Chapter Twelve

By late Thursday night, the team still had no way to tie Mossad or Eli to the incident, as they were now calling it, in Ziva's apartment. They only knew two concrete things. One: security footage on all the doors in Ziva's building had gone out for ten minutes Saturday night and then, miraculously, turned back on. Two: A nerdy twenty-five year old named Evan Keller had been monitoring the audio feed and taking pictures of the target.

They had spent all of Tuesday and most of Wednesday chasing down leads provided by the man that they had apprehended in the hotel. He never really knew what he was talking about.

Evan Keller couldn't even provide enough of a description for a sketch of the "man in black" who had paid him to set up this post. Keller said that he had been given two assignments: monitor the feed starting Saturday night and take pictures of the target. Tony was pleased that he ruined at least part of that. In return for his services, Keller was paid one hundred thousand dollars in advance and promised a quarter of a million once the operation had been completed. Evidently, Mossad was not feeling the current economic crunch like the rest of the world.

An event that stretched from mid-afternoon Tuesday until Wednesday night, Evan Keller's interrogation had been one for the ages. Everyone got his or her chance at him. Well, everyone except Ziva.

Gibbs figured he would try and channel Tony's passion somewhere productive. He let him go in first.

It didn't really work.

He was clearly too personally involved, they all were of course, but Tony was almost unable to control himself. He nearly strangled the guy after Keller told him that he started taking pictures of Ziva nearly two weeks ago.

Gibbs pulled him out after only five minutes. He shook his head. This was precisely why twelve existed.
Jethro spent the next four hours in with Evan Keller. He wanted to know why he had done it. He wanted to know where he was sending the pictures. He wanted to know who his contact was. He wanted to know everything and Keller couldn't really provide anything.

Gibbs didn't really blame him. I mean, he did, but the guy seemed so socially inept that it was almost like he was completely oblivious to the strangeness of what he had been doing.

The "man in black" had told Keller how much his organization admired the research work that Keller had done at California's Institute of Technology. He told him that they would be honored to have his assistance in the "protection of foreign asset."

Gibbs huffed. Yeah, that was exactly what Eli thought she was. She was only an asset to him – an asset, not a daughter, not a human being.

After four hours, Gibbs was totally done. He didn't want to hear what Keller had to say anymore. He didn't care that Keller didn't have a contact. He didn't want to hear that he was mailing the pictures to an unmarked P.O. box and he certainly didn't want to hear that Keller, a struggling Graduate student, just needed the money.

McGee went in after him, well, after they left Keller to sit alone for a long time – a really long time. He explained to Keller what the legal ramifications for this kind of indiscretion would be. He stressed that she was a United States Federal Agent and that therefore, this was a federal offense to be served out in federal prison.

It was clear that McGee had scared Evan Keller, a man who would not do well in prison, shitless. Still, he insisted that he was telling them everything.

"Clearly," Keller had said, "Student loans would have caused me less stress than this."

Gibbs put Rachel on clean up. He wanted to see if she could do anything in there. He wanted to see if, in a high stress and highly emotional situation, she could still perform. In observation, Gibbs watched her more closely than he watched Keller.

She walked in and hopped on the table. Keller had been forced to wait for Rachel for nearly half a day after McGee left. They wanted him to fester. He looked so easy to break but for some reason he wasn't. She sat down perpendicular to him, her body facing the TV that hung on the wall.

"I've only been on the job for less than twenty-four hours."

"Am I your guinea pig?" he'd asked. His hands were gripping the table. They were causing it to shake.

"Basically."

She jumped off of the table and then, in one swift and startling motion, pushed it in front of the door. Rachel put her hands on her hips and then began to pace.

"In a second," she'd said and then pointed to the camera and the red light that signaled it was on, "that's going to go dark. You see, Special Agent Gibbs, he knows that I have some…issues. He wants me to work them out at the beginning."

Rachel stole a glance at the camera. The light was off.

"Most of my issues," she'd continued, "They have to do with two things. Trust and anger. And…I'm pretty angry because I don't trust that you're telling me the truth!"

"It's all I know."

"No contact information?" She stood in front of him and placed her hands on the sides of the chair. She'd hoped that her invasion of his personal space would make him uncomfortable.

