Title: Berlin

Chapter: 1

The flight to Berlin was long, made even longer by the three-hour layover in Brussels and Tony's irritating silence.

They had left D.C. at 06:00 at the insistence of Director Vance. "We need this finished," he had whispered harshly as he handed over the airline tickets and the company credit card.

Ziva had nodded in reply, shooting him a meaningful look. She was not the only person who needed closure. Ziva and Vance shared a bond—forged by hatred—for the man that had murdered their loved ones.

"Ziva!"

Her thoughts had been elsewhere. Tony's voice brought her back to the present. He was standing next to a taxi, holding the door open for her. She slid in and handed the driver the information for the hotel. As the taxi breezed through the early morning traffic, Ziva leaned her head back against the cold seat and closed her eyes. She hugged her satchel against her chest and spent the next few minutes clearing her thoughts. Her mind was exhausted from nonstop work over the past few weeks.

Twenty minutes later, the cab came to a stop in front of the hotel. Ziva took a deep breath and braved a look at Tony. The sun was not yet visible over the horizon and she could barely make out his features in the darkness of the cab. She guessed it was about 03:00 Berlin time.

As they exited the cab, Tony turned to address her for the first time since they boarded the flight in D.C. "Gibbs will be expecting a call before we hit the sack." His voice was matter-of-fact. He grabbed their bags and led the way into the lobby of the hotel, walking briskly.

Ziva had been getting the cold shoulder since Tony had pinged her cell phone and found her and McGee holed up, searching for Bodner. He had a right to be angry; she did not dispute that. As she followed him at a short distance down the hotel corridor, she wondered how long his anger would last. They had been at this intersection so many times before. She didn't confide something, he found out… it usually did not end well. Ziva watched as he snapped the key card in and out of the lock and pushed the door open.

It took her a minute before realization dawned. "One room?" she asked, blinking in surprise.

Tony dropped the bags unceremoniously onto the floor and turned to face her. "Two rooms, one living space," he said flatly, nodding toward the doors at either end of the main room.

Ziva snorted, "NCIS could not afford separate hotel rooms?" She walked toward the closest bedroom and peered in.

"Oh no, they could," Tony replied, a sarcastic edge creeping into his voice. "I insisted we share."

Ziva furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. This time, it only took her a second to catch up. "You do not trust me," she stated dryly.

Tony's face was unreadable. He took a slow step toward her, shaking his head. "I think the more interesting question is, do you trust me, Ziva?" They were standing toe-to-toe, glaring at one another now.

Ziva shook her head and crossed her arms, infuriated. "I did not tell you that I was looking for Bodner because I wanted to protect you, Tony!" Her was an octave higher now.

"Well thanks for that. I'm going to assume that Tim McHelpful didn't need your protection?"

Ziva looked at him incredulously. "This is about McGee?" she cried. "I needed him to…"

"It's not about McGee." Tony shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie with a yank. "We're in a foreign city looking for your father's killer. If you're in a room next door or down the hall, I won't be able to hear when you try to sneak off by yourself."

Ziva felt heat shoot up her spine. "You assume that I would not be able to sneak out of the same room?!" She balled her hands into fists. "This is about my asking McGee for help instead of you, is it not?"

Tony bristled, "This is about you lying to everyone that cares about you."

"I did not want to involve anyone in my fight!"

"You—," Tony was cut off by his phone chirping. He looked at the screen before answering. "Yeah, boss." He glared at her as he spoke. "Safely at the hotel… yeah… she's fine." A few "yeses" later, he hung up. The two were silent for a minute.

"I'm going to bed," Tony said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

Ziva watched as he disappeared through the doorframe of the nearest bedroom, leaving the door open a crack, presumably, so he could hear her escape. She sighed. With nothing else to do but go to bed herself, she stalked into the adjacent room and shut the door, hard.

Washington D.C. 07:00

McGee tapped his pen against his palm as the MTAC screen lit up and a tired-looking Ziva filled the monitor. She was sitting cross-legged on a floral sofa, a steaming mug in her hands.

"Morning," he said cheerfully.

"Afternoon."

"Where's Tony?" McGee asked.

"You mean Special Agent Cranky-Pants?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I can hear you," came Tony's voice from off-screen.

Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?" Gibbs asked, moving to stand next to McGee so he was visible to Ziva on screen.

Tony, appearing jet-lagged and irritable, sat down next to Ziva and crossed his arms. "No, boss. No issues here."

McGee snickered at the visible annoyance between his two teammates. It was obvious that some kind of fight had taken place, and he guessed it had to do with Ziva's search for Bodner (that hadn't included Tony).

"Ziva, you hear from Schmeil?" Gibbs asked, changing the subject.

"No, but my Mossad contact thinks Bodner may be trying to rustle up support from old military friends."

"We had a possible sighting at a bus station near the Brandenburg Gate," McGee said, pulling up a fuzzy photo of a Bodner-lookalike and highlighting the station number. "CIA thinks he may be trying to enlist the services of Otto Wollf, a known counterfeiter."

