Previously:

"Cat has good taste. In clothes and girls," Tony said, giving her a wide smile, "Come on, you should rest a bit before Ducky comes."

Not really giving her time to reply on his comment, Tony tugged her and the cat in, lying next to them until Ziva was fast asleep, before he got up to join his Boss in the living room.


As Tony stepped into the living room, he saw his boss on the telephone. So he took the time to have another closer look-around.

Obviously Gibbs had begun to clean up the chaos a bit. Close to the kitchen he could see that not only the chairs but also the heavy dinning table were upright again.

"How did Gibbs managed this by himself," thought Tony as he regarded the table, before letting his eyes rest on the pile of papers, which had been lying in the living room not long ago.

Then he felt Gibbs' eyes on him. Still busy on the phone, Gibbs pointed a bucket, hand-brush and dustpan out to Tony, indicating to the hall.

Taking the hint, Tony took the cleaning equipment and started to sweep up the various shards of glass lying on the floor.

A short time after he was joined by Gibbs, who was armed with a blue garbage bag. Tony threw him a confused look, since he had a bucket for the pieces of broken glass.

"For the clothes," stated Gibbs as he pointed to the articles of clothing covered in blood. "Later Ziva can decide whether they should be cleaned or thrown away," Gibbs said, answering the unasked question of his agent.

"Got any new information, DiNozzo?" questioned Gibbs a few seconds later.

"Not really, we mainly spoke about that cat of hers," Tony said, sounding somewhat dejected.

"At least she's talking again," added Tony, sighing as his mind wandered off again, wondering what exactly has happened here and why.

"It is again and again amazing what animals can do to people, isn't it?" the Scottish voice of their M.E. sounded from right in front of them.

"Ducky!" a temporarily spooked Tony squeaked.

"Please excuse me, the door was ajar."

"No problem Duck," answered Gibbs, as he stood up from his kneeling position. Clothes shoved into the bag.

"Where is she?" Ducky questioned, his gaze going over the accrued chaos.

"Come on, I'll show you the way," directed Gibbs, showing Ducky the way from the hall to the bedroom.

"You know this reminds me of the crime scene back in.." Ducky started to tell one of his famous stories.

"Duck," Gibbs cut Ducky off in the typical 'could we concentrate on the corpse' tone.

"By using that tone of voice the only thing missing is you asking me for a T.O.D.," chuckled the older Medical Examiner.

Gibbs only stared at him, before he cautiously opened the door to the bedroom.

"Oh my.. " escaped from Ducky's mouth, seeing the still very pale Ziva as he hurried over to the bed, "Ziva my dear."

"Ducky?" came Ziva's sleepy answer as she slowly sat up.

"Hello, what have you done to yourself?" asked Ducky, in a slightly scolding voice, causing a small smile to display on Ziva's face.

"Let me examine you," said the M.E. as he put his doctor's bag next to Ziva on the bed.

"Her knuckles Duck," Gibbs chipped in, earning himself a stormy glare from the young Israeli as Ducky laid his hand on her forehead to check for fever.

"Well you surely have quite a fever," diagnosed Ducky, taking a thermometer out of his bag in order to give it to Ziva.

"I am fine," Ziva tried to reassure them, taking the thermometer out of her mouth, only to have Gibbs coming up next to her on her other side in order to put it back into her mouth again.

"Stop being so difficult, David," ordered Gibbs.

"I am just a bit tired!" Ziva retried but fell silent as soon as Gibbs fixed her with a glare.

"Oh this doesn't look too good," said Ducky as he turned towards Ziva's knuckles. After checking the mobility of her hands

"Well, there doesn't seem to be any nerve damage, also your right hand seems to be sprained, maybe even broken. An X-ray will give us the answer to that. As for your knuckles, they are only grazed and have already started to heal," Ducky said addressing Ziva, who didn't show any emotion though.

"Hit a wall?" Gibbs asked his female agent, sounding more assessing. Ziva only nodded.

"As regards to the left hand.. cuts on and around the knuckles."

"Mirror," deadpanned Gibbs, causing Ziva to nod again.

(Flashback – Ziva's Apartment – Thursday 11:06 pm)

After Officer Bashan rose and went to the door, Ziva stayed sat on her couch. She stared into space, unable to process what had happened in the past few minutes.

Suddenly she jumped up and ran as fast as possible to the front door. However it was already firmly locked. How long had Michael been gone Ziva could only suspect.

Standing close to the door, her rapid and deep breathing was the only sound to be heard.

"What just happened?", "Did this really happen?" These, and other thoughts were running through her mind. Past moments appearing surreal.

