Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: This story is based on the episode "Recoil" (5x16). For those of you who may not have seen this episode or simply do not remember it in detail here is some background information. Ziva goes undercover and takes down a serial killer named Andrew Hoffman. After killing him she experiences significant emotional distress and becomes romantically involved with a suspect, Michael Locke. Locke's girlfriend Devon has been missing for a few weeks and the team suspects him of being Hoffman's accomplice. In the end it is revealed that Michael is completely innocent. I found him to be an intriguing character, and wanted to write a fic based on his point of view. He comes off as a bit of a jerk, but I think that in him Ziva saw someone who was as lost as she was at the time.

His Whiskey

Chapter 1

Michael Locke sat in the dimly lit Oyster Lounge bar nursing a Jack Daniel's and absentmindedly listening to the evening news. He had started coming to this bar with his girlfriend.

No, ex-girlfriend, he corrected himself. The Oyster Lounge had been Devon's favorite after work watering hole, and he had a lot of fond memories of them drinking their work day away together here. Now he came here to drink her away.

Michael took a long drink from his glass and shuttered. It had been three weeks since she had walked out on him, three weeks and she hadn't called once. It had also been three weeks since he had started drinking whiskey. He shook himself out of his thoughts and looked around for the only woman who had come close to making him forget about Devon.

Gina was nothing like his ex, a pretty, girl-next-door type who didn't know the power she had had over him. No, Gina was different. A new regular, Gina had started talking to him a few weeks ago, seeming genuinely interested in listening to his stories, even when he had had a few too many drinks and started rambling about his broken heart. Michael had noticed the way that the other men looked at him after Devon had stormed out, but since Gina had started taking an interest in him he was reminded of how good it felt to be with the most beautiful woman in the room.

As he looked out among the other patrons he noticed that their attention was riveted on the television.

A cool, female voice was calmly announcing that Andrew Hoffman, a man he had seen here many times drinking gin at the other end of the bar, was a ruthless serial killer. His concern heightened as the details came out. Hoffman had been targeting Navy wives who had cheated on their husbands. Michael's thoughts sped towards Devon once again, she had been married to a Navy Seal. If Hoffman had gotten to her it would explain why she hadn't called. He lifted his glass to his lips and downed the rest of his whiskey, the burn and subsequent wooziness quelling his fears some.

Michael's eyes were drawn by a dark haired woman entering the room. He jumped off of his bar stool and hurried over to her, ready to surprise her with the shocking news about Andrew Hoffman. Only Gina didn't have the wide-eyed, fearful reaction he had hoped would get her home with him tonight. Instead she flashed him a badge, a gun, and told him that she was a federal agent who had been working undercover in order to apprehend Hoffman.

He had been a fool to think that a woman like her would actually be interested in him. Hadn't he learned that with Devon? Michael abandoned his seat at the bar for another whiskey and a dark corner table where he wouldn't have to talk to anyone. Hot, memory erasing liquid ran down his throat, but when he looked up she was there, looking at him with knowing eyes.

"May I join you?" Gina/Ziva asked him gently. Michael shrugged, cops usually did what they pleased anyway, she didn't need his permission. She sat down and edged closer than strictly necessary, he could smell her natural scent and a hint of floral shampoo. Maybe there was hope for him after all. Ziva asked him a few questions about Hoffman and showed him a picture of a woman he knew as Julie. Michael admitted that he had asked her about Devon and before he knew it he was expressing his concern that Hoffman might be connected to Devon's disappearance. Ziva sat listening carefully as she usually did, and he tried not to sound too pathetic. He quieted and looked at the woman sitting next to him, forgetting what he was talking about as he met her chocolate eyes.

"Did he do that?" Michael asked, suddenly noticing a deep scratch on Ziva's temple. He reached up to smooth a curl off of the wound. She seemed uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden, not saying anything but allowing him to run his fingers through her hair. Looking down at the gun she wore on her hip, Michael realized that Ziva was much like the whiskey he had taken to drinking; strong, intoxicating, and probably more than he could handle.

"Ziva," he muttered to his third whiskey long after she had left. Her real name sounded exotic and delicious on his lips.