld. Because she's nosy. I mean…Moussad trained and thorough.I stared out the narrow window of the precinct, watching the raindrops make fat splatters on the glass before trickling down to disappear on the grimy rim of the windowsill. I could see the unilluminated ballpark hulking in the distance, yet another reminder of the city's habit of making you feel like it wanted to rip out your guts and stomp on them at every opportunity. My eyes were drawn to an even more unsightly deformity on the skyline. It could always be the Eagles' year. Sure.
A shadow from the doorway was suddenly cast over the window. I didn't turn until an accented voice said, "Excuse me?"
I wouldn't have turned, but my mother taught me to always respect a lady. It turned out to be good advice. The dame who had just barged into my office didn't look like the patient type. I adjusted my tie and swung my feet down to the floor. "May I help you?"
"You are Detective Spade?" She sounded like the type who didn't ask questions she didn't already know the answers to, the type who would eat you alive the second she caught you in a lie. She wasn't too bad on the eyes, though.
I could tell she was trouble from the top of her ponytail to the heels of her combat boots. I gave her a good once-over before I said, "If I'm not, I probably seem pretty comfortable in his office."
She didn't smile and flashed a badge in my face. "Ziva David, NCIS. That's…"
"Yeah, Navy cops." DiNozzo. It was always about DiNozzo when a dame came calling. I played it cool. "What can I do for you this fine evening?"
"You aren't very well informed about the weather for someone who has been staring out the window for at least the past ten minutes."
She was good, even if it had been closer to thirty minutes. She must have seen my vacant stare from the sidewalk. "You didn't answer my question, Miss David."
"Officer David," she corrected, shedding her coat and sitting in the hard wooden chair in front of my desk instead of the comfy looking leather one against the wall. I found myself distracted by her sweater, a strange, stripy affair that she could only be wearing for one conceivable reason. I happily paid attention to her chest as she said, "I'm here to talk with you about Anthony DiNozzo."
"Yup." Like I said, the dames just want to talk about him. He must be branching out internationally if he's pissing off the foreign ones now. "What about him?"
"You don't seem surprised that I'm asking about him."
"You don't seem surprised that I'm not surprised."
She frowned and pressed her lips together in a tight line. "I would appreciate it if you would take this seriously, Det. Spade."
It was obvious she wasn't anything like the last dozen or so women to come asking about DiNozzo. Come to think of it, it's been a few years since any have come looking for him. I adjusted my tie again. "Not a problem, Officer…can we drop the formalities?"
"No."
She was a tough nut. I knew I could crack her. "Well, I'm Dan."
"Hm."
"Change your mind…Ziva, was it?"
"No. I was just going to say I was almost expecting you to say Sam."
Whatever she was into with DiNozzo, she was clearly in deep. "Sorry to disappoint." I looked her up and down again, deciding that a change of scenery might be in order. "Why don't we go grab a bite and talk there? I'm starving."
"Yes, whatever you'd like." She was quicker to agree than I expected, pulling on her coat and picking up a backpack I hadn't even seen her carry in.
I grabbed my trench coat, hat and shoulder holster and headed toward the door, leading the way. I got the feeling she didn't like following me. The rain seemed to have stopped, giving everything a shiny appearance, like the world was putting on it's Sunday best so I could walk a woman who wasn't interested in me to a dive down the street. I decided to make the best of the situation. "Ever had a real Philly cheesesteak?"
"I do not believe so, though I have heard about them. A lot."
"From DiNozzo?"
"And your television programs."
A cat jumped off a garbage can in the alley, sending the lid clattering to the ground. I grinned, adjusting my weapon under my coat as I noticed that she was resting her hand on her own piece. "Not from around here, I take it."
"Washington."
I opened the door to the brightly lit diner for her, pushing, "But not originally."
"No."
She sat in my favorite booth, but took my seat, keeping her own back to the wall as she faced the door. I took my time hanging up my coat and hat, then held up two fingers to Mabel, who nodded and called out to Joey, "Two cheesesteaks, extra cheese, extra steak! Coke for your and your friend, Danny?"
I didn't get a chance to agree as the dame in my seat said, "Coffee. Please."
I sat down with a glance over my shoulder, not sure that my dinner companion would be eager to point out trouble coming. Luckily, only Mabel came with the drinks. I poked at the ice in my glass with my straw and said, "I gotta tell you, Officer David, I don't know if coffee is the best choice with a cheesesteak."
"I drove from DC and I'm going back once we are finished here." She pulled an official looking folder, a notepad and a pen from her backpack and crossed her hands on top of them. "If we could get this over with…"
If she was going to act like I forced her to come north and visit my town, there was no reason I couldn't give her a hard time. "Not much of a visit to the city of brotherly love. You could take a tour of Independence Hall, get your finger stuck in the crack in the Liberty Bell. I can recommend a cheap hotel if you don't want to spend another three hours in your car tonight."
