Hi Everyone,

I'm sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter, but I hope you like it anyway!

Spoilers: This story is set just after Ziva David left NCIS (S11 E02: Past, Present, and Future). I don't take in account what happened in the series after that event. As there have been many seasons (and many Tiva developments) since, let's just say that this is a fun AU.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, I don't earn any money with this story, I'm just enjoying playing with the characters.

Playlist: Every chapter is inspired by a song. For this chapter, it's Myrath - Born To Survive. Check out my profile for more details!

I hope you enjoy!

Temples of Gold

Chapter 9: I Turn The Page Today

Jethro took a sip of strong coffee, but the beverage did very little to ease the weariness he felt up to his bones. A quick glance to the squad room taught him that the team was feeling as exhausted as he was. McGee's eyes were fluttering close as he typed on his keyboard, Bell was staring at her tea as if it could answer all the questions of the universe, and DiNozzo… DiNozzo was asleep in his chair, mouth open, snoring lightly. Jethro took another sip of coffee. At least, the taste was comforting.

They had worked relentlessly since Abby's discovery of Parsa's fingerprint the day before. Twenty-four hours of digging, trying to get any lead on Parsa's location, and they had nothing to show for it. It was like the terrorist had disappeared from the surface of the Earth. There had been no results from their conversations with dozens of informants, footages of hundred of video surveillance camera or multiple money trails.

'He has to be here, somewhere,' Jethro grumbled.

'We'll find him, boss,' McGee replied faintly. They had had the same exact exchange every hour since midnight. The truth was, they were no closer to find Parsa than they were the week before.

Jethro would have given up coffee if it meant that he could have five minutes in a room with Parsa. A twist of a knife, that's all he needed. Give him the same sendoff as Harper Dearing. He would not lose a minute of sleep over it.

He took another sip and put back the cup on the desk with too much force. Coffee spilled on his hand, burning. That, at least, woke him up.

'Report!' he barked, wiping the liquid on the side of his pants.

McGee and Bell immediately jumped out of their seats and walked to the flat screen near his desk. DiNozzo snored louder but didn't wake up. McGee grabbed the remote, then hesitated.

'Boss?'

'What?'

'I… have nothing. Nothing to show.'

He looked so dejected that Jethro didn't immediately shout at him. He directed his gaze to Bell, who shrugged. 'Me neither. Nothing.'

'Then TRY HARDER!' Jethro shouted. It was too much. Too much stress, too much failure. Parsa had played him for months, and now his team couldn't even locate him. 'How is it that we can't find a single terrorist who has been in town for weeks? Parsa is not a ghost, for crying out loud, he must have left a trace! '

'He did.'

The voice that interrupted his diatribe came from the entrance of the squad room. There stood a young blonde woman that Jethro had never seen before. She was holding what looked like a heavy computer bag on her left shoulder and a stack of notebooks and papers on the other side. A visitor's badge was pinned on a creased jumper, and her jeans had holes at the knees.

'Agent Bishop!' said McGee, cheerfully. 'Hi! I didn't know… How did you find… I mean… I was going to call you today.'

The woman shook her head, moving further in the room. 'No, no, I understand. This couldn't wait. I had to talk to you in person. It's… it's about Benham Parsa.'

Jethro frowned. 'McGee, who is she?'

McGee looked embarrassed for a second, then straightened his stance and replied, 'Boss, this is NSA Analyst Eleanor Bishop. She… she is the specialist when it comes to Parsa so… I contacted her a few days ago.'

'You mean, when you went behind my back and disobeyed direct orders?'

McGee nodded awkwardly.

'This investigation was not supposed to leave NCIS! What the hell were you thinking?' Jethro shouted.

'I'm sorry,' interrupted the woman —Bishop— again. 'I don't mean to interfere but Agent McGee was right to contact me. I know everything there is to know about Parsa. I studied him for years.'

'Then how is it that I've never heard of you?' barked Jethro. He was aware that he was unwelcoming but he couldn't help it. Contacting the NSA was a big mistake. He didn't trust that agency one bit.

She shrugged. 'My superiors have redacted my involvement… Last time, it was… too close.'

'What exactly do you mean?'

'I'll show you.'

She sat directly on the floor and put down her stack of notebook to open her laptop bag.

'What the hell are you doing?' asked Jethro, feeling more and more irritated by the stranger.

