Back on the Zibbs...seems I just can't keep away from these two!

This is a first-time Zibbs that struck me a while ago, but I just never got round to posting it. I think of it as more AU than my other ones (although sadly I guess all Zibbs is AU) and I haven't really put a 'date-stamp' on it. But I have got Morrow as the Director, so if you want a time frame I guess this would be either season 1 or 2 (or even pre-series).

Would love to know what you think!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Gibbs looked around the small room, taking in his surroundings. It was basic, functional, like a bare classroom or an exceptionally bland conference room. The early morning sunshine streamed in through the window, casting its rays over the cheap tables and hard chairs; it was the only thing that told him he was no longer in Washington, but five thousand miles away on the navy base at Haifa, Israel. He had been instructed to report here at zero-seven hundred, and presumably the nine others in the room had received the same order. He did not yet know who they were or which particular agency they were from, but at least four of them must have been Israeli. They were the only ones not sweating. For the third time already that morning, Gibbs wiped his forehead with his hand, and in turn wiped his hand on the hem of his t-shirt. If this was October, he was damn glad this training exercise hadn't been scheduled for August.

He turned as the door to the room opened, and two men walked in. NCIS Director Morrow led the way to the front of the room, but the second man was someone that Gibbs recognised only from official photographs. He studied the Deputy Director of Mossad as he began to address the agents gathered in the room.

'For those of you who have travelled here from abroad, welcome to Israel. For the rest of you, welcome to Haifa'.

The accent was thick, the voice deep and gravelly, and the smile that accompanied his words did not quite meet his eyes.

'You all know why you are here, but I will recap for the benefit of any among you who may be jetlagged or….' He looked pointedly at one unshaven Israeli at the back of the room. 'Otherwise not feeling your best'.

Gibbs was beginning to feel like he was back in school.

'You are here to run through training exercises and strategy for a co-ordinated response in the event of an attack on the United States Sixth Fleet while docked at Haifa'. Eli David paused, his eyes running over the agents in the room.

'Between you, you represent the major agencies who would possibly be involved in such a response. NCIS. Mossad. Shin Bet. CIA. Interpol'.

Gibbs' mind drifted back to the September morning when the NCIS Director had told him he would be flying to Israel for a week to take part in the exercises as the NCIS representative. He distinctly remembered saying no. And yet here he was anyway. Unfortunately, no major case had turned up to keep him in DC, and he had no other excuse apart from the fact that he considered it a waste of his time. They were hardly likely to call him in the event of a real attack, and he hated the bureaucracy and the tick-box nature of it all. And the heat was killing him already.

He had considered just not turning up, but Morrow had insisted on sending a car to take him to the airport since they had, of course, been booked on the same flight. Gibbs had avoided any awkward conversation by sleeping most of the way – or at least pretending to sleep. He did not dislike the Director, but most of the time did not understand or agree with his decisions and the Director was well aware of the fact. Gibbs suspected it would have made for some uncomfortable silences, and at thirty thousand feet there was nowhere to escape to.

He reluctantly switched his attention back to the present as Eli David continued speaking.

'You will be paired up, each pair taking on a different set of scenarios and responses during the week that you are here. You will write a report on each, to be circulated among your colleagues here and at home. That way everyone should know what they are doing'.

He certainly had a commanding presence. A man to be respected, certainly, although Gibbs suspected that he would prefer to be respected and feared rather than respected and liked. His gut was telling him that he would neither like nor fear the man, but it was hardly likely to be a problem. He doubted he would ever see Eli David again after today. He wiped his forehead again, and tried to concentrate as the NCIS Director took over.

'Today you will familiarise yourselves with the layout of the area. You may have met each other before, if not then get to know your partner a bit. You'll be working closely with each other for the next six days. The exercises will begin tomorrow, but not all of you will be involved in every one. It depends on what your area of expertise is and what role your agency would play in the event of a real attack. So it's a pretty cushy week for most of you. Having said that, we need this to be taken seriously. That clear?'

They all nodded, and Gibbs saw the unshaven Israeli at the back of the room stifle a yawn. He hoped he was not the Mossad agent he had been told would be his training partner for the week. He knew that when the Director had said it was going to be an easy few days for most of them, he did not mean Gibbs. NCIS and Mossad would be the two agencies to respond first after an incident, and Gibbs suspected that the other agencies had only been invited along out of an unusual sense of political politeness. Despite that, he did not really listen for the rest of the briefing. He had heard all the crap about inter-agency co-operation before, and besides, he was beginning to need coffee. Badly.

As the two Directors finally left the room, he was one of the first to stand up from his seat and follow them. Trying to slip past without Morrow seeing him, however, did not go to plan. The NCIS Director spied Gibbs out of the corner of his eye, held up one hand to Eli David to halt their conversation and gave Gibbs a sharp look.

'Agent Gibbs?'

Gibbs suppressed a sigh.

'Director?'

'You did hear what I said about taking this seriously?'

Gibbs felt the Mossad Director's eyes on him as he answered.

'Just going to get coffee'.

Morrow frowned.

'That's not what I asked'.

Gibbs turned to head towards the vending and coffee machines at the bottom of the hallway.

'Taking it seriously, Director'.

He did not wait to be dismissed, but walked impatiently away as Morrow turned in the opposite direction with Eli David. The other agents were now spilling out into the hallway, and he knew that at some point he would have to collect his folder from the port office and find his training partner. But that could wait until after coffee.

As he reached the machine, he scowled. It was all in Hebrew. He swore under his breath as he realised he couldn't tell black coffee from hot chocolate, and he certainly couldn't decipher how much money to put in. He looked around, wondering if there was such a thing as a canteen, when he heard a voice behind him.