She span around abruptly. Grabbing the coat rack next to her she hurled it to the ground.

Momentarily rigid, she looked at the now torn wallpaper on the left wall. "Harah!" Ziva thought. Furious with herself, or maybe just with the situation into which she had been thrown; she didn't know. Ziva stepped over the coat rack to regard herself in the mirror over the dresser.

"What am I supposed to do? Who am I now?" she thought about her situation, desperation started to rise up in her the longer she stared at herself.

Minutes went past, before suddenly she hit the mirror with full force. Not registering the pain from her now bleeding hand, desperation was slowly replaced by anger.

What she was angry at, she couldn't tell for sure as she made her way through her apartment, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.

Her gaze came to rest on the brown envelope. Taking her knife out of its holster, which was still attached to her waist, she was about to tear apart the documents when she drove the knife into a sofa cushion, slicing it open.

Staring at her 'victim' all her energy seemed to leave her. Physically and emotionally exhausted she went to her bedroom, crawling into her bed, trying to shut the world out from around her. That's how she stayed for days, only getting up to use the bathroom. Thoughts about food or drink not even crossing her mind.

(Present – Ziva's Bedroom)

"Well.. these cuts seem to reopen every time you move your hand, my dear. I'm afraid they need to be stitched," diagnosed Ducky as he examined Ziva's left hand.

"Can you do it, Duck?" Gibbs asked for Ziva, who frowned at Ducky's words.

"I'm afraid not. It's very fragile work. A specialist should do this to avoid unnecessary scars," replied the older M.E. as he smiled at Ziva.

"Seems like you got yourself a trip to the hospital," said Gibbs, raising a protest in Ziva anew.

"I do not need to go to the hospital. Ducky! Gibbs!" the Israeli tried to persuade both men, without even the smallest success.

In the meantime Tony had started to pile the destroyed furniture in a corner of the living room. Listening with one ear he heard the protests of his partner, which sounded even whinier as more time went by.

Tony tried to refrain from laughing too loud as he placed the books that were lying around back onto the shelves.

When Ducky reemerged in the living room, he was immediately greeted by Tony, who didn't dare go into the bedroom. Fearing Gibbs' slaps if he did so.

"How is she?" an apprehensive Tony asked.

"Well, apart from a low blood pressure and low blood sugar as well as dehydration, her left hand needs stitches and her right hand needs X-rays, as do her feet to make sure that no shards have entered through the cuts.
She also runs a fever of 102.2°F," reported Ducky, causing Tony to gulp.

"Don't worry Anthony. Her fever is a result of the dehydration, mixed with the untreated cuts. It will drop once she gets some water and antibiotics."

Finally Gibbs also came into the living room, collecting the papers from the dining table he came to stand next to the M.E.

"Duck, can you take this with you?" the gray-haired agent asked, holding the envelope up.

"Sure Jethro."

"Give it to Vance. I already called him, notifying him of the documents," Gibbs explained further as he led Ducky to the front door.

"Toothpick?" Tony asked in a stunned voice once Ducky had left.

"Yes," came the curt reply from Gibbs.

"Why aren't you giving them Jardine? Why must it be Vance?" an aggravated Tony tried to worm an answer out of the older agent.

"Something is going on here. Something not everyone should know about yet. Vance couldn't get through to the Director of Mossad earlier. And it has something to do with those documents," Gibbs replied.

"Your gut Boss?" the younger agent asked, but was met with silence as Gibbs made his way back into Ziva's bedroom.

"Of course your gut..." mumbled Tony.

(Ziva's Bedroom)

"You ready?" Gibbs asked the young Israeli, who stood in front of some suitcases having finished packing them moments before, now glaring daggers at the older men in front of her.

"The drugs that Ducky gave you seem to be working," concluded the gray-haired agent, referring to her stubborn posture.

Still somewhat huffy, Ziva picked Gucci up from the end of the bed, where he had been sleeping curled up, and left the bedroom, followed by Gibbs who took care of the suitcases.

"Drop us off at the hospital, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered, as the three of them made their way out of the apartment, smirking to himself as Ziva's glare got even darker.

"I'm allowed to drive?" Tony said, not trusting his own ears. "He doesn't want to drive?" thought Tony, but then saw his boss' stare, "Nevermind."

TBC...

A/N: I'm sorry but this chapter needed to be the way it is.. not much talking more explaining *sigh*
Next Chapter will answer some questions and stop being so narrative (at least I hope so).

102.2°F = 39.6°C ____ 'Harah' = sh*t (couldn't find a better curse, sry)

Pls review? *also thx for all the reviews, alerts and IMs I got =)*