A/N: So I received a review concerning my use of Gibbs' rules in my last chapter that I felt the need to clear up before going forward. First of all, I am very well aware that each one of the former team members knows the rules by heart. My apologies for making it sound like they had forgotten them in some way. By Abby framing the rules, I see that as more of a gesture of appreciation more than a reminder. As for Tony forgetting the rules, that was just him being his sarcastic self. And I stand by my use of the rule I chose for this situation. Once everything in my story is revealed, you will understand why this rule was chosen. ALSO! I wanted to mention I have another NCIS story in my arsenal of adventure entitled "Under Pressure." You can find it on my page. It's a crossover with my main fandom and just wanted to give it a plug for those of you who love Tiva and my portrayal of them. As always, thanks for supporting my story! This past month has been a whirlwind of change and speed bumps in my life. But I'll never forget about my wonderful stories on here. I'll never stop writing! God bless, 'Kath'

CHAPTER SIX

Present Day

"…As always, thank you for flying Sight Ways Airlines. Have a wonderful day."

Ziva snapped awake with a vengeance when she felt a hand gently tap her on the shoulder. She relaxed when she realized it was just the flight attendant and stirred to get herself awake. As she peered over the seats, she realized she was the last person remaining to get off of the plane and could only imagine what the attendant must have thought of her.

Carefully guiding her injured leg upward as she worked her way to her feet, she could feel every muscle in her body ache from the long journey. She had hardly moved the entire way and could feel what strain that had placed on her body. With the flight attendant's help, she secured her weight onto the crutches she was handed and began the long walk down the aisle to disembark from her flight.

Once through the tunnel and inside the airport, Ziva was greeted by a man and a woman. The two individuals were clad in suits and had a shiny golden badge on their hips along with a sidearm. Their faces seemed familiar to her, but she could not place a name with their faces.

As soon as they saw her enter the airport, the man grinned, flashing a badge in her face. "Miss Perez?"

Ziva tried to get a good look at the guy's credentials but failed in doing so. He had tucked away the item before she had even read his first name.

"Miss Perez," the man continued. "We've been tasked with escorting you to the Pentagon for an interview concerning the attack you were involved in. We need the facts from our very own military before this crap leaks out to the media."

"Not so fast," the female agent piped up. "It's obvious Mrs. Perez is exhausted from her journey. Maybe we should take her to the safe house to freshen up first like we were told to do in the first place."

"Wait, I don't understand. I thought I was being discharged. Is my life in some kind of danger still? I want to see my little girl. That is all."

"We understand your concerns, soldier," the man tried to reassure Ziva. "But considering the situation at hand, I'm afraid we need your entire cooperation to ensure that our armed forces know exactly what to do from here."

"I understand," Ziva breathed and let the agents guide her away from the airport.

As they rode throughout the metro D.C. area, flashes of her life seemed to jumble as one in her mind. Things seemed far more familiar to her now that she was home. It did feel like home, she noted as they passed by several United States government buildings including the F.B.I. building and the entrance to the Navy yard.

A face suddenly flashed through her mind. "Gibbs," she whispered out loud, unaware that she had done so.

"Ma'am?" The female agent questioned from her place in the front passenger seat.

Ziva shook off the matter with a weak smile and continued to watch D.C. pass by, unaware that another piece of her world had slowly fallen back into place.

"Dans le rapport international de ce soir, une explosion a eu lieu dans la capitale américaine, Washington, plus tôt dans la journée. Nos sources affirment que l'explosion a tué trois personnes. Deux des personnes tuées étaient des agents du FBI américain. L'identité de la troisième personne est inconnue pour le moment. Et à travers nos frontières en Allemagne ..."

Tony perked up out of his half-nap and reached for his phone on the side table next to the sofa, cradled beneath the lamplight in the dark apartment. Although his French was still shy of being expert, he understood the news report perfectly well. He pecked in an all too familiar number into his cell and waited for the other end of the line to come alive.

"You saw the news, Tony?"

"Yeah. Any leads?"

"It's not our jurisdiction."

"McGee, surely you've heard some grapevine goodies thanks to Fornell."

"Tony, I'd like to help you out. But seriously the only thing I know is what the news reports are saying. I swear. Here's Ellie. She'll tell you."

"That's okay, Tim. I believe you. Um, I'll call later I guess. I was just curious."

"Okay," McGee replied, his voice broken in confusion. "Talk to you later."

"Yeah. Will do."

Tony tossed aside his phone next to him and let out a deep sigh. He felt like he was going crazy staring at the muted TV which kept scrolling through the same footage of the blast on yet another channel. Aggravated, Tony grabbed the remote and turned off the television. He had no idea what was going on inside of his head. Or was it his heart? His gut? He couldn't take it any longer. Why was he so interested in this blast? Sure he was sad for the agents who passed away. But it felt…deeper.

