Of Jews and Gentiles: Conclusion (12/12)
Tony DiNozzo had spent enough time in emergency departments of various hospitals to know the routine: if the injury was bad enough-and he thought having a bullet hole all the way through his arm might qualify-the patient was taken directly to the trauma bay, where a swarm of technicians, nurses, and medical students all shouted frantic orders over the patients head. Then the doctors would make an appearance, and they would (hopefully) order some pain medicine, and (hopefully not) poke and prod at the injury before straightening and declaring that the patient needed x-rays (as if that weren't obvious) and a specialist.
In this case, the specialist was a tiny Asian girl--woman, he supposed, although she looked really young--a second-year orthopedic surgery resident from across town at Walter Reed Army Medical Center (“We're a fairly well-integrated Army-Navy residency program, Agent DiNozzo. But we Army docs are better.”) who introduced herself as Captain Emily Shin. She barely looked strong enough to lift a scalpel, much less do some of the bone-breaking surgeries orthopedists were famous for, but she handled his arm with surprising ease as she positioned the dead-weight (the local anesthetic she gave was truly amazing) above a stainless-steel basin and got to work.
“We have a lot of practice with bullet holes, unfortunately,” she was saying, her head still bent over his arm. “Most of the Iraq and Afghanistan MEDEVACs come in to either here or WRAMC,” she pronounced her hospital ram-see, and it took DiNozzo a minute to realize that she was referring to Walter Reed. “You're in much better shape than most of them, though. Small bullet, looks like a twenty-two caliber, went clean through. It missed your brachial artery-the big artery in your arm-but it looks like it got your vein. That's not as big of a deal. Perforated the belly of the biceps muscle in the front and the triceps tendon in the back, so you'll probably be in physical therapy for awhile but should regain complete use of those muscles. Don't worry, we have a good physical medicine and rehab program here, although the Army one is better.” He hoped that was just hospital pride speaking and not a fact. “Looking at your x-ray, it looks like the bullet grazed your humerus, so we'll have to treat this as an open fracture due to your risk of infection.”
“So, surgery?”
She nodded. “But not tonight. We still have a few cases scheduled for the OR, and this isn't critical. A day isn't going to make any difference-most of our bullet wounds come in from theater, so they wait a couple of days before getting operated on. We'll probably just do an exploration of the wound under anesthesia and repair that vein, check for nerve damage, that sort of thing. We'll get you checked into the hospital for the night-”
“If I'm not going to have surgery until tomorrow, can't I go home?”
“Don't argue with the doctors, DiNozzo.” The agent snapped his head up toward the doors to the trauma bay and grinned at the man standing there.
“Hey, Boss,” he greeted. He put on a pleading expression. “You gotta help me out here. You know how I feel about spending the night in a hospital.”
“Having you come back in the morning shouldn't be a problem, Agent DiNozzo,” Dr. Shin interjected as she rose from the wheeled stool she was sitting on. “Just let me talk to my chief and draw up your discharge papers. We'll send you home with some antibiotics and a reminder not to eat or drink anything after midnight and to come back two hours before your surgery is scheduled to start.” She snapped off her latex gloves as she made her exit.
“Wow,” DiNozzo commented, impressed. “That was the easiest argument I've ever had with a doctor. So, did you get Mrs. Grossman?” His expression changed slightly. “And no offense, Boss, it's always great to see you, but I was hoping that Ziva-”
“Mrs. Grossman is back at NCIS. She's been booked on six counts of murder and one count of attempted murder.”
DiNozzo mentally counted the cases in his head and frowned. “Six?” Gibbs shrugged.
“She confessed to one we didn't know about.”
“So you broke her in interrogation?”
Gibbs took a sip of the coffee cup stamped with the logo of his favorite chain; DiNozzo had no idea how the man always managed to find 'his' coffee. “I wouldn't say 'broke',” he finally said. “She confessed everything without any sort of prompting. Seemed rather proud of herself, actually. Thought she was saving the Jewish people or some such thing.” Another sip of coffee. “I have McGee back at the office informing the FBI of the case. I'm sure they're going to find unsolved deaths of many more non-Jews dating Jews in Seattle, LA, and Miami.”
“Everywhere Grossman has lived since she moved to the States.”
Gibbs nodded. “Apparently, Rabbi Grossman once seriously dated a non-Jewish girl before he joined the rabbinate and got married. She wouldn't convert, they broke up, and Grossman made his way to Israel and met his wife. I don't know if being a rabbi's second choice was what set her off or not. To be honest, I don't care.”
“Her lawyer trying to get her an insanity plea?”