'Showing you what I mean.' She opened the laptop and waited for a screen to load. 'There.' She turned the machine so that he could see what was on it.

It looked like a satellite view of a residential area somewhere downtown. Apartment buildings, mostly. Nice, but a little run down. 'What am I supposed to see?'

'This image was taken last week. The roof in the middle is the roof of my building.' She typed on the keyboard a series of commands that he didn't understand. The image changed. 'This is the roof yesterday afternoon. Notice the writing?'

Jethro crouched next to her to take a better look. 'Welcome back to the game, Eleanor? What does that mean?'

'It's him. Parsa. He knows I'm back on his case, somehow.'

Curious, McGee and Bell took a look at the screen too. 'How would he know?' asked McGee. 'I didn't tell anyone else about our meeting.'

Bishop shook her head. 'I have dug a lot online in the past days. He might have recognised my signature.'

'So what, he's inviting you to chase him?' Jethro asked, perplexed.

'This is his M.O. He loves to play with me, to torture me.'

Gibbs squeezed his fists. This was exactly what Parsa was doing to his team.

'Then why are you playing his game?'

'Because this time, for the first time, he made a mistake.'

Jethro saw Bell and McGee exchange glance. 'What mistake?' he asked.

'My superiors never really trusted that Parsa was done with me. They installed hidden camera at key points in my building and my street. I'm not supposed to know about them but… well I found a file… and… let's just say I know.'

'So you found a trail?'

'Better. I know exactly where Benham Parsa is. I could show you but I need direct access to the satellite as well as our surveillance feed.'

'We could request that in MTAC,' suggested McGee.

'Good idea,' said Jethro. 'Bell, you hold the fort. McGee, Bishop, with me in MTAC.'

'What about Tony?' Bell said, pointing at the still-asleep senior agent.

Jethro grabbed the first thing that he found on his desk, a block of sticky notes, and threw it directly into DiNozzo's cheek, jostling him awake.

'He's coming too.'

—

Ziva had barely slept in the past twenty-four hours, yet she couldn't bring herself to get some rest. The waiting room was empty, and she could easily arrange the chairs in a makeshift bed, but she was too exhausted to move. So she sat in her single chair, reflecting on everything that had happened since she had arrived in Karachi. Hayat Parsa's scheme to steal her charity's donations, Omar Isaak's revenge ploy that had almost worked, her own actions resulting in yet another death, and the desperate drive to the Civil Hospital Thatta in Makli.

Her phone's battery had died on the way. Thankfully, Mehdi, the young intern who had saved Naheem's life, had offered to charge it in the nurses' staff room. All the same, because Ziva didn't know who to call yet. She didn't know any of Naheem's relatives or their numbers. She felt like she oughted to let someone know about the old professor's plight but she didn't know who. She had thought about calling Schmeil but she knew that at this time in Washington he was busy with his class.

Mehdi had promised to give her news as soon as Naheem was out of surgery. He had assured her that the surgeon operating on her friend was perfectly competent and that Naheem had every chance of recovering, but Ziva was anxious. She had lost countless of people over the years, and naively she had thought that that time was behind her. The truth was, death had followed her all along.

She had killed. Again. After all this time trying to save her soul, she had stained it with one more life. And if Naheem hadn't been there to stop her, she would probably have killed Hayat Parsa too. She hadn't changed, she was still a killer, and the thought repulsed her.

What good had it made to leave NCIS. She had sacrificed any chance she had to be with Tony, and for what? A charity that had been so close to finance a terrorist organisation that it would probably never recover from the bad press, a personal life that was completely non-existent, and her friend between life and death.

Her whole life was a mess.

'Ziva,' called Mehdi from the door, interrupting her dark thoughts.

She stood up, mindlessly rearranging her hijab that had fallen back in her neck. 'Is he out of surgery?'

Mehdi shook his head. 'No, sorry. Your phone. Work now.'

'Oh… thank you.' She forced herself to smile as the young man handed her the device. 'Has anyone contacted his family?'

'Yes. Imam Mullah phoned. But family far, not here.'

'I'm glad someone let them know.' At least she didn't have to call a distressed relative and explain why she had so massively screwed up.

'I be back. Soon. But you calling friend.'

'Friend?'

'Yes. You needing friend. Talk.'

