Leroy Jethro Gibbs strode into the coffee shop he usually got his morning coffee, his mind on the assassin they were tracking already.
Ari. He had escaped. He had escaped him. Twice. Once, he’d put a bullet in the bastard’s shoulder, payback for Gerald. And Kate. God. Kate. This man was hunting his team. He’d do anything for his people. They were the only family he had left.
The brunette clerk handed him his usual, knowing this customer didn’t like to talk, only to get the coffee and get out, but was always rewarded with a smile, one that stayed with her for hours afterward and she found herself wondering when he’d be in in the morning. He was older, much older, than her own 17, but the man was certainly something to look at.
Gibbs smiled at her, a crooked, lopsided grin she’d found make her heart flutter a little.
Gibbs blinked and whipped his head around, feeling eyes on him.
His eyes connected instantly with the woman who was standing in the doorway, obviously just having entered. She’d been scanning him critically, the “elevator” glance he called it. Very appreciatively. His smile was gone. She was stunning. And brunette, he noted with a wry thought, not his usual type. She was small, with waist length curls, a slender, yet gently curving figure and young. Too young, he thought.
He grinned at her.
She could only stare. God, what a man! The way he moved, even her half second appraisal told her he was confident in his skin. American men are fascinating, she thought. She dropped her eyes from him, his still connected on her over the coffee he sipped, still standing at the counter. He turned and walked to the window, staring out of it absent mindedly. She walked to the counter and ordered a large black coffee. The clerk was looking between the two, an underlying smile on her pretty face.
“Thank you,” she said, paying the clerk. She turned and found the man standing at the window, his eyes on her. She blushed, not something she had done in a long time. Something about him made her, for lack of a better word, nervous. She smiled back, knowing he had caught her looking at him.
She walked over to him, both sipping their coffees, eyes connected over their drinks. She came to stand in front of him. He was much taller than her own 5’3” and he stared down at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“Hi,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone.
“Hello,” she said, strange sensations tickling down her spine and into her stomach.
He just grinned and sipped his coffee again. She swallowed and decided he wanted an explanation of why she’d been observing him, “checking him out,” she thought was the phrase, but didn’t want to misspeak.
“I…” she began, trying to find a lie that didn’t sound ridiculous, “Forgive, me I couldn’t help it.” She decided on the truth, she smiled fully, feeling ridiculous.
He chuckled and more tingles erupted in the pit of her stomach.
“Nothing to forgive,” he said, his eyes not leaving hers. He extended a hand to her and said, “Jethro.”
She quirked an eyebrow at that, odd name. She stretched her own hand forward and inserted in in his own large, warm one, “Ziva,” she said. He held her hand softly as he shook it, not taking his eyes off her.
“Ziva,” he repeated almost reverently, his deep voice humming “Unusual name.” It didn’t sound like an insult and she grinned.
“And Jethro is not?”
He laughed softly.
She opened her mouth to speak but at that moment her cell phone rung. She pulled her hand back, and grabbed her phone, eyeing the caller ID. She had to take this.
“Forgive me,” she said to Jethro. He nodded.
“Yes, Jenny.” Ziva listened. “I understand. I shall be there as soon as possible. It is not a problem.”
She ended the call and looked up to find Jethro still staring intently at her. He opened his mouth to say something and then his phone went off.
He didn’t break eye contact with her as he grabbed his own phone and answered it.
“Gibbs,” he said.
“Yes, Director.”
He hung up.
“I have to go,” they both said at the same time, then laughed softly at it. The air around them practically crackled with the chemistry.
“How can I get a hold of you?” Jethro asked. Ziva frowned.
A hold of me? Surely that was moving a little fast, she thought. Perhaps this was an odd cultural phrase. Her mind ran down the possibilities, Gibbs watching carefully.
“A hold of…” she frowned. “You want my phone number!” She smiled triumphantly as she decoded the phrase’s meaning. He smiled fully, gleaming white teeth and chuckled.
“I do,” he said.
She told him the number to the phone she had only received the day previous.
“I will be in touch, Ziva,” he said, a lopsided smile at her faltered expression, obviously searching for the meaning yet again. He stepped around her and was out the door.
She found herself slightly breathless. She shook her head-twice-to clear it. She must work now.
Gibbs strolled into the bullpen, Tony and McGee there arguing over something Abby was showing them.
“…and do you see how intricate it is there?” he heard Abs say.
“Move, Probie.” Tony was craning his neck to see over McGee’s shoulder at, what must be a new tattoo of Abby’s.
“Gibbs! Gibbs!” Abby saw him and ran toward him. “Wanna see my new tattoo?”
“Not now, Abs,” he said, placing a friendly kiss on her forehead.
He sat at his computer, wondering what it was that Jen had called him in for while he was on the way to work. Nothing good, he thought. He stared at the screen, hating the machine. Things used to be so much easier, he growled to himself.
He heard, but did not look up, when Jen walked into the bullpen.
“Good morning, DiNozzo,” she said pleasantly. She made her morning greetings to all present, warm if not formal. Gibbs looked up at Abby when he felt the tension of the room all the sudden. She was not looking at him, but at the Director.
He whipped his head around to Jen.
There by her side was the woman he’d met this morning, the one who hadn’t left his thoughts for a second since, the one he was finding excuses to call even moments after their departure.
Ziva.
Her eyes were on him, a shocked, wide eyed, silent gasp. It lasted only a second. Her face cleared and she lowered her gaze immediately. Gibbs stood abruptly and, not taking his eyes off Ziva, oblivious to the team who was looking at him in a very disconcerted manner.
“Director?” Gibbs said softly, a warning note in his voice.
“This,” Jenny began and moving out of the way so that the whole team could get a good view of her, “is Ziva David. She is on loan to us from Israel. She is Moussad.”
When Tony had jumped to attention at the woman Jen displayed, eyeing her with ill-disguised interest, with the word ‘Moussad,’ his head whipped to Gibbs, who was staring at Ziva.
Her head had come up to look at Jethro, only to find his warm, sparkling gaze not a friendly one. There was a definite danger in his piercing stare now. The meaning was clear: She was not welcome here.
Jen looked from Gibbs to Ziva, as did everyone else.
“Um,” she began, “Have you two met?”
“No,” they both said in unison. McGee frowned. Jen’s eyebrow rose. “Huh,” she said.
Jen exhaled and continued, ignoring the tension that was humming already. She had expected it. A beautiful woman, joining the un-joinable team…who was Moussad. She knew if would be difficulty, if not impossible, but, whether Gibbs knew it or not, they needed Ziva. They were unimaginably lucky to have her at all. She had little known international fame as an assassin and skills none of them, perhaps not even Gibbs, would ever know.
“Well,” Jen went on. “She will be with us for a while. We are very lucky to have her and I’m sure you all will make her welcome. Ziva,” she said turning to the woman who was paler than she’d seen her in while, her eyes still locked on Gibbs, her head had lifted a notch, almost defiantly Jen thought. “Let me know if there is anything you need.”
“Of course, Director.” Ziva broke eye contact with Jethro and looked at Jenny. She did not want to be here. This was all Ari’s fault. And her father’s. She should not be here.
“Director, may I speak with you in private for a moment?”
Gibbs’ tone left no room to say no.
Jen stared at Gibbs. She nodded and they both turned, Gibbs not looking at Ziva again, and followed Jen up the staircase to her office.
Tony lurched forward and extended his hand, he was looking at her as if considering his next meal, Ziva thought.
“Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” he said suavely. She shook his hand nodding. This Special Agent was looking her up and down, probably considering his next conquest, she thought.
The other, McGee, stepped forward and extended his hand as well. “Timothy McGee.” She shook his hand, but DiNozzo would not be denied.
“That’s Probie,” he said, taking her attention back, fixing her with a bedroom stare.
Ziva’s attention turned to the third member, the black haired woman. She was not offering her hand.
Ziva extended her own. “Ziva David,” she said. The woman was looking at her with something akin to hate, she noticed.
“Abby Sciuto.”
“Abbs is our resident forensic scientist,” McGee added, the tension palpable as the two women shook hands.
“Nice to meet you,” Ziva said.
An odd silence stretched for a moment and the Special Agent DiNozzo grabbed at it. “So, Zee-vah,” he stretched her name out to sound like a caress, “how long have you been state-side?”
She sighed, not wanting to speak to anyone at the moment, knowing it was all filled with fake flattery, nor did she want to make enemies so quickly. Something, she mused angrily, she had already done with Jethro, it seemed.
“Only two days now.”
“And,” Tony made his voice lower to draw her attention on to him fully, ignoring McGee’s rolled eyes as he sat down at his desk and Abby’s stalking off, “Have you seen anything of interest thus far?”
His meaning was clear. Ziva would have, on most other occurrences, shoved his nose into his brain, relieving the world of such annoyance, but she turned her stance to him and let her eyes wander appreciatively over the figure he was so clearly proud of, slowly and deliberately as he smirked, knowing what she was doing.
“No,” Ziva said shortly, amused by the shocked look on his face.
Tony disguised his shock with a harsh, short laugh.
A slamming door brought all their glances upwards to the MTAC offices overhead. Gibbs was stomping down the stairs, clearly angry.
“DiNozzo! Step back from Ms. David. You’re coming with me. McGee you too!”
DiNozzo stepped back immediately, seemingly confused at the order, but grabbed his bag, as McGee was doing, and followed Gibbs into the elevator. He neither spoke nor looked at Ziva, who was left standing in the bullpen alone.
She stood there for a moment, angry herself. She wanted to shout at Jethro, “What did it matter what I am?! It doesn’t matter!!” But she knew it did. She had to put this attraction behind her, as he had obviously done so already.
A movement made her glance up. Jenny stood there. They had history. She trusted Jenny. She gave her a look that Ziva knew well and nodded. It was time to work, and Ziva knew her mission and was only sad to have to perform it.
She walked out of the bullpen toward the elevator and pushed the button to go down.

