Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed so far! I'm glad that you are enjoying this little piece of fiction. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next installment - we get our first Abby appearance! Woot. Be sure to hit that little review button down there and let me know what you think. Happy reading!


Ziva paced.

She was lost to herself, drowning in the myriad of winding thoughts that fired along the synapses of her brain. She could not focus on just one thought, no matter how she tried. She had trained herself to be focused, driven, and even single minded in the pursuit of her job; none of that seemed to matter at the moment. Her mind refused to be directed, her thoughts unbridled as they cascaded around her head. She could still hear that man's voice on the phone, claiming vengeance against her.

Her pacing was halted by a hand, suddenly extended in her direction with an offered cup of coffee. When she glanced up from her folded arms, her eyes found Tony's face. His expression was serious, far removed from the usual teasing one he wore. She glanced at the Styrofoam coffee cup, then back to his face.

"It is late, Tony," She said softly, "I do not think that coffee is a wise choice."

"Tea," He explained simply, "Thought it might help."

She watched him for a few seconds more before taking the proffered beverage. The jokes and teasing and general easiness that usually surrounded her partner like a thick fog was now absent. He was watching her closely, as if he thought she might just disappear any moment. She found it … disconcerting to be the receiver of such scrutiny, such watchfulness. Especially from Tony DiNozzo, who was rarely ever serious about anything.

"How you holding up?" He asked then

"I am fine, Tony," She replied automatically, "I just want to catch this guy."

"We will," He assured her, "We always do."

He moved away from her, back to his desk. She followed him with her eyes, studying him even as she took a drink of her tea. The deliciously sweet, yet somewhat spicy tang of Chai tea coated her tongue, and she could not resist a smile. She had only recently discovered this drink, and had deemed it her favorite almost immediately. She was touched that Tony would remember such a small detail.

A loud popping noise drew her attention in the direction of McGee's desk, and she watched as he rotated his neck the opposite way; the result was another set of loud popping sounds, and she cringed slightly at the sound.

"Are you alright, McGee?" She asked

"What?" Tim answered, surprised by her question, "Oh yeah, good. I'm good."

He was lying, and she knew it. He was tired – they were all tired. Midnight had crept up and overtaken them already, but still they continued to work. Several soda cans littered McGee's desk, along with a long empty coffee cup; Tony's desk looked similar, only with a few less cans. The rest of the bull pen was empty, their counterparts having retired to their homes hours ago. Ziva had confronted Gibbs, asked very pointedly that he let them go home already, and had been surprised to find that he was not the one keeping them there. All three of them, her friends and coworkers, had stayed of their own accord. She was speechless, and bothered that she was the reason that they were not sleeping. Especially since this was not a big deal – the murdering bastard would come after her, and she would dispatch him easily. End of case. She would have her justice for Raquel Goodman, and his death would be warranted.

Like a midnight wraith on diaphanous wings, Gibbs appeared next to McGee's desk with no warning. Even now, in the deepest part of the night, he looked wide awake and alert. This had always fascinated Ziva; did the man even need sleep?

"Go home," Gibbs said evenly, the bite gone from his words, "We'll start again in the morning."

"Boss …" Tony began to argue, but a withering look from the other man cut him short

"We can't help anyone if we're falling down in exhaustion," He said wisely

"Yes, boss," Tony agreed

Ziva began to gather her belongings, grateful that Gibbs had finally forced them to leave. A good night's rest would put everything into perspective for them, and when they came in tomorrow they would all see that she was right, and that this was just like any other case.

Unlike most nights, however, they each waited for their counterparts to gather their belongings and shut off desk lamps. The four of them walked to the elevator together, something they rarely did at the end of the night as they headed home. She was not sure why they went together, but she secretly liked the feeling of belonging that blossomed in her chest as a result.

"It is your turn to bring coffee tomorrow, Tony," Ziva said easily, as if it were any other night

"Oh no," Tony retorted, the first hint of teasing in his voice in what felt like hours, "I got it yesterday."

"You haven't got coffee since last week, Tony," McGee joined in, "Ziva's right. It's your turn."

"Thanks for the help, McTraitor," He snarled at the other man

Ziva smiled. She was almost to her car, so she said her good night's and then branched off toward the small red Mini Cooper. She fished the keys from her bag, then hit the automatic unlock button and laughed when the loud beep made Tony jump as he passed. She tossed her bag into the passenger seat easily, still grinning to herself that she had startled Tony, when she glanced up to see Gibbs watching her. He was parked two cars away, and he had his door open as if he had been about to get it when something stopped him.

"Gibbs?" She asked softly, seeing the pensive look on his face

"If you need anything, Ziver," He told her, the rest of the sentence implied

"I will be fine, Gibbs," She hedged, and then added when he gave her that pointed stare, "But if I need anything, I will call."

He nodded minutely, in that almost hidden nonverbal way of approving that he had seemingly perfected over the years. She watched him slide into the driver's seat, then followed suit when he'd started his engine. She listened as the engine turned over, and then took a minute to fiddle with her stereo. She had recently begun to experiment with some of the different American music genres, and now made sure to set her iPod to something she found … soothing.