"Hey, listen," he'd said, "Isn't it illegal that you've kept me this long? You've only given me water. What is the definition of cruel and unusual punishment?"

"It would actually be habeas corpus." And Rachel was pretty sure that if Lincoln had the right to waive habeas corpus than Gibbs certainly did too.

"All I know is the guy told me to call him Eric – he was my contact."

The name had caught her completely off guard. "Did he have an accent? Was he American? Foreign?"

"I think."

"You think what? Thinking is not good enough, Evan!" She stomped her foot on the ground. "Not when you're going to jail for the rest of your life!"

"Yes, yes he did. He had an accent." He could barely get the words out.

"And how exactly did you contact this Eric?"

"I…I…I didn't. He contacted me to ask me to do it and then when I agreed he gave me the instructions. He said he'd contact me again when I was done."

"How did he contact you?"

"Notes – he left them in my office. I'm a teaching assistant at Johns Hopkins University."

"The Whiting School of Engineering, right?"

"And then he skyped me once. It was in the library. I barely saw his face."

"I know."

The team spent the rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday looking for the infamous Eric. Rachel couldn't shake the feeling that it was her father. He and Eli hadn't been as close in the last few years as they had in the past but, nonetheless, she thought that her father wouldn't hesitate in doing Eli any favors. It was how their relationship worked. Yet, Keller said the man had an accent – not that her father couldn't fake one.

At half past ten Thursday night, Gibbs told his team to head home. He watched as they gathered their things. Rachel was on autopilot – she looked like the walking dead. She wasn't used to the late nights and long hours that Tony, McGee and Ziva had all learned to endure. His gaze flickered to Ziva. The soldier version of her was creeping back. She was back to nodding and eagerly scurrying off places. It concerned him but he recognized that it was her only way of functioning. He just hoped it didn't stay once this was all over. And then there was Tony. It was like his eyes had learned to constantly be doing two totally different things. One was constantly trained on Ziva, making sure he didn't miss a thing and the other focused on whatever task he was supposed to be doing at the moment. Gibbs wondered if letting them break his cardinal rule would turn devastating for the whole team. His gut told him it might actually do them some favors.

"Take tomorrow," Gibbs called as the four walked out of the bullpen. "Half day Saturday and maybe we'll be done." He knew that it was wishful thinking.

They all turned back but McGee was the only one brave enough or awake enough to raise an eyebrow.

"Get out of here," Gibbs said.

Tony was just about to fall asleep when she moved under his arm. He was so close – so close. He opened an eye and was greeted by a full head of black hair. He stayed still as she nestled further into his chest. Tony was pretty sure that if she tried to get any closer to him she'd break a rib. He stopped grumbling for a moment and smiled to himself. Life couldn't be so bad if he were complaining that Ziva David was too close to him. Somewhere under the covers, she shifted her legs. Tony sighed and then moved his arm from around her waist so that he could run his fingers up and down her back.

"I woke you," she stated. It wasn't a question.

"Nope."

"Yes, I did."

"I wasn't asleep, yet."

"Liar. You snored. Twice."

He let out a chuckle and moved his other arm from the sheet to wrap around her. He didn't think he'd ever want to get used to this. She shifted her feet again and he realized that neither of them was going to fall asleep anytime soon. He hadn't gotten a full night's sleep since Sunday, what was another hour? He was still running on adrenaline, anyway. Or, was it love?

"Let's talk," he said.

"Talk?" She turned onto her stomach and propped her head onto her hands.

"Talk."

"About?" She stared at him, her eyes overly eager.

"The fact that the famous Ziva Mossad wall has somehow resurrected itself."

She sighed and collapsed off her hands, letting her head thump onto the mattress. Ziva crossed her arms above head and let the tip of her head rest on her wrists. She was staring at complete and utter blackness. "It hasn't." she whispered.
Tony turned on his side but he was unable to see her face. It was hidden behind a mane of dark curls. No accident, he assumed. "Zi, you bounced around the kitchen when we got home. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought you were high."

"You do not like me happy?"

"Are you serious?" he asked, a touch of hurt in his voice. Of course he liked her happy but that wasn't what this was about and she hadn't been happy, anyways. "Did I not salsa with you in the living room?"