It had been a week, Ziva thought, her breathing elevated from the laps she was doing in the pool. She rested on the edge. Jethro had neither spoke nor looked at her in that time. Well, she thought…he did once.
Jenny had told her it would be difficult to infiltrate this office, let alone the team and that she must prove herself, as all women had to. It had been her third day there and she was in the gym. Training, Jen had said. She was to be tried, she knew.
Agents from other areas had entered the mat, doubt clear on their face. One after another, she had struck them down, pinning them, hurting them. It was so easy. They moved so slow. They had no idea what she was capable of. You could not be American and know what she was capable of.
As she flipped a man, easily almost 300 pounds, over her shoulder and ground her knee into his kidney, she smiled a little. This was what she was good at. No, not good, the best. Killing. Hurting. Not romance. Her mind unexpectedly took a detour to Jethro. She didn’t want to think about him.
She was almost thankful for the second man’s unauthorized assault from behind and she whipped around, ramming her hand into his throat, bringing him crashing to the ground in half a second, his gasps ragged. She stood, surveying her work or men lying half alive around her, thinking they should feel lucky to be alive. Her head snapped up to lock eyes with him.
Jethro had been watching her.
He stared at her, leaning against a far doorway in a casual stance only he could pull off. It wasn’t a kind look, but a deep one nonetheless.
Ziva straightened her back and returned the look. She felt her breath quickening as he looked at her. She raised her head and knocked her eyebrow. Would you care to try me, it said?
He just stared back, but she thought she saw a smirk. He turned and walked out the door, leaving her surrounded by grunting men in pain.
Ziva sighed thinking about him as she rested by the pool’s edge. She should forget him. She would not be here long anyways. He did not matter, she told herself. She knew her mission, though it was vastly more complicated than she’d imagined, would complete it and would return home. To what? She asked herself.
Ziva flipped under the water and continued to swim laps, hoping to exhaust herself with the exertion, knowing that even here she was being watched.

When she entered NCIS in the morning she was aware of the situation. The Director had called her when it was still dark, telling her of the escalation. The medical examiner had been abducted. Gibbs was striding toward her, followed by McGee and DiNozzo. He didn’t look at her as he stepped into the elevator, nor did the others.
Ari. They were off to find and kill him, she knew.
She looked up to see Jenny looking at her, concern on her face. She nodded and Ziva turned around for the elevator. Damn, you, Ari, she thought.

When Ziva returned that night, she found the bullpen empty, the lights off. She had spoken to Ari, confided her concerns for his safety and the determination of the leader of the team.
“Ah, Gibbs,” Ari said in a soft laugh. “Leave him to me, Ziva. Leave him to me.”
“You must not do this thing, Ari!” Ziva knew that he would not listen to her, but tried in vain. “You must leave here. You have done nothing wrong and in time it will be understood! Just go, Ari, please!”
Ari ended the call.

Ziva knew that the medical examiner’s assistant, Gerald had been killed today. She knew that they thought Ari had killed him. She also knew that Jethro would be out for revenge, if it was possible to want more than he already sought.
Ziva made her way down to the medical examiner’s lab. The double doors opened and she walked in. Jethro stood there alone in the semi-darkness before the body on the gurney she knew was Gerald.
He looked up at her, clearly not pleased to see her.
Ziva steeled herself for his icy glare and made her way over to the gurney. She stood on the opposite side of it, facing Gibbs. She stared down at the black body bag, feeling his gaze penetrating her.
Gibbs moved quickly. He walked around the table and up to Ziva who turned her eyes up to him. His breathing was labored as he looked down at her.
“Ari did not do this,” she said simply, her voice stronger than she felt.
“Yes, Ziva, he did,” it was the first time he’d spoken to her in nine days.
Ziva shook her head, but Jethro caught her chin, holding it forcefully to look up at him.
“Jen said you profiled us for Ari.”
Ziva nodded, her chin still imprisoned by his large hand. “I was his controller for his missions. that was my job.”
“You know about my wife and my daughter?” He whispered to her, which echoed off the empty room.
Ziva dropped her gaze and nodded. “I am sorry for you, Jethro.”
Jethro backed her against the cold metal table, not an inch separated their bodies. He dropped his hand from her chin and placed both palms on either side of her, pinning her between him and the gurney.
“You did not know me in the coffee shop,” he said, not a question, a statement, but one he seemed to need answered.
Ziva shook her head, raising her eyes to his again. She had convinced herself the coffee shop did not happen, shocked he brought it up now. “I already knew Leroy Gibbs from my profiling, which I did in Israel, but I did not know you that morning, I swear it.”
Jethro stared at her, hard.
“I will kill him, Ziva,” Jethro said softly.
“And I will stop you,” Ziva said just as softly, which as much certainty.
“That is what you are here for,” he said.
“Yes.”
Jethro stepped back from her but only by inches. “Do you know why he is killing my team?” Before she could deny this, he went on, “It’s to bring me pain. That’s why he killed Kate, that’s why he went after Ducky and Gerald…that’s why he’s using you.”
Ziva stared at him. “Ari is innocent.”
Jethro stepped toward her again. This time closer than before. She could feel his hard chest against her and her breath caught.
“Do you believe that?” He whispered down to her. “Do you, Ziva?”
She was having trouble breathing. Ziva stared up at him. “I believe Ari is innocent. If he is not, he should be investigated, not murdered, Jethro.”
“And if he is not innocent, can I count on you to back me up, or is it out of the question?”
Ziva stared at him. She wanted to tell him he could count on her. She wanted to lie. She wanted to forget they’d met like this, which had brought them here.
“I will count on you,” he said softly, as if daring her to betray him.
Gibbs stepped away from her and turned, walking out of the door, leaving Ziva standing with Gerald’s body in the dark.

She surprised DiNozzo by catching him following her. He was a good agent, she decided. He was clearly torn between his attraction for her and his duty to his boss. She understood his predicament exactly. He left her outside the hotel only moments before she received a call, her caller ID said “Ari.”
“Soon,” was all he said and then he hung up.
Adrenaline surged through her. Ari’s definition of soon, she knew, was very soon. She did not know exactly what his plan was but, having known him so long, had a very good guess as to what it could be. She raced to her car, praying it would not be too late.

Slowly, carefully, she made her way through the house. She did not know if there were boards that creaked or doors that were rusty. She halted, hearing the raised voices coming from below.
As she listened, she felt her breath coming fast, a pain in her chest growing. He is a monster, she thought sadly, agreeing with Ari’s comment. And I am part of that monster…
She knew what she had to do. She knew that she would not let Ari do this-she could not, for reasons that were also outside her mission, that had everything to do with Jethro, whom she was sure she’d never see again.
She watched Ari raise his gun and center it on Gibbs. His finger was on the trigger and she felt a tear slide down her cheek as it was her own finger that squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet into her brother’s head.
Gibb’s head whipped around and saw her. He’d expected she’d be there. He came up the stairs, three at a time and took the rifle from her hands, pulling her into his arms. She wept, hard and convulsively.
“He was my brother,” she sobbed and he pulled her back, shock evident on his face.
“Ziva,” he whispered, his face buried in her hair, his nose nudging her ear.
Ziva pulled away from him and walked, slowly, down the wooden steps, feeling his eyes on her. She came to stand at the body of her half-brother, tears running down her cheeks.
She didn’t know how long she stood there, but when she looked up, he was still there, standing at the landing, watching her.
“I must go,” she said, wiping her face on the back of her hand.
Jethro nodded.
Ziva climbed the stairs and stood before him. “I’ll take care of this,” he said softly. He didn’t touch her, just stood. She could feel the heat radiating off his body and wanted to lean into him, absorb his strength for the moment.
“I will return to Israel with his body,” she said, her eyes fixed straight ahead on his chest. “I wish,” she began but could not finish.
Gibbs reached out a hand and lifted her chin so they were looking at each other. “I know,” he whispered. “I do too.”
He ran his thumb over the pad of her lower lip and she exhaled heavily. She lifted her hand to the side of his face and cupped his jaw. She felt him shiver only slightly, the rough unshaven shadow of a beard textured under her fingers. She felt the electricity, as did he, there was no denying it.
“I must go,” she said and pulled away. He wouldn’t let her go so easily. His hand still cradled her chin.
“Ziva. I owe you,” he whispered. They stared at each other for another long moment and he dropped his hand.
She picked up the gun and began dismantling it. She heard Gibbs walk down the stairs quickly and knew the moment she’d shared with him was all she’d ever have and left his house, silent as the night.