“He'd be an idiot if he didn't,” Gibbs scoffed. “She thought God was telling her to kill people and that He was pleased with her actions. Doesn't sound like the reasoning of a sane woman to me.”
DiNozzo nodded before his mind wandered back to who wasn't there. “Where's Ziva?” he asked again. Gibbs took another sip of coffee.
“Mrs. Grossman got a lucky kick in after Ziva arrested her. Broke her fibula.” At DiNozzo's blank look, he explained, “The small bone on the outside of the leg.”
“She broke her leg?”
“More of her ankle, really. The doctors say she'll be fine. Six weeks in a fracture boot and she'll be back to leaving your ass in the dust during your morning runs in no time.”
“I should go see her,” DiNozzo said, struggling to stand. Gibbs' hand stopped him.
“Not so fast, DiNozzo. You still need to wait for the doctor to come back, remember? Besides, I'm not through talking to you.”
“The rules?” DiNozzo guessed.
“Depends,” Gibbs replied. “Is this going to be an on-going thing?”
DiNozzo narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out what Gibbs was asking. “Yeah,” he finally replied. “At least, I assume so. I hope so. She snores like a lumberjack with emphysema and hogs the covers and kicks in her sleep, and she has these nightmares that she doesn't think I know about, and her damned alarm never fails to go off at 0500, but I always sleep better when she's there. I'd do anything for her, Boss. Hell, I've already been to the synagogue more times than anything resembling a Catholic church. I've learned how to put a kippah on my head and keep it there for a few hours, I think I'm up to ten phrases of Hebrew by now. I can stop eating shellfish and sausage and pepperoni pizza-.” He cut himself off when he realized that he was speaking truthfully; he would give up pepperoni pizza if Ziva required him to. He'd even give up Saturday college football games, as long as he could record them and watch them on Sundays-
“I don't think she needs any of that,” Gibbs said, interrupting his musings with the slight smile of a man who seen it all before and maybe lived it once or twice. “There's only one thing that matters, DiNozzo: do you love her?”
The question stopped DiNozzo in his tracks, because it was he one question he had been trying not to think about for the last several weeks. Did he love her? He had once loved Jeanne, he could never deny that. If it were a perfect world, one in which he really was Tony DiNardo and really was a professor of film studies and Rene Benoit hadn't been an international arms dealer followed by NCIS, she would have been the type of woman he could see himself marrying and moving into the suburbs with, where they would have their white picket fence and raise their two children and a dog. But that wasn't the real world, and Jeanne would never have been able to understand who he really was and why he had done what he had. Ziva, on the other hand...Ziva and Jeanne couldn't be more different. While Jeanne had been laboriously studying to become a doctor, Ziva was traveling the world killing terrorists. She was blunt and sometimes crude and got that twinkle in her eye when she was thinking something mischievous. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind about anything, and they fought about everything, from what to have for dinner to what movie to watch to how to load the dishwasher, but he would much rather have her there fighting with him than anywhere else leaving him in peace. “Yeah, Boss,” he finally said. “I love her.”
Gibbs nodded slowly as Dr. Shin returned with DiNozzo's discharge papers and waited patiently for the doctor to explain them in great detail. After the surgeon had left, he finally said, “Just keep it out of the office. The last thing I need to be hearing while I'm at my desk is what you two did in bed the night before.” DiNozzo knew he was smiling like an idiot as he followed his boss out of the trauma bay, but he didn't care.
---
Officer Ziva David was bored. Now that the excitement of the case and Gibbs' hurried drive to the emergency department were over, she found herself longing for something to do. He had practically pushed her out the door when they arrived at Bethesda and told her to check herself in while he took the rabbi's wife on to NCIS. It had taken the better part of an hour before the petty officer had escorted her to radiology and then to her “room”, which was really a curtained off area in the corner. A nurse had come in to take her vital signs and brought the x-ray up on a nearby computer monitor, muttering something about the doctor being in shortly before she wandered off again, leaving Ziva to her boredom. She was tempted to go out to the main area to see if she could track down a doctor herself, but judging by the thin line that ran through the thin bone along her ankle-she had gotten up to study it to see if she could find a fracture, and sure enough, she could-she wouldn't get far. So she waited.
It had been almost another hour before the doctor finally arrived. “I thought that would be you,” a familiar-looking man said with a grin as he walked through the curtain. “I saw your name on the computer and grabbed your case. I'm betting I won't get the opportunity to treat many NCIS agents.” His grin widened slightly. “At least, I hope not, seeing as I'm actually a psychiatry intern doing an ER rotation.”