She was silent for a while and Tony thought he'd really blown it. He knew what she was doing, wasn't that enough? Why did he need her to say it out loud? Either that, or she'd fallen asleep. If anything, he hoped it was the latter and not the former. He rubbed his eyes a few times. He was determined not to willingly fall asleep. At least, not until they finished talking. He could sleep all day tomorrow.

"It is easier than facing reality," she whispered, moments later. "I am tired of my life being so difficult. We have figured us out, I just want everything else to figure out."

"It will."

"This has to come to a head sometime."

"It will." He repeated.

"My papers could be revoked. What if Mossad is planning on disposing of me? What if they think that I am a liability? I told you they think I am rogue."

"Can you look at me, please?" His hand had dug through her hair and found her neck. Tony wondered if she could make out the shape that his thumb had taken to caressing.

Slowly, reluctantly, she turned and rested her cheek on her wrist. She looked at him. The fear and shame was back but at least the wall was gone. All of her was right here with him.

Tony moved his hand from her neck to cup her cheek. He leaned down so that his forehead was resting on hers. "Listen to me," he said slowly. "For one, I don't want you to ever worry about papers because I can fix that faster than you can say no. I told you that the other night. Ok?"

She nodded. She supposed he had meant to be non-specific but she couldn't help but think he was talking about…marrying her. Under normal circumstances, Ziva would have browbeaten him until he told her what he really meant by that statement. It was the second thing like that which he had said. This, however, was not normal and something about his tone told Ziva that whatever it was he was completely serious about it.

"Now that that is clear," he continued, "You need to stop thinking that we're going to let anyone hurt you or take you away. It is simply not going to happen." He said each word with such force that she had no choice but to believe him. "Gibbs will not lose another daughter and McGuilt would feel awful, let's be serious. Abby would probably never leave her coffin and I think Rachel might actually kill me." He paused and stared at her for a long moment. His emotional drama was about to go chick flick really fast and there was nothing he could do about it. "And as for me," his voice lowered and softened and once again, his thumb moved back and forth on her cheek, "Someone would have to shoot me in the head before I let them get anywhere near you. I meant it, you know. I still do."

Ziva smiled, tears welling in her eyes. She hoped she never got used to hearing those things come out of his mouth. They always made her stomach do somersaults. He had already proven that he would die for her and she knew he wouldn't hesitate in doing something like that again. What could she say in response? "I love you, you know."

"Really?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. He leaned closer and placed his lips on hers. If nothing else, this would dispel all of her fears. He hoped that she could feel all the things that he felt about her.

"That's good," he said, pulling back after a few moments, "because, I love you and it could get awkward if you didn't love me, too."

She huffed and playfully punched him in the gut before rolling back onto her back and settling against his chest. She relaxed to the feeling of his chest rising and falling against her and his fingers playing with her hair. Once upon a time they had their best moments in the elevator. Now, it seemed they happened in bed and that was with the best still yet to come.

"Rachel followed me out of the hotel room the other day."

"I saw."

"She wants to talk. I told her we could. She knows that I am not okay."

"I think that's probably a good idea." He was weighing his options. Right now would be the optimal time to tell Ziva about his clandestine Starbucks meeting with Rachel. He'd always planned on telling her eventually. Rachel would probably tell her when they spoke, anyway. He'd be in big trouble if Ziva found out that way.

"I was thinking of taking her to Shenandoah to go hiking tomorrow. I will, of course, bring my gun. I know I was not going to leave your sight but neither of us has really been out of the city too much lately."

"I have to tell you something."

"You know something I don't know, don't you? You think – you know something is going to happen to me!" She had gone from a perfectly normal, casual conversational tone to one of complete terror.

"No, not at all." He took a deep breath. This shouldn't be so hard. "Its about Rachel. Last week I met her for coffee. It was before her meeting with Vance and Gibbs, I didn't want her blind-sided by anything and I also didn't want her doing anything that would set you back. I saw the look on your face when she showed up on your door and Zi… you have to know, it killed me. I just wanted her to be aware."

"You told her everything." Her voice was flat.

"No! No, not much at all. I just told her the factual turn of events."

"Nothing more?"

"Well…" She was already mad. He didn't know how to get out of it, now. Maybe that whole thing had been a really bad idea.