She frowned but the young man disappeared through the door. She hadn't realised she looked so obviously lost that a twenty-something young Pakistani man she had met only hours ago would notice it.

'My only friend is in surgery,' she replied to the empty room, before sitting down heavily.

This wasn't true. She wasn't fair with herself. She had friends: Ducky, Jimmy, Abby, McGee.

Gibbs.

Tony.

Perhaps she had spent the last months pushing them away, but they weren't gone. Not yet, at least. Omar Isaak's words were still floating in her head. She didn't know what to do with the information. It was too vague. According to Ducky, they already knew that Parsa was after them. Isaak had said that something would happen today and that he had an accomplice, but that too didn't help. She had no name, no details, no plan, just a vague prediction from an unhinged man on the other side of the world.

This wasn't exactly the way she had imagined reappearing in their lives. But at the same time, she couldn't do nothing. She was carrying enough guilt for a lifetime, if there was something she could do she needed to do it.

Gibbs would probably be the best call if she wanted to be believed. He had always relied on her instinct, that would probably not change. She dialled his mobile number, surprised to still know it by heart after all this time. There were some things that her brain refused to forget, apparently. It went straight to voicemail.

She couldn't bring herself to try Tony's. Not yet. Not so fast. McGee's went straight to voicemail too. There could be many reasons why, so Ziva forced herself to stay calm. The squad room was next. Gibbs' phone would always be manned, if not by him, at least by the switchboard. The phone rang once, twice, five times.

Then finally the call was picked up. But instead of Gibbs, a feminine voice replied, 'NCIS, this is Special Agent Bell speaking.'

Bell… Ziva had heard the name before. Ducky had mentioned her, Tony's new partner. 'Oh… hi,' Ziva said, unsettled. 'I'm… hum. I'm looking for Agent Gibbs.'

'Who is this?' The woman sounded bored

'Sorry, I should have introduced myself… I'm Ziva David.'

'Oh.' There was a silence that stretched for several long seconds. Ziva wondered what the others had said about her to the new recruit. 'Ziva… David. Yes, hum, do you, hum, do you need help?'

Puzzled, Ziva replied, 'I need to speak with Agent Gibbs. It's urgent.'

'Sorry, he's in MTAC.'

'Are Agent DiNozzo or Agent McGee there?'

'They're all in MTAC. I'm alone right now.'

'Please, it is important. I have information about the terrorist Benham Parsa.'

There was another silence, this time longer than the previous one.

'Are you still there?' asked Ziva.

'Yes, hum, sorry. You can tell me what you have and I'll make sure to pass it on.'

Ziva was not about to tell her story to this stranger. 'No, thank you. Just let Gibbs know that I'll call him back later.'

'Sure thing.'

Ziva cut the connexion without saying goodbye. Frustrated, she threw the phone on the chair next to her. The last thing she needed today was to speak with the woman who had replaced her, who was probably younger, smarter and braver than she was. Her accent was native. She was not the type to mix up expressions and lingo. Tony probably never had to correct her. She probably was a movie buff. A purebred American patriot. Everything that Ziva wasn't. And Tony was probably already in love with her.

She knocked her fist on the chair arm. 'This isn't the time!' she said to no one in particular. She couldn't give free rein to her jealousy. She couldn't let it distract her from Naheem's fate. She couldn't worry about those who lived so far away from her. She needed to be present, for Naheem, and hope he would make it out of the operating room alive.

The rest would have to wait.

—

Tony hated being startled awake. And he hated being startled awake by Gibbs even more. Especially when the boss was interrupting the only few minutes of sleep that Tony had been able to steal since the previous day. And to top it all, his neck was stiff as hell. He tried to relax it with a few movements, side to side, up and down, but his efforts were only rewarded with cracks and pain. He was becoming too old for all-nighters in the squad room.

'DiNozzo, stop fidgeting,' grumbled Gibbs, sitting next to him in front of the giant screens in MTAC.

'My neck is killing me,' Tony whined.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and didn't comment. Tony's attention went back to the blonde woman who had appeared in the squad room earlier and made them all rush to MTAC, only to be stopped by an urgent call from the Director of the NSA, General Keith Alexander himself. Red-tape, unauthorised use of satellite time and inadequate clearance levels had been mentioned, as well as the art of avoiding to put one's nose into another agency's business. Currently, the blonde was sitting in a corner, arms crossed, pouting, while Director Vance was exchanging acid words with his NSA counterpart.