“Ensign Sault,” Ziva said in surprise as she finally realized why he was familiar. “I did not realize you had started already.”
“It's 'Lieutenant' or 'Doctor' now, actually,” Dr. Jacob Sault corrected. “Apparently, Ohio State has decided I've learned everything I can from them and they gave me a degree and a set of railroad tracks,” referring to his silver rank bars, which he wasn't wearing with his scrubs, “and sent me on my way. And to be honest, it's only my third day.”
“Congratulations,” Ziva replied, still somewhat surprised.
“Thanks. Anyway, I checked your x-ray out at the nurses' station-”
“She going to be able to walk again?” a third voice asked from the curtained doorway. Ziva glanced up and gave her boss a thin smile. Dr. Sault smiled encouragingly.
“It's just a fibular fracture, you won't even need a cast or crutches. I'll send in one of our ortho techs to have you fitted for a fracture boot. You should wear it all the time, except for the shower, for about two weeks, then just when you're on your feet for another four. I'll set up your follow-up with one of our orthopods as well.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Ziva said. Sault smiled again before a slightly hesitant expression appeared on his face.
“I know this isn't the best time to ask, but I was wondering if you were any closer to figuring out who-”
“We just arrested her,” Ziva interrupted. “It was Rebbetzin Grossman. She had killed several others as well and shot my partner.” She turned back to Gibbs. “Tony?” she asked quietly.
“The GSW-gun shot wound?” Sault answered for him. “He's fine. One of my fellow interns said he's awake and complaining about how much it hurts.” He gave her another encouraging smile before he ducked out to put in her orders.
She smiled slightly at the news and appeared to be ready to say something to Gibbs when there was a knock at the wall beside her curtain. Without waiting for a response, Officer Michael Bashan entered the small space. “I am glad to see you awake and well, Officer David,” he said with a nod.
“Thank you, Officer Bashan,” she replied, wondering why he was there. He answered her unspoken question.
“We have finished our search of the BMW. It was clean from explosives and tampering.” He hesitated slightly, then continued. “I will be honest with you. I have been in contact with Director David since this mission has begun. He has taken an interest in this case for reasons he would not fully explain, other than his daughter's involvement. I have told him that you suffered minor injuries today, and he wishes your rapid recovery. He also asked me to pass along a message that he will be in Austria in three weeks time and was wondering if you would like to join him.”
“I will see him,” Ziva replied automatically, “but it will not be in Austria.” Her voice was unintentionally harsh, and she forced herself to calm down when she remembered that she was the only one in the room-and one of only three or four people in the world-who knew what the Mossad director would be doing in Austria. “Tell him I will make a trip to Tel Aviv instead.”
“I will tell him,” Bashan said with a nod.
“No,” Ziva said, changing her mind. “I will do it.”
“Very well. Will this be while you are convalescing?”
She glanced over at Gibbs before returning her attention to the older Mossad officer. “Actually, I was considering that since I will not be able to return to field work for at least another six weeks, that I could finish teaching my course.” Her eyes returned to Gibbs and she gave a small shrug. “I have spent enough time going over cold cases with Tony for awhile.”
He chuckled slightly and nodded. “I don't think NCIS will have a problem with that.”
“I will make arrangements,” Bashan promised with a single nod. “However, we will need the car and condominium returned to us.”
“You already have the car,” Ziva reminded him. “And it should not take long to clean out the condo. We will get keys to you by Friday, yes?”
“Very well. Shalom, Officer David.”
“Shalom.” As quietly as he had approached, the senior Mossad officer left.
“McGee's already asked if he can come visit,” Gibbs informed Ziva, filling the silence of the room. “He should be done with Mrs. Grossman soon.”
“I will be fine alone, Gibbs,” Ziva said with a small smile. “You can go check on Tony. I will still be here when you return. I have a broken leg; it would be hard for me to leave unnoticed.” She leaned back into the bed, seeming content with that decision. Gibbs nodded as he ducked out of the room.
---
Gibbs had muttered something about “bay three” before he vanished from sight, likely to find more coffee, leaving his senior field agent to attempt to navigate the large emergency department alone, his arm fixed in a hard plastic cast and sling. He figured he was headed in the right direction when he heard a familiar female laugh, following by a long string of words in Hebrew.
He pulled aside the curtain to bay three to see his partner sitting on the edge of her bed, her right foot tucked beneath her and her left leg, clad in an impressive boot of hard plastic and black nylon straps, hanging down toward the floor. Her IDF uniform jacket and blouse had been tossed aside at some point, leaving her in the dark blue slacks and white tank-top, the long braid that he had watched her pull her hair into that morning abandoned in favor of a simple ponytail.
