A/N: Okay, so before you read this, just wanted to say that I do not like this chapter. No matter how much I tinkered, changed, or added, it just seemed to get worse. Forgive me and bear through it as it has quite a bit of information. Hope you like it more than I do!

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or anything affiliated.

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"Gibbs. Something is off. I just don't know what it is." Ziva whispered. It was just her and her boss in the unused conference room, but she still felt like they were listening.

"With Mossad?" Gibbs asked, confused by how uncomfortable Ziva looked.

"Yes…mostly with my father." Ziva muttered to herself in Hebrew before looking back into the questioning blue eyes, "Do you trust me, Gibbs?"

"With my life." He stated simply and honestly.

"I-I need to do something. I feel obligated to…" she trailed off, and a look of understanding came across his face.

"I understand. You do what you have to." He assured her, but she still looked hesitant.

"He has to think it was your decision. He can't know that I spoke with you."

"We'll work something out." Gibbs watched as she struggled with words.

"Just remember, Gibbs. I have been completely honest with you, about everything. Whatever you hear-"

"No matter what they say, Ziva", He interrupted, "I will always trust you. And I will expect you back at NCIS as soon as you are through here."

"Thank you." She said. With a swift kiss on her cheek, he walked out and left her to ponder her decision to stay behind.

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Gibbs' memory of that conversation was as clear as if it had just happened. How he wished he had insisted that she return with them. He knew it would be dangerous, yet he still had let her stay.

Of course, he wouldn't have been able to force her back with them if she really had wanted to stay, but why hadn't he even checked up on her? Why did he not call her and make sure that everything was ok?

A Mossad officer investigating the agency's motives, particularly the motives of the director himself, was practically suicide. Even if you happened to be his daughter. After his encounter with Eli David, Gibbs was convinced it applied especiallyif you were his daughter.

But kicking himself over a mistake already done would not get Ziva out alive. He had to solve the problem now instead of feeling guilty for not preventing it.

Gibbs marched into Leon Vance's office to find him waiting at his desk.

"Agent Gibbs. I've been wondering when you would come to see me." He watched as his agent stood behind the conference table.

"You know, Leon?" He asked shortly.

"Director David just informed me that a Mossad operation went terribly wrong. There were casualties. Presumably no survivors. Nothing we can do."

"Don't give me that crap. She is alive."

"How can you be sure of this, Gibbs?" Vance stood from his chair and strode around to stand in front of his desk. "Are you absolutely certain she is alive?"

"Yes, and don't ask me how I know, I just do." Gibbs' voice began to rise, "We have to get her out."

Vance laughed dryly, "Do you know what you are asking of me? Sending in American Marines to save someone who isn't even a citizen?"

"She served this country and agency well, put her life on the line, and even took her brother's. I am not going to leave her there." Gibbs took a few steps around so that he was face to face with the director.

"I have already told you-"

"Yeah, I know what Eli David told you." Gibbs cut him off, "But I also know Ziva, much better than you. I know that her loyalty lies with me. Now, it's my turn to return the favor."

"If you think you are going to Somalia, you've lost your mind." Vance replied.

"I'll do whatever it takes."

"I'm sorry," he said, and it seemed he meant it, "but my hands are tied."

"What if I told you," Gibbs' voice lowered and he moved closer to his boss, "that there are American soldiers in that cell as well?"

"You can't be sure of that. Even then, it's a long shot and risky as hell."

"What if I told you I canbe sure of that?" Gibbs continued.

"Again, it's a big risk. Not many would advise taking it." Vance seemed not to budge.

Gibbs knew he would have to come at a different angle, "It is a terrorist cell, Leon. Isn't that what this war is all about? And they are holding American prisoners."

"That is not NCIS's problem."

"It is when one of their agents is being held captive."

"Look, I'll do my best. I just can't promise anything." Vance went back to his desk to get to work on all the phone calls he knew he would be making.

Gibbs went back to the squad room, calling McGee and DiNozzo's attention.

"What's up, boss?" Tony looked up.

"Ziva." That one word he uttered got both of them fully attentive.

"What about her?" McGee asked.

Gibbs sighed, before telling them exactly what he had been told. The looks on their faces made the situation even harder to stomach. Tony looked as if her were about to collapse and McGee was looking down at his interlaced fingers, shoulders slumped.

"Who called?" McGee asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Hadar did. He insists that he only ever had Ziva's best interests at heart. Of course, we are in no position to question that now. Apparently, the director of Mossad had an idea what would become of her when he sent her on this mission. They have an officer under cover inside the cell, but extraction was deemed too risky. As soon as he was ordered to pull out, Hadar called us." Gibbs knew that they realized "pull out" meant "leave Ziva to die".

"Well, what can we do?" McGee asked, wanting so badly to be able to help his friend. But how could they?

"Vance is working on it. There is a possibility that American soldiers are also being held prisoner." Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose, a rare sign of weakness showing through.

"Do we know the location?" McGee prompted, and Gibbs wordlessly handed him a small scrap of paper, "Okay, I'll run this down to Abby, and then-" McGee continued before being cut off by Gibbs.

"No, McGee. We are not telling Abby. She is already having trouble dealing with this." Gibbs took a collecting breath and turned back to his agent, "Can you do anything with it?"

"Certainly, it might just take me a little longer."

"Ziva doesn't have a little longer! Get it done." Gibbs now turned to Tony, who hadn't said a word since hearing the news. "Hey! Get to work."

