I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

FORGIVENESS

-2-

Gibbs snarled into his phone.

"Meet me back at her room, DiNozzo, and call McGee. Tell him to get his butt down here now."

He knew he was angry at the wrong people but the people he needed to be angry at were either dead or so high up the political food chain they were out of his reach, at least for the moment. He came to a stop and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, trying to think through his fears for her safety.

Where would she go? More to the point, where could she go? Where would a woman with broken fingers and ribs, bruised kidneys, and only one good eye go? Where would a slender woman, no make that a skinny woman now, with barely strength to move her head from side to side go? How could she hide from them? He and Tony had checked every damned room on this floor, even all the ladies and mens rooms. No sign of her. How had she managed to get up out of bed by herself much less leave the room? From personal experience he knew only too well the physical pain she must be enduring. Shaking his head he pulled away from the wall. Too many questions. He had to organize a larger search. McGee should be here soon and Tony had talked to the head of hospital security and now there were at least 10 people looking for his elusive ex-agent, ex-Mossad officer, the frail and broken Ziva.

He walked on down the hall toward Ziva's room. Tony stood in front of it. His short hair sticking straight up and his shirt untucked. He'd been sitting guard duty with her when the psychiatrist had asked him to step outside; she had a few questions needing answers. Since Ziva had steadfastly refused to say a word to anyone including the psychiatrist since regaining consciousness here in Portsmouth Hospital the doctor thought maybe Ziva's former partner could pass on a little useful information. The psychiatrist hadn't been really satisfied with Tony's input and so after a few minutes had left to visit another patient. When Tony got back into the room Ziva was gone. Her I.V. pulled out and left dripping on the bed.

He'd called Gibbs immediately, his voice deeper with his stress.

"She's gone, Boss. I just stepped out to talk to the shrink and she's gone."

Hearing the rise in inflection Gibbs knew DiNozzo was close to panicking. Had been close to panicking ever since they'd left Ziva standing on the airfield in Tel Aviv. How much of the panic came from his suppressed feelings for her and how much from the blame he assigned himself as the cause of all Ziva's woes was hard to work out. He knew Tony internalized blame almost as much as he did himself. And yes, some of what happened Tony had set in motion, but he wasn't to blame. He was just doing his job while trying to protect his partner at the same time. The real villain in the piece as Gibbs saw it was Director David, a user and abuser of both his agents and his family.

Someday you and I are going to have a face-to-face meeting, Director David, Gibbs promised himself, and there won't be anyone around to save your ass then. Not Vance. Not SecNav. Not a building full of Mossad assassins. Just you and me.

Tony stepped up to him as he got to the door.

"I can't figure where she could have gone, Boss. Less than an hour ago she was sleeping. I tried to feed her some pudding but she wouldn't eat for me and I think she fell asleep to avoid me trying the soup next."

The younger agent tried to smile but didn't quite make it. Gibbs put his hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed.

"We'll find her, DiNozzo."

Tony's green eyes were rimmed red with sleeplessness and worry; dark circles made his face look gaunt. A three-day growth of beard, a couple of shades darker than his sandy hair, covered his cheeks and neck.

"I know we will but…"

"No buts. We'll find her."

Gibbs nodded and squeezed one more time. Then he pulled out his phone to get an update on McGee's anticipated arrival and the status on the extra agents he'd requested. He knew they'd find her. He just hoped it would be in time.

If he closed his eyes he could still see Captain Lester's face as he told him what Ziva had said when the marines found her. Lester had his emotionless official report face on but still managed to look upset when he'd outlined her condition.

"Ms. David was tied in a chair. There was a large puddle of dried blood under the chair and blood spray on the surrounding walls. At first Corporal Donovan couldn't get a pulse but he kept on until he finally found one. She was untied and resuscitation efforts started. At one point she became conscious briefly and whispered something to the corporal."

Captain Lester stopped. Gibbs had had to prompt him to continue.

"Well, what'd she say?"

The hardened marine, a 15-year veteran, said, "She told Corporal Donovan we came too soon."