Of Jews and Gentiles: Conclusion, Part II

A/N: The moment we've all been waiting for/dreading: the last chapter of OJ&G. I can't believe it actually happened. I'm quite sad, to be honest. I've really enjoyed going on this journey with you. And I've really enjoyed the 20+ emails about reviews every day. I have my email forwarded to my phone, so checking reviews throughout the day is a constant source of entertainment (but I have to be careful... my resident caught me when I was chuckling about something someone wrote the other day. Not exactly ideal behavior from a med student). But anyway, there is good news! There are other stories. The next one, Lethal Fractures, is technically a sequel to my earlier fic, Deep Lacerations, but it fits in with the timeline from OJ&G as well, so you can think of it as a sequel to this one, if you want.

And, if you want to read some original fiction I've come up with, there's a link to my fictionpress account in my profile. Please, check it out. It's odd to be posting a story and not getting 20+ reviews a day. And yes, I am advertising for myself again.

Okay, enough of that. Onto the conclusion, part 2.

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.