Leaning in a corner formed by the sink and the wall was a man in scrubs who looked like he should have been familiar, but DiNozzo couldn't quite place where he would have known him from. Seeing the smiles on the faces of both his partner and the unknown man-doctor?-DiNozzo felt an unjustified surge of jealousy. Now that the mission was over, he didn't know if he had a right to feel jealous. “Hi,” he finally said.
“Hi,” Ziva replied. They both continued to stare at each other warily, not sure of what to say. “I see your doctors have finally let you out of their sights?”
“Yeah,” he answered with a nod. His eyes went over to the man by the wall. “I see yours hasn't.”
“Oh,” Ziva said, as if forgetting that he had been standing there. “This is Lt. Jacob Sault. Doctor, my partner, Tony DiNozzo.”
As soon as she said the name, he realized why the man looked familiar; not only had DiNozzo seen his personnel file almost three months before, but he looked strikingly like his younger sister. “I see you got promoted,” DiNozzo commented, extending his right arm. Sault grinned.
“After four years as an ensign, it was about damned time,” he joked. He snapped his fingers as he suddenly remembered something. “You wouldn't be the Buckeye fan, would you?”
DiNozzo brightened, remembering that Sault had just graduated from Ohio State's medical school. “I've been told on more than one occasion that I bleed scarlet and gray,” he joked. “I heard you had the privilege of actually watching the Penn State tragedy up close.”
Sault grimaced. “I thought we had them for awhile, but we just died in the end.” Both men shook their heads sadly, while Ziva gave a long-suffering sigh. She found herself wondering if she would be listening to comments about Ohio State football for the rest of her life, then felt her cheeks flush slightly at the unintentional thought, not knowing if she had any right to be thinking it. “But anyway, Officer David was telling me that you guys caught Chris' killer, so, thank you.”
“Well, it was more Ziva than me. I mostly sat on the floor bleeding,” DiNozzo joked. “But if I were you, I'd avoid the couple's classes at the Georgetown synagogue.”
Sault laughed slightly as he shook his head. “Well, no worries there. I'm happily engaged to an equally non-observant Jew. Chris' death taught me that when you want something, there's no use waiting. We just set a date for February. She's starting her pediatrics residency at Johns Hopkins, so as soon as Hannah's lease is up, we're going to be buying a place somewhere about halfway between here and Baltimore. Not that I'll be spending much time in synagogues anyway, but I won't even be in the area of that synagogue.”
“How is Hannah?” Ziva asked.
“Better,” Dr. Sault said with a nod. “She's doing well at her new position in Norfolk, where she actually gets to use her oceanography degree. She says she still doesn't have any interest in dating anyone just yet, but it hasn't even been three months. Nobody's trying to rush her into anything.” They lapsed into the slightly uncomfortable silence of three people who didn't have very much in common before Sault spoke again. “Well, I should probably get back to work. Ziva, your follow-up appointments have already been made and they're in your discharge summary,” he nodded toward a small pile of papers near the head of the bed, “and you can pick up your prescriptions at the pharmacy here. It was good to see you-both of you-again, and thanks again for putting Rebbetzin Grossman behind bars.” He smiled again as he headed for the curtain.
“Oh, Doc,” DiNozzo said before he could walk away. “I know of some great Buckeye bars in the area, if you're looking for a place to watch the games in a couple of months. Not that you would ever watch football on a Saturday, of course.”
Sault grinned and nodded. “Thanks. I'll drop you an email or give you a call closer to the season starting.” He ducked through the curtain, leaving Tony and Ziva alone for the first time that day since Mrs. Grossman burst through her apartment door with guns blazing.
“Apparently I'm not going to die in the next twenty-four hours, because the doctors have released me until my surgery tomorrow,” DiNozzo finally said after a few moments of silence. “So since we've both been discharged, I think it's time to blow this popsicle stand and go home.”
She frowned slightly, but he didn't know if it was at 'blow this popsicle stand' or 'go home'. “Whose home, Tony? Yours, or mine?”
He shook his head slowly, still not sure exactly what she thought of their relationship. Sure, there were those words she said before she chased after Mrs. Grossman, but that could have just been a heat-of-the-moment, he-might-be-dying reaction. In the aftermath, with both realizing that they have lived through yet another death-defying moment and realizing that their lives would changing yet again, she might be seeing things differently. He wasn't going to let her go that easily. “I don't care which apartment we go to, Ziva, just as long as we go there together.”
Her smile was answer enough for him.