'I wouldn't want to be her,' whispered McGee, who was sitting on the other side of Tony.

If he had hoped to be only heard by Tony, he was mistaken as Gibbs snapped back, 'She's not the one who came to us, McGee. You're as much in trouble as she is.'

McGee lowered himself in his seat. Tony snickered. He knew that despite the reproach, Gibbs was happy that they finally had a lead to find Parsa. He also knew that Director Vance was not about to let their only chance to stop the terrorist go away. They were getting the satellite images, one way or another. They just needed to be patient and wait until the two directors had finished quibbling.

In the meantime, Tony didn't particularly want to listen to Gibbs' impatient growls or McGee's defeated sighs, so he stood up. The volume of the conversation between Vance and Alexander was stretching the limits of politeness.

'Don't force me to call SECNAV!' Vance spouted.

'You wouldn't dare!' Alexander replied.

Tony silently moved towards the blonde while the directors continued their shouting match. 'So… NSA, uh?' he asked, claiming the empty seat next to her. 'You're so good when you're bad?'

She stared at him like he had suddenly grown a second head. 'What?'

'Halle Berry? Die Another Day?'

'Oh,' she said, 'Sorry, I don't like Pierce Brosnan. I skipped all his James Bond. I much prefer the classics.'

'Your loss! By the way, we haven't been formally introduced: I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. But you can call me Tony.'

'NSA Analyst Eleanor Bishop. Ellie.'

She smiled and brought a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Tony noticed she was wearing a wedding band on her ring finger. Married, then. Not that she was his type anyway. His type currently resided on the other side of the planet.

Not wanting to think about Ziva, Tony forced himself to continue the conversation. 'So, why did Parsa target you exactly?'

She shrugged. 'I have no idea. I was the first one to identify his pattern of attacks, but there were other analysts on his case for years. I don't know what makes me so special.'

'Maybe he has a crush on you?' Tony was only half-joking.

'Yeah… that makes sense, he has a thing for blondes…'

'Really?'

She laughed. 'Only messing with you.'

Tony laughed too. Refreshing. That was the best word to describe Bishop. She was something different.

'Fine!' roared Alexander. 'Do it, but next time you need a favour Leon, my door will be closed.'

His face disappeared from the large screen and Vance took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat off his brow. 'I hope this is worth it, Agent Bishop,' he said, before sitting next to Gibbs.

Ellie jumped up and grab the first keyboard she saw while saying, 'Yes! It is! I promise it is!'

She typed a few commands on the terminal in front of her and soon a satellite image appeared on the giant screen. She typed a few more commands and the image zoomed in on one particular roof.

'OK,' she said. 'We know Parsa was on my roof at two-thirty yesterday afternoon. The satellite doesn't catch him going in and out of the building, of course. He's too smart for that. He's not on the building's CCTV either, which suggest that he has done some recon beforehand.'

Tony saw her shudder at the thought. He would be freaked out too if a psychopath like Parsa had staked his flat.

'What he didn't detect,' continued Ellie, 'were the two hidden cameras at the back of the building.' She typed more and the image changed to a view of a wooden patio. 'This one shows nothing…' The image changed to a view of the fence between the patio and the building next-door. 'If I fast-forward to two-thirty-four, here's what we get.'

There was only static for a few seconds, then the fence reappeared, accompanied by a dark shape climbing it. Ellie froze the image and zoomed on the shape. Tony was the first to recognise it.

'Parsa!'

Ellie nodded. 'He thought he would escape the satellite and CCTV by going through the patio next-door. He didn't know we'd be able to see him at the back. From here, it's the easy part.' She switched between different images, from satellite to private CCTV, commenting as she went. 'He goes through several backyards, then climbs another roof. I lose him briefly when he climbs down, but I found him back at the end of the block. And here…' She shows the last image. 'He gets into a car.'

'Can we get the registration?' asks McGee, excited.

Ellie typed one more command on the keyboard and the image switched to an ATM camera on the other side of the street. She zoomed in, showing clearly the licence plate of what looked like a black or blue Ford Fiesta.

'It can't be real!' commented Vance.

'The car is registered to FleetCarp Inc., a subsidiary of Mendes LLC…'

'Mendes, as in Tomás Mendez?' asked Tony.