Two Months Later

Gibbs strolled into the bullpen, his coffee in hand. Tony and McGee arguing once again. McGee insisting he didn’t need dating advice, Tony resolute on giving it to him.
“Probie, don’t you get it? Don’t you know that women prefer to do it in--”
“Hey Boss!”
Gibbs sat his coffee on his desk and was about to sit down when Jen yelled at him. “Agent Gibbs, up here, please!”
He sighed. Grabbing his coffee from his desk, he walked past the two agents, “They‘re own beds, DiNozzo?” Gibbs smirked as he finished Tony’s sentence.
Climbing the staircase to Jen’s office he walked in and closed the door.
“Jethro,” she said.
“Director,” he replied. Their history was not really a secret from anyone, but one he found was difficult. She regretted what she’d done to him and he saw that every day in her eyes. He’d forgiven her long ago, but she could never forgive herself.
“Agent Gibbs,” she began looking at him speculatively from behind her desk, “I would like to introduce you to the newest member of your team.”
Anger and shock flitted across his face as he turned to see her, rising from a chair at the back of Jen’s office.
“Ziva,” he whispered, feeling as if someone had punched him, hard, in the stomach.
He whipped his head around to look at Jen. He glared at her.
What was she doing? Meddling, was what!
“I believe Ziva will be an invaluable member of you team, Agent Gibbs. You will see that she’s acclimated.” It was an order.
He smothered some choice retorts and turned to Ziva. He had not forgotten her. Hell, he thought, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind! She haunted his dreams, his fantasies…
This would cause more problems than someone with Ziva’s clear talents was worth.
“Ziva do you mind if I speak with Director Sheppard alone, please?”
He watched her carefully. She had had more time to prepare herself to see him. Ziva rose and nodded, exiting the office and closing it behind her. She walked down the staircase, Tony and McGee seeing her immediately, surprise on both their faces.
“Ziva!” Tony made his way over to her. “Hi! What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“Neck of the woods?” she repeated, looking confused. “Area,” she decided immediately. Tony and McGee exchanged confused looks.
“I am here to possibly join your team,” she said. She said that knowing that the “possibly” part was being decided right now above them. She knew that Gibbs would not want her the second he looked at her just now. She saw the lust and the longing, same as she felt, but knew he would not easily accept another member to his team.
Tony and McGee were speechless.
“Why?” They both said.
“Why not?” She said, not surprised by their reluctance, but hurt nonetheless.
Gibbs strolled out of the office, followed by Jenny who was looking down at Ziva. Ziva had a bad feeling about this. Gibbs walked down the stairs and came to stand before Ziva. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
“So,” Ziva prompted.
Jethro gave a little shake of his head, his eyes for Ziva. He read the hurt instantly and hated himself for it.
Ziva turned from him and smiled shakily at the rest of the team, Jenny was frowning from the balcony. Ziva straightened her shoulders “Well,” she said. “Good luck and maybe we will see each other again.” She turned and walked to the elevator and pushed the button. Thankfully it opened immediately and she went in, to the back of the elevator where they could not see her hurt.
The doors were almost closed when Jethro shot through them, almost plummeting into her.
“Gibbs!”
Righting himself, he reached the panel of buttons and pushed the “stop,” causing the elevator to stop and flood them in shadows. Jethro stalked toward her and crowded her up against the corner of the elevator.
“You requested this,” he said.
“Yes,” she said breathless.
“Why?”
“I need a break from Moussad. I have to get away from there.”
Jethro stared down at her, his blue eyes boring into her light brown ones.
“Ziva, you know I trust you,” he said, his breath brushing her cheek.
“And yet you do not want me on your team,” Ziva finished. What was it about him that could render her to mush every time he glanced at her? She hadn’t seen in him months and it was if she hadn’t left, the chemistry still as strong, if not stronger.
“I didn’t say that,” he said.
“But--”she began confused. He had made it clear that she was not accepted.
He brought a hand up and placed one finger across her lips to silence her. “This,” he began, moving his finger between the two of them, clearly indicating the attraction, “cannot be a problem.”
Ziva swallowed. She had to know. “Do not worry, Jethro, I was certain you had forgotten there ever was a ‘this’ before I requested to come back,” she said.
Gibbs stared down at her, seeing her game. His mouth smirked up. “I didn’t think you were a fool, Ziva,” he said, lowering his head, his mouth inches from her own.
She found she was holding her breath, waiting for what she’d been longing for for months. “Cannot be a problem,” he whispered after a long minute, the sound barely audible.
“No problem,” she managed to squeeze out in a hush.
Straightening as if the proximity to her hadn’t affected him at all, he punched the elevator button to go and the doors opened to the bullpen. “Right,” she heard him sarcastically say as he walked out, Ziva followed at his heels.