'I can translate if you would like'.

Gibbs turned round to come face to face with a young woman that he had seen standing in the back corner of the briefing room. His first thought, which he quickly pushed away, was that she was just as stunning close to as she had been from the other side of the room. His second was that she could not have been more than twenty-three or four. Young for a Mossad agent but, judging by the Israeli accent and the way she had sneaked up behind him without him noticing, that was what she had to be.

'But I would not call that coffee anyway'.

'You have an alternative?'

She nodded, looking him up and down, sizing him up.

'There is a good coffee house just along the seafront. They serve breakfast as well. We can do the preparatory work for the exercises later'.

Gibbs made a point of returning her measured stare before replying.

'I don't go for coffee with just anyone'.

She laughed. It was a deep, throaty laugh, and Gibbs felt something stir in his stomach.

'I have heard that about Americans. Especially the military. You take your caffeine very seriously'.

She paused before stretching out her hand.

'Ziva David. Your training partner and babysitter for the week'.

'Babysitter?'

She nodded, her hand still outstretched. 'It seems you will even have to trust me to buy your coffee'.

Gibbs hated to admit it, but she was right. He somewhat reluctantly shook her hand.

'Gibbs'.

'I know. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs – but you are right, Gibbs is easier'.

He scowled again. He couldn't work out if she was naturally cheeky or if she was flirting with him, but put the question to the back of his mind as he realised what she had said a moment ago.

'Your name's David?'

He could almost see the bristles rise, and that, more than anything, answered the part of the question that he had left unsaid.

'It is a common name in Israel'. Her tone became curt, clipped.

Great. Just great. He wondered if Morrow had known beforehand that he would be paired with Eli David's daughter, and made a mental note to find out. There would be hell to pay if he had.

Ziva turned abruptly and walked back down the corridor towards the exit, leaving him standing by the machine. He shrugged to himself. Daddy's girl out to prove herself…..She'd get over it. He pulled some change out of his pocket and was about to take his chances when she turned back and called to him impatiently.

'Do you want coffee or not?'

Gibbs deliberately hesitated just long enough for her to notice, before pocketing the change again and following her out into the bright sunshine. He had a feeling it was going to be a long week.


'Todah'.

Ziva turned from the counter and gestured to a seat over by the window.

'He will bring the coffees over'.

Gibbs nodded, and made his way over to the table. They had walked here in almost silence, and he suspected that Ziva, like himself, was not really one for small talk – even if she had not still been prickly from his question about her family connections.

'What did you get?'

She hadn't bothered to ask him what he wanted, and had placed the order in rapid Hebrew before he could tell her that he took his coffee strong and black, no sugar.

She sat down opposite him, her long brown ponytail catching the sunlight as she pushed it impatiently back over her shoulder.

'For you? Black, extra strong, no sugar'.

He raised his eyebrows and Ziva smiled.

'I assumed that you would not want a latte with chocolate sprinkles and vanilla syrup'.

'That what you've got, Officer David?'

Ziva shuddered, but before she could answer the man behind the counter was beside their table, bearing aloft a tray with two large mugs, a small but heavy-looking teapot and two plates filled with bread, white cheese and olives.

Gibbs watched as he placed one of the mugs and the pot down in front of Ziva.

'Tea?'

She nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face.

'Strong, black, no sugar'.

'Hmm. What's this?' He indicated one of the plates.

'Breakfast. I have not eaten yet'.

He noticed that she had not asked him about that either, but decided to let it slide. He had to work with her, after all. Besides, he was hungry.

'And call me Ziva'.

'OK. Ziva'. Gibbs took a mouthful of coffee. 'You have any idea what we're doing this week?'

Ziva shook her head, but it was a moment before she answered. Breakfast, it seemed, took priority.

'No. I do not know any more than you'.

She gave him a sharp look as she speared an olive and popped it into her mouth. Gibbs tried not to watch too closely.

'My father is not given to favouritism. I am treated the same as everyone else'. She paused. 'And like you, I would rather not be here. But….' She shrugged. 'I follow orders'.

'You been in Mossad long?'

'Long enough'. Ziva took another mouthful of tea. 'Is this an interrogation, Gibbs?'

'Just asking'.

Ziva nodded, a hint of amusement in her brown eyes. Gibbs wondered precisely when he had noticed her eyes were brown, and then reminded himself that he was an investigator. He was trained to notice.

Ziva seemed to relent somewhat.

'I served in the IDF for two years. That is compulsory. And then I joined the Mossad. That was voluntary'.

He noticed the stress she put on the last word, and raised his eyebrows.

'Didn't know joining Mossad could be anything else'.

'It cannot'.

Gibbs nodded, and they ate in silence for a while. He didn't feel like trying to question her further– it was too hot, anyway. Finally, when Ziva had pushed her plate away and drunk the last of her tea, she lenaed back in her chair and studied him for a moment. He was aware of her gaze as he finished his coffee, but it was not uncomfortable.

'So you are an ex-marine, Gibbs?'

'No such thing'.

He caught her look, and shrugged, a half-smile crossing his face.

'Yeah. Ex-Marine. Sniper. But you knew that'.

She nodded and smirked.

'Just trying out some small talk. But since you have now finished your coffee, I will not bother with any more'.

She pushed back her chair, and waved impatiently as he reached into his pocket. He tried not to stare as he watched her walk back over to the counter, seeing for the first time her curves under her t-shirt and cargo pants, and the way she moved gracefully, almost like a dancer, as she reached across to take her change.

Gibbs gave himself a mental headslap, and sighed quietly as he stood up to join her. He would have to get his act together, or it really was going to be one hell of a week.

Maybe it was the heat.