Okay, so I know I should probably stop torturing poor Ziva and I should probably get working on other stories, but I've had this story floating around in my head for a while, and you know me, I have to write constantly. And my muse (I've now offically named him Andrew) made me. So I wrote it. And I'm quite proud. And after this, I'm off to go watch some more NCIS (I've already made it to Season 6). I'm actually kind of depressed because school starts on Tuesday, which means this is my last day on staying up all night write for a while :/ So don't expect any regualar updates for any of my stories. Oh yeah, speaking of which, this might be a two-three chapter story. Maybe. I don't really know where to take it, and if you have any suggestions, feel free to message me. Anyways, buon divertimento!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize

Characters are slightly AU

Good night!

~Very Special Agent Bandit 3

(P.S. Slight Tiva was intended in this chapter, but don't count on it being a usual thing)

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Chapter 1

Ziva awoke with a terrifying start, her eyes darting frantically around the dark room, her breathing shallow. She placed a hand on her burning forehead, wiping off the layer of sweat, before rolling over to her bedside table, checking the clock. It was nearly seven in the morning. She should be getting up soon. She placed a shaking white hand on the thermometer that sat next to the shining alarm clock. She quickly stuck in her mouth, looking up at the white ceiling of her bedroom. She groaned as the thermometer beeped, the annoying noise seeping into her head and worsening her everlasting headache. She gave a small huff at the numbers. She still had a fever. The ninja was painfully aware of her aches and sharp pains shooting up her arms, the tale-tell sign that she did have the flu. She placed her cold hands on her burning face and let out a small sigh of relief.

She lay on her bed for a moment, before slowly, and painfully, swinging her legs over the edge of her comfy bed, and sitting up. She scratched her head, sneezed into a tissue, and shivered as she eyed her window, which had the curtains pulled over it. She'd called in sick yesterday, and the day before that. Tony had checked in on her almost instantly, and Ziva, quite horrified at his worry, had ushered him out of her house and back to work, insisting that she was fine. Ducky had called in on her two times a day to make sure she was eating and that her symptoms hadn't gotten worse, and Abby called her every morning to make sure she wasn't dying of some rare disease or something like that. Other than that, she hadn't had any contact with the outside world since she'd first woken up on Wednesday. She was fine that way.

The agent knew she would be maliciously bombarded with questions, or in other words, killed, as soon as she stepped in the doors of the NCIS building. It'd been only two days. And today was a Friday. She figured she could go into NCIS today. She would convince Gibbs she would only do desk work, which she absolutely hated, and see Ducky regularly. She could even stay down in Abby's lab. Gibbs would know for sure that Abby would take care of Ziva. Ziva knew she was in no condition to get out of bed, or much less go to work as an agent, but she didn't feel like being alone for another day. She hadn't noticed how much she missed NCIS life. She got up, sneezing once again, this time all over the wall. She gave a groan of disgust, before turning to the window and pulling the shades open. She winced at the sudden white light that filled her room, and almost blinded her. She blinked a few times, an action that didn't help her bongo-drums-headache, and peered out the window. She looked down at the street below, where cars were honking in the usual morning traffic jam, and business men were strolling casually down the street, some with a bag of donuts and fresh cup of coffee in their mitten-covered hands. It was then that Ziva noticed the blanket of snow covering the sidewalk, and the flaky white stuff falling from the cloud-covered sky.

She sighed again, and turned on her heel, walking as fast as the feverish agent could to her door. She paused, giving a huge yawn, which resulted in a small cough, and turned the cool handle with her pale hands. She stepped out in the hallway, shuffling to the kitchen. She was desperate to get to the coffee machine before she fainted of exhaustion, a trait that the flu constantly gave her. She sat on the couch as she drank the hot stuff, curled up in a ball. She rested her head against the back of the sofa, enjoying the comfortable cushion, before reaching out to the side table in front of her. She grabbed a bottle of Tylenol, using the coffee to down a couple of pills. She looked across the room to the clock that sat on the far wall, ticking silently. It was then that Ziva decided she would actually go to work.

She stood in her bathroom, leaning her elbows against the counter, studying her appearance. It certainly looked like the flu, though nothing more serious. It was obvious she'd had a restless sleep last night, and that she did have a fever. Even touching her own arm made her recoil at the warmth. Of course, her hands felt unusually cool. She splashed water on her face, trying to waken herself up, the coffee not yet having taken its effect on the fatigue that swept through her. She brushed her hair calmly, getting herself somewhat presentable. At least now there were some color in her cheeks.

