Chapter 8
They huddled over the secluded corner table, speaking in hushed tones, sipping on nearly empty glasses of wine, already several refills into the evening, dinner plates cleared from the table just seconds earlier. This was one of their nights, a night away from the office, pretending to be under the stars in their favorite restaurant in the city.
He reached out and stroked her cheek, brushing his thumb along her jaw line, tucking her hair behind her ear, placing his hand over hers where her fingers had been fidgeting with the hem of the napkin. “You look beautiful tonight.”
“You always say that.” The smile playing at her lips reached her dark eyes, a hint of color pooling to her tanned cheeks. Only with him did her defenses drop and her feminine side show. With him, she could be vulnerable and feel safe.
“I always mean it.”
“Good thing I never tire of hearing it.” She set her wine glass down and began running tiny patterns with her fingernails over the back of his hand where it lay over hers. “Are we dancing tonight?” she asked, hearing a song come on that struck her interest.
He looked across to the dance floor. “It doesn’t look too crowded tonight. I suppose we could get out there and show people how…” but something caught his attention, tensed his whole body, and rendered him momentarily speechless, not an easy task to be done. “Ziva, I think we may have a problem.”
Confused by his sudden change in demeanor, she turned her head to see what he was looking at. “What do you see, Tony?” she asked just before her eyes landed exactly where his were. “Oh, no. This is not good.”
Tony and Ziva had been seeing each other ever since that fateful trip to Paris last year, where, despite what they each told people, neither of them slept on the couch in the shared hotel room. In fact, neither of them slept much at all that night. All the playful teasing, sexual innuendoes, partnership, and deepening bond over the four years prior had built up to that night of passion and promises.
The fact that they worked together wouldn’t necessarily pose a problem in some workplaces, but with Gibbs’ firm rule number twelve to never date a coworker, things were complicated. Unless they wanted to face their boss’ judgment for their perceived indiscretions, their relationship had to be kept top secret.
For being top secret, it wasn’t exactly the best-kept secret in NCIS history. Being Ziva’s best friend, Abby had dragged it out of her within a few weeks. Unbeknownst to them, Ducky had spotted them out one romantic evening just a couple of months later; however, he solemnly swore to himself to keep the young lovers’ secret. Tony and Ziva were unaware that McGee had been putting two and two together for a few months now and was pretty sure he’d caught onto them as well.
If Gibbs knew, he had made no mention of it, given no stern reprimands, no harsh warnings of the mistake he believed them to be making, or any other such thing. They had no reason to believe Gibbs had any idea about their secret romantic relationship.
“Do you think he saw us?” Tony asked her, sounding very much like a teenager about to get busted by his father for sneaking out past curfew.
Ziva kept her eyes across the room, monitoring the situation carefully. “No, I do not believe so. Gibbs seems quite distracted by his companion.” She noticed the way Gibbs seemed so different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he was very unlike at the office. “What do you think he is doing here? Do you know who that woman is, Tony?” Her curiosity was getting the best of her.
Relaxing slightly at the idea that Gibbs hadn’t noticed them and was, in fact, quite distracted by the mystery redhead, let Tony take a moment to regard the woman his boss appeared to be having dinner with this evening. The obvious feature was the signature red hair, long known to be a favorite of Gibbs, a deeply rich hue flowing in gentle loose waves down the back of this intriguing woman. She was clad in a sexily revealing, yet elegant, silken hunter green spaghetti strapped dress with a plunging neckline, low cut back, and rather short length, all showing off her desirable feminine curves, toned, late twenty-something body, and long slender legs.
Tony noticed that the unknown younger woman with his boss held herself with poise and a certain grace that suggested she perhaps came from money or was at least used to a certain level of upper class lifestyle. It was something he recognized from his own upbringing, years spent around snobbish debutante rich girls. In her, he saw ‘high maintenance’ in neon lights, screaming out she wasn’t Gibbs’ type.
“I don’t know who she is, but she can’t be his girlfriend. Gibbs doesn’t have a girlfriend, and if he did, it wouldn’t be someone like her,” he finally replied, quite sure of himself.
Ziva was a bit confused. “Why not? She is a redhead and very attractive. Is it because she is so much younger? Do you not think a younger woman would find a man like Gibbs appealing? Some younger women prefer older men. I for one think Gibbs is a very attractive man.”
