Author's Note:

Dear readers... here's the next installment. I was waiting on my muse to finish her thoughts on it, but I got impatient so here it is. All errors are mine.

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Resolutions"

Martin stares at the phone as if it has sprouted legs and walked away. It rings again and he looks over at me. "That's not my people. I have a burn phone they're supposed to call."

The ringing continues, shrill and piercing, and this time Tony catches my eye from his place by the window. "Then who is it? I doubt that guy at the desk is calling to ask if we're enjoying our stay."

"There is only one way to find out," I reply and pick the phone up off its cradle on the seventh ring. "Yes, what is it?" I answer brusquely, in French.

"Ziva," the voice replies, "It is refreshing to know you haven't lost your charm."

I know that voice. I know it like I know my own, but it is impossible that I am hearing it now. Liraz Reut was killed in Istanbul by Mossad officers sent after me and Tony. She was caught in the crossfire simply because she was helping us and we have had to live with that guilt. That was months ago, and it took a great deal of time to accept her death and my part in it. This cruel prank has not amused me at all.

"Who is this?" I ask viciously, my jaw trembling. "And how do you know my name?"

"Why do you sound so shocked?" the Liraz-Voice asks. "I know it's been a while since we've spoken last, but you're overreacting. I would have called sooner, but I could not be sure it was safe."

"This is a sick joke," I seethe. "I am going to hang up on you now."

"Ziva!"

"The person you are cruelly imitating died months ago, you bastard!"

"What are you talking about?" she asks, and her confusion seems genuine. "I'm fine. Obviously, since I'm currently speaking to you."

It is all too easy to believe. Their act truly is a convincing one.

"Ask me a question. Something only I would know," the voice instructs.

I clear my throat. "Our first assignment together involved stealing a dossier from a very important office when we were fifteen. What was the middle name of the man whose dossier we stole?"

"Samuel," the voice answered. It was correct. For the first time tonight, I began to consider that the voice may be telling the truth. Could it be possible?

"You were not… you escaped?" I ask, momentarily forgetting that Martin and Tony are waiting on bated breath to be told what is happening on the other end of this conversation. They can wait. "Tony and I were just on the other side of the wall. You were surrounded by Mossad, trying to explain yourself. He had it against your head. We heard the gunshot and…"

"He fired it into the air, Ziva," she says gently. "I was never injured in Istanbul. They took me back to Tel Aviv to be interrogated by your father, who cleared me of any wrongdoing. He believed my story that I had tracked you to Istanbul myself and was trying to convince you to return on your own volition when his officers found me. I didn't tell him because I feared it would cost precious time or that he would try to stop me."

"And he believed it," I finish for her.

"Hook, line and sinker. As the Americans say," she says with a chuckle.

"Can that really have happened?" I ask incredulously. "Could this really be true? I thought – we thought – that we had lost you forever. That our own mistakes were responsible for your death."

"Apparently not," she says and chuckles. "If anyone's mistakes will lead to my death, I prefer that they be of my own making."

"Clever," I reply and she laughs. "We had genuinely believed all this time that you had been killed. It makes hearing your voice even more out of place."

"Do I sound strange?"

I laugh. "It has been the most pleasant surprise we have had yet."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

I cannot help my own smile. "Well, then. I can only suppose that you have shown up after months of silence in order to save the day once again."

"It would appear so," she sighs. "You must have known that this couldn't last forever, Ziva. It was going to end one way or the other."

"I know. But I think we all would have preferred alternate circumstances."

Tony and Martin have conferred among themselves from their respective seats and from the look on Martin's face, Tony has regaled him of our journey to Paris and the friend we thought we had lost. Tony is looking at me patiently, telling me to take my time, but it is obvious that he is anxious to have a direction. I do not blame him; we have lived in a state of uncertainty for far too long.

"I understand," she tells me. "Is it possible to put me on speaker?"

"Not on this phone. Just a moment," I say and Martin offers the number to his throwaway cell phone. Moments later, Liraz calls again and is put on speaker.

"Maybe your name should have been Liraz-arus. Ha. Haha," Tony says, offering a lame joke as his own greeting. "I'm hilarious."

"Good God. Shut him up," Martin says with a groan and Liraz laughs on the other end of the line.