Two years later


Ziva’s laughter rang out in the bullpen. She was reclined at her desk, which was formerly Kate’s, Tony sitting on the side of it, relating one of his recent exploits.
“And she actually bought that?”
“Believe it or not, Ziva, women can’t help themselves around me,” he shot her his most charming smile.
Since she had become an official member of the team, Ziva had begun to know true friendship and acceptance. Her relationships with all the team had grown. She had eventually been accepted by Abby, who loved her now, truly, and was one of her most close confidants. Tony was her partner, her best friend. Ducky, as he was affectionately called, was more of a father figure to her and she loved listening to his rambling tales of “I remember a case like this in South Africa…” that always made her grin.
McGee would always be, well, McGee. He was an exceptional agent, as were they all, and she looked on him like a younger brother, even though she was the youngest, technically, member of the team.
And Gibbs. They’re ‘relationship,’ had remained, not for her lack of trying, a professional one with only the briefest, barest hints that there may have been something else. The flashes of it were there, but when they happened they stuck in her mind vividly.
Tony had, over beers, told her of one. Gibbs and Tony had been stranded in a mine field with only ancient bottles of whiskey to keep them company as they waited for the rest of the team to rescue them. They had been discussing who and how they would be rescued…
“…and you just wait, Gibbs. We’re going to hear Probie first. Probably shouting directions from his little palm pilot thing. And then, right through that hole there,” he motioned toward the air shaft 30 feet above their heads, “we’ll see Ziva’s tight little butt wiggling down.”
Gibbs had given him a look and Tony couldn’t help but pursue it. “God, what I wouldn’t give to be, no offense boss, but trapped in this mine, all alone with Ziva.” He let himself get a very wistful look on his face.
Gibbs was silent. “Well, DiNozzo,” he finally said, sipping his own bottle of whiskey, “You’ve been alone with Ziva before. Why didn’t the romantic tryst happen then, why do you think it’d happen here, now, in this damp, dark, rodent infested mine?”
Tony’s eyebrow rose. “Well, to tell you the truth, Boss,” both men looked at each other, both soberer than the other thought they were, “I always thought that Ziva was off limits.”
“And she it, Tony. Work and romance do not--”
“Not because we worked together,” Tony qualified.
Gibbs fixed him with a piercing stare. Tony’s liquid courage let him finish, “Just always figured she was someone else’s.” Those words hung in the air between the two men.
After several minutes, seemingly done with the conversation, Gibbs stretched out, trying to find the softest bit of rock he could and closed his eyes.
“Not as dumb as you look, Tony,” he said into the darkness.
***
Then there was the time she was shot and Gibbs was by her side through the whole ordeal. When the bullet had grazed her temple, she wasn’t truly hurt, only shaken and Gibbs was there. He reached her side and pulled her to him, she could see the fear in his eyes. He cupped her skull and knotted his fingers through her hair.
“Ziva,” he almost moaned, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her against his chest. He was at the hospital with her in the recovery room after she’d had to have several stitches on her brow. The second she woke up, she saw his blue eyes full of concern staring into hers. She looked down and saw that he had knotted his fingers through hers and squeezed them to let her know he wasn’t moving.
He had driven her home and tucked her into bed, sitting on the end of her bed rubbing her leg through the covers.
“You know Gibbs,” she said through the drug induced stupor, “You keep acting like this, I’m going to start thinking that you actually--”
He ended the conversation squeezing her leg. He leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.
“Sleep now, Ziva.” he said, pulling back. She closed her eyes and was almost asleep, “And Ziva,” he said as he was walking out of the room, “never think otherwise. Never.”
***
And of course there’d been the time that Gibbs got blown up and lost his memory. The second that he was awake, the whole team was by his side. Gibbs stared around, blankly, at the faces before him and then stopped.
“Ziva,” he said, his voice a raspy whisper.
The team had turned to her, none more surprised than herself. The doctor prevented an awkward moment by saying it was usual for a person to only remember one other, depending on their prior relationship. That actually caused a few throat clearings.
Ziva was there when he told them that he was going away, and she didn’t believe it.
She went to his house that night. He answered the door wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He didn’t seem surprised to see her, just held the door open and closed it behind her.
Ziva couldn’t take it, she rounded on him immediately and began.
“Tell me now that there has been nothing between us and I am stupid for making it up in my head! I think you want me and then I know you don’t! And now you are leaving to who the hell knows where without any intention of finishing or starting what--”
Ziva stopped herself. She was hurting so much. She thought Gibbs had died. She wanted nothing more than to comfort him and make sure he was alright, to keep him to herself…and then he springs the “going away” on them, without giving her barely any more farewell than the others!
“Ziva,” he said softly. He had waited, listening to her rant, watching her pace furiously up and down his living room, wanting to drag her down on the sofa and make love to her then and there.
She didn’t look at him, just sat down on the sofa, put her head in her hands and stared at the floor, “You can’t leave, Jethro!”
He sat down beside her and put an arm around her, pulling her against his shoulder. “Never, ever think I don’t want you, Ziva. Never.”
She raised her eyes to his, her own clouded with tears. His eyes roamed her face, hovering on her mouth.
“Not tonight,” he said, his voice still rough.
“Why not?” She whispered back.
“Ziva,” he said. “I am going to Mexico tomorrow. I have to go and clear my head. I’m not right right now. I have to go. But I’m not gone forever. I’ll be back.”
“When, Gibbs?!” She stood up and began to pace again. “And give me one good reason--a real reason--that we should not go to bed together tonight?” She stood in front of him and pinned him with a piercing stare.
Gibbs stared at her, the bluntness of her words shocking. He slowly stood up and walked toward her, his eyes on her like that of a predator on prey.
“I could give you many, many good, real reasons why we shouldn’t make love tonight, Ziva. They may include that I will be coming back and would be your boss again--rule 12 remember? They may include that I am old enough to be your father or that I do not know what kind of future I could give you.” he said quietly, their bodies almost touching. His eyes were dark with desire and she knew she was close to her goal. “But mostly because if I took you tonight, tomorrow I would be gone and you would be alone. I do not want to hurt you, Ziva, it’s the last thing I want.”
“I will be alone tomorrow one way or the other, Gibbs,” she said, closing the distance between them and pressing herself against his chest.
Staring at her, he knew she felt how willing and able, if not jumping at the possibility of making love with her pressed against her stomach when her eyes turned from light brown to a dark chocolate color. She almost purred and Gibbs let a low growl escape as he stepped back from her.
She was surprised. And rejected. She knew it.
He saw the hurt in her eyes and it was, like he’d said, the last thing he wanted. She looked at him and turned around, walking out of the house.
When she called him in Mexico four months later, he was by her side in a day. She was in trouble, he was needed there. There was nothing else that could have called him back, only her.
***
Gibbs had been Boss again for almost a year now since he’d come back from Mexico and it was like he’d never left. Ziva fought with her demons and decided she would try to subdue them, conquer them like any other mission, denying her feelings for her superior. Only Tony knew how she felt. They had been undercover as man and wife and she had, as they were tangled in the sheets feigning lovemaking, he’d whispered the very thing she was thinking.
“Wishing I was Gibbs, Ziva?” he trailed kisses over her collar bone.
She fixed him with a pointed stare and just said, “Yes.”
He laughed out loud and said “I knew it!” Staring down at her, he smoothed back her hair and said, “Gibbs is a fool. More so than I ever knew until now.”
They smiled and kept right on pretending, but it was only pretending.

Gibbs strolled into the bullpen, hearing Ziva’s laugh, but today was not a day for laughter, he though darkly. “Gear up!” He shouted. Tony jumped off Ziva’s desk and both grabbed their backpacks automatically. McGee was close behind Gibbs when Gibbs stopped and he almost ran into him.
“Director’s office!”
All three exchanged glances as they followed Gibbs up the stairs to Director Vance’s office. Inside, Gibbs shut the door. Director Vance was standing behind his desk, looking more somber than usual.
“The Lady Killer has struck again,” he said and all three understood the meaning.
The Lady Killer, a self appointed title, was a serial killer that had been targeting female naval personnel for over a year now. They had tried in vain to catch him several times and he had become a personal vendetta for Gibbs. The women were abducted, usually from naval bars or clubs, taken to an abandoned warehouse or shop, tortured, assaulted, and left to die, usually slowly.
He had killed five times, now six.
“We have a lead,” Vance said and all eyes were on him intently.
“We had a tip. A witness that saw Captain Rosaline Ward leaving with an unknown male the night of her disappearance. It’s the same place they have disappeared from before, same bar, the man matches the description and profile of the killer. The Captain’s body was found this morning, Ducky is already there.”
All three looked around at Gibbs. Why weren’t they there, then? They had never been summoned to the Director’s office to hear news like this when they could just have heard it from Gibbs or on the phone.
“If,” Vance continued, drawing their attention back, “He is true to form, he will strike again, and soon.”
The team could vaguely see where this was going. “Undercover,” Tony and Ziva said again.
“But, who…” McGee began. Then it dawned on him. It had to be a woman.
Vance, Tony and McGee’s eyes turned to Ziva.
“No,” came Gibb’s voice from behind them.
“Special Agent Gibbs,” came the warning note in Vance’s voice. “You and I have already discussed this and if Officer David agrees, then we will proceed.”
Ziva glanced around at Gibbs. His eyes were only for her, as well as his “No, Ziva. This is too dangerous.”
“She can make up her own mind, Special Agent Gibbs,” said Vance.
Ziva’s gaze dropped to the floor. This had to stop. He wouldn’t stop unless he was caught. She didn’t want to disobey Gibbs, but he would feel protective of his team regardless of who it was, she thought painfully.
“Yes,” she said, glancing first at Gibbs, who stared at her thoughtfully, then at Director Vance.
He nodded. “Ok. Here are your papers,” he handed her a folder of papers, her new identity. “You will be at the Dock tonight and every night for the next two weeks, which should give us more than enough time to snare the Lady Killer if he comes back.”
Ziva breathed through her mouth. She opened the folder. Lieutenant Commander Mary Lewis.
“Agent Gibbs will give you all the rest of the information you need, Officer David. Dismissed,” he said and they all filed out of the office. Gibbs shut the door after he shot a stern look at Vance.
“Ziva,” he said. She stopped. Tony and McGee walked on. Gibbs came to stand before her, looking down at her.
“I do not want you doing this, Ziva,” he said. She thought she almost saw the tender look she longed for in his eyes, but then it was gone.
She swallowed, “Gibbs, this is a good plan, and you know it.”
He did. By God he should not allow this, but it was a good plan and he wanted to catch this bastard really bad.
Gibbs stared at her, reading her eyes. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed, not taking his eyes from her. She nodded and turned from him, walking down to the bullpen. If it was tonight, she must get ready now.
He watched her go, a stone in his gut. This wasn’t right.