Tony turned to her, mouth agape. “I can’t believe you just said that, Ziva. Especially to me. I’m hurt.” He feigned a little pout, knowing full well that she had always believed so about Gibbs, but that she was not personally attracted to him like that. Ziva loved Gibbs like a father, and Tony knew it.
She giggled quietly, but returned to her original questions. “Really though, Tony, why do you not think she could be Gibbs’ girlfriend?”
“It’s sorta tough to explain. There’s something about the way she walked in with him, the way she took her seat, the way she holds her head up like that, something that tells me she’s used to money, comes from money or something. I don’t think she’s Gibbs’ type. You know what I mean, Ziva?”
Studying the woman across the room more carefully, Ziva saw an elegantly stunning lady in green seated across from the gruff former Marine she was so fond of, but she did not understand what Tony was seeing. “No, I am afraid I do not.”
Keeping his eye on the couple, Tony tried to come up with the best way to explain what he saw to Ziva. It struck him that it wasn’t just the woman who seemed all wrong, but Gibbs seemed out of place and not right. He turned his attention to his boss and realized the man was dressed all ‘GQ’ and had ordered a fairly expensive bottle of wine for the evening. Gibbs appeared to be trying to impress this younger woman the way Tony had other women before Ziva. And he seemed nervous.
He absentmindedly reached out for her hand as he spoke. “Zee, does Gibbs seem odd to you? I mean, really look at him, the way he’s dressed and acting, and tell me if you see anything different about him.”
She smiled at the way he used his nickname for her, interlaced her fingers with Tony’s across the table, but remained watchful of Gibbs who seemed uncharacteristically ignorant of the eyes on him. “The fact that he has not noticed he is being watched is out of the ordinary for Gibbs. Of that I have no doubt. He has yet to look over here at us or even survey the room to do a threat assessment, which our Gibbs would always do.” She paused to take a sip of her wine after Tony emptied the remainder of the bottle into her glass. “He is dressed unusually fancifully tonight, certainly not something you would see Gibbs in for anything other than a very special occasion. I do detect a hint of discomfort, perhaps anxiety in his body language. Could he be nervous?”
Their server came up at that moment, before Tony could reply. “Can I get you two anything else or are you ready for the check this evening?” she asked politely.
Tony paused for just a second to assess the situation, then responded, “We’ll have another bottle of wine and two dessert menus please. I think we’re going to take our time tonight and enjoy the ambiance.” He flashed one of his 100 watt smiles at the young server, who blushed.
“I’ll get that right out to you, sir,” she said quickly then turned on her heel and fled from the table.
“Tony, do you take pleasure in embarrassing young girls with your flirting?” Ziva questioned, nudging his arm playfully.
He ignored her teasing, turning his attention back to Gibbs and his redheaded mystery date. “Yeah, nervous is what I thought too. He just doesn’t seem like Gibbs.”
She leaned in across the table, suddenly speaking very low, as if Gibbs could hear her. “Do you really think we should be indulging in another bottle of wine and dessert, Tony? Do you not think we should get out of here before he sees us?”
“Hm, well, my dearest, do you see any other exits from this restaurant other than the one that takes us directly past Gibbs’ table guaranteeing he will see us? I’m sorry, but in that dress you’re wearing tonight and in this particular romantic restaurant, there’s no way he’d believe we were here as just friends. Aside from that, do you really want to put him in the position of knowing we saw him out with this mysterious younger woman? I can just see the stars before my eyes from the extra hard head slaps I’d get at the office for just having a hint of an idea of what Gibbs does in his off hours, aside from drink bourbon in his basement alone, if he knew that I knew something. You get me?”
Despite what seemed like rambling from her partner, in every sense of the word, she understood him clearly. “Yes, Tony, I get you now. You are right. We cannot leave until Gibbs does.” She twitched her lips in a momentary pout that he did not see, frustrated that the night was not progressing the way it was intended to. By now, they should have been in a cab heading back to her place, warm from the wine, hot with desire. No, this was not at all what either of them had planned.
“What is Gibbs doing? Can he even dance?” Tony exclaimed, almost too loudly, to Ziva, as he watched his boss lead the woman out onto the dance floor as the voice of Frank Sinatra filled the room. “Wow. I guess he really can. I had no idea.”
“Oh, Tony, I really wish we could be out there dancing together tonight. Seeing them makes me so jealous.” She wasn’t afraid to admit that to him. He would understand. They loved to come here and twirl around the dance floor, under the twinkling lights, in each other’s arms with carefree abandon. “He really is a good dancer. Very impressive.”