"Tony."

"I told her that you were still really shaken up from being held captive and that some pretty bad things happened to you. I didn't give her any details or anything."

Ziva was silent. She let Tony suffer for a few moments because she wasn't quite sure how she felt about this. For one, she didn't like that Tony was sneaking around her like she was some invalid. Because she wasn't, she never has been. She never will be. She also wasn't sure she liked that Tony had shared some of her dark secrets. It was Rachel, though and, for some reason, she had trouble being mad at him when he had such genuine motives.

"Ziva, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Ziva…"

"When you said that it was about Rachel I thought you were going to say that you slept with her, which I would have understood considering –"

"Ziva!" He was more than horrified. Tony certainly didn't want to go down the it is unreasonable for me to expect you to wait any longer road. He couldn't handle that tonight.

"It's fine, Tony," she sighed. "Really. I mean, your heart was in the right place – your head, not so much, but I can only expect so much."

"Thanks," he grumbled.

She flipped over to take another look at him. Resting her chin on his chest, she raised an eyebrow.

"You're pissed." He said. She noticed that he was staring at the ceiling. She was a little surprised, he was really that afraid of hurting her.

"No – well, you said you didn't tell her everything, correct?"

"Bare minimum, at most."

"I assume that you have told Abby and McGee about was has been going on, also."

"No. I mean, McGee was there, remember, but the details, that's no one's business but yours. Abs is more perceptive than you'd think and, believe me, she's asked. I haven't told her anything, though."

"I'm not mad at you. I have had…trouble getting mad at you lately."

His face lit up and for the first time since beginning his confession he dared to make eye contact with her. She really wasn't mad. "It's the charm, isn't it?"

"Perhaps."

Tony watched her snuggle into his chest again. She took a deep breath and then closed her eyes. He wondered what Eli thought when he listened to the tapes of his daughter's apartment. Was he surprised to hear Tony's voice, too? Had he heard her tearful accounts of the hell she'd gone through? Just because the security footage pointed to the tape being put on Saturday didn't mean it hadn't happened before hand. That was Tony's fear, anyway. Did he want to hurl like Tony did or was it simply part of the game? Tony wondered if he wished that he could be the one holding her tight, comforting her. He swore he'd never let his daughter hurt the way her Mom had. He and Ziva would protect their kids until the day they died.

Slow down, DiNozzo, he reminded himself. He was really getting ahead of himself, now. First, saying he'd marry her, now thinking about their kids. Maybe he had some kind of lasting effects from that damn truth serum.

"Tony?"

"Mhmm?"

"You think I'll be okay tomorrow, right?"

"There's no reason to believe you wouldn't be."

"Maybe we should just go to lunch or something."

"You and Rachel both bring your guns, you make sure you stay within cell phone range and you'll be fine. Ziva, if I thought you were in imminent danger of being kidnapped, we'd either be on a deserted island or locked in autopsy."

Rachel leaned back as Ziva swerved into yet another lane of traffic. She really should have fought harder for the driver's seat. At least they were on a smaller highway, now. Rachel had really feared for her life back on the interstate. She'd driven with Ziva many, many times but this was a whole new experience in itself. Rachel knew that Ziva was just making sure that they weren't being tailed but, still, she was glad she had skipped the coffee this morning. Surely by now it would be on Ziva's dashboard.

Rachel had been more than surprised when she received a text from Ziva at half past five that morning. Surprised because she, of course, had been sound asleep when her phone had vibrated on her nightstand. She had gladly accepted the invitation. For one, it meant that Ziva wanted to talk to her and then, of course, it was reminiscent of the old days when they used to see how far up or down the east coast they could get before having to return to the District. Virginia's National Park had been one of their favorites. It stretched the Appalachian Trail from just northwest of Richmond to an hour west of Washington. There had been days when they would take the charter bus down to the southern most tip and see how far north they could hike before taking another bus back to the city. Today was certainly not one of those days. Ziva had headed due west out of Washington and headed for the Thornton Gap entrance. They were only a little more than an hour and a half from DC, but, with Ziva's driving, they could be back within fifty minutes.

