The First Amendment.

I. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievanence

Simply put: Freedom of Religion, Assembly, Petition, Press and Speech. Or RAPPS.


"The first Amendment, congress established freedom of...um..." Ziva started to recite from memory, squeezing her eyes shut as she walks through the bullpen. "I just had it this morning." She cried out in frustration as she slid her bag off her shoulder and let it drop to the floor.

"Having troubles Ms. David?" Tony remarked, not looking up from his keyboard. She didn't know how he still could not type properly.

Sighing, she sat down and logged in.

"By the way," Tony's voice interrupted the silence. "You left your necklace here the other day. Not sure why, because you never take that off, but I found it next to Gibbs' desk, and I knew what it meant to you..." Getting up, he shuffled over to her desk, taking a gold chain out of his pocket, and dangling it in front of her.

"Religion." She blurted out. Tony looked at her funny. Ziva turned around and held up her hair while he clasped it around her neck. "The first Amendment. Freedom of Religion."


Rows and rows of colorful people stood around the pool of the Washington Monument, listening to a man go on about how the economy sucks, and how the president isn't doing his job.

"And I say, that with all of your help, we can over come these hard times-" Ziva tuned the speaker out, and looked for familiar faces in the swarms of people.

"I'll bet there's a cop somewhere out there, just waiting the guy to slip up." Tony chuckled.

She thought for a moment.

"Assembly. Freedom of Assembly." She whispered under her breath.


Tony flipped page after page on a dirty brown clipboard, scanning it with a blue pen, scratching gel mark after gel mark. "Uhuh." Tony would mumble every so often.

Interrupting her work as he always did, he asked, -This time to nobody in particular- "So how many signitures do you think it would take to get the Director to let us dress however we want?"

"Tony, I do not think that is going to work." Ziva spoke up from behind him, making him jump.

"And why ever not?"

"Because, well, the women already get to wear what we want, for the most part. So you may get only a few signigures from the women. And there are not enough people in the building to have a good argument."

"That's the spirit." Tony cried out, excitedly. "Now sign here." His face went straight.

"I am not going to sign your petition." Ziva told him, earning an Italian frowny face.

Freedom of Petition.


"Our reporters recently found a couple of bodies in the suburbs of Detroit, Michigan, and local LEO's are all over the case. We talked to a couple of the witnesses who heard the screams and gunshots of-" Tony flung a small pink rubber band at the TV before slapping the remote, shutting off the man's voice.

"Why do they insist on telling the people of Maryland that there are bodies in Michigan. I mean, I personally have nothing against the state, if anything, I'm all for the Detroit Lions, and I'm all for telling the rest of the world what's going on, but if it was meant to show us that the press has no life, going out to the the suburbs of a small-ish town, then congratulations, they've won." Tony ranted on.

Ziva looked at him with an expression of confusion. He apparently had a bad day, because he always seemed interested in that kind of thing.

Freedom of Press.


Ziva sat at her desk, as the darkness hovered over her head, which was propped up on her hands, her nose in one of her favorite books.

Tony sat across from her, his fingers typing, -or so it seemed- harshly on the keyboard. Slowly wearing down Ziva's nerve. She put up with the sound of a keyboard dying for about fourty minutes, and that was about all she could bear.

She ground her teeth together, and glued her mouth shut. Hands clenched at her head, face down, trying to find her place in her book. It took all her might not to hurl something at him.

"Die you stupid space troll." Tony blurted out. That drove her over the edge.

She grabbed a pen, and threw it at him with all the power she could spare, letting out a squeel as she did. "Tony, will you be quiet." She demanded of him

"Nope," He stubbornly said.

She got up, and walked over to his desk, following a black cord behind his computer to an outlet. In one fluid motion, she pulled it out of its plug.

"Dammit." He muttered under his breath, "What did you do that for! I was so close to getting back my high score." A light bulb went off in her head.

Tony's favorite...Freedom of Speech


A/N: Well, what do you think?

Should I continue, or should I abandon this? Let me know by clicking the little blue button down below, leave a comment (question or statment) and then collect your virtual cookies and milk. No comment, no cookies. C: