Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction so please be kind. Also I am not religious but I do not intend to offend anyone, religious or otherwise, with this story. Any knowledge of Judaism came from Wikipedia and my not be correct, if so please tell me and I shall endeavor to correct it post haste.

Disclaimer: I do not own and am not associated with NCIS or it's affiliates. I own nothing except the plot.

I sat on the cold bench and took a long drag on my cigarette. I held the hot smoke until it burned my lunges and I could hold it no more then pushed it, the smoke swirled around my head for a moment before dissipating into the night.

'Jesus Ziva, cigarettes? You have not smoked since you were in the army!' I berated myself as I took another long drag, 'The only way this could possibly be more pathetic was if I was drinking out of a brown paper bag.'

My mobile trilled sharply snapping me out of my reverie. I didn't need to even look at the caller i.d. to know who it was, I glanced at the tray of now cold coffees sitting beside me, I'd been gone for over an hour. I really had just meant to go get coffee but I simply couldn't stand to watch Tony moon over Agent Barrett any longer. God, watching them was nauseating, thus the smoking. I reluctantly got up and flicked the butt of my cigarette onto the ground. I let the phone ring a few more times before scooping it up and flicking it open.

'David.' I wonders if I'll ever get the chance to be just Ziva. Of course not, I'll always be Officer, Miss, Operative, or Agent David, not just plain old Ziva, never Ziva.

'David where the hell are you?' Gibbs asks tersely. Honestly does that man ever start a conversation with 'hi' or 'how you doin'?'.

'On my way.', but by the time I said this he'd already hung up. Irritated and feeling the oncoming despair begin to envelope me, I stuck my hand in my pocket and felt around for the little orange pill bottle. I fished out a couple of tablets and chased them down with a slug of cold coffee. I thought back to my bathroom counter, I was currently on about 10 different pills, anti-depressants, about 4 different painkillers, sleeping pills, a whole bunch of stuff for my supposed Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, plus all the normal stuff. At this point I figured I could stock a small chemist's. Nobody knew about this, not even my agency quack, I had gone to an independent shrink using the alias Talia Ben-Gurion, the pills and the shrink helped and if my time at Mossad had taught me anything it was how to hide how I felt.

I slowly walked back to the Navy Yard. When I arrived I was largely ignored by my coworkers. I left work at 7 and although I said goodnight to everyone nobody wished it to me in return, indeed few even responded. I went home and got really drunk. Alone.

~o~

Recently, whenever I looked at myself in the mirror I was struck by how much older I looked then when I started at NCIS. My hair had lost some of it's luster and some days I would swear that I could see a few greys, my mouth had taken on a twist of cruelty in the corners, most importantly though, my eyes were dead, they no longer had the same sparkle and reminded me of my father's eyes, the eyes of a killer.

~o~

The next day when I got to work when the elevator doors slid open I was greeted by 3 angry scowls.

'You're late', Gibbs.

'Good morning Ziva. How nice to see you on this fine day.' I snarled sarcastically

'What the hell Ziva? You're over an hour late, you're never late!', Tony nearly shouted.

'What is the issue? Tony is late nearly every day.'

'It wouldn't but you have an undercover assignment.' said Vance.

I open my mouth to protest. What about my shrink, my medication, my trust issues, my insomnia, my nightmares? But they do not know about all those things and I want to keep it that way, and refusing an assignment means explanations, explanations that I do not want to give, explanations that would land me on 'mental health leave' or a god-awful desk job. Losing my place with the team would break me. So I shut my mouth.

'We are chasing a serial killer who goes after non-Christian members of the Navy, we have no idea who he is and the only connection that the murders have is that at least one member of the couple works for the Navy and the other works in some other government position, so you two are going to be bait.' Gibbs says.

'You and Agent DiNozzo will be going under cover as Eris and Jonathan Silverberg. You met when Jonathan was stationed in Tel Aviv. You are a happily married couple, you have no children and no immediate family, in Jonathan's case it is simply because he was an only child whose parents died a few years back, but Eris's case it is because she was in the car when her entire family died in a roadside bombing when she was 14 as a result of this she is more religious then her husband. You are both Reform Jews and go to synagogue every week. Jonathan works at NCIS and Eris is a translator for the Pentagon. You will receive a more extensive file on your covers shortly.' said Vance

Shit, I think, how in the hell am I going to get the medication I need without Tony know while sleeping in the same bed. I make copies of my prescription and go and get it filled out at 5 different chemist's them the ones I typically go to and shove the tiny orange bottles into the false bottom of my bag. I pack all the necessary clothes and weapons on top of them, then I reach under my bed and pull out something I thought I'd never touch, my mother's tallit and one of my father's kippot, the kippah was midnight blue velvet and worked over in silver embroidery, it had been handmade by my mother. I lift the shawl out of the tissue and wrap it around my shoulders, drunk on her scent, quickly lost in memories, but just as quickly I'm brought back to reality, I haphazardly refold it and shove the box into my bag. I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk outside, Tony is waiting for me in the car, a blue Jeep Cherokee. I toss the bag in the back and prepare to enter the car as Eris Silverberg.