In light of the week's events, Ziva had asked Rachel to bring her gun. She had to admit that climbing up rocks and ridges with a federally registered firearm attached to her hip were new experiences for her – comforting ones, but new ones nonetheless.

The two friends were silent as they climbed their way to the top of the Hazel Mountain Overlook. It was a journey that they had taken countless times before. Rachel followed Ziva up the trail and watched as every few feet, she looked over her shoulder. It took all Rachel had to restrain herself from telling Ziva to snap out of it, they weren't being tailed. But, she understood how stressful this past week had been and remained silent. Well, she remained silent about that.

"Ziva," she said, as they ascended higher up the mountain and the snow became a bit deeper, "You checked the weather, right?"

"There was heat wave last week, it was nearly sixty." She didn't seem fazed in the least by the weather. That freaked Rachel out. It was December. They were in Virginia but, still, it was December. Crazy desert spy.

"Yeah, but it would just be unfortunate if we died of frost bite." I mean, really, in their profession there were much more impressive ways of dying.

"Are you cold, Rach?"

"It's still like 45."

Rachel decided that the climb was worth her fear of dying when they finally reached the overlook. For miles upon miles, all the eye could see were snow dusted mountains with small specks of green popping their way out every once and a while. She had never been up to the overlook in the winter and Rachel swore they she had never seen a crisper, bluer sky.

Rachel and Ziva took a seat on one of the benches and took in the view for a few moments before either of them drew up the courage to begin the conversation that they both knew they had to have.

"Tony told me about your talk," Ziva began, realizing that they could not sit up here all day.

Rachel turned to look at her and bit her lip, "Are you mad?" she asked.

"No, not at all." Ziva shook her head. "He had the right idea."

Rachel nodded and then sat silent for a moment. The ball was in her court. She just had to decide what she wanted to ask about first. "Who was Michael?" She asked, her voice sounding more like a twelve year old than a twenty-two year old.

Strangely, it was Ziva's supposed boyfriend who interested Rachel more than the months Ziva spent in Africa. She wanted to know about those, too, but she had to start with Michael. She had to know why she had been kept in the dark. She had to know from Ziva.

Ziva ran a few fingers through her hair before taking a deep breath and answering, "He was a Mossad agent that I… dated last year. Turns out there were some other things going on that I did not know about and… I guess… his death was a blessing in disguise."

"Tony said you were engaged or…"

"He had asked me. I never really gave him an answer."

"You would've told me eventually, though, right? I mean you wouldn't have gotten married without me, would you've?" The hurt was evident in her voice and it pained Ziva to have to look into her eyes.

"Something never seemed right. I didn't like bringing you near Mossad."

"But, you were Mossad. Ari was Mossad. I met Ari." Rachel really didn't understand. Ziva was Mossad soon after they met and the few times during Rachel's teenage years that she had actually seen Ziva in person were during Mossad operations. It was how she had been introduced to Ziva's brother.

"And that is mistake that I was determined never to make again."

"Ziva, I'm just so confused. You sounded so … off when we spoke a week after my graduation and then I didn't hear from you for over three months and then, all of sudden, you're back but you were so different. I don't need you to rehash the events, I know you took that guy's place and I know you were the only person to reach the terrorist camp and I know that really, really shitty things happened." Rachel was crying now. She hadn't meant to when she started talking but, now, she couldn't stop. "I just want to know why I was in the dark and I want to know why you really think your Dad is bugging your apartment. I don't want the PG-13 version anymore."

Ziva turned her whole body so that she was facing Rachel; she crossed her legs on the bench and placed her hands on Rachel's knees. "I am sorry, Rachel. I didn't mean for this to hurt you. I kept you in the dark in hopes that I would not hurt you. I lost my first little sister and I was not about to lose my second. But, in regards to my time in Africa, it just has been very hard… trusting people again – especially men." She paused for a moment and took to staring at the view again.

Rachel could see the horrors playing across her memory. Right then, in that moment, what Ziva had gone through was so strikingly real to her.

"And you have … usually gotten the truth in regards to Eli," Ziva nodded her head. "I did resign from Mossad in September because I did want to stay at NCIS and because I no longer trusted him but it was not all because of what happened with Ari. One of my Mossad partners, he killed a Marine onboard the Damocles and then when NCIS found the body – my father tried to implicate me in it. He sent Malachi, the one who had shot him, to burn me and to take me back to Israel where I would probably be forced on yet another suicide mission proving my loyalty to Mossad, Israel and my father."