"He is trying to go underground," Ziva said, shaking her head.

"Wollf is one of the best identification counterfeiters in the world," McGee said. A photo of Wollf—bearded, with piercing blue eyes—popped up on the screen. "He's been on the FBI and CIA watch-list for nine years."

"How do we find him?" Tony asked.

"You don't," Gibbs said, taking a drink of his coffee. "We do."

"Abby is working through a list of known contacts for Wollf," McGee added. "We're hoping someone can lead us to him."

"And we just sit here and wait until Bodner has disappeared again?" Ziva asked, agitation creeping into her voice.

"You need to find Bodner's Berlin contact," Gibbs said.

"You've known him your whole life, Ziva," McGee added. "Try to think of someone that he may have mentioned, someone that he may have known briefly… at school or in the military."

Ziva leaned back against the sofa and tapped her fingers against her cup. "If I think of anyone, I will let you know."

McGee nodded.

Gibbs gave them a half-smile. "And in the meantime… work out your issues." He slid a finger across his neck, signaling the attendant to end communication.

The screen flickered and went dark.

McGee turned to look at Gibbs. "Issues?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Obviously," Gibbs answered.

Berlin, 18:00

"Henric Rushkin."

"Huh?" Tony looked up, meeting Ziva's eyes across the room. He had spent the past few hours sifting through muddy bus station footage for another glimpse of Ilan Bodner. The two agents had spoken approximately four words to one another since talking with Gibbs and McGee earlier that afternoon.

"Rushkin… he served with Ilan in the IDF a number of years ago. I remember… Ilan talking about a visit with Henric. I believe he lived near Lichtenburg."

Tony opened his laptop and pulled up a map of Berlin. It took him a few seconds to locate Lichtenburg. "East Berlin," he said, spinning the computer around so that Ziva could see. "Probably fifteen minutes away by cab."

Ziva dialed McGee, giving him the name and last known location. "He'll text the address when he finds it," she said, snapping her phone closed.

Tony nodded and tapped his fingers against the table, "Henric… that's not a Hebrew name?"

Ziva, who was pacing around the table, stopped and made a snorting noise. "No… I believe his father was German and mother was Israeli." She sat down in the chair next to Tony and offered a small smile, "probably quite the scandal."

A few minutes later, she read the address off her phone and Tony Googled the location. "It's a bar," he said, squinting at the computer.

"McGee says it is owned by Henric Rushkin. He lives in the apartment above." Ziva stood and leaned over Tony's shoulder, reading the screen, "Adagio... odd name."

"Hope you brought your dancing shoes," Tony said, shutting his computer and turning around in his chair to look at Ziva. "Did you ever meet this Henric guy?"

Ziva shook her head, "I only saw pictures."

"So there's no chance he would recognize you?"

She shook her head again and made her way toward the bedroom to change. "I was still in school when Ilan started in the IDF. It was a part of his life that did not involve me or… my family."

Tony went into his own bedroom and pulled a new shirt out of the closet. He had hung up his clothes in an attempt to avoid having to iron later, and chided himself for tossing his suit coat on the floor the night before. He had just pulled his new shirt on when her head poked through the door.

"I think Tali may have met him once," she said, watching as he buttoned his shirt.

Tony paused briefly at the mention of Ziva's younger sister and then turned toward the bureau to grab his tie. "She must have been young."

"Maybe… fourteen or fifteen?" Ziva answered. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was already in the Israeli Army by then and was not home for their visit."

They were silent for a minute, Ziva watching Tony move around the room, gathering his gun, wallet, and other various items that had been strewn about.

Breaking the silence and turning back toward her, Tony asked, "What are you going to do if you see Bodner?"

Ziva sighed and moved toward him, reaching out to straighten his tie. "He will not risk getting caught out in the open," she replied, "not with so many people looking for him." She finished adjusting the knot and, standing back to look at her work, she gave him a small smile, "much better."

"Well, just in case, at least promise me you won't shoot him on sight?" Tony reached to grab his jacket off the bed and turned back just in time to see Ziva roll her eyes.

"I will not shoot… first," she said with a smirk.

Tony shot her a smile, "that's the spirit." He moved past her and only stopped when he felt her hand on his arm.

"Tony, I…."

He turned back toward her, waiting.

She sighed, eyes flickering toward the floor, and then back to meet his. "I did not want you held responsible for my actions." She gave his arm a squeeze. "You have been… after my father was…." Her voice trailed off.

"I meant what I said, Ziva," he said, taking his hand and brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "You are not alone."

"I know," her eyes were cast down. The bedroom lamp was dimmed, bathing her in soft light and making her appear smaller, more fragile.

