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"Well, there’s no reason to get snarky about it," Tony scowled at Ziva, "I can’t help it if I’m surrounded by Probies. I’m going to get them mixed up in conversation sooner or later."
Tim raised an eyebrow from behind his computer. "You saying you’re so old now you can’t tell girls and boys apart, Tony?"
Tony whipped around to glare at Tim. "I will never, ever, be that old, McGeritol. It was a slip of the tongue, nothing more."
"Just be careful what you slip that tongue around, Stringfellow," McGee reminded him. Tony gave him a dirty look, but said nothing.
"It begs the question, though," said Ziva. "Perhaps we need to get his eyes checked. I would hate to have him mistake me for Gibbs sometime."
"Not with those legs, Ziva," said Tim.
"I wouldn’t be too certain about that, McGee," said Gibbs as he strolled up behind Tony. "A couple of weeks in an undercover op, and our legs might be indistinguishable."
Tony and Tim both looked horrified at the thought. Ziva laughed at them both.
"What have we got, legmen?" Gibbs pulled on his coffee as Tony and Tim both scrambled for the remote. Tony won.
"So far, it looks like a simple mugging, Boss," he began. "Seaman Allen left the Dancing Irishman at around midnight. He says he vaguely remembers being led out by a girl he met at that bar, but not much else. He woke up six hours later in the alley, beat up and his wallet missing. He doesn’t remember the beating and can’t really describe the girl, beyond the fact that she was pretty and had long brown hair."
"He could be describing me, then, for all we know," Ziva said with disgust.
"Nah, Ziva, you wouldn’t roll a drunk sailor for his wallet," Gibbs said playfully.
"Maybe for his gun," she admitted thoughtfully, "or his knife, if it was a nice one, and I wanted it for my collection."
Tony gritted his teeth. "At any rate," he said stiffly, "the bar has no video surveillance, but we were able to catch these photos from a traffic cam." He flipped a few pictures onto the plasma.
"We, Tony?"
"Probie McHacker was able to lift these photos from a traffic cam," Tony scowled over at Tim before continuing. "As you can see, the woman in question is easily a foot and a half shorter than Seaman Allen, and he isn’t that visibly impaired. Even stone cold drunk, she shouldn’t have been able to whip him like that. She had to have an accomplice waiting in the alley."
"Or drugged him. Tox screen?" Gibbs asked.
"Came back negative, Boss," Tim volunteered. "But by the time he got to a doctor, the alcohol was out of his system as well. If he had been given something like GHB, it wouldn’t show up at this point."
"Still looks like a team hit," Tony scowled. "And it’s the fourth one this month with the same MO. The woman’s face hasn’t shown up on any cameras; she picks bars that don’t have video surveillance. Other than her height and the long brown hair, we don’t have enough to make a BOLO."
"If our sailors all have Tony’s power of observation, perhaps they should give up drinking for a while," suggested Ziva. She scowled. "Perhaps I should lay off as well. I’ll be back in a minute," she said, and disappeared around a corner.
Tim frowned at the screen. "There’s one weird thing about this mugging, though. There’s the couple staggering into the alley, see?" He pointed at the paused picture on the plasma. "And a minute later a hobo comes shambling out…"
"’Homeless person’, McPolitically Incorrect," growled Tony, "not hobo."
"Whatever," snapped Tim. "My point is, we never see the girl leave. Ziva and I swept that alley this morning: it’s a dead end. There are no doors or windows that aren’t boarded-up, no fire escapes within reach, and no other way out. So, where’d she go?"
"Well, I would think that would be obvious," said a feminine Nordic accent from behind Gibbs.
Gibbs jumped. He hadn’t heard her coming, but once over his startle he smiled down at Brynja.
"Anything you want to share with the rest of the class, Frost?" He motioned with his coffee.
She pursed her lips, then frowned. "No, I think I’ll let them figure it out. They’ll earn their keep that way."
The guys grinned, and each gave a quick hug in greeting, then went back to bickering over the video camera footage. Gibbs backed up a few steps to have a quiet word with Frost.
"So what brings you here today?"
"I had some paperwork to sign for Director Vance about the Normand case. Just making sure that all our geese are lined up in a row before the docket, or something like that," she looked mildly confused.
"He wants to be ready for trial," Gibbs offered.
"Yes."
"Maybe the girl was hidden under the hobo’s coat when he left," suggested Tim.
"Only if he was carrying her piggyback, McProbie. There’s only one set of legs there, see?"
Brynja groaned and rubbed her temple. "This is too painful to watch. Don’t you ever feed these guys, Gibbs?"
"Nah, DiNozzo alone would bankrupt me."
"Hey," protested Tim, "no comments from the Peanut gallery!"
"Oh, no. Let the Peanut talk," Tony snarked. "Maybe she’ll have a little kernel of an idea."
Brynja walked up to Tony and looked him in the eye. "Still having size issues, Tony?" she teased.
He choked back his retort, and his eyes bugged out. Tim snorted.
"Size has got to count for something…" he caught Gibbs’ glare, "on the tape…"
"Wimp. You know what I’m talking about. Gibbs knows what I’m talking about. Pretty soon Tim will get it, too. It’s not the man’s size that counts here…"
Tony started turning red.
"You know you want to say it. Come on…let it out…" she poked him in the stomach, and he winced. Finally he lost control.
"ALRIGHT, it’s how he USES it that counts. You happy now?" Tony’s face was inflated and red.
"Actually, Tony, I was going to say it’s how fast he covers it up," Brynja continued.
"AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!" said Tony, rubbing his eyes.
"Why do you do this to my senior field agent?" Gibbs asked softly, but with humor.