The Dock was a naval hang out that was more upscale than most of the naval pubs. Officers’ club was what most thought of it as. That was why it was a particular thorn in the Navy’s side that their own were being abducted and killed from right beneath their owns’ noses. Ziva dressed carefully. The Lady Killer liked his women out of uniform in civilian clothing. Ziva chose a black sheath dress that she doubted could fit any closer, hugging every curve. Tall black heels and a necklace that had a wireless camera and microphone in it completed the ensemble. Her hair was loose and, surveying herself in the mirror, she thought she looked more like a high-priced call girl than a lieutenant commander after hours.
She opened the door. Tony and Gibbs stood there, waiting for her in her living room
Gibbs back was to her, but at Tony’s appreciative intake of breath, he turned.
Gibbs’ stare made her blush, his eyes raked her from head to toe, slowly.
“Holy God, Ziva,” whispered Tony, his eyes lingering on her form.
Gibbs grinned. “You’ll do, Ziva.”
Ziva glared at that pitiful comment and Gibbs chuckled. He offered his arm and she took it. He escorted her out to her car; they would follow her to the bar and wait. Tony got in the other car.
He settled her into the driver’s seat and leaned in. “Ziva,” he said. “Don’t worry, we’ve got eyes and ears on you and more than a dozen agents staked out, you’re not going anywhere unless we know it.”
She nodded, the butterflies starting to form at his words as the gravity of the mission sunk in.
“Ziva,” he said and drew her mind back to him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He stared at her, their eyes deep in each other.
He straightened and tapped her hood.
Ziva, clearing her brain, stuck her head out her window and shouted at Gibbs, “Surely you can do better than ‘You’ll do,’ Gibbs!”
She was given his boyish/roguish grin as he climbed in the driver’s side of the Charger.
When she parked in front of the bar and got out, she smoothed her hand over her dress and put her “game face” on, as Tony called it.
“Ziva,” came a voice in her ear, “be careful.” It was Gibbs on the microphone. She nodded into the darkness, unsure where he was right then, but felt safe knowing he was there, somewhere.
“And Ziva,” he said again as she started to walk, “You look beautiful tonight.”
She smiled and blushed in the darkness and continued on to the bar.
The door was opened by a marine walking outside, who gave a low whistle. She smiled at him warmly as his eyes trailed her into the bar. She sat down at the bar and ordered a martini. Several heads turned to view her. The Dock was fairly packed, even for a Thursday night. She watched what and anything she could from the mirrored wall behind the bar.
She sat there for not five minutes when she was approached by, what she decided was a Commander, judging from the ribbons on his chest. He introduced himself as “Kevin Meyers,” and ask if he could buy her a drink.
She smiled and accepted. She introduced herself as Lieutenant Commander Mary Lewis and they talked about their jobs for a moment. She did not believe this man was the Lady Killer at all. He was not the profile at all. She twirled her left earring, a sign it wasn’t, she believed, him.
Convienently the Commander’s phone rang not a minute after she made this signal and he was terribly sorry, but had to leave on urgent business, asking her fervently for a number to reach her on.
“Mary,” he said pleadingly, “I will be in touch.”
Ziva laughed. “Ah, Commander, I have heard that exact thing before and he never called, never got ‘in touch,’ so forgive me if I don’t believe you just yet.”
She had added that comment for Gibbs. She heard a low chuckle in her ear and smiled. She was alone at the bar again and was twirling her stir stick around the mixed drink Commander Meyers had bought her, looking bored. Her eyes were scanning the occupants of the bar for anything looking like their man.
Two more men came and went, thanks to the left earring turn.
“You never said, ma’am,” said the bartender, a handsome man in his early twenties, “were you waiting for someone or no?”
She smiled at him. “Well, if I was I don’t think I’m going to meet him tonight, Ensign.”
Ziva stood and walked to the ladies room. When she emerged, there was a man leaning against the wall, waiting for her. She was immediately on guard.
“Can I help you, Lieutenant?”
“I just wanted to talk to you and there’ve been so many guys coming up and talking to you, I thought I may not have a chance before you left,” said the man nervously.
She surveyed him carefully. He fit. Tall, handsome, built. Thirty something.
“Well, talk away…” she prompted for his name.
“Eric, ma’am,” he supplied. “Eric Zanders.”
They walked back to the bar together and he selected a table away from the crowd for them and sat down beside her, very close beside her. She was nervous, but her demeanor didn’t show it.
He got up to buy them drinks and Gibbs voice whispered in her ear, “Don’t rush him.”
“Easy for you to say,” she commented sourly.
He returned with two drinks and sat, she noted surprised, even closer to her than he had before. She pretended to be interested in his story and tales he was spinning, all the time searching for what make this man a possible killer.
Her mind became fully focused on him when his hand rested on her thigh.
“Excuse me,” Ziva said and removed his hand.
“You’re just so beautiful and I want to get to know you and if we could just be alone--”
“Honey, you’ve obviously been a little too charming,” said a voice and Ziva looked up. A handsome man with Captain ribbons on his chest was smiling down at her. Ziva exhaled.
“There you are!” she was thankful for any rescue.
The Commander turned his attention to the Lieutenant. “She’ll not need your company any longer, but I do thank you for entertaining her while I was gone.”
Eric Zanders looked like he wanted to fight, but noticed he was out ranked and clearly out matched. Eric Zanders rose and gave one last look at Ziva before stalking away, throwing glances at the couple over his shoulder.
The Commander put two drinks on the table and pulled the chair that Eric had been sitting in away from her to where it would be normally and sat down.
“I’m Connor, darling,” he faux-cooed. Ziva couldn’t help but smile.
“Ah, sweetheart, I remember, I’m Mary.”
“And you should not come here looking like a sweat meat for all the officers without someone with you, are you not married?” He asked, sipping his drink?
“No, and you?”
“Recently divorced, thank God,” Ziva grinned. He was charming, she’d give him that.
They chatted for a while, nothing very interesting, and then he rose, offering her his hand. “Mary, my dear, I have to get up very early in the morning and I imagine you do as well, and as I don’t want anyone attacking you like our very attentive Lieutenant I must insist on walking you to your car.”
“Not divorced,” she heard Gibbs’ voice in her ear. So, he was lying already.
She smiled. She’d hardly stopped smiling in his presence. She had also not stopped twirling her right earring.
Laughing, and figuring if he wasn’t the man, it was a good time to call it quits regardless.
She took his hand and let him lead her from the bar. They reached her car and he bent in, smiling. “Now I can ask you what I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
Her pulse quickened, “And that would be?”
“Will you have a drink with me at my place?”
“But I’ve been drinking all night, and, like you said, I have to get up very early in the morning,” she cooed.
“Will you make me beg?”
She smiled up at him, and heard in her ear, not Gibbs’ voice, but the Director’s, “Go,” he said.
“What the hell?” Ziva gave Connor her most winning smile. Connor grinned and redirected her to his truck. Assisting her inside, she began to have her first qualms about this mission. She sure as hell hoped Gibbs was nearby, which she knew he was.
Connor got into the driver’s seat and stared over at her. “I’m surprised you said yes, Mary, I am. But very pleased nonetheless.”
She smiled again, “Only live once, right?”
He nodded and started the car. Reaching over, he took her hand and closed his over it, gently. Ziva smiled encouragingly.
They drove in silence for a while. When Connor took his hand back and placed it on the steering wheel, that’s when she felt it. A tingling sensation on her palm, rapidly spreading.
She turned her head to find him already looking at. “I don’t feel…” her vision was cloudy all the sudden, getting blurrier.
She heard, she thought, Gibbs shouting in her ear, but she wasn’t sure. She looked at Connor and he wasn’t smiling, just watching.
Ziva turned to the door and tried to open it, not caring they were driving down the road, but he’d put the childproof lock on and she was trapped. “Jethro,” she whimpered.
Her head began to swim and she bent forward and vomited into the floorboard. By the time she sat up, she was unconscious.
Connor reached over and felt her ears, pulling out the listening device out of her ear, opening the window and flinging it out. He ripped the necklace off and flung that, too.
He turned up the music and continued driving.

When Ziva woke, she was disoriented. She was on a bed, her wrists bound above her head and she was, she glanced down, not completely naked. The dress she’d worn was gone, as well as the shoes, but her black lace underwear was still in place, thank god.
“Ah, so you’re up, my dear. Mary, was it?”
She jerked, finding her feet were chained, too.
“You’re a Navy Commander!”
“No, not quite, sweet. I had a buddy a profile that says I am, though. So, tell me. Who are you? CIA? FBI? It doesn’t matter, tho.”
“Then why should I tell you?”
“You want it to begin already, sweet?”
She stared at him. Gibbs. Oh, Gibbs, she prayed.
Connor, if that was his name, stalked toward her and she refused to cry out.

“GODDAMMIT, FIND HER!”
Gibbs’ shout rang out in the road. She had been gone three hours now. There had been spike strips placed all over the parking lot, across the road, anywhere anyone might follow. Gibbs had, after the Charger’s wheels had been taken out, ran down the highway until he jumped in front of a car, commandeering it, but it was too late. They were gone.
The satellite they had borrowed from the Navy was of little use right now and they were running out of time.
“Ziva,” Gibbs whispered.
“Boss!” McGee’s voice rang out and Gibbs was beside him.
“The satellite picked this up,” he said pointing to a screen. They were in the middle of a field, the mobile arsenal had been transferred to other vehicles, the spike strips removed, and here they sat.
It was a heat signature of a vehicle stopping where there was no occupancy, no address.
Gibbs was in his car, sweat beaded on his brow as he lead the cavalry there, praying she was ok. “Ziva, please,” he whispered out loud. Tony was in the passenger seat, worry etched his face and he looked over at his boss, knowing his feelings for Ziva (and hers for him) and nodded. “Well find her, Boss. She’ll be ok.”
Gibbs eyes narrowed and he sped up, if that were possible.

