Got Your Number--a Person of Interest/NCIS crossover

The Evening After

   The NCIS team left New York a few days later—approximately the time it took both Abby and McGee to get through processing at the hospital. There wasn't anything really wrong with either of them—a few cuts and bruises for Abby, a couple toxins in McGee's blood—but Gibbs wanted to be sure, and Taylor wanted to swab them for any evidence he could find. Taylor also wanted them to stay in town while he and his team completed their sweep of the crashed helicopter, but Gibbs had politely, but firmly, pointed out that he and his team had work to do. A marine had been found dead in Washington, and it was time for them all to put the excitement behind them.

Or at least that was what he said. Once they got back to Washington, it became clear that actually, it was only Tony and Ziva who had work to do. Abby and McGee were both ordered to take a week off and relax—Abby, after all, still had a number of days left to her vacation.

The Marine was a refreshingly simple murder, and it was barely a day after their return to Washington that Ziva and Tony found themselves alone in the office, writing up the case report. Ziva was typing away at her computer with a strange intensity.

Tony's eyes drifted away toward his co-worker. "What did that poor keyboard ever do to you?" He asked. "Beating it to death isn't going to make the letters come out any faster."

Ziva just snorted and continued pounding away.

A small grin curved the edges of Tony's mouth, and he pushed his chair back. "Why didn't you shoot him?"

"Why...?" Ziva's head shot up. Seeing his smirk, she glared and turned back to the computer. "It was a hostage situation. A hostage situation caused by YOUR buffoonery, I might add."

"You've made headshots before at that range. Hostage or no hostage."

"You were not exactly making it easier for me." Ziva pointed out. "Next time your idiocy gets you captured, lean AWAY from the target's head, so as to give a clearer shot."

"Hm, now I seem to remember explaining that," answered Tony, adopting a thoughtful pose. "Unlike YOU, I actually trusted our grey-suited friend."

"Only because he told you his plan on the way up the stairs."

"I still trusted him to be telling the truth," pointed out Tony. "And I was doing my dead best to KEEP you from shooting him in the head, but that doesn't mean I'm not curious as to why you didn't."

"I told you. Hostage situation. I have been told one should try to talk and not shoot during hostage situations. Accordingly, I have been trying to talk. More."

"C'mon, tell the truth." Tony teased her. "You were afraid of hitting me, weren't you?"

Ziva snorted. "Oh please. Don't flatter yourself, Tony."

Sighing, Tony placed a hand on his chest. "You wound me. Figuratively speaking. But that only leaves one other possible explanation for why you'd pass up a perfectly good shot."

"Like what?"

Tony's grin turned delightfully mischevious. "You were afraid of hitting HIM."

A flood of violent Hebrew attacked the smirking NCIS agent.

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"Take your orc shaman over the ridge, would you?" Abby asked, squinting at the screen. "Hopefully it'll draw out those demons to where my dwarf rogue can hit them."