Ziva dressed herself warmly, prepared to go out into the icy wind. Perhaps it would be a good idea to get a ride from another team member. No, they'd refuse and insist he'd go to bed. She'd have to do this on her own. She gave another shuttering cough, and cursed silently, snatching a water bottle from the counter in her kitchen. She took a sip, and pocketed it. She hadn't felt this horrible since, well, she was a child in Israel. She'd been five.

"Daddy, I feel cold," the little girl was lying on the floor, shivering, something that was very odd, considering they'd lived in a desert. "I don't feel good, Daddy."

He hadn't replied. She watched from her spot on the floor as she stiffened where he stood, and turned on the spot, so he was facing her. He'd leaned down, looking her in the eyes, and gently placed a thread-bare jacket onto of the sick girl, something that Ziva considered a serious act of kindness.

"Rest up," he said as he stood, "You're going to need your strength later."

Ziva had wrapped the jacket tighter around her, "Thank you, Daddy."

"Shalom, Ziva."

"Shalom," her voice had shook as she watched him leave her in the middle of her room.

Ziva shook herself from her thoughts, pulled on yet another jacket, made sure she had her keys, and headed out of her apartment, locking the door behind her, and heading down the icy steps.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Tony strode into the bullpen, a swimsuit model magazine in his hands. He was nodding his head to some odd song that was on his new iPod. "Oh, Latasha," he muttered with a childish grin on his face as he slid into his desk chair. He quickly pulled the ear buds out of his ears. He scanned the bullpen. Something was off.

"McProbie!" he barked as he quietly stashed the magazine in one of his many desk drawers. The younger agent looked up warily at Tony.

"Yes, Tony?" McGee was already typing away on his computer, despite the fact work started in fifteen minutes.

"Where is our majestic Mossad ninja?" Tony squinted his eyes as he stood rather suddenly from his desk, stalking towards Ziva's desk, obviously looking for something that would make her tardy.

"She's probably sick…again," McGee rolled his eyes as Tony stopped abruptly in his snooping. "She told Gibbs she most likely wouldn't be coming back until sometime next week."

"Oh," Tony sat rather heavily into his desk chair, "Yeah."

There was a slight awkward pause as Tony once again scanned the desks, "And where is our favorite silver-haired-fox/ boss man?" McGee looked up at Tony with a "I can't believe you just said that" look. Tony grimaced, "He's behind me isn't he?"

Tony put his fists in front of his face, as if trying to protect it."No," McGee replied calmly. Tony, however, flinched, as if Gibbs had hit him with a head slap. He paused shot McGee a sideways look.

"You sure?" Tony muttered, obviously still expecting the head slap. McGee nodded with a raised eyebrow.

Tony wrenched around in his seat, checking behind him to just to make sure, "Good. The last thing I need today is a headache. Oh shut up, McGoo."

The agent was sitting in his chair, trying to conceal chuckles as he watched Tony look around curiously once again.

"It's oddly quiet. I don't like it," Tony turned on his monitor, "By now, Ziva would've commented on something I did or did not do last night, and gave a full rant of how horrible of drivers us Americans are."

He leaned back casually in his chair and waited for the computer to start up.

"You miss her, don't you?" McGee glanced at the senior field agent.

"I do not!" Tony shot up in his chair, "I'm actually quick liking the peace around here. It's actually quiet."

"Not quite so quiet," Gibbs strode into the bullpen, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Both McGee and Tony instantly reached down towards their bags, looking up at Gibbs expectantly. "What?" he demanded.

"You don't have a case for us?" Tony ventured, releasing his grip on the strap of the bag.

"No," Gibbs sat down in his chair, and began to drink the coffee.

"Well, it just seems the kind of day that we'd have a case, and…" McGee stopped short at the look Gibbs gave him.

Tony leaned back. "No cases. I'm kind of glad I don't have to go out in the weather," he shuddered at the thought.

"I swear Antarctica is warmer than D.C. right now," McGee agreed, returning to his computer.

Gibbs gave a sigh, and was just about to stand up, when something raced into the bullpen.

"Gibbs!" the three of them turned, to see a panting Abby, who was leaning over, her hands on her knees. "Gibbs! Something's wrong!"

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Ziva saw something out of the corner of her eye as she drove at her regular speed. Her eyes flicked up at the traffic light, making sure it was indeed green. Her eyes darted back to the large black thing hurtling towards her. She slammed on her brakes, trying to avoid what was bond to come, but instead found herself spinning out of control. She cursed silently, and ground her teeth. This was not going to be fun.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"Sit down, Abs," Tony offered her his chair as she rambled incomprehensibly. "Explain to us what's happening. Slowly."