Ziva had experienced torture before and, all things considered, this was not worse than what she’d already been through. The bad part was that she had never been sexually tortured before. The man, Connor, whatever his name was, had not raped her, but he was touching her, roughly, everywhere. She jerked at his touch when he grabbed her breasts and squeezed and spit in his face when he roughly shoved his hand between her legs. He had let blood my slapping her, his ring catching on her brow and opening it, blood spurting over her cheek, into her hair.
He laughed out loud at that, like he’d just heard a hilarious joke.
He lowered his mouth to her skin and licked her. Ziva thought she was going to be sick, preferring the beating to be touched. He pulled back when she went still and put his hand around her neck, squeezing until she blacked out, only to be brought back to consciousness and his mouth on her thighs. She kicked and twisted, but to no avail. She heard a knife flick open, a sound she knew very well and went still. The man poked her with the knife in the arm, just enough to get the blood flowing.
“Think you’re tough, huh?”
He poked again at her side and she felt the blood curving around her waist to the small of her back. “We’ll see how long those take to clot, my sweet,” he said and make another small incision at her brow line. “Facial wounds bleed something fierce, did you now that?”
She felt like crying, but she would not. He got up off the bed and made his way over to a small dresser that was in this very dirty, dusty room that resembled more of a barn than a house. Similar to the places we found the women in. Dead. She controlled her breathing. She blinked as blood ran into her eye.
If she ever saw Gibbs again, she was going to kill him, she thought. It was his idea to not do this, she told herself ironically. The man turned back to her, a larger knife in his hands. He fell onto the bed, bouncing on top of her, the knife in his hands.
“It’d be a pity to scar that pretty face, but--”
The door slammed open and he whipped around on top of Ziva, knife in his hand.
Gibbs shot him through the forehead, followed by another through the chest.
“Ziva,” he yelled. He ran to the bed and looked down.
“Tony! Find the handcuff keys!”
“Ziva,” Gibbs whispered, “Ziva.”
She was too stunned to speak. She stared up at him, bloody and bruised, noticing his eyes were clouded with emotion. He yanked his jacket off and flung it over her near naked form, wiping blood out of her eye.
“Tony!”
“Boss, I can’t find it!”
Gibbs jumped up and looked at the head board, eyeing it with intent. He began to pull and the wood creaked. The spindles on the headboard groaned, along with Gibbs and she saw the veins on his neck straining with the effort, the spindles must be 4” thick of oak. It cracked and he slipped her arms free, which he knotted around his neck. He picked Ziva up and sat beneath her, settling her on his lap.
“Boss! I found it!”
Tony fumbled at her feet and they sprang free, coming to unlock her hands as dozens of people flooded into the room.
Gibbs grabbed to bloodied sheet she had been lying on and wrapped it fully around her and swept her up in his arms, carrying her past a frantic looking Tony and a whiter than usual looking McGee, ignoring them all. They raced to escort them.
He carried her, she saw, through a field, away from an old farmhouse. An ambulance was there and beside it were Ducky and Abby.
“Ziva!” Abby cried when she saw Gibbs carrying her.
“Not now, Abs,” Gibbs cautioned.
Ziva wanted to find the words that would make them not worry, but she couldn’t. She was ok, she knew. But she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She was here, in Gibbs’ arms, alive. She buried her head in his shoulder and exhaled the breath she had been holding since the mission began.
Gibbs stepped into the ambulance with her, making it clear that he was riding with her, argument or no. Gibbs sat on the bed inside the ambulance as they rode to the hospital, Ziva cradled in his lap.
“Sir,” said one of the ambulance techs, “We need to do her vitals and you have to let her go.”
Gibbs fixed one of the techs with a particularly piercing stare, “I killed a man not half an hour ago who tried to take her away from me, you will meet the same end if you try similar. Do what you need to do, but she is staying exactly where she is.”
They didn’t suggest moving her again.
Gibbs carried her into the ER, the bloody sheet drawing attention first, then the battered woman in the man’s arms. Ziva tightened her arms around Gibbs’ neck and he held her closer.
They came into an ER room and Gibbs sat down on the table, still holding her in his lap.
They were waiting for the doctor, the nurses left out in the hall. “Ziva,” he whispered. “Oh, Ziva. I’m so sorry, Ziva.” She felt his lips on her bloodied temple and shook her head. She wanted to say that it wasn’t his fault, because it wasn’t, but she couldn’t speak.
Gibbs pulled back and looked at her tenderly. He wiped away a tear that leaked out of her eye and kissed her forehead. The doctor entered the room and surveyed the scene.
“Ok.”
Gibbs looked at Ziva, his eyes asking permission. She nodded and he sat her on the paper covered table. He stood beside it, his hands in his pockets, his face riddled with worry, looking older than he had in years.
“Sir, as you are not a relative, I must ask you to leave,” said the doctor very hesitantly, he’d obviously heard about the ambulance tech’s similar experience.
Gibbs shook his head. Ziva shook her head, too. “Stay,” she said, but found her voice was deep, rough, almost non-existent. Her vocal chords must have been crushed, she realized. Gibbs breathed out heavily, not taking his eyes off her, tension in every part of him.
The doctor must have realized the futility of asking again, nodded. He walked toward her, still clutching the bloodied sheet around her and moved to take it from her, but she jerked back.
“Ziva,” Gibbs was there before her and he held her face in his hands. “Let him do this. Let’s get this done here then we can go home.” His voice was soothing and was all she heard. She nodded and loosened her grip on the sheet, letting it fall. Gibbs straightened slowly, his eyes traveling over her bruised body. She wore a strapless black bra and black panties, both ripped in places and Gibbs found himself growing angrier at himself that he had killed that bastard so quickly.
The doctor moved his hands gently over her, asking her “yes” and “no” questions. When he asked her if she had been raped, her eyes flew to Gibbs. He held her stare and nodded, “Were you raped, Ziva?”
She shook her head, knowing it was the truth, but her eyes filled with tears involuntarily. Gibbs blew out a frustrated breath and exchanged looks with the doctor. Neither believed her, which was clear, but she didn’t feel like explaining that if Gibbs hadn’t gotten there sooner, she would have been.
The doctor nodded and motioned for Gibbs. They spoke in low voices and Gibbs nodded, his eyes not off of Ziva.
The doctor left the room and he was by her side again. “Ziva,” he said, placing an arm around her which she curled into, “they need to do a rape kit and then we’re done.”
Ziva raised her eyes to him. She didn’t want to, she had been violated enough for one day, but knew that it was not only standard procedure, it was important to this case. She reluctantly nodded and he kissed her forehead.
“I’m going to wait outside, it won’t take long, ok?”
She nodded.
He opened the door and the nurse was already there. She closed the door behind her and instructed Ziva to lie back.
In the hall, Gibbs met the team, anxious with the status of Ziva.
“She’s pretty bad,” he said, sorrow filled his voice. They all exchanged looks.
“Was she raped, Jethro?” Ducky asked what they were all wondering.
Gibbs breathed out. “She said no, but I don’t know. They’re doing a kit on her now.”
Abby’s eyes were red from crying and Gibbs put a comforting arm around her. They all huddled together and it seemed like hours before the nurse came out. Gibbs was there before she closed the door and she was wondering who to report to, the huddled group of armed Federal agents (the word had spread quickly) or the doctor.
“Was she raped?” Gibbs spoke before the doctor could inquire.
The nurse shook her head. “No, she was not,” she began and the whole group exhaled. Abby burst into tears again on McGee’s shoulder. “But,” she went on, “she’s been beaten severely and there is extensive swelling. It should subside in a couple days.”
Gibbs nodded. The nurse left and the doctor turned to them. “She will have more mental scarring from this than physical. She has two bruised ribs and many other bruises, but the blood comes from several small wounds, none needing stitches and have clotted already. She’ll be, physically, just fine.”
“Tony,” Gibbs said, turning to DiNozzo, “I don’t care what car. Steal one if you have to, but have one out front in five minutes. I’m taking Ziva to my place tonight.”
None of thim found this odd. It was, after all, the place they’d all been to when in need.
“Take my car, Jethro,” said Ducky, offering his keys. Tony took them and left immediately to get his car pulled around.
Gibbs knocked on the door, waited a second and opened it. Ziva sat on the side of the bed in a fresh hospital gown. Gibbs walked toward her and scooped her up in his arms, she automatically put her arms around his neck, lying her head in the crook of his neck.
When he opened the door, she lifted her head and saw them all there. Tears came to her eyes and she tried to smile.
“Ziva,” they all said.
“Oh, dear girl,” said Ducky, who came close to rub her arm, “You’ll be alright. You’ll be right as rain, I’m sure of it.”
“Ziva!” Abby flung herself around both Ziva and Gibbs, causing Ziva to tense with the pain.
“Abby!” Gibbs yelled, feeling Ziva tense.
“Oh! Sorry! Oh my gosh I’m sorry, Ziva!”
Ziva could only smile a little wider. She just shook her head and turned her eyes to McGee. He tenderly, and out of character reached up and put his hand on the side of her cheek.
“I’m glad you’re ok, Ziva,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. She smiled at him and nodded.
Tony came running back, the keys jingling in his hand and he skidded when he saw Ziva in Gibbs’ arms.
“Hey,” he said, taking in the bruising that was visible. “Hey,” he said again. He walked close to Ziva and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She smiled. She would have laughed. When did Tony not have something to say? She lifted the arm not around Gibbs’ neck and patted Tony on the side of his neck.
“Alright,” Gibbs said gruffly. “You won’t be seeing Ziva for at least a month--”
She tensed in his arms. “A month!” She said outraged. It sounded like the Cookie Monster had said that but Gibbs gave, finally, a grin. He looked at her, a look that he usually saved for when they were alone or no one was watching, and smiled, saying “We’ll negotiate.”
“Get better Ziva!” Shouted Abby as Gibbs strode away, carrying Ziva. She smiled at them, tears running down her face freely now at the sight of her friends’ concern.
Gibbs gently placed her in the passenger car and got quickly into the driver’s seat and they were off.
“That’s incredibly strange,” said Ducky as the all walked out together.
“Which part?” Said DiNozzo sarcastically.
“The part about Gibbs negotiating,” finished Abby, who was grinning. “Did you see the look he gave her? Wish he’d give one of those looks to me!” She grinned again.
“Don’t count on it, dear girl,” said Ducky. “I’m afraid things may be a bit different when Ziva comes back to work,” he said.
“Like lover’s spats instead of pats on the back of the head?” Offered Tony.
Ducky, McGee and Abby looked at Tony. “Yes, something like that, Anthony, I believe you’re right,” said Ducky.
McGee and Abby exchanged looks like “told you so” and they flagged a taxi, glad the night was over at last.