'Brotherhood of Doubt,' said Gibbs.

'Any way we can follow him?' Vance asked Ellie.

'Oh I have better than that. I searched infos on the subsidiary. It's registered at the same address as a sailing club. And guess where I found the car…'

She pressed a button, and here is was: a small marina, down in Fort Washington. She zoomed in and the same car they had seen in the ATM footage appeared, next to a boat that was anchored away from the other ones.

'I bet you my wedding ring that Parsa is hiding on this boat.'

There was a long silence in the room. Vance unwrapped a brand new toothpick and stuck it between his lips before commenting. 'Yeah. She's good.'

Tony and McGee nodded vigorously, but Ellie wasn't looking at them. 'Agent Gibbs?'

Everyone turned to see the man's reaction. Gibbs' expression was impenetrable, as usual, but Tony knew him enough to see what was bothering him, so he voiced the concern that his boss clearly had. 'It's too easy.'

'From what I understand, this is your only lead,' countered Ellie. 'Isn't it worth checking?'

There was another silence, and Tony knew they were all thinking the same thing. They had nothing else. Finally, Gibbs sighed.

'Gear up.'

—

'Ziva!'

Ziva opened her eyes, startled. She hadn't even realised she had dosed off. 'Mehdi? What is it?'

'Ziva, he fine! He out! He good!'

She stood up in a jump. 'Naheem is alive?' She needed the confirmation. She needed to be sure.

'Yes, yes, alive. Sleep but good. All good!'

The relief was so intense that Ziva had to sit back down. Naheem was not going to die. He was going to be fine.

'Thank you so much, you saved him!' she said, her mouth dry from all the stress.

Mehdi shook his head. 'No, you save. You kill man with gun.'

She shrugged. She didn't need to be reminded that she had killed again, after vowing she would never take another life. 'I wish I hadn't,' she whispered.

Mehdi sat on a chair leaving a seat empty between them. 'You do good. Kill is not bad sometimes.'

'It is always bad,' she countered. 'Yes, maybe Omar Isaak did a very bad thing but it doesn't mean he deserved to die. Believe me, killing is never good. Never.'

'Naheem Gajani dead if you not kill him.'

She crossed her arms, taking a quick breath. 'No, you're not getting it. Maybe I didn't have a choice, maybe this was the only way, but that doesn't that there's no consequences!'

'Why you hurt you? It is in past. You not change past. Past is you but not you.'

Ziva could tell that Mehdi was getting frustrated too. She wished she could speak Urdu as well as Pashto. She promised herself to practice it as soon as possible to be able to speak with the locals of her future schools. If the project hadn't been entirely ruined by the events of the day, that was.

'I've done a lot of things in the past,' she explained. 'I killed a lot of people. And yes, a lot of them deserved them, but I also created a lot of pain.'

Mehdi seemed to think about it for a minute, then asked, 'If you not kill them, people die, yes? Good people.'

Ziva raised an eyebrow. Ari's face flashed in her mind. Who knew how many people Ari would have killed if she hadn't stopped him. Or Ilan Bodnar. Or all the would-be terrorists, suicide bombers, criminals, serial killers she had encountered in her life. 'Technically, yes. But you are not listening.'

'I listen,' Mehdi interrupted her. 'Imam Mullah say you brave woman. You give money for school. You help children.'

'The Imam knows me?'

'Naheem speak. Imam Mullah listen. He say you hero. You do good because you know bad. Because past.'

He had a point. She would have never created her charity had she had a different past. She would not have been so dedicated to building a better future for poor children around the Middle East if she hadn't seen the worst of what they could become as adults. She wouldn't have been as fearless in her pursuit of this particular school project in Pakistan if she hadn't seen first hand what happened to children raised by extremists. If she hadn't held in her arms two girls, barely twelve years old, who had been beaten and repeatedly burned with cigarettes just because they had wanted to learn how to read.

'Death follows me,' she murmured. 'Everyone I care about dies.'

'Death normal. I am doctor. I see death. All the time.'

'I don't want any more deaths in my life!'

Mehdi smiled. 'That impossible. Or you not live. Life is death. Death is life. You not have choice. You need live.'