"Who's speaking now?"

"Martin," the man says, introducing himself. "Friend of a friend, nice to meet you."

"It's a pleasure," she replies and coughs a little. "Unfortunately, we have no time for pleasantries. We have a very specific goal with very options as to how we can attain it. Can anyone tell me what that goal happens to be?"

"Get rid of Eli David," Tony says coldly, "Which gets the heat off killing us as well as assuring that Mossad goes back to the good ol' days. Am I right?"

"It's true that Eli David has begun abusing his power," Liraz confirms and I brace myself against the unpleasant jolt associated with this thought. "Unfortunately, I do not know the extent to which this is true. He could just be reworking some contacts or… or he could be doing something worse."

"Working with the terrorist cells he should be eradicating," I offer, because this is my theory. There has to be a reason he was so adamant about bringing me into his latest operation in Somalia. Had he not required me to kill Tony, I may have been in Africa now rather than plotting how to remove my father from office.

"That is possible, yes," she admits. "To get down to the bottom line, we have only three options: one, we could work to get Tony and Ziva new lives in Witness Protection or in another country and hope that Eli gives up on finding them."

Martin scoffs. "Is that actually possible? I know some people who would consider 'gone' to be synonymous with 'dead' but I don't see this Eli David to be one of them."

"It's not likely, no," Liraz answers. "The second option is splitting up and hoping that Eli gives up on finding them. He will have a harder time of finding them if they're separate anyway."

"Not happening. What's option three?" Tony asks, wincing. He already knows the answer, as do I.

"We get you back to Israel as quickly and as safely as possible, and we remove Eli David from the picture – by whatever means necessary. That doesn't necessarily have to involve his death but… but there is a good chance he won't give us another alternative. He is notoriously stubborn, particularly when his position in Mossad is threatened."

"You know what we have to do, Liraz," I say calmly.

"No. No. No no no no no no no," Tony says loudly, jumping up from his chair. "Absolutely not. No."

Martin and Liraz speak at the same time. "Tony..."

"Hey!" he yells in the direction of the phone. "You two don't get to discuss this. Ziva and I get to discuss this."

"We have to do something," I say frankly. "And I do not see another alternative."

"We're not doing this, Zee," he says and any hint of laughter has gone from his eyes. "We are going to get the hell out of France – out of Europe completely – and then we're going to keep our heads down until we can go home. That's it – end of story."

"I welcome you to do that, Tony," I say honestly. "Please go home. Go be with Gibbs and McGee and Abby. Keep them safe and give them my love. I know my father will not follow you."

He stares. "You're not telling me to leave without you."

"I cannot ask you to do this," I tell him. "This is something that I need to do. I have to do this for me, for you, and for the team and my country. I am leaving for Israel and taking care of my father, no matter what the cost."

"I can't believe we're at the same place we were a few months ago," he says incredulously. "What was wrong with how we lived before tonight? It was you and me, against the world and we were doing it! We had our apartment, we had friends and family, and we had something to fucking look forward to! Why wasn't that good enough for you?"

"It is good enough for me! That is why I have to hope for the chance to be that again, but not as someone else," I say earnestly. "If I go and do this, if I face my father and take away his ability to hurt anyone, we can have our lives back as us. We can have that apartment and friends and family as Tony and Ziva rather than John and Maria."

He's breathing heavily now. "Is that what you want. A life as Tony and Ziva?"

"Yes."

"And that's what we'll have after this? A life as Tony and Ziva?"

"Yes."

"Alright then," he says quietly. "It looks like we have our answer."

"They have chosen to return to Israel."

My stomach drops. I knew already that they'd picked the dumb answer, but it didn't make it any easier to hear from stupid whatever-her-name-is. (That's not fair, I know – she saved them and all – but I'm in no mood to be fair now.)

"Well that's just super," I say sarcastically and Gibbs cuts his eyes in my direction. I hear Tim clear his throat and he moves a little closer to me.

"Abby…"

"No, don't," I say. "Let's just… let's just worry about getting them home. I'll throw a fit later."

"That's my girl," Gibbs says to me and I force a watery smile. "Well, Officer? What can we do to get this show on the road?"