A Lovely Treason

Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Summary: When a teenager is caught by NCIS passing secure American Navy intel to another agency, they have no idea the connection she has to one of their own. It's only when her handler shows up that the agent gets the shock of a lifetime. Alternate Universe. McGiva.

A/N: Zani won't have a chance to become my sister-in-law because I'm gonna kill her before she even walks down the aisle. She asked me to post the first chapter of this story- and then to finish Past Lives. Like I don't have enough trouble deciphering my brother's writing and sorting out her one-shots from her multi-chapters, now she wants me to post a new multi. Doesn't mean she's coming back, just means she wants to keep me distracted and away from her wrists. I'm about ready to check that girl into a mental hospital for a nice, long vacation. Because we all need a break.- Licia

A/N: Zani's chapter count on her document for this story is 15, but we'll see. So far, from what I've been able to figure out, she hasn't been able to keep a story under 20.

Berlin, Germany

2002

The liquor in his system soon began to match the pulse of the music flowing through his blood. In a million years, he never thought he'd find himself in a nightclub, of all places, in the heart of Berlin. But having just graduated from John Hopkins, brought about a reason to celebrate. And so his grandmother had booked a flight to Berlin for him and his little sister, telling the siblings to enjoy themselves- despite the four year age difference. Not that Sarah needed to be told; the nineteen-year-old had disappeared within the club, having found a group of exchange students from Portugal that she'd befriended over the night; the girls were currently out on the dance floor, bumping and grinding or whatever constituted for dancing these days.

He stayed at the bar, drinking in not just the alcohol but the sights, the sounds, the smells- from the steady beat of the techno music to the rough smell of cigarette smoke to the quick pulse of the strobe lights- and letting it all race down to the bottom of his very soul. He finished his drink, setting the glass on the counter again and flagging the bartender; a petite blonde with blue streaks in her hair and a Taurus ring in her nose. "Uno mas, s'il vous plaît." The girl nodded, grabbing his glass.

"You are mixing your languages."

He turned towards the voice, to find a pretty brunette- maybe a year older than his sister- sitting two stools down from him, watching with amusement in her dark eyes. He rolled his own green eyes, accepting the drink with a smile and handing the woman a twenty before turning back to his audience of one. "And my liquors." He replied, holding the glass up and toasting her. "Sláinte."

She raised an eyebrow, recognizing the familiar Irish Gaelic toast, before raising her own glass. "L'chaim."

He nodded to her, before they both sipped from their glasses. As he lowered his glass, he found she'd gotten up, moving to sit beside him. She smiled, showing perfect white teeth, her dark eyes meeting his. They sat in silence for several minutes, before he turned, hearing his sister's laughter from somewhere on the dance floor. She followed his gaze, searching for her own little sister, who'd disappeared as soon as they'd stepped into the club; the eighteen-year-old had a penchant for finding the DJ- and requesting the same set of songs all night until it drove everyone crazy- so it would be best if she got to her before the girl found the sound system.

"You dance?" She turned back to him; he was smiling at her, a lopsided smirk that made his quite handsome on his face. A moment passed as she cocked her head. He downed the last of his drink, before setting the glass on the counter and getting up, holding out a hand. Her gaze flicked to it, noting the long, slender fingers-

"Dance with me?"

Her gaze narrowed, as she considered his offer. Then, without a word, she downed the last of her own drink, set the glass on the counter and took his hand, allowing him to pull her from the stool. She stumbled, slamming into him. He caught her, his free arm going around her waist to steady her. "Good catch." He just grinned, letting go of her waist and tugging her onto the dance floor.

They soon found themselves among the rest of the party goers, bodies pressed together, hands sliding over each other, exploring, discovering. She reached up behind her, sliding her arms around his neck as his hands moved down her waist, pulling her closer. They brushed against the cargo pants she wore, moving up and over her exposed navel to the bottom of her red, haltered crop top. She looked up, meeting his gaze. Even with the flashing of the strobe lights, she could see that he had the greenest eyes of anyone she'd ever met-

"Tim."

She pulled back, startled. "What?"

"I'm Tim." A moment passed before she realized that he was introducing himself.

"Ziva."

He nodded, his gaze darting to her mouth. He licked his lips, before leaning down. She rose up on her toes...

Their lips locked, and they soon found themselves moving off the dance floor, back to a secluded corner of the club. Her back soon hit a nearby wall; she felt his hands locking her wrists against the wall, directly over her head. As the kiss deepened, he released one of her hands, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her towards him, sliding one leg between hers. She wrapped her arms around neck, arching her back, sliding her body against his-

With no regard to their individual siblings, they left the club, hailing a taxi back to the hotel she was staying at. In a matter of minutes, they made it back to the hotel, and after having paid the driver, spent the ride in the elevator to her room making out, and stumbling into down the hallway to her room, just barely thinking to place the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door before stumbling back to the bedroom.

She awoke the next morning to a pounding in her head and a dull ache in her lower extremities. As she pushed herself onto her elbow and looked around, she found nothing but the rumpled blankets of the bed to indicate any form of carnal activity the night before.

Her strange bedfellow was gone.