Gibbs carried Ziva into his house, shutting the front door with his foot. He carried her into the bathroom and sat her down on the toilet. Her eyes stared up at him as he turned on the shower, testing the water with his hand. When he was satisfied, he stood and looked down at her. “Take a shower, I’ll make you some tea,” he said, looking down at her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and walked out the door, closing it behind him. Ziva sat there, wondering how she’d gotten here, how the day had gone so horribly wrong and let tears fall down her face. And Gibbs. She’d never seen that look on his face before. Loss, hurt, panic.
A knock came at the door and she looked up, having realized she was sitting in the exact same place she had been. Gibbs opened the door and saw her sitting where he’d left her 30 minutes ago. He ran his eyes over her hospital gown, the running water and sighed. He walked into the bathroom, sat the steaming mugs on the counter and knelt on the balls of his feet before her, staring up at her.
She stared back, words still not coming, even though they were everywhere in her brain. Offering his hand, Gibbs pulled Ziva to her feet. She winced a little, the muscles stretching from the beating. Gibbs pulled back the shower curtain and turned to Ziva. Watching her intently, he reached down, his eyes not straying from hers and lifted the hospital gown, pulling it up, up over her head.
Ziva stood there, completely naked before Gibbs. He looked down. His breath caught in his throat. Her beautiful body riddled with bruises. Her breasts had finger marks on them. Her stomach, the inside of her thighs were purple with bruises. He swallowed, feeling himself grow hard against his will. He wasn’t, couldn’t be turned on right now. He was disgusted with himself. She was injured and he was ogling her!
He lifted his eyes to Ziva who was staring at a button on his shirt. He lifted her chin to look into her eyes for a long moment. Offering her his hand, he assisted Ziva into the shower. She stepped into the spray and stood there, her eyes closed as the water washed over her.
She did nothing. She didn’t move. Gibbs wondered if he deserved this punishment as he took a soft cloth, wet it with warm water and began wiping away any trace of the night he could. Blood and tears flowed down the drain. Ziva watched him, standing perfectly still as he sat on the side of the tub, half his side drenched from the shower spray, washing her body. His hand and cloth smoothed over her cheek, her neck, down one round breast and under, down her stomach. He looked up at her and she knew his torment.
Serves him right, she thought and smiled a little. Ziva stood still as Gibbs slowly washed her hair, rinsing it with the rest of her body. He turned off the shower and pulled a large fluffy towel from the cupboard, wrapping it around her, trailing it gently over her skin, drying her. The only other person he had bathed was his daughter, Kelly. He’d taken baths with women before, but never bathed them.
There was nothing similar to his daughter in this occurrence, but he knew the trust she gave him to do this. Gibbs dried as much of her as he could, her hair damp and smelling more like him than it usually did (they’d used his shampoo), and picked her up, still wrapped in a towel and carried her into his bedroom. He’d selected a large t-shirt of his for her to wear and stood her by the bed to retrieve it. When he turned back, Ziva had dropped the towel and stood before him damp, naked, and bruised.
Gibbs swallowed and looked into her eyes. They were different. They were dark. He’d seen them like this before. And tonight was not the night for that.
He swallowed again and stepped toward her, tugging the shirt over her head. She put her arms through the holes; it dropped to her knees.
“Come on,” he said. He was painfully hard right now, his erection straining his jeans and he needed to put as much space between them as possible right now.
He sat her on the bed and patted the pillow. She went willingly, letting him tuck her under the covers. He’d planned to sleep in the chair in the corner of his room, not willing to let her out of his sight even as she slept. Ziva’s small hand inserted into his and he looked down at it.
“Please Jethro,” she whispered. “Stay. Here, with me. Tonight. Please.” Her voice crackled but if she whispered it wasn’t so noticeable. Gibbs had a feeling she could have asked him for anything in the world tonight and he’d give it to her. He stared down at her and nodded. He released her hand and went to the bedroom wall, flipping the light off and casting it all in darkness.
He climbed into bed with her, a pillow smushed between them, both for her comfort and to hide his desire for her. He moved over to wrap his arm around her, as gently as he could and she sighed and snuggled closer.
Ziva turned slowly onto her back so Gibbs was propped on one arm, looking down at her.
“Jethro,” she whispered.
He exhaled slowly and it blew an errant dried curl on her forehead. “Ziva, we can’t. Not tonight.”
She reached a hand up and placed it on the side of his face. Her thumb moved over his lips as his had once done to hers. “Please.” She said and he almost came undone.
“Ziva,” he whispered, “You’re broken, you’re bruised--I’d hurt you if--”
“My bruises will heal, Jethro. But he was all over me. His lips were on me, his hand between my legs, everywhere. I need to you erase him. And not just because I need it, Jethro. Because you want to, too.”
Gibbs stared down at her, the truth of her words hanging between them. She stared back, obviously thinking she was going to be rejected and he shook his head. He pulled the pillow from between them and she fell more solidly against his hard body. She felt his erection then. “I always want you, Ziva. I told you that. But you’re--”
“You owe me, Jethro. You know you owe me. And if I have to use that toni--”
Gibbs mouth was on her.
She was shocked at first that he may be giving in then elated and then she didn’t care. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her with all the passion and longing he’d been denying for years. Seeing her everyday, wishing she’d been in his bed the night before. His hand came up and cradled her skull, his fingers deep in her thick, damp hair.
“Ziva,” he whispered, breaking the kiss and staring down at her.
“Don’t stop,” she whimpered.
“I couldn’t if I tried.” And he lowered his head to her again. His tongue was in her mouth and she slid hers along his, sucking on it and drawing him closer. He moaned into her mouth, his hand sliding down her body to gently bring her closer.
He drew the t shirt he’d just put on her off and lifted his head to look at her. “You are so beautiful, Ziva.”
His head lowered and he drew one hard nipple into his mouth and Ziva groaned, her fingers threading through his silver hair. Ziva’s breath was shallow and erratic but she wanted more. Her hands reached out and found Jethro’s chest, touching him through his own t-shirt. His head came up, releasing her nipple with a ‘thwack’ sound and stared at her.
“Take your clothes off,” she said roughly. His eyes roamed hers and he reached behind him and pulled his shirt off in one motion. Ziva stared at his broad, hard chest and she placed her hands on it, sighing, closing her eyes.
“Ziva,” he whispered as her hands caressed him, “Open your eyes.” She complied. “Keep them open. I want you to see me and everything we do when I make love to you.”
He stood up beside the bed and unzipped his jeans, pulling his boxer briefs down with them and his erection sprang free. Ziva’s mouth was dry. He was huge. His erection was hard as marble, standing against the flat of his stomach, thick and already shining with a little semen. She hadn’t made love in so long and wondered if he would stretch her too much, but didn’t care.
“Ziva,” he said and crawled back into bed with her. He’d seen the questions in her eyes. “I won’t hurt you tonight. I will not hurt you at all, and if we can’t--”
She stopped him by pulling him down to kiss her and he rolled on top of her, balancing his weight on his forearms. She felt him, hard and hot against the inside of her thigh and she wiggled to get closer to him. “Please,” she whimpered.
He lifted his head and smiled. “Ah ah ah. I gave into you,” he said, his mouth nibbling on her collarbone “So we’re on my time now.”
She moaned. His hand was moving lower, touching every part of her stomach and even lower. She felt when he cupped her between her legs and she opened her eyes. He lifted his head and watched her, asking if it was ok with his eyes.
“Gibbs please!”
He chuckled and spread her with his fingers. She thought she was going to come right then, but it wasn’t until he told her to open her eyes that he pushed one thick finger deep inside her that she came. He felt it, her tiny contraction, griping is finger, moaning his name in a ragged cry. She was so wet, so ready, but not yet. He moved his finger out and pushed two back inside her and felt her heading toward another climax. His mouth began to kiss his way down her body, over her breasts, which he sucked on individually, her hands buried in his hair as his fingers, moving steadily in and out of her tight little body were buried deep inside her. He lifted his head to lock his blue eyes that were dark now on hers. Her head was thrown back her body arched for his mouth to plunder her breasts and he smiled. “Ziva,” he whispered. She looked down, seeing her nipples wet from his mouth and his arm, still moving his fingers in and out of her and she whispered back “Please.”
He kissed his way down her body until his mouth was replacing his fingers. He watched Ziva watch him from between her legs, letting his tongue shove as far as he could get inside her, tasting every part of her. She came again, her body wracked with spasms. He moved over her, positioning himself at her entrance.
He paused. Shit. He didn’t have any condoms. He hadn’t done this in so long he hadn’t thought to get any. Ziva was recovering from her orgasm and looked at him. “Please,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”
She was right, he thought. It didn’t matter. He leaned down to kiss her, her own taste on his mouth as he pushed forward, trying to be gentle. He entered her carefully, inch by inch, he leaned back to watch her, gauge her reaction. Her eyes were closed, her head arched, sighs escaping.
He pulled back and pushed in again.
“Ziva,” he whispered raggedly, “What did I tell you about keeping your eyes open?”
Her eyes fluttered open and he smiled down at her, the crooked smile she loved. And then he was deeper. She groaned and he pulled her thigh, carefully up beside him and he went further. She wrapped her legs around him and felt him rock her back into the bed, lifting her as his hips ground into her. His breathing was strained and labored and she couldn’t think straights. It was only Gibbs. Gibbs, Gibbs, and more Gibbs.
“More,” she dared. He looked quickly at her and saw a look he was going to love to see. She was about to come again, he knew. He complied with her request and pushed another inch in, deeper and harder.
“Please,” she moaned. He gave her even more until he felt the contractions start and he began pumping faster. Sweat was beaded over both of them and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He was pushing and withdrawing from her faster and faster until the bed was banging against the wall and Ziva cried out, her voice hoarse and he felt her come, her already tight walls squeezing him like a vice and he shoved all of himself into her to the hilt, coming deep inside her, moaning out her name.
When he recovered, he lifted his head from the side of her neck, staring down at her and chuckled. His Ziva was fast asleep. Still hard, still buried very deep inside her, he rolled to his side and gathered her close, whispering to her in the dark.
He felt her wake in the night. He had pulled out of her at some time and fallen asleep. She rose up on one bruised arm and kissed his mouth, his hands cradling her head, her hair a curtain around them. She moved her leg over his side so she straddled him.
“Ziva,” he cautioned.
“Am I going to have to fight with you every time I want to make love to you?” she asked and he smiled in the darkness, his hands on her hips. She kissed her way down his body as he had done to her and paused, making sure he was watching as she took as much of him in her mouth as she could, her lips closing around his shaft which was already hard. He inhaled sharply as he felt her tongue him.
“Jethro,” she said, “What did I tell you about keeping your eyes open?” He chuckled into the darkness and looked down to see her staring at him, his dick inside her mouth, her eyes on him.
“Come here,” he said and she moved up. He guided her hips, remembered how sore and bruised she was and carefully lowered her onto him. She arched back as her body accommodated his length and width again and they both sighed in unison.
“God,” he whispered.
She rocked and rocked and he felt her intake of breath and stared at her, that look he loved. He sat up and rolled her gently to her back, his hands cradling her, and pushed, deeply and felt her come. He spread her legs and moved them around his waist, making his tempo faster.
She came again, and yet again before he did and when he did pour himself into her, she was asleep once again. He smiled in the darkness, gathering her to him again.