She reversed out of her parking spot and then slid the shifter into drive, waving to McGee as she rolled past on her way out of the lot. She pointed her car in the direction of her apartment, and soon found herself headed home on autopilot.

Her mind was busy the entire drive home, running over crime scene photos and possible leads and that cryptic phone call relentlessly. She found herself parked outside her apartment sooner than expected, and made her way inside from muscle memory alone. She was preoccupied; she was running through a list of ways to draw this man out, to draw him to her so that she could eliminate the threat. She was sure that if she came up with a good plan, a logical means to an end that allowed them to catch the perpetrator, she could talk Gibbs into following through with it. After all, Ziva was a skilled assassin, with a lifetime of the best training Mossad had to offer. She was a weapon in and of herself.

She tossed her bag onto one of her kitchen chairs, and then moved to grab a bottle of water from her fridge. Now that she was home, she did not feel as tired as she had in the office. This was a problem, she knew, because she could not afford to bring less than her best to work in the morning.

Sighing in open frustration, Ziva headed for her couch instead of her bedroom. Perhaps a movie would help relax her enough to fall asleep.


Tony was determined to appear as unaffected by all this as he possibly could. He could not hide the dark circles under his eyes, the evidence of a sleepless night, but he had already formed several defenses and deflections in his mind to toss at anyone who asked. Not that he was the only one with dark circles under their eyes; McGee looked as though he'd caked on layers of eyeliner, only to smudge them with the pad of his thumb. Ziva looked only slightly better, and Gibbs … well, Tony was certain the man never slept.

The elevator dinged and Tony strode confidently out, a smile splitting his face as he strolled into Abby's lab. Her music was at a bearable level today, a good indicator that she was in a pleasant mood today.

"Hey, Abby," He said brightly, loud enough to carry over the music

Abby Scuito spun on her heel, and Tony's smile faltered when he saw the positively irate expression on the usually bouncy Goth's face. Apparently, the loudness of her music was not a good indicator of her mood today – he was in for an earful.

"How can you be chipper at a time like this, Tony?" She accused

"Time like what?" He asked, feigning innocence

"A time when there's some psycho out there looking for Ziva," Abby shot back, propping one hand on her hip, "Don't play dumb with me, Tony."

He tried to hold the façade, but felt it slipping away beneath Abby's dreadful stare. Of course she would know about the phone call – he had no idea how or where she got her information, but Abby always knew what was going on. Not only was their resident forensic scientist brilliant, she was also very perceptive. A trait that, sometimes, drove Tony utterly crazy.

"Ziva's fine, Abby," He assured her then

"And she better stay that way," Abby warned

No one wants a repeat of Somalia. The words were unspoken, but they hung in the air between them as surely as the air they breathed. Tony could tell by the look on Abby's face that she was thinking the same thing, and he was glad she did not voice the sentiment. He was trying not to remember that trip to Somalia; he was trying not to remember the photograph left on McGee's desk, of a beaten and bloody Ziva.

"She will," He said simply

"Good. Now what do you want?" She queried, slipping right back into her usual persona

"Came to see if you got anything off Corporal Goodman's clothing."

"Well, there wasn't much. I was able to pull a partial thumb print off the car keys you brought me; I'm running it through AFIS now."

"Any hits?"

"None so far," She said, turning to her computer as Tony moved to stand next to her, "But that doesn't mean that there won't be a match. You're early, so I don't have much."

"Yeah, I just needed to get away from my desk for a minute," He admitted, somewhat sheepish, "Gibbs is talking to Raquel's mother now."

"That is one part of your job I could never do," Abby said sympathetically, "So how's Ziva taking everything?"

"Like Ziva," He answered with a sigh, "If it's bothering her, she's not showing it."

"Sounds like our ninja. She should really try playing poker."

Tony chuckled at the thought of Ziva in a casino. She'd probably do great at poker, if the terms and idioms associated with the game didn't confuse her to the point of distraction. His partner had perfected the art of being unreadable, a skill that he both admired and despised. He'd always had a hard time trying to figure out what she was thinking or feeling; although he liked to believe that he was getting better at reading her as time wore on. Not that the credit was due entirely to him; Ziva David had changed in her five years with the team, no matter how subtle the effects had been. She seemed … softer, somehow. Less abrasive.

"I should probably get back upstairs, before boss comes looking for me," Tony said into the companionable silence

He gave Abby a departing smile, which she returned, and then retreated wordlessly out of the lab. He needed to focus; they had a job to do, and a killer to catch. Never mind the fact that every time he looked at Ziva now, he wondered what kind of hell she had endured all those months before they'd rescued her.

He hit the elevator UP button and waited for the silver doors to slide open, allowing him entrance. As the electric car ascended, the backlit numbers turning green as it went, Tony wracked his brain for ways to catch this guy. The sooner they could end this, the better off everyone would be. Poor McGee still looked pale around the edges, and Tony would have bet that he too was trying to forget the hated picture that had somehow found its way to him. Gibbs had confiscated the picture, but Tony doubted that it made any difference. The image was burned into his mind, and most likely everyone else's.