"So Ziva's been sick and I just called her and she didn't pick up and I'm really worried I tried doing everything I could-," Tony stopped her, a grimace on his face.

"I said slowly, Abs," he reminded her.

"I call Ziva in the morning to make sure she's okay. She didn't pick up her phone. I called her cell phone, I facebooked her and everything," Abby met each of the three's eyes.

"Relax, Abs," McGee chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I'm sure she's just asleep."

"She's always awake by now!" Abby protested, "She even has the home phone right next to her bed, so it would wake her up."

"Well, she does have the flu. That tends to make a person more sleepy," Tony argued, watching the Goth warily.

"It's not normal. Even when she's sick she wakes up early," Abby paused and looked at Gibbs, "I'm really really worried. It's not normal."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs turned to the senior field agent, "Call Ziva. See if you can get a hold of her."

"Got it, Boss," Tony strode to his desk and instantly picked up his phone.

"Will she be okay?" Abby stood and looked him in the eye.

"Even if ten thousand people were attacking her at once, and she had a cold, and she was injured, she'd be okay," Gibbs tried his best to reassure her.

"No answer, Boss. And her cell phone went straight to voicemail," Tony arrived from his desk. "Should I go to her apartment and look for her or-."

"No," Gibbs sat back down in his desk, giving McGee and Tony a look that clearly said they should do the same. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he quickly waved his hand, indicating that Abby should leave.

"But," Tony looked at his boss from behind his computer screen. "Rule number three: Never be unreachable."

"She's not unreachable," Gibbs persisted, shooting a look at Tony, but he didn't waver.

"But Boss-," he was interrupted by the phone on Gibbs' desk ringing.

Gibbs gave Tony another look before picking it up. "Yeah, Gibbs," there was a long pause, "Yeah, we'll be right there," Tony looked at him expectantly, "Gear up. We have a dead sailor."

Tony's face fell. "What about Ziva?"

Gibbs turned on him as the three entered the elevator. "Oh, she'll turn up."

Tony gave a soft growl, before finally leaning back against the elevator wall.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

"I swear this isn't right, McGoo," Tony couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he and McGee bagged evidence.

"Mmhmm," McGee shifted away so he could collect other evidence.

"I'm not kidding, McGeek, this is for real," Tony stood and squinted at him.

"Like that one time you were dying on the Chimera?" McGee raised an eyebrow at the older agent, a smirk on his face.

"That's not funny," Tony looked away, "But I'm not kidding this time. This isn't right. We should be checking for Ziva."

"You just want her back," McGee knelt down again and continued his work.

"I do not," Tony knelt down as well, "She's my partner, it's natural I care about whether she's safe or not."

"It's not like we're talking about you, Tony. She can take care of herself," McGee rolled his eyes.

"That's not funny either," Tony sighed, and ran a glove-covered hand through his hair, his breaths coming out in small puffs of mist. "It's unnaturally cold out here."

"I know," McGee shivered, rubbing his arms in a feeble attempt at warming himself, "I just want winter to get over with."

Tony paused, trying to think up some witty comment to say, but snapped his mouth shut, snapping the gloved off his hands and rubbing them together.

"I'm telling you," he said once again, "This isn't right. Not only is Ziva missing, but Gibbs isn't worried."

"Oh he's worried," McGee chuckled, looking up at Tony.

"How can you tell?" Tony snorted in reply, scanning the crime scene. His eyes fell on Gibbs, who was interviewing the current suspect, Paisley Jones, who was the one who called NCIS.

McGee chuckled again, "When is Gibbs not worried about a member of his team?"

Tony squinted again, looking up at the cloud-covered sky as it started to snow.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Ziva snapped her eyes open, and the first thing she was greeted with was darkness. And an uncanny cold sweeping through her that wasn't the flu. She gave a small cough, and was shocked at the sudden taste of metal in her mouth. Blood. She tried to exhale, her lungs constricting at the idea, as she struggled to remember where she was and what had happened. She noticed a seat belt digging into her shoulder, and she grimaced as she reached down to unbuckle it.

It was then that she finally remembered. She groaned, closing her eyes in exasperation, before snapping them open in fear of falling back to sleep. She gave a small yelp as she sat up. She recoiled, sitting back down in her chair, painfully aware of an odd dizzy feeling forming in her head. She tried to take a deep breath once more, and sat up, this time ignoring the pain shooting through her sides. She had to run.

A/N: *Laughs insanely* I think I shall write a very happy fic next, after I'm done with this and Attention of course. I really am starting to feel bad. Anyways, please review, it keeps me writing and such :)

I really don't have a preview, haha, sorry!

Love you guys!