A/N: I know, I know, it has been way too long since I've updated. But there is a possibly good reason for it. See, one of the reviews I received made me think about how Gibbs might possibly confront Eli David head-to-head over Ziva... well, this is my response to that question. I couldn't get it out of my head long enough to write anything for my existing stories, so I started writing it down... and it turned into an epic. So this is the first chapter of a two-week endeavor that is only halfway done. I am hesitant to post the whole thing, because it's been difficult to write and it feels to me like it kinda drags... so I'm going to post the first couple chapters and see where it leads. I think I might rewrite it possibly too, to make it a bit more digestible. Who knows. So yeah, if you like the first couple chapters, let me know and I'll keep posting. If you guys hate it, I'll move on. But I'm definitely posting chapter 2, to help you get a feel for the story. It'll probably up in the next 24 hours, as it's already written.
Premise: An alternate ending to "Good Cop, Bad Cop". What would happen if Ziva had been taken back to Mossad instead of becoming an Agent? This story references Something More, as well as contains spoilers for previous episodes spread from Season 3 onwards....
So, on with the show!!!
"This is bullshit and you know it!"
Gibbs' shout echoed in the silent squad bay as the rest of his broken team stood wordlessly watching. Vance, the focus of Gibbs' outrage, calmly removed his toothpick from between his teeth.
"My hands are tied, Agent Gibbs," he said, his voice cool. "I have no way to keep her here. She's not an agent, hell she's not even a citizen. Israel has issued an official request for extradition, and I am bound to honor it."
"You don't have a way?! You are more than capable of bending the rules when it suits you. You just don't think you have a good enough reason," Gibbs growled. "Have you forgotten what she's done for NCIS? For the team, and for you?" Gibbs stepped forward in challenge. "The last time she was shipped off to Tel Aviv on your orders she was almost killed in that damn bomb blast, just so you could flush out your mole."
"She's damaged goods, Gibbs," Vance replied evenly. "There's no guarantee she'd be of any further use to this agency even if there was a way to keep her here. Which there isn't." The toothpick returned to its customary place between white teeth. "Officer Ben-Gidon will escort Officer David back to Tel Aviv. You and your team are not to have any further contact with her."
"What?!" Abby cried. "That's not fair!"
"Abby…" McGee warned, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"No!" she protested, shrugging off the hand. "We didn't get a chance to say goodbye last time! And look what happened! She's been through enough without even getting to say goodbye!"
"No contact, Miss Sciuto," Vance repeated unyieldingly, "or you will be in violation of international law." With that, the Director turned and headed towards the elevator.
"This is bullshit," Gibbs said again, following him. "You said you and Eli David were friends—I didn't realize that was code for you being his bitch." Vance turned swiftly to face Gibbs just as they reached the elevator, the director's eyes flashing dangerously.
"I understand you were a Marine," he said, still calm, but his voice now sharp with authority, "and as such you are protective of your people. But she isn't yours, agent Gibbs. Never was, never will be."
"That's where you're dead wrong," Gibbs contradicted, his voice fierce with pride. "She earned her place on my team, and she earned my trust."
"On her father's orders."
"Yeah, she told me. But her father didn't order her to save my life, or Jenny's life. He didn't order her to risk her neck for the sake of a case, or to do something for the sake of it being the right thing to do. That was all her."
"Regardless," Vance said, looking past Gibbs to watch the two Mossad officers approach, "she is Mossad, and Mossad has recalled her."
Gibbs turned to follow the Director's gaze to find a smug Ben-Gidon was walking beside Ziva. The emotionless mask on her face revealed to Gibbs that she was resigned to her fate. It occurred to Gibbs that she may have even been expecting it. But she didn't want it. She had applied to become an NCIS Special Agent, for citizen status. She wouldn't have done that if she wanted to return to Israel. And now the country she had called home for the past four years had turned its back on her, had stalled just long enough for Mossad to swoop in and reclaim her.
"Ziva!" Abby called out, noticing her friend's arrival. Ziva looked up, but it was Gibbs' gaze she met. Her expression was blank, but he was taken aback by the emotions swirling in the depths of her brown eyes. Guilt was predominant, most likely for the death of Staff Sergeant Cryer. Helplessness was dangerously close to the surface as well, but when she looked into his eyes, something shifted, and suddenly her gaze was saying what her voice could not.
Please.
Her silent cry for help was as clear to him as if she had shouted it. As the two Israelis came closer, Ziva started to drift towards him, only to be stopped by the restraining hand of her unit leader.
"Come, Ziva," Ben-Gidon said in English, sending the Marine a challenging stare that went unnoticed by the older man. The Israeli tapped the call button and was rewarded by the doors immediately sliding open with a ding.
Gibbs remained frozen as Ziva was guided into the familiar elevator. He stood helplessly as she turned to face him again as Ben-Gidon pressed the button for the ground floor. But this time Ziva refused to meet his gaze, instead keeping her eyes downcast. But that did not keep Gibbs from seeing the single that escaped the corner of her eye. Gibbs watched the path it traced down her cheek until the doors slid closed, finally hiding her completely from his view.
It was then that the hopelessness of the situation hit him. He had just found her again, had just started to cut through the haze she had shrouded herself in since her rescue. And now she was gone, and he had been powerless to save her this time. He could not shield her from the might of Mossad. Only NCIS could have done that, and its director had decided she was too broken to bother protecting her. Fury burned in Gibbs' gut as he stared at the closed metal doors. Turning back to Vance, he stepped close so that the Director could hear his lowered voice.
"You think she's too damaged to be a decent investigator," Gibbs said. "She's sure as hell too broken to be any good as Komemiute or Kidon. So what do you think is gonna happen when your friend, Director David, realizes his daughter is no longer his perfect assassin?"