They watched with rapt attention as Gibbs spun his date around the wooden floor in the center of the room, not seeming to have a care in the world. Tony and Ziva were both surprised to see the couple smiling and laughing together as they danced, nearly breathless as the song ended.
Soon the tempo changed as the music became softer, turning to a gentle love song, and they saw Gibbs pull the woman’s body close to his as she lay her head on his shoulder, her fingers in his hair, his hand quite low on her back. It was obvious to the two trained investigators spying on them that they were intimately familiar with each other.
Tony started putting the puzzle pieces together as Gibbs lead his apparent lover back to the table, and suddenly he was horrified at the thought of what was happening here. “Ziva, I think I know what’s going on, and you’re never gonna believe it. You’re definitely not going to like it.”
“Well, spit it out, Tony,” she said impatiently. She had no idea herself and hoped he had figured out the mystery.
“You remember the case we had involving Holly Snow where Gibbs ended up saving her life in the end?”
“Yes, of course I remember. It was quite a surprise when our murderer turned out to be Charlotte’s lawyer boyfriend all along.”
“I think Gibbs’ friend Holly has been sending him thank you gifts since then. You know, former ‘business associates’ of hers. It would be too obvious if Holly herself were to be seen with him.” Tony nodded in a slight gesture towards Gibbs and the young woman accompanying him this evening.
Ziva took a minute to process that information before her eyes grew wide and she looked at Tony, her jaw dropped, a gasp escaping her mouth. “You cannot mean… I mean…There is no way Gibbs would…You do not really think she is a…” She couldn’t put together a full sentence, say the words, or bring herself to believe that about Gibbs, the man she adored and respected.
“I know how much you look up to him, Ziva. We all do. But he is only a man, as much as we all like to believe he’s more like some indestructible crime fighting superhero who can do no wrong. He’s been alone for a long time and under a lot of stress. Maybe Holly’s been sending him gifts all this time, or maybe it was just once, and he’s just kept seeing her of his own accord.” Tony hated to think of his mentor, his substitute father, in that light just as much as he knew Ziva did. “I don’t know, Zee. I just know she isn’t Gibbs type, too high class, definitely the high priced escort type who worked for Holly Snow. She could easily be on the arm of a senator or high powered executive.”
She was quiet for quite a few minutes, and for a while, Tony thought she might actually cry, although he knew she wouldn’t likely let herself do so until they were in the safety of her apartment. The disappointment hung heavy in those beautiful dark eyes he loved so much, probably even more than it showed in his own face.
Sometime during this quiet, their server brought the bottle of wine and dessert menus, opening the bottle and refilling their glasses, but not saying a word, apparently sensing her comments would not be welcome, leaving quickly once her task was complete.
Given their newfound revelation that Gibbs, the man they both looked up to more than anyone else, a man who had always believed in bringing criminals to justice and upholding the law above all else, was apparently seeing a call girl, neither Tony nor Ziva were in the mood for dessert. They set the menus off to the side and instead, indulged their heartache in the wine silently, holding each other’s hands for comfort.
Each of them kept stealing glances over at Gibbs and his expensive ‘date’, watching and wondering why he would do it, what he was thinking. Then Ziva found reason to question Tony.
“Tony, if Gibbs were paying this woman for sex, why would he take her out on a date, and why does it appear he is giving her a gift, some sort of necklace? That does not seem abnormal to treat a prostitute in that manner?” She felt a small sense of relief that perhaps Tony could be wrong.
“Ziva, it’s not always just about sex. She’s not just some prostitute. She’s an escort. He could be paying for the illusion of a relationship, for companionship. That may be part of the package, dinner, dancing, then sex. Everything he would get from a relationship but without any strings, no having to communicate feelings, no expectations beyond what he pays for. As for the gift, it’s not unusual for a regular John of a woman in that profession to give gifts as tokens of appreciation for a job well done in a sense, almost like tipping a waitress in a restaurant, but more personal. In a way, it feeds the illusion of a personal relationship. Gibbs obviously has been seeing this particular woman for some time and developed some attachment to her.” The disappointment was now thick in is voice, almost choking his words. Ziva squeezed his hand gently, reminding him she understood exactly how he felt.
In their eyes, Gibbs, the man, the myth, the legend, had just suddenly fallen from grace with a thunderous crash.
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