Tony didn't know what to do, how to act. Ziva rarely let her guard down; rarely let anyone see her vulnerability. He needed her to know that she was forgiven. Her gaze was still cast downward, making an honest conversation difficult. He slowly tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "What are you afraid of?" he whispered. His heart thumped hard in his chest. Their faces were inches apart now—Tony's brain was screaming in protest, demanding that he stop and think about the consequences of this situation. In her eyes, he saw a flash of—what? Fear?

Ziva's hand was still on his arm, thumb absentmindedly rubbing his bicep. "Everything," she said, finally.

Her lips were so close now. He could feel the heat from her breath. He moved his hand from the side of her face to the back of her neck slowly, and moved her mouth to meet his, whispering, "don't be." He feared she would pull back at the last second, but as their lips softly met, electricity shot down his spine. He felt her hand move into his hair and her body shift toward him. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but they were the best, and most terrifying, seconds Tony ever had. As he pulled back, he felt her inhale slowly. He was afraid to open his eyes; afraid the world had shifted under his feet.

"Tony…" she murmured his name into his ear in a tone so soft, he had to strain to hear.

He cleared his throat, willing his voice to work. "Yeah?" His hand was still resting on the back of her head, fingers entwined in her long hair. He exhaled and finally met her eyes.

"Gibbs is…"

"Going to head slap me into the next..."

"No, Tony… he is calling." Ziva pulled back, severing the connection between their bodies. She lifted his phone off the bureau and handed it to him.

He flipped it open and took a deep breath, hoping he would come across sounding normal. Tony did not want Gibbs' trusty gut to be alerted before he figured out what just happened. "Yeah, boss," he finally said.

"It's Abby."

Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, and Gibbs… I'm on speaker phone." He could hear the low beat of her music in the background.

"What'd you find?" he asked, voice cracking slightly.

"Great question, Tony!" she said, enthusiastically. "A connection between our bar owner and the infamous counterfeiter." She paused for dramatic effect. "It seems that Henric Rushkin has been running a side business out of his apartment."

"Let me guess… a counterfeiting business?"

"Bingo."

"Thanks, Abby," he said. He started to pull the phone away from his ear, but was stopped by Abby's voice.

"Wait, there's more!" she shouted into the phone. "We found email messages from Bodner to Henric, going back years… he's been paying Henric to provide fake identification for… well, for a lot of pople."

Tony leaned against the wall, realization hitting him. "Henric's the middle man."

"Exactly. And Wollf's work is good. If Bodner gets a hold of a new passport, it'll take a while to find him."

"That's why we need to get to him before Wollf does." Tony looked up at Ziva, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing out the window. Her fingers were resting gently on her lips. Tony's mind flashed back momentarily to the feeling of her lips on his.

"Tony!" Abby's voice rung in her ears.

"Yeah? Sorry."

"How is Ziva holding up?"

Tony turned away from his partner, "she's fine, Abbs… great." He grimaced. Great? Not believable. "You know," he laughed awkwardly and cleared his throat. "She's… Ziva."

"I mean, it must be hard… searching for the man who killed your father, who also grew up as a brother to you," Abby was rambling.

"Yeah, she's fine, Abby." Tony desperately wished this conversation would be over. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm gonna let you go now…."

"Something bothering you, DiNozzo?" It was the first time Gibbs had spoken.

"Nope, nothing wrong here, boss," he lied. "We're just," he cleared his throat, "about ready to leave for Henric's bar… Adagio." He was talking too much.

Silence.

Abby's voice again, "okay… well… bye, Tony. Good luck!"

Tony shut the phone, gripping it tightly in his fist. Ziva was still sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles.

"Smooth, Tony," she said, finally meeting his gaze.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well…" he shot her a half-smile and shook his head, "I am having a hard time wrapping my brain around…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"You are… not alone," she replied after a second. She lowered her eyes and fingered her star-of-David necklace.

Tony pulled himself together and looked at her, perched on the bed, a bewildered expression on her face. A few minutes ago she was alert, focused. What had they done? He took a deep breath and crossed the room. He couldn't let her get lost in her thoughts, not before they found Bodner. Tony knelt in front of her and put his hands on either side of her face. "Ziva… I don't really know what to do here," he said honestly. She responded by looking up and meeting his eyes. He continued, slowly. "I think we need to…."

"Do our job," she finished.

He took a hold of her hands, giving them a squeeze. "Yeah," he said, nodding.

"And think," she added.

He nodded again.

Ziva took a deep breath and exhaled unsteadily. "I do not want to hurt you." Her eyes glistened.

Tony closed his eyes and pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her small frame. They stayed that way for a minute, kneeling on the hotel floor, her face buried in his chest. He pulled back and kissed her head, inhaling the scent of her lavender shampoo.

"Later," he said softly, "we'll figure this out later."

She nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet. They left the hotel in heavy silence, and flagged a cab. As Tony shut the car door, he tried to clear his mind and focus on the case. Ziva was counting on him to be in top form, and their partnership had to come before anything else. We have to find Bodner, he thought, willing his brain to participate.

Everything else would have to come later.

phoof