Disclaimer: NCIS does not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Story takes place somewhere after "Silver War," but is not associated with any particular episode.

Loyalty

Ding! Ziva hears the elevator arrive, just seconds before the doors slide open. This is it, she thinks grimly. I am dead. After all the missions I have completed, all the times I have looked death in the face, it all comes down to this. One seriously pissed-off Gibbs.

She has been at her desk for the last half-hour, waiting for him to finish meeting with Director Shepherd. Her feet are propped up as she leans back in her chair, but though her pose is casual, she is anything but relaxed. For thirty minutes now, scenes from the previous few hours have been replaying themselves in her mind. Over and over, a constant stream, as she awaits the confrontation she knows is coming.

She sees the team, surrounding the building housing a suspected terror cell. The stand-off between Gibbs and one very volatile extremist. The would-be martyr's thumb, poised over the detonator. Gibbs's shout – an order to get out of there. Her own refusal to move. The order repeated, her boss actually snarling as he shouts, "David! You get your ass out! Now!" And her own wordless response: merely taking a single step closer to him.

In the end, of course, they had gotten out in one piece. A moment of chaos as Tony and McGee had burst through doors on opposite sides of the warehouse had distracted the suspect long enough for Gibbs to take control of the situation. The case had ended the same way most seemed to these days – a brush with death, a seemingly impossible situation, and a reckless last-ditch attempt to salvage it. Ziva had truly started to believe in miracles.

Until, that is, she had seen the look on Gibbs's face. The pure, unbridled fury in his eyes as he had turned his attention towards her. "Get in!" he had ordered, gesturing sharply towards the car. It was cowardly of her, she knew, but she had not been able to bring herself to sit next to him. Instead, she had claimed the seat in back, next to McGee, and spent the ride back to the Navy Yard staring at the back of her boss's head and wondering how Tony could complain about her driving, after years of working with Gibbs.

Gibbs had grabbed her as soon as they had arrived, taking her by the upper arm in a firm grip. She hadn't bothered protesting his manhandling as he steered her into the building. Not with the kind of mood he was in. He had all but shoved her into her chair, with a hissed, "You stay here until I get back. Don't even think about moving!" As Ziva had watched him go, she'd become absolutely convinced of one thing: forget about bomb-toting terrorists, she was going to meet her end then and there. A victim of the legendary wrath of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Now, as she watches him emerge from the elevator, she begins to consider reciting ­the Viddui, a final confession and prayer for the dying. Because considering the glare he is leveling at her, there's no way she is walking out of this alive.

"You," he bites out, snapping his fingers at her. "With me." She follows him back into the elevator, wincing as he cuts the power with a bang from his elbow. Perfect, she can't help thinking. Now there will be no witnesses.

But Ziva is a Mossad officer. Just because she's nervous about this little encounter doesn't mean she's going to let Gibbs know that. So she speaks first, to head him off, masking her unease with defiance. "Look, Gibbs. I know that you are angry with me, but I am not sorry. We are a team! And I do not flee to safety when a teammate is in danger."

He is silent through her little speech. Much to her annoyance, Ziva gets the impression that he his merely humoring her by not interrupting. When she is finished, he tilts his head to the side, as if considering her words. But somehow, she doesn't think that's truly the case. Sure enough, after a moment his expression hardens again. When he speaks, his tone is unyielding. "You disobeyed a direct order."

Talk about a one-track mind! Has he even heard a word she's said? Exasperated, she bursts out, "You cannot honestly have expected me to obey such an order!"

"I expect you to obey every order, Ziva! Orders are orders. They're not up for debate! When we're in the field, in a dangerous situation, and I tell you to do something, you do it! It's that simple. You don't question, you don't negotiate, you don't ignore me and do what you think is best! You do what I tell you! If you can't handle that, I will personally see to it that you are stuck behind a desk for the next year!"

The man is absolutely impossible! Surely, surely he cannot have expected her to turn tail and run at the sight of a bomb. Never mind that he ordered her to, it was a ridiculous suggestion! She is a highly-trained operative, not a frightened schoolgirl! And she would rather be dead herself than leave a teammate with no backup.

"What was I supposed to do, Gibbs?" She challenges, all nervousness gone now, overwhelmed by her frustration. "Leave you to die?"

He closes the distance between them and stares directly into her eyes. He is invading her personal space deliberately, she knows, in an attempt to throw her off balance, the way he does to so many of the suspects he interrogates. His gaze on her is challenging. "What would you have done, Ziva? What possible good could it have done to have us both stay in that warehouse?"

Damn it. He would have to have a point. She tries to come up with a good rejoinder, but she's at a loss. She might be willing to admit to herself that there was very little practical advantage to her remaining, but to Gibbs? Never. Because it's not about what she could have done. It's the principle of the thing. The idea of leaving a comrade behind, in a vulnerable situation. Shouldn't an ex-Marine understand that?

But she doesn't say any of this. She may only have been with NCIS a few weeks, but it has been long enough to know that "It's the principle of the thing" won't cut it as an argument. Not with Gibbs.

Seeing her hesitation, he presses his advantage. "Come on, tell me. I want to know. What did you think was going to happen? What could have come out of it except NCIS losing two agents instead of just one?"

He glares at her for another moment, and again she has to resist the urge to take a step back. He's practically breathing down her neck, and it makes it very difficult to come up with a coherent answer. When she still doesn't speak, Gibbs sighs heavily. To her surprise, he lays a hand on her arm and squeezes gently until she meets his eyes. His voice is calmer now. "You backing me up is one thing. I won't ever argue with you about that. But that's not what this was about."

"What are you…of course it was!" Ziva practically sputters. What is he talking about?

He just shakes his head, taking her chin in his hand and tilting her face up so that he's looking directly into her eyes. He gives her a long, searching look, before murmuring, "You don't have to prove your loyalty to me, Ziva."

She feels her eyes widen at this seemingly out-of-nowhere pronouncement. "That is not what I was trying to do," she finally insists.

"No? By all means, then, do enlighten me." When Ziva says nothing, Gibbs's mouth twitches in an almost-smile. "That's what I thought." He leans in close to her and repeats with the same quiet intensity as before, "You do not have to prove your loyalty."

She opens her mouth again to protest, then closes it abruptly. She knows Gibbs said he trusted her, and she doesn't get the impression that he trusts easily. But still, she wonders. Even for someone trained to detect lies, to interpret body language and judge sincerity, Gibbs is a hard man to read. And she's new to the team. He has no real reason to trust her. So yes, perhaps there was a small part of her that wondered, back at the warehouse, if Gibbs would interpret her leaving as a sign that she valued her own safety over that of the team.

His gaze on her is as intense as ever as he watches her process his words. After a moment, he demands, "Do you really think I'd have let you on my team if I didn't trust you? That backing me up when I was in the basement with Ari wasn't proof enough of your loyalties?" He pops her gently under the chin with his index finger. "You don't have anything to prove, Ziva. So stop making stupid decisions because you think you do."

For a moment, she can only stare. She should have remembered that Gibbs can be much more perceptive than he lets on. That behind the gruff bastard act there's a lot of insight. Finally, she nods. "I will keep that in mind."

"Good. Because if you ever disobey a direct order again –"

"You will chew on my butt, yes. I know."

He laughs slightly at that, the look on his face making Ziva suspect that she's mixed up her idioms again. He doesn't correct her, though, just replies, still chuckling softly, "Something like that."

A/N: Feedback is definitely welcome! I'd love to hear from you.