In his oblivion and confusion, Tony had not realized that his daughter had begun watching him, leaning against the hallway wall and observing him from a distance. She clutched her teddy to her chest, her chin propped on the soft creature as she watched her father.

"Abba?"

Tony jerked around to see Tali. He immediately plastered a smile on his face. "Tali? What are you doing up? Bad dreams?"

Tali shook her head. "No. I just couldn't sleep. Puis-je câliner avec vous, mon père?"

"Sure." Tony beamed as he extended his arms.

Tali bounced across the room and into Tony's lap, the latter wrapping his arms snuggly around his little girl while his own mind reeled with so many thoughts. His daughter's hold seemed to be the only thing able to bring him back to his center of focus.

Before long the child had drifted to sleep in the arms of her father and soon found herself being carried tenderly to her own bed still fast asleep and oblivious to Tony's strong arms beneath her. Tony lingered at Tali's bed after he had safely tucked her in, recalling what Gibbs had told him earlier...

"How's Paris?"

"Good. Very good, boss." Tony grinned across the table at Abby. "You'll never guess who's sitting here at my kitchen table right now."

"Abby?"

Tony's forehead collapsed into a charade of wrinkles. "How did you know?"

"She called me last night."

"Oh." Tony deadpanned at the grinning former NCIS agent. "I should have known. Look, boss. I really don't know who else to talk to. But you trained us to trust our gut. And I've got a doozy here."

"Yeah? Spit it out."

"The attacks on the Israel base by Syria where we had some soldiers stationed."

"Yeah, I've heard about it."

"Got any scoop?"

"Not that I can share right now. You should know that, Tony."

"Boss! Seriously? It's me! You're seriously going to hand me that bill of goods now that I'm an ex-agent?"

Gibbs' voice mellowed away into a silence that Tony read loud and clear.

"Got it, boss. So you won't tell me anything?"

"Nope. Not over this phone. You know that isn't a good idea. Why don't you come for a visit?"

Tony could sense a hint of a faint smile across the line. "Not with Tali's school schedule."

"I thought you had a babysitter?"

"Who? Abby?!"

Abby perked up and started reaching for the phone aggressively. "Hand me the phone, Tony! He wants to talk to me!"

"No!" Tony gently slapped Abby's hand away. "I don't know. I mean, I'll come if I have a reason to. Do I?"

"That's up to you. I thought your gut was telling you about this one."

Tony laughed. "It is. But I have common sense too."

"Do you?"

"I see your point. Talk to you soon, boss."

Tony ended the conversation to the sight of a pouting Miss Scuito.

"Abby, he's busy."

"Not too busy to listen to your yapping."

Coming out of his reverie, Tony whipped out his phone and pecked in a few key details. The search results flashed before him seconds later, revealing that there was a flight leaving for D.C. in nearly two hours. Plenty of time to stir Abby awake to watch Tali and scurry off to Charles De Gaulle. Still, he threw away the thought and sauntered to his own bedroom. He wanted to listen to his gut. But right now he wasn't entirely sure that his gut was the source of this confusion.

The wind was whipping through the trees and seem to slip through the wooden cracks so very easily with little effort at all. Strange combinations of bird calls joined in with nature's chorus. A distant whip of thunder faded as quickly as it had come. And still a rustling of feet by the door outside couldn't quite draw her out of the nearly unconscious state she couldn't snap out of.

She reeled a bit inside. Something wasn't right. She could feel the weight of some large creature bearing down on her chest. She couldn't even open her left eye. And when she tried to groan, no sound came out of her mouth. But the worst pain of all was in her right leg and left arm. She knew the injuries that had just barely had time to heal had been struck again. She only prayed they were bruised and not broken. But telling by the way she was feeling, she feared the worst.

Suddenly those same footsteps were now inside. From her vantage point she could only see up to the stranger's knees. Judging by the shoes and jeans, it had to be a man. It was a strange thought that struck the woman next. For some reason she could only wish with all her might that he give her something to drink.

"Water," she strained to speak, the words barely coming out as she lifted her neck, releasing the weight as she slammed her head back down upon some makeshift pillow of shirts with a harsh sigh.

Soon the stranger was by her side. He lifted her head and gently poured water from the plastic bottle to her lips. She was receptive but didn't open her eyes all the way to identify her savior…or captor. She wasn't entirely sure. But surely a captor wouldn't be as strong and gentle as this man was. Whoever he was, his hold gave her confidence enough to trust him as he turned his hand over, feeling of her forehead. He made a passing comment about the warmth and then seemed to be examining each of her wounds.

Ziva could no longer ignore him. With her only good eye bracing itself open, she tried to make out the frame of the man who was changing a bandage on her leg. He did seem familiar. But for some reason she didn't want to trust him. Opposing feelings fought for a place in her heart. She wanted to kill him as much as she wanted to love him for saving her. But why? She couldn't even remember who she was. How could she possibly remember a nemesis from the past?