"And now you're afraid that they will forcibly take you back."

Ziva wiped a stray tear from her eye, "Men like our fathers do not like it when they don't get their ways."

"But, what about the guy? What about Michael?"

"He would not confirm or deny it but, my father implied that Michael had been…courting me under his orders. None of it, I suppose, had been real. It was another moment that I really saw Eli for who he really is. But…. I had had my own suspicions the whole time. Michael was using me to avoid NCIS … I think I knew that none of it was real at the time, too. I just did not want to admit it to myself. That is why you never met him. Believe me, Rachel if I had felt really right about it you would have been the first to know. I, however, did not."

"Promise me that I wont have to go through Tony for anymore information in regards to you?"

"Yes." Ziva nodded, "I promise."

"Don't forget, Ziva," Rachel said, "We're all each other's got left for family. I don't know what I would do without my big sister."

McGee took a deep breath before descending down the stairs into his boss' basement. It wasn't often that he found himself here. In fact, it was pretty rare. He knew that both Tony and Ziva visited their boss whenever they had something that they needed to discuss with him but that wasn't really McGee's style. It made him slightly uncomfortable. He wondered if the day would ever come when Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn't intimidate the life out of him. Tim doubted it.

Figuring that Gibbs already knew that he was there, he just decided to take the leap and head down the stairs. Gibbs was sitting at a small table set up in the middle of the basement. There was no boat in sight. Tim didn't think he'd ever seen Gibbs' basement with out some sort of a boat in it. He was wielding something. It looked like the leg of a chair. Tim wondered what he was making.

"Don't you have better things to do on your day off than show up in my basement, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh…"

"Doesn't mean you can't."

McGee nodded and then walked over to the table. He stood in front of the stool across from Gibbs, staring at the beginnings of the wood project. Gibbs paused and looked up at him and then back at the stool. McGee sat down.

"This part of a boat?" he asked, trying to make conversation. He didn't even really know why he was there.

"Nope."

"So…"

"Spit it out, Tim."

"I couldn't sleep last night – too much going on. So, I went into work this morning. I was alone in Abby's lab. That bug has been really bothering me. I could have sworn it was a direct feed to someone."

"Eli."

"Yeah, but, its not."

"Fifty-one."

McGee stopped for a moment – he had to connect the number to the rule in his head. Fifty-one – that was the new one. Sometimes, you're wrong. Yeah, he was wrong, but that wasn't what had brought him over here. It was what brought him to the office early Friday morning, but not what lead him to Gibbs.

"Anyway, I started digging. I've never seen anything like it. Its not connected to a phone line, which is what makes it so unique. It's purely wireless. It records what it hears and then sends it off."

"McGee, did you come all the way over here from the Navy Yard to explain to me how that thing works?"

"No." He paused again. He could say this out loud. "It had been there awhile and I was finally able to extract some things from it. There's at least a weeks worth of audio on there, but I think it was there longer. I think it self-deletes. Which gives us another question. If the security footage points to someone in Ziva's apartment building Saturday but the bug has been there longer, why were they there Saturday and why can't we find anything saying they were there earlier?" He took a deep breath and rubbed his face. "Anyway, there is a lot and I mean a lot, of audio."

"What'd you hear?" So that was why McGee was here, Gibbs surmised. He had heard something he really didn't like.

"She – a lot happened over there. She's not better."

"She's getting there." Gibbs didn't look up from his finely sanded piece of wood and McGee wondered if he was the last person to be invited onto the boat. It seemed like he was the only one who wasn't in on this.

"But, to hear her tell… "

"DiNozzo."

"Its just all the details. I knew but…. hearing them is awful and when she panics..."

"Whole thing is awful. So, Eli heard everything?"

"Anything that was said in the kitchen or the living room."

Gibbs nodded and then the two of them sat in silence again. McGee should have expected to hear such things but it seemed so long ago that his hands were zip tied behind his back. Are you all right, McGee? He could still hear her voice. He remembered thinking she sounded like his old Yiddish grandmother – if he had had an old Yiddish grandmother. Her voice had been all scratchy and raw and suddenly, this morning in the lab, it had all made sense for him – her voice, the death in her eyes. She'd spent three months screaming. What, did he think that she really just sat for three months? No wonder Tony got annoyed with him.