The elevator deposited him on the desired floor, and he rounded the corner to his desk just seconds before Gibbs rounded the corner from the opposite way.

"Taking a break, DiNozzo?" The lead Agent queried

"Just came back from Abby's lab," Tony answered, "She's still running the thumb print through AFIS."

"I think I've got something, boss," McGee chimed in then, flashing a photo onto the big screen

"You think or you know, Tim?"

"I know," McGee corrected himself, standing as his counterparts gathered around the screen, "This is a photo from a traffic camera. I've enhanced the image and zoomed in on the driver. Now, the time stamp on this says 18:22 Monday evening."

McGee enhanced the blurry gray photo, until they were looking directly in the front windshield. There was no sign of Raquel Goodman in the car, but the camera had captured her killer.

"Now I know it's pixelated and hard to see, and I can't clean it up any better than this, but it gives us an idea who we're looking for."

The man had short, close cropped hair, and though the photo was not very clear, Tony was willing to surmise that he was fairly tall.

"I recognized the accent," Ziva said then, adding her part, "At first I thought it was Israeli, but when I listened again I was able to pick up a slightly different intonation of the words."

"So he's not Israeli?" Tony prompted

"Jordanian," Ziva answered assuredly

Ziva's desk phone chose that moment to start ringing. She excused herself and stepped across the gap to grab the receiver, holding it to her ear but keeping her gaze on the monitor.

"Agent David," She said distractedly

"Shalom, Ziva," A heavy voice answered

All distraction disappeared at the heavy inflection of the man's accent; the very man they were looking for was on the other end of the phone line – again. She grabbed a pencil that lay forgotten on her desk and half turned, tossing the object at Tony's head.

"What the …?" Tony exclaimed, turning toward her

Ziva made a face and pointed animatedly at the telephone, mouthing the words "it is the killer". Tony fell serious immediately, and she watched him tap Gibbs on the shoulder. Satisfied that she had gotten their attention, she turned hers back to the voice on the telephone.

"You know my name, but I do not know yours," She said casually

"My name is not important," The man answered evasively

"Then what shall I call you?"

"Whatever you like."

She glanced toward her teammates just in time to see Gibbs moving toward her; McGee was seated at his desk, undoubtedly tracing the call. Tony, who stood over McGee's shoulder, waved his hand in a circular motion clearly meant to tell her to keep him talking. She nodded to let him know that she understood; when she looked away from Tony she found Gibbs standing next to her, reaching out to hit the speaker phone button. She pulled the receiver away from her ear, but did not dare set it down on the desk in the event that her caller might hear.

"Tell me, Ziva," The man continued, "Did your Agent McGee enjoy the picture I sent him?"

Ziva narrowed her eyes at the question. The man's voice dripped with malicious satisfaction, and she fought the urge to glance around at McGee. She hoped that neither he nor Tony could hear the conversation, but she knew that she was going to have no such luck.

"I was not aware that any pictures had been taken," She said in a cool tone

"It is amazing what people are unaware of when they are unconscious," The voice answered cryptically

Beside her, Ziva did not miss the subtle clenching of Gibbs' fist. She glanced quickly from the movement to his face, but those ice blue eyes were as impassive as ever.

"If it is vengeance you want, why not come and get it?" She asked as threateningly sweet as she could

"Oh, there will be plenty of time for that, Ziva," The other man answered, and he actually chuckled, "But not now. I just wanted to call to compliment you, after all, on your choice of car. Red suits you, I think."

Just like that the line went dead, and she was left standing there staring daggers at her telephone for what felt like an endless moment.

"He knows your car," Tony said quietly from behind her

She spun to see that he had split the distance between them in half. She held his gaze, wishing she could think of something to say to defuse the situation, but coming up blank.

"Did you get the trace, McGee?" Gibbs snapped, his tone terse

"Same burn phone as last time, boss," McGee answered, "Only this time we got his location."

"Where?"

"About six blocks from here."

"Tony, take McGee and check it out …"

"Do not bother," Ziva interrupted, "He is gone."

Tony glanced from Gibbs to Ziva; he was about to head for his bag and call for McGee when Gibbs changed his mind.

"You go nowhere outside this building alone," He said sternly, looking only at Ziva, "And your car stays where it is."

"Gibbs," She protested, "There is no need. I will be fine."

"Nowhere," He repeated, "And that includes home. McGee!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"You're on first watch."

Ziva glanced from one man to the other, her eyes finally coming to rest on Tony. The way he was looking at her, she did not doubt that he agreed fully with Gibbs' decision to put her under guard. She wanted to point out that there was no need for the security measure, that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but she doubted that her words would have any impact. This man was playing mind games with them; he must have been there in Somalia, with Saleem. He had inside knowledge, and he was using it to goad them on.

He had the one weapon that Ziva could do nothing against.