"It took me only ninety minutes to get here. Why would it take twice as long to return?"
She was clearly one for excessive speed. I pointed to the folder. "So should we get on with it?"
"Yes." She clicked her pen, making me jump; it sounded like a bang in the empty diner. "Are you still in contact with Agent DiNozzo?"
"Bowling league every Wednesday night." She didn't laugh and I went on, "We used to exchange Christmas cards. Can't remember the last time I actually talked with him."
"Then it is a good thing I'm here to talk about the past. Did he discuss much about his romantic life when you were partners?"
She was watching me with her sharp eyes and I knew this couldn't all be on the up and up. "Look, lady, I don't know what you're after, but I'm not gonna say anything bad about my old partner. Doesn't matter what you think of a guy, he's still your partner, no matter where he goes, and that means something."
"He is my partner now." She tapped her fingers on the folder she hadn't opened yet and swept the diner with her eyes. She leaned forward and lowered her voice confidentially. "He may be in some danger. All we know at this point is that it is a woman from his past. As a partner – a male partner – and a fellow police officer, I thought he would have shared information with you or that perhaps you would recall something."
"About the women he dated? Discussing conquests is one of the official police pastimes." I decided I could trust her if she were trying to protect her partner, even if she was a bit of a cold fish. It figured DiNozzo was in trouble with a jilted woman, but one around here? "I don't know how much help it's gonna be though, since this was all years ago."
"Anything you can tell me could be helpful." She was persistent, I had to give her that. "Were there a lot?"
"New one every week, practically. Can't say I met more than half, at the bar or whatever. I'm sure they didn't all end with a handshake and pleasant goodbye, but he never seemed like he was in trouble with any of them. And it's not like they were stalking him or anything crazy."
She clicked her pen a few more times, not as disturbed by the noise as I was. "He was never in a long-term relationship that ended badly?"
"He was never in a long-term relationship, period." She nodded and smirked slightly, the first trace of a smile I'd seen since she'd walked into my life. Fifteen minutes ago. I liked that hint of a smile enough to encourage her with one of my own. "Sorry I can't be more helpful."
"It was a far shot." As I tried to figure out what she meant, she tucked her folder and notebook back into her backpack and made like she was about to walk right out again. "Thank you for your time, Detective."
I gestured to the empty table helplessly. "Aren't you gonna stay for…oh! Long shot!"
"Talking about your chances with me? Or with her?" Mabel, bless her heart, placed two plates heavy with the cheesesteaks and extra fries on the table. "Enjoy."
I found myself staring at the dame's chest again as she poked at her cheesesteak, but this time I noticed a necklace hanging out of her sweater. A little non-professional conversation couldn't hurt. "So…you're Jewish?"
"Yes."
"Is that cheesesteak kosher?"
"Meat and dairy. It is not." She opened her mouth wide to take a large bite of the colossal sandwich. A few unfeminine swallows later, she managed to say, "Ask me if I care."
You have to respect a dame who can eat a cheesesteak like that. I smiled and she nearly smiled back. We spent the rest of the meal in companionable silence as we ate the best cheesesteaks Philadelphia had to offer – within walking distance of my precinct on a rainy night, anyway. She said no to dessert once we'd finished and tried to pay her half of the bill. I wouldn't have any of that. "Hey, you drove all the way up here and I don't feel like I've helped you at all."
"No, you have been very…helpful."
I walked with her down the street. She stopped at a little red thing in front of the precinct. I briefly debated sweeping her into my arms for a goodbye kiss, but handed her my card instead. "If you need to talk to me again. Maybe I should get your number if I remember anything."
She wrote a number on my card and handed it back to me. "If you remember anything."
I nodded and gave her a salute as she dropped into her car. And with a squeal of tires, she was out of my life. I'm sure about that because the number she gave me was a Chinese restaurant. I tried it the minute I got back to my desk, and they were not happy about the wrong number. Dames.
Ziva pulled off the highway at a rest station where she estimated was roughly the halfway point between Philadelphia and Washington. She remained in the driver's seat for a few minutes to make a few notes in her folder, jotting down things like 'cover story accepted unquestioningly' and 'nothing over a few weeks.' Before walking into the building to get a cup of coffee, she flipped to the last page in the folder and crossed out Dan Spade's name.
After a moment's hesitation, she looked at the next name on the list. "Det. Callahan. Perhaps the trip to Baltimore can wait a few days. You'll probably just want to take me for crab cakes."
She rubbed her still full stomach as she got out of the car. At least her trip to Philadelphia hadn't been a complete waste of time – she had a new favorite sandwich.