"Do you think it will bother Eli as much as it bothers us?" McGee asked.

"I don't know anymore."

"Should I tell her?"

"Don't lie to her. She's had enough of that."

"So… Tony is…"

"Looks that way."

McGee let out a quiet, exasperated breath. Gibbs did know. Did he not care? He was reminded why he didn't often show up here. The conversations were borderline painful. He'd come here for answers but that wasn't what he was getting. He sat back on the stool and stared out the window by the stairs. Gibbs must have realized that his Agent wasn't satisfied because he looked up from his wood and took a deep breath.

"Here's the thing, McGee," he said, "You and I both spent the past summer with DiNozzo, we both saw things we'd never seen before. It wasn't the same Tony who'd walk into the office bragging about his previous night's sleeping arrangements. You were in that camp – you were with Saleem. Hell, you practically carried her out. You watched the medics pump her with liquids and antibiotics and all that crap and then they asked you to leave. Right?"

McGee nodded. "I know. I wasn't blind to it. But, the first hand account, its different. Hearing Ziva cry, hearing her panic and get all upset…changes things."

"Yeah, it does. That whole thing changed everything." Gibbs raised an eyebrow asking McGee if it was really necessary for him to continue. Couldn't he draw his own conclusions?

McGee nodded. He could.

Leon Vance leaned back in his chair as he waited for the phone to be picked up by someone halfway across the world. In international relations, time differences were the bane of many people's existence. He had just tried Eli's direct line and gotten no answer. It was discouraging, but not unlike Eli to screen his calls. After all, Vance screened his calls too. They were very busy men.

Last time he checked, he and his wife were on good terms with David's secretary so, hopefully, she would connect him.

Leon looked at his watch. It was already early evening in Tel Aviv. There was no reason Eli wouldn't be in the office. This was the time that they usually had their conversations.

"Shalom." She answered. Mossad didn't identify whom you were trying to call or whom you were speaking to. If you didn't know, then you had the wrong number. By way of deception, thou shalt do war.

"Shalom, Tamar, it's Leon Vance."

"Leon, good to hear from you."

"How's Shira? Kayla has been waiting eagerly for her next letter to arrive."

"She's good, working hard in school as she should. I put it in the mail yesterday."

"She'll be glad to hear it."

"I assume that Jackie would be calling me at my house if the girls were all you wanted to talk about."

"That is true."

"What can I do for you, Director?" She asked, her voice becoming professional and all business.

"Is Director David around? I have some updates on some area movements that he might be interested in. Couldn't catch him on the direct line."

"He is currently unavailable."

"Third time in three days that he's been unavailable, Tamar. Is he only unavailable to me?"

She laughed before saying, "Director, I will pass along your call, but, you should know, he will be occupied for awhile."

"Are you implying he's out of the country?"

"We do not imply anything about the whereabouts of our Director at Mossad. Security is far too valuable. You know that."

"It was nice chatting with you, Tamar."

"Give Jackie my regards."

The line went dead. Director Vance stared at the ceiling for a moment. Gibbs had later told him that Eli and Ziva had shared at heated phone call, which had ended with another one of Gibbs agents, likely DiNozzo, hanging up on him. So, Eli was probably mad. That wasn't anything new. Eli was often angry with his daughter enjoying the United States so much. But, Tamar had definitely implied something. It was a good thing that Jackie was friendly with her. It had certainly been working in his favor thus far. He turned to his computer and logged back on. He enter the U.S. Customs and Immigrations website.

Nothing came up for Eli David.

That didn't mean he wasn't here. Then another idea hit him.

Vance made a quick call to Washington Dulles International Airport. A chartered El Al flight was scheduled to land in three hours.

Leon Vance had found Eli David.

A/N: "By deception...war." used to be the Motto of Mossad. Or, at least, that's what Daniel Sylva's The Kill Artist claims..

Things are going to get wild next chapter. I'd love to hear what you'd like to see because I am going back and forth on a couple different angles that I have written.

Please, please, please, tell me what you think.

: )