Vance glanced at him, and Gibbs was instantly aware that the other man had not considered that factor. Gibbs considered his superior with a cold gaze.
"Congratulations Leon. You may very well have signed her death warrant." With that, Gibbs turned and left the Director standing by the elevators, returning to what remained of his team.
Tony's expression was sober, darker than the senior field agent usually sported. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders were slack with defeat. But his gaze was knowing; he wasn't happy with the situation, but he understood the politics. Ducky was very much the same, but Palmer looked slightly lost. The younger medical examiner was not particularly close to Ziva, but he was not immune to the off-kilter dynamic that ran through the group. McGee was surprisingly stoic. Very much the observer of the group, he had likely rationalized the situation to the point where the emotions wouldn't overcome him until he was safe within the comfort of his own home. Now, he would be able to function as the team's rock, which Gibbs knew Abby would need.
The Goth had stepped in front of Gibbs, blocking his path through the squad bay, her eyes were filled with unshed tears, but they did nothing to disguise the hurt and confusion as she glared at him. Her arms were wrapped around herself protectively, and her entire posture screamed vulnerability.
"How could you?" she asked Gibbs, her voice soft and uncertain. "How could you stand right there and just let her go?"
"Abs—"
"No! She's family, Gibbs. Haven't we lost enough of our family? We couldn't have saved Kate, but you had a chance to save Ziva? We couldn't have saved Kate, but you had a chance to save Ziva, and you just stood there!"
"She wouldn't be safe Abby. What can one person do against an entire country?" Gibbs' frustration was coming to the surface, and he couldn't keep it from leeching into his words.
"You think that's an excuse? Ziva wouldn't have cared, if any one of us were in her place. She would have gone to the ends of the earth to save us." Abby paced in front him for a moment before stopping to continue. "You remember when Ari tried to shoot me in my lab, and I was hiding out in the elevator because of my ex-boyfriend? You remember what you said to me? You said nothing was going to happen to me, because you would keep me safe. Hasn't she earned the same protection from you?"
Abby's question rang in his ears. Her outlook was naïve, but that didn't negate its validity. This was not as simple as hiding her away from a single individual. Eli David would not rest until his daughter was returned to him—if Gibbs managed to avoid one Mossad operative, another would be waiting on the next street corner. They would not have been able to stay in DC. They would have had to go on the run, constantly on the move to stay one step ahead. But, Gibbs realized, he would have done it. For her. Shame filled him as he realized his mistake. He should not have let her go. Not a second time.
Without another word, Gibbs left the squad bay. He bypassed the elevator, instead going straight for the stairwell. He went down to the parking deck and made a beeline for his car. He left the Navy Yard, but as soon as he passed security he followed no specific route. He couldn't go home—he simply drove. He turned onto side streets and navigated tight one-way streets. When he finally took a moment to orientate himself, it took him several long moments to recognize his surroundings—twenty some miles from the Navy Yard.
His mind raced. Maybe he wasn't too late. There had to be something he could do. Suddenly he remembered something: a number. Ziva had given it to him when she went to Israel for a week after the team had been reunited after Jenny's death. She had told him to use it if her cell didn't work and he needed to contact her. Gibbs pulled out his wallet and dug around in it for the scrap of paper the number had been written on. When he finally had it in his fingertips he held the faded paper in front of him. The sight of Ziva's familiar handwriting threatened to send him into a tailspin, but he forced himself to focus as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number.
His call was answered after only two rings.
"Bashan," said an accented male voice.
"I need to speak to Ziva David."
"A long moment of silence followed Gibbs' declaration He could hear the rustle of paper and the creak of a chair as the speaker on the other end shifted.
"To whom am I speaking?" Officer Bashan said finally.
"NCIS Special Agent Gibbs."
"Ah yes. Special Agent Gibbs. You do not have clearance to speak with Officer David." Before Gibbs had a chance to protest, Bashan continued. "Even if you did, your call would have been in vain. She is not at the Embassy."
"Well where the hell is she?"
"She and Officer Ben-Gidon traveled directly to the airstrip. Their transport departed fifteen minutes ago." Gibbs' heart sank, but he wasn't letting go so easily this time.
"Where can I contact her in Tel Aviv?"
"As I informed you earlier, Agent Gibbs, you do not have the clearance to speak with Officer David. The Director has issued explicit orders that Ziva is not to speak with any American. By giving you any further information as to her whereabouts, I would be in violation of a direct order. I suggest you return to your team, Agent Gibbs. Let her go."
"I can't—"
"Do not contact this number again." Bashan's curt words were followed by a sharp click and the resultant monotone of dead air. Gibbs slammed his phone shut and chucked it violently onto the passenger seat before slamming his hand into the steering wheel, pummeling the molded plastic in frustration and anger. He let loose with a few choice expletives as well before his anger gave way to despair. He ran a calloused hand over his face, trying to keep his tears at bay as images flooded his mind.
He saw scenes of Ziva smiling as they cooked dinner together, laughing as they worked in his basement. He saw her sleeping peacefully against him, her features blessedly unburdened by nightmares of Somalia. Then his mind inevitably flew to that day in the desert, seeing her gazing back at him from where she was being supported by Tony and McGee. Seeing her glaze over as she moved through the weeks that followed, removing herself from her surroundings. And then, seeing a glimmer of her old self as she asked to become an NCIS Special Agent… Only to see it disappear again when Vance questioned her about the Damocles.
It was then that he realized he had failed her in more ways than one. And this time he couldn't simply apologize and hope that she would forgive him. He couldn't seek revenge and find a pleasant surprise in finding her instead. This time, he couldn't save her.
He was too late.