The light was unwelcome when she opened her eyes, the covers drawn over her chest. The smell of sex still lingering in the air. Jethro sat on the side of the bed, sleep pants on, no shirt, holding a cup of steaming coffee. She blushed and smiled at him.
“So,” she said and smiled. It hurt to smile. Why would it…and then they day came rushing back to her.
He saw it when it came back to her. She looked up at him, concerned.
“He’s dead, Ziva.”
She nodded. She sipped her coffee. “No one will ever hurt you again, Ziva, I promise you.”
She nodded. She sipped her coffee. “So.”
He nodded. He sipped his coffee. And smiled. “We’re going to have to tell the kids,” he said and they both laughed.
“Tony’s going to be revolting,” she said, her voice rough, but humor in it anyways. Gibbs laughed. “And I always figured you two would eventually--”
“Tony?!”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Please. He’s such a playboy. And after you teased me for years!” She frowned at him. “So…”
“So?” He asked over the coffee. He was enjoying this too much.
“So what about your rule #12?”
He smiled and came to sit beside her, head against the headboard, on the bed. “Well, I decided that since I made the rules, I can change them.”
Ziva frowned, “So if I told you that Abby and McGee--”
“They are not!” Gibbs acted scandalized.
Ziva laughed. “No, they’re not. But it’s only a matter of time and since rule number twelve doesn’t exist any--”
“It damn well does exist! I said I was changing it, not getting rid of it.” He said, wrapping an arm around her as she sipped her mug. “Abby and McGee,” he muttered.
She smiled, “So how is it changed?”
He looked at her. “Well, it is only flexible for me, first off, since I invented it. And only for you, as this is all your fault.”
Ziva frowned. “Hmm. Well, as long as I don’t have to fight you when I feel the need to--”
“The need to what?” he pulled her mug out of her hand and placed it on the nightstand.
“The need to see just how flexible rule #12 is,” she said, wrapping a hand around him and pulling him down.

At the end of a long argument, Ziva insisted on going in to work. She said she’d just lie in bed, bored, healing, when she could be at work, not bored and healing. She attempted a persuasion technique he thought was quite ingenious.
“I believe this is called ‘below the belt,’” she said, staring up at him. He sighed, a speck of his semen on the corner of her lip. He pulled her up and kissed it away.
“You will not always win,” he qualified.
They drove Ducky’s car into work and surprised everyone when Ziva was walking herself into the bullpen. Everyone came down to see her, all shocked by her bruises and cuts, but nevertheless happy she was alright.
The team, including Ducky and Abby went to lunch. In the middle of the meal, Ducky fixed Gibbs with a particularly pointed stare.
“Young man,” he began and Gibbs smiled broadly, his grin lopsided as if he knew what Ducky was fishing for.
“I believe you owe all of us an apology.”
He laughed out loud. Ziva exchanged a confused glance with the others. “For what, Ducky?”
“For breaking rule number twelve,” Gibbs said and smiled warmly at Ziva, pulling her fingers through his.
“I told you! I called it, Tony! Cough it up!” They’d never seen McGee so excited. He had his hand out to Tony. There had obviously been a bet.
Tony looked shocked. “No way,” he said to Gibbs, looking between the two. His look implied Gibbs wouldn’t be lucky enough to land Ziva, but shut everyone up when Ziva leaned over and kissed Gibbs full on the mouth, which he returned passionately.
Everyone looked, if not surprised, shocked to see such PDA from Gibbs, except for Tony. “That is sooo not fair.”
They all laughed.
As they sat in the sun, talking, McGee leaned forward and fixed Abby with a stare. “So, Abby, if rule #12 doesn’t exist--”
“IT DAMN WELL DOES EXIST!!” Gibbs stood up and glared at the two who were in fits of laughter, along with everyone else.
They returned to the bullpen to revel in Ziva’s recovery and the conclusion of another mission.