Disclaimer: I don't (a contraction of 'do' and 'not') own NCIS.
They gazed into each others eyes, locking themselves into a dragging battle of chocolate brown and emerald green as both refused to give the other the satisfaction of winning. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth; a straight thin line stayed on hers. His eyebrows arched in curiosity; hers came closer as her mind entered a state of pure focus.
"Give up, Tony," Ziva said. "It is over and you know it."
Tony stubbornly shook his head and glanced at his watch. "I know when to quit, Zee-Vah, and this isn't one of those times. Maybe you should think about clocking out yourself."
She giggled. "Nice try, but I have far more discipline than you."
McGee sighed from his desk and began to gather his things. "You two are nuts," he said with a shake of his head.
"Not nuts," Tony corrected. "Just determined. Ambitious. Serious. Strong-willed."
"You guys are betting over who's gonna leave first! That's pathetic!" McGee swung his bag over his shoulder and folded his jacket over his arm. "I never-well, I can't say I never expected you to do this, Tony, but you, Ziva? Really?"
"What can I say, McGee? I'm up for this challenge."
"Even if it's this pointless?" McGee dropped the topic. "Never mind. Forget I said anything. I'm going. See you guys in the morning."
Tony and Ziva nodded their quick goodbyes, not bothering to truly break eye contact. As soon as the elevator doors closed behind McGee, they both slumped back into their chairs, laughing.
"Well that went well," Ziva commented. She smiled at her partner. "I guess you were right."
Tony laughed. "When are you going to start understanding that all of my ideas are good ideas?"
Ziva gave him an incredulous look. "Ha! Don't get me started on that, Tony. I don't want to go down that memory lane again."
"Well hey, it worked, right?"
Ziva nodded. "So when do we make our move?"
Tony glanced at his watch once more. 2300. "Now seems good."
"Then now it is." Ziva pushed back her chair and stood up. Across from her, Tony did the same thing, but not before grabbing a CD case from his desk drawer and opening it up in front of Ziva.
"I can't believe I'm actually showing this to you."
"Only because you lost the last bet, Tony," Ziva said with a grin. She eagerly snatched the disk from Tony's grasp and plopped it into the plasma DVD player. "I hope you learned your lesson about betting with me because I am a natural winner."
Tony mocked a laugh and turned on the plasma. "Let me just say that everything we see in this video is totally childish and awkward sort of, and-"
"Oh, don't worry, Tony. Nothing's changed I'm sure."
"Nothing's changed," Tony grumbled, pressing the play button.
A young, brown-haired boy whizzed through the yard, dodging behind a well-decorated garden fountain. He stayed there for a minute or so, every so often poking his head out and shooting figures with his toy gun.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" He drew his head back in, shielding himself from the massive spray of bullets coming from every direction. He yanked a small square radio from his pocket. "I'm pinned down! I need back up!"
He pressed his ear against the speaker, listening intently. "Gimme air support northwest of the red smoke! I count ten-no, fifty hostiles coming in from that direction! Just clear them out and I'll take care of the rest!"
The radio was tucked back into his pocket, and he grabbed a medium-sized rock from his other pocket. Taking a quick peek out at the incoming hostiles, he tossed the rock into the middle of the yard, watching as red smoke rose into the sky.
"Incoming!" He yelled as he ducked down, covering his head with his small arms as missiles rained down from a plane, engulfing enemy after enemy in balls of fire and smoke. The boy stayed low for another minute before reproaching from behind the garden. He ran out, his gun leading him as he moved towards one remaining hostile in the middle of the yard.
"Freeze! Don't move! FBI!" The boy pointed his gun at the man. "Put your gun down!"
As the man put down his gun with one hand, his other seemed to be reaching behind his back for a back-up. Without another thought, the boy emptied his clip out into the guy's gut. As soon as he saw the man fall to the ground, he sighed and whisked out his walkie-talkie once more.
"This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo calling to confirm the hit on...the bad guy...Roger that. Over and out."
Ziva couldn't hold in all of her giggles and laughter. Looking at her blushing partner, she asked, "That was you?"
Tony nodded. "Hard to believe that even as a young boy I still put away criminals better than McGee."
"That cute, adorable little boy that was shooting at invisible men-that was you?"
"Well yeah, it is." Tony frowned. "When you say it like that, it kinda sounds like my imagination was a bad thing. But that's it." He pressed the insert button on the DVD player to take the disk out. "And that there was how I came to be an officer, Zee-Vah. You happy?"
She considered the question for a moment. "Wait, you wanted to work for the FBI?"
Tony's frown deepened a little. "I was seven years old, Ziva. The FBI was the coolest freakin' agency in America!"
"Is that what you think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' voice shocked the two agents, causing them both to whirl around and face their lead agent who was leaning back against his respective desk, arms crossed. "Would you like me to call Fornell?"
Tony quickly shook his head. "Boss, I was young, naive, seven-" He caught an amused look from Ziva as she did nothing but watch. "Now, I'm-well, age isn't important, but now I'm old enough to see through the deceitful masks of Agent Fornell and his Federal Bureau of Idiots."
Gibbs smiled, enjoying the moment. "Had nothing better to do?"
"Boss, I was seven-"
"I meant now."
Ziva stepped in. "He lost a bet, Gibbs. Just trying to have some fun before tomorrow."
Gibbs nodded. "Eh, come on, I'll buy you guys a drink."
Tony looked at Ziva, and Ziva looked at Tony. They both followed their boss curiously.
"Boss, really? I didn't know you-"
Gibbs turned around. "No, not really, DiNozzo! It's a school night!"