The teacher looked up from his desk and surveyed the quiet classroom. His eyes lingered on a few of his student's, focusing to check that they were actually working as diligently as they appeared. Their exams were coming up soon and the whole year seemed to have been gripped by a desire to make up for all the work they had been avoiding for the last two years. As his eyes swept over the classroom they narrowed. The girl in the corner, usually quiet and hardworking, was not even attempting to look like she was working. She was staring at her hands, twisting her fingers manically and shifting her feet around on the floor. The teacher made to stand up to go over to her but was interrupted by the door bursting open.

Five men, completely dressed in black, strode into the room. They carried large, imposing guns in their arms and raised them at him. The teacher shrank back into his chair, not knowing what to do. The worried girl in the corner now stood up. She stared at them defiantly and began to walk towards them. All eyes were on her. She walked up to the men and raised her chin.

'Took you long enough,' she said finally in a cold, heartless voice. The man she was addressing laughed deeply.

'You haven't changed,' he remarked.

'Did you ever think I would?' she questioned. The man shook his head.

'It was unlikely,' he agreed.

The teacher stood up, thoroughly disconcerted.

'Wh – who – are you?' he faltered. The men in black ignored him.

'Come,' the leader ordered to the girl. She turned, took one last look at the class and swung back around to follow the men out of the building.

Her fingers had been run raw. She had been typing on the computer all day. She glanced across to the desk opposite hers and sighed as she saw her partner's head on his desk, snoozing. He had most likely finished and was reaping the rewards of being fast. She was efficient and quick at her work but she had been trained to be thorough and relentless so she always took more time over her work than him. She sighed once more and turned back to her screen.

When the phone rang it was a more than welcome interruption to Ziva. Her slender fingers shot out to flick it off its cradle so she didn't lose the opportunity of a new task. The news she heard, though, was not welcome. The ringing had woken Tony and he stared at her in concern as her tanned face slowly whitened to become ashen. She nodded, her lips parted in horror, forgetting that, as she was on the telephone, her correspondent could not see her answer him. She hung up and stared out in front of her.

'Ziva? You okay?' Tony inquired gently. Her eyes met his and she swallowed.

'I – ' she started but was interrupted by a call from above. Vance was standing on the stairs staring down at her.

'Agent David! May I see you?' Ziva nodded and ran up the stairs two at a time without looking back at Tony. At the top of the stairs, Ziva passed Gibbs. He gave her a sympathetic glance and carried on past her. As he strode into the bullpen, Tony stood up, inquiringly. Gibbs turned to him slowly. McGee also appeared at that time and looked from Gibbs to Tony puzzled. They seemed to be having a similar moment to what Ziva and Tony had when they stared at each other for prolonged amounts of time with what Abby had aptly decided was eye sex. Except, there was not longing or lust in either of the men's eyes, only concern. Gibbs sighed and opened his mouth resignedly.

'Pack your bags. Both of you. We are all going to England,' he ordered.

'England?' McGee asked.

'And Ziva?' Tony interrupted.

'Ziva is coming too,' Gibbs replied. 'It was her daughter that was kidnapped.' Tony's eyes widened.

'What?' he yelped.

Ziva appeared behind him. 'It was my daughter,' she agreed.

'You never said you had a daughter,' McGee gasped. 'How did you keep that a secret?'

'There was no secret to keep. She lives in Israel with friends. I never raised her. I haven't even spoken to her for a year.'

'But – she's your daughter?' McGee repeated.

'I wasn't ready for children. And now, now she doesn't want anything to do with me. And I don't blame her.'

Tony had been silent up until now, his brain slowly processing the new information.

'The father?' he croaked at last.

'Gidon.'