"Because I can," she answered playfully. She poked Tony, who was pounding his head on the desk, and pointed at the various still pictures on the plasma screen. She looked down at DiNozzo, who had resumed his chair. "You, amigo, have a problem. Too much sex on the brain." Tony gave her a dirty look, but she just smiled and continued. "The homeless man and the transvestite are the same person." Tony and Tim goggled at her, while Gibbs smirked. "What, you think I can’t tell a transvestite prostitute from the back?"
Tim was staring close at the plasma. "I don’t get it. What makes you think this is a guy dressed like a girl?"
It was Brynja’s turn to choke. "Look at the way he walks! His hips! His hands! That’s a man, dressed as a woman, who flash-changes back into a man after he mugs his victim," she stated confidently. "It might be rare here, but I saw it in Paris all the time." She looked down at Tony, who was still glaring at her. "You definitely need help."
Tony scowled. "I don’t need harassment like this from you. I got my old partner back."
"I did hear that," Brynja nodded, "and congratulations."
"Yes, I’m back," Ziva announced. "What did I miss?"
Brynja turned to face the newcomer, and her eyes widened in surprise.
"Where are my manners?" Tony shook himself. "Intro! This is my partner, Z…"
"Ziva? Ziva David? You’re Tony’s partner?" Brynja was incredulous. "Oh, mein Gott! You look great! How have you been?"
Ziva peered at the petite woman with the corona of blond fuzz for a moment before recognition kicked in. "Brynja Seykurjupa?" Her eyes flew open in pleasant shock. "Oy vey! It’s so good to see you!" The women embraced like long-lost friends. "Yes, I’ve worked here for about four years now, first as Mossad liaison, but now I’m immigrating to America and am becoming a regular agent. What brought you to NCIS? And what happened to your hair?"
"I worked a case with the guys this summer while you were gone," Brynja admitted. "They helped me close my last case with Interpol. I’m just here today for some of the pre-trial paperwork. As for this," she ran a hand over the bright yellow fuzz that encompassed her head, "I had a really bad breakup with my last boyfriend. Turned out he was a serial killer."
"I hate it when that happens," Ziva commiserated. "Did you get him?"
Brynja nodded. "Fed him to a school of sharks. Poetic justice, really."
Ziva laughed. "Nice touch, Seykurjupa!"
"Oh, I go by Frost now. It saves time and stammering in most countries." Brynja added.
Ziva nodded. "That makes sense."
Both women finally realized that Gibbs, DiNozzo, and McGee had slowly gathered next to them, standing there with looks of puzzlement and disbelief as they watched the exchange. McGee’s index finger was pointing back and forth between the two women as he tried to make his mouth work. He finally succeeded.
"You two…" he gaped.
"You know each other?" finished Gibbs. Tony was still speechless.
Brynja looked up at the gaping agents. "I dated her older brother when I was in college. We met then. He was a real asni, though, so I dumped him." She turned back to Ziva, unaware of the looks of horror crossing the three men’s faces. "Nothing personal against you, Ziva, but Harri was a real jerk. Did he ever grow up? What’s he doing now?"
Ziva blinked, and a shadow crossed her face. "It’s "Ari", no "H"," she shook her head, "and he’s been dead for about four years now."
Brynja put a hand on her arm. "I’m so sorry."
Ziva shook her head, "Don’t be. It’s all for the best."
Tony finally found his voice. "You dated Ari Haswari…"
"Yes," Brynja said, looking at the perplexed agent.
"And you dumped him…"
"Well, yes. He became crass on our third date, so I told him off. If he could have been a little more civilized it might have worked, but he was an absolute Neanderthal. No offence, Ziva," she hastened to reassure her old friend.
"None taken," Ziva shook her head.
"It could be worse, I suppose," Brynja mused. "My next two boyfriends turned out to be psychotic serial killers. At least Ari was just a jackass."
"Nope," said Gibbs, taking a huge swig of his coffee, "terrorist."
"NO…" breathed Brynja, looking wide-eyed from Gibbs’ face, to McGee’s, to DiNozzo’s, and finally to Ziva’s. "You have got to be kidding me." Shaking heads and closed eyes confirmed the awful truth. "Oh, god," she finally surrendered, "it’s a disease! Everyone I date turns out to be a womanizing psychopath! This is not going to look good on my application," she moaned.
"Application? Are you applying for a job here?" Ziva brightened at the prospect.
"Well, no. I was referring to my application for adopting my girls. It’s a long story, Ziva. We should get together for lunch or dinner whenever you have a free weekend, and catch up that way. Give me a call, ok? The guys have my phone number and my new address."
"Sounds great." The women kissed each other lightly on the cheek, and Brynja picked up her briefcase. "Leaving so soon?"
"Well, yes. You and your boys have a transvestite mugger to catch, and I have a job interview in Quantico in a few hours. My chances of being awarded full custody will be better if I’m employed," she confessed.
"Quantico?" McGee’s eyebrows raised.
"FBI desk job. No field work for me, at least for a while. I need to punch a regular clock to give Elsa and Sofia a stable life." She looked at her watch. "I really have to run, now. It’s been great seeing you all again. Stop by the house sometime, all of you. Elsa and Sofia miss their Tios."
"I’ll take you down," Ziva offered. "That way we can at least exchange phone numbers."
"All right." The women headed for the elevator, leaving Gibbs, DiNozzo, and McGee staring after them.
"Marc Normand," began Tony.
"Daniel Hunt," continued Tim.
"Ari Haswari," choked Gibbs.
"We gotta do something," suggested Tim.
"What?" snorted Gibbs, "like we’ve done any better? Back to work, you two."
The End.