Ziva thought about the past months and all the work she had accomplished. She had started a lot of good projects, she had tipped the scale back in her favour. She had concentrated on the good she had done. But in the middle of that, she had forgotten to live. The last time she had felt alive, truly alive, was that fateful night when Tony had kissed her, on the tarmac of Tel Aviv airport.

'Life is death. Death is life,' she repeated.

It was like Mehdi had pushed a button in her brain and suddenly she had awaken from a coma in which she was not even aware she had been. The air was crisper, the colours were more vivid and she could finally reconcile all the parts of her that had been at war for so long.

Everything she had ever done, every action, every kill, every charitable endeavour, it all had been for one purpose and one purpose only: make the world a better place. It was not because of revenge for the death of her sister, or moral obligation towards her father, and not even because of her sense of duty towards Gibbs and NCIS. No, it was because underneath all the training and the emotional turmoil, she was a good person. And good people do what's best for the people around them. Even when it was difficult. Even when it meant staining their soul. Because at the end of the day, Ziva was not just an assassin or a charity owner. She was Ziva David, a whole person who had had difficult choices to make but who had always listened to her heart and her gut. And they had never steered her wrong.

She needed to listen to her intuition one more time. Her gut had been uneasy since her phone call to NCIS and she had thought at first that it was just jealousy. But there was more. The whole conversation had rung false to her. The silences had been too long, the answers too vague. She knew that something was wrong. And if she did, Gibbs did too.

She reached for her phone, opened the messaging application and typed:

RULE THIRTY-SIX

Then she selected Gibbs' number and sent the message. Once the confirmation of sending appeared on her screen, she stood up.

'Mehdi, there's something I need to do. Do you think you can find me a ride to Karachi?'

'Yes. Yes. What you do?'

'I'm going to Washington.'

—

Tony silently pulled the safety of his SIG as he approached the stern of the rusty fishing boat where Parsa was thought to be hiding. He checked the next step with Gibbs, who nodded, then gestured precisely in McGee's direction, signalling him and Bell to move towards the starboard bow. Tony was rarely nervous during an arrest, but this time he was shaking in his boots.

Satellite imageries and infrared scans analysed by the bomb squad had not shown anything suspicious. It just looked like a normal boat, with one person in the cabin. Tony just hoped that that person was Parsa and that he hadn't booby-trapped his hideout.

After another nod from Gibbs, Tony took a big breath and launched himself towards the deck. Gun pointed forward, he took a step towards the cabin that was perfectly silent. He was soon joined by Gibbs, who covered his six.

Tony took another step towards the entrance of the cabin. It was dark inside but Tony saw a shape, roughly the size of a man standing near a table.

'NCIS!' he shouted. 'Benham Parsa, you're under arrest! Come out, hands on your head! NOW!'

The shape moved, slowly, towards him. Ragged and looking like he hadn't eaten a proper meal in a long time, Benham Parsa emerged from the shadows.

'I said hands on your head!' Tony shouted again.

Parsa looked at him then at Gibbs behind him, appearing too calm for someone staring down the barrels of two guns. He smiled, raised his hands and knotted his fingers behind his neck.

'Check him,' ordered Gibbs, his gun still firmly pointed at the terrorist.

Tony patted the suspect thoroughly. 'Nothing!' he announced, before grabbing Parsa's wrists and cuffing his tightly. The man was still smiling. 'What's so funny?' he spat. The man's demeanour was making him extremely uncomfortable.

Bell and McGee boarded the boat at the same time. 'Take him to the car,' ordered Gibbs.

Tony pushed Parsa towards his colleagues, and watched them marching the terrorist, still smiling, away from the boat. Gibbs' phone beeped. Tony ignored it until her heard the boss suck air through his teeth.

'Oh oh.' Tony knew that look. He had seen that look too many times. 'What is it?'

Gibbs held his phone up. Tony squinted to read the words written in capitals, before his mouth opened wide.

'Who…' he started.

'Ziva,' replied Gibbs. He stared at the phone for a few seconds, then pressed a button and deleted the message.

'Rule 36,' whispered Tony, as he watched McGee and Bell shove Parsa in the back of their car. 'If it feels like you're being played…'

Gibbs took a deep breath.

'… you probably are.'

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next time: Parsa's interrogation doesn't go as planned, and Ziva lands in Washington!

Comments are always appreciated :)

Thank you for reading,

Loufoca