Tony stiffly turned to his computer, not quite sure what he was supposed to be working on.

"Gibbs." Vance called from his office door, and Gibbs took one last look at his senior field agent's blank face.

"Get some fresh air, DiNozzo." He muttered as he passed his desk.

"We got the okay." Vance informed him as he walked into the office. "But it might take a while. These things don't happen overnight."

"And what if she is dead by then? What do we do?" Gibbs demanded, his hands on the desk.

"We follow protocol, no matter who is involved. You better start thinking straight, before someone else gets hurt." The reprimand didn't sound like one, but it sent the same message.

"What can I do?" Gibbs asked in a matter of fact tone.

"Wait. There isn't much else we can do." Vance fingered the tape he had in his hand as Gibbs headed for the door. Sighing, he made the decision to show him. "Jethro."

"Yeah?" he turned around, his face like stone.

"I wasn't going to show you this, but I think it would be wrong not to." He held out the small tape and let him take it.

"What is it?" Gibbs asked, although is gut told him exactly what it was.

"A video that was sent to the director of Mossad. He sent me a copy." Vance hesitated before continuing, "I watched it, and it isn't pretty. Take precaution, maybe it is best if no one sees, but I thought you should have the option."

Gibbs left without another word.

"MTAC." Tony heard his boss call and jumped up immediately.

They hurried to follow him as he shooed out a couple of technicians and threw something at McGee.

"Put that in." He commanded.

Surprised and apprehensive, all three of them turned to the screen as it flickered to life.

What they saw made it feel as though they had been punched in the stomach. McGee turned away and Gibbs put his face in his hands, both unable to continue watching.

But Tony couldn't tear his eyes away from the image of a beaten and broken Ziva sitting in the middle of a filthy little cell. A man was circling her, twirling a blade in his fingers and spitting out demands.

Every time he touched her, Tony felt a fiery anger, both at the terrorist for daring to lay a hand on her and at himself for giving the filthy bastard the opportunity.

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"Get up!" he commanded before swinging his boot into her face.

When her body was too weak to comply, Ziva felt him grab hold of her neck and drag her up himself. Pain was all she knew. It was blinding, fierce, and everlasting. It was everywhere, from the top of her head into the tips of her fingers, down her legs and to the ends of her toes. Pain. It overtook her mind, as he slammed her back into the wall.

She tried to turn away from his putrid breath, but she couldn't even bring herself to do that. The slightest movement only magnified the nausea.

He pulled out the knife again and jabbed it into her flesh twice. Wounds shallow enough not to kill, but deep enough to make her splutter for breath.

"That's it," he laughed, "Scream for me."

He wore a manic look, almost as if he were possessed. He made her look into his face, made her scream, and he reveled in the sound of her moans.

Finally, he let her slide down to the floor in a heap, where she curled herself into the least painful position. Her hair formed a curtain around her unrecognizable face, providing her with the allusion of separation.

But he wouldn't have that.

"Come here, little whore." He took hold of her wrist again and dragged her to the corner. "Come over here to where the cameras can't see us."

Mild fear rippled through her. Everything he had done had been completely for the sake of causing pain. Of course, he gained pleasure from her reactions, but he had refrained, as he said he would, from one particular tactic. Ziva had been grateful for that one shred of a positive, but now, by the sounds of it, he was going to take that away from her, too.

Indeed, she felt the knife at the collar of her shirt, but he just traced the skin there with the end, leaving dull red scratches.

"So beautiful. So tempting." He whispered, pushing her hair away from her face almost gently, and letting his hand roam down her sides.

His movements were rough as he allowed himself to grope her, pressing her against the wall to the point of pain. She almost cried out a plea as she could feel him pressed against her, pinning her down so she had no options.

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the throat, dragging her to a standing position and pressing his knee into the bruised flesh of her upper thigh. She could not move. She could not scream. There was nothing she could do to prevent what was happening.

"You spawn of evil." He spat, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to her sides, stopping he weak attempts to shove him away. "You still have some fight in you, eh? That should make this fun."

The evil gleam in his eye reminded her that there would be no fun whatsoever in it for her. Pain, more pain was coming. A different type, though. Shame overcame her, and she yelped as his hands found their way under the hem of her shirt.

A sharp rap on the door and a harshly yelled phrase in Arabic made her assaulter turn away. Quickly taking the opportunity before she could think about it, Ziva gathered every last ounce of all her remaining strength and threw her weight into a punch.

It connected with a satisfying crunch. Her assailant recoiled, holding his nose in surprise. It had not been strong enough to bring about blood, but she smirked as he looked at her with wide, watering eyes.

Slumping to the floor, she heard him shouting, approaching her, angered at her unexpected attack.

There was more yelling from the doorway before he reached her, and he stopped a few feet away from where she sat.

"I am not through with you, you dirty slut." With that, he left her to herself.

Ziva grinned to herself and the subsequent agony could not stop her from smiling. There was not enough strength left in her muscles to fight back again, not enough will left in her heart to keep her alive for much longer, and not enough spirit left unbroken to continue to examine their motives, but there was still enough pride in her soul to keep him from violating her in the most horrific way.

For that, Ziva smiled.

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One last A/N! After reading it over, I think it's the dialogue that I can't stand. Any suggestions? Would really appreciate some feedback/criticism on this chapter particularly! Thanks.