DISCLAIMER : I don't own any of NCIS.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just to warn you, I've hit a roadblock with this story. Don't be dismayed if it's a long time between updates, there's other plot bunnies I've indulged in (I never should've put this up with Honey and Wine still in progress, but there you are...) whilst I attempt to retrieve the rapidly escaping plotline.

Chapter 2: A Shift in Dynamics

"God, can she be any more annoying?" Kate groaned to herself as she ducked into a deserted hallway. It had been an overall irritating morning, with Ziva and Tony bantering back and forth with what McGee had apparently dubbed 'UST'. Kate had pointed out that he was missing a letter.

Their truce hadn't been working very well. Kate and Ziva were constantly 'invading' the other's 'territory', sniping at each other and not following their custody arrangements at all. Ziva had parked in Kate's space this morning, since Kate had taken the desk yesterday. Gibbs' hand kept hovering threateningly by their heads, so often that Ducky had inquired worriedly if his muscles had seized up.

Tony and McGee had ceased to find Kate and Ziva's bickering funny after the first week. McGee seemed too nervous to actually speak either woman's name to the other for fear of retribution. Tony, on the other hand, had no qualms about breaking up (or inciting) fights with the right comment to the right person.

Yesterday had almost erupted into a physical altercation. Thank goodness for Tony and Gibbs arriving when they had. Gibbs had been none too gentle with yanking Kate back towards his desk while Tony literally dragged Ziva off to the gym. Kate's ears were still ringing from Gibbs' harangue.

In a moment of sheer desperation, Kate pulled out her cell phone. She dialled the first number that popped into her head.

"Derek Wilchowy."

"Derek, it's Kate Todd," she said quickly, before she lost her nerve and became 'good girl' again. "I have a favour to ask."

"Anything for my favourite special agent."

"I need you to get Ziva David out of here. I can't take this, Derek, she's everywhere! And this is my team, not hers."

"I'll see what I can do, Kate. It might take a while."

"Kate! Ziva!" Gibbs snapped. "So help me, God, I will lock you both in a broom closet!" He got up from his desk and caught each of his offending agents by the hair on the back of her head.

"Separate ones, I hope, boss, it doesn't bode well for international relations if NCIS kills another Mossad officer," Tony spoke up. "Or if Mossad kills another NCIS."

"Who was the first?" Kate asked, just as Gibbs said to Tony,

"And if you don't shut up about now, DiNozzo, I will throw you in with Ziva and every weapon she possesses."

"Yessir."

"Now, McGee, DiNozzo, go talk to the victim's family," Gibbs said. "Ziva, Kate, I want you two to go back to the scene and comb it over again for that missing tag."

"But Gibbs!" both Kate and Ziva exclaimed in unison.

"We spent over three hours already looking for that tag!" Kate complained.

"You would honestly make us go back?" Ziva asked.

"Do I uptalk?" Gibbs asked irritably. "I know you both understand the concept of direct order."

"I'll drive," Kate said tersely as she grabbed the keys to the sedan before Ziva could.

"I drive, it is part of the agreement," Ziva replied, yanking the keys from Kate.

"Like I get the parking space?"

"And I get the desk?"

"Give me those fricking keys, you nut job," Kate snapped.

It took them five hours to finally locate the missing dogtag and return to NCIS. When they had, Ziva literally froze in her spot upon exiting the elevator.

"What?" Kate asked in exasperation.

The older Middle Eastern man approached the two women. He greeted Ziva in Hebrew and began to speak with her, letting Kate sidle past him to rejoin her old teammates. "Who's he?"

"Officer Michael Bashan," Director Shepard said. "Director of Foreign Operations in North America." She sighed. "Apparently Ziva's work visa only extended until a qualified American could be found to replace her."

"Meaning that you took her job, Agent Todd," Gibbs said tersely.

"I am not going back to Tel Aviv!" Ziva exclaimed in a quieter voice than she would've liked. "Michael, I am begging you, do not make me go back."

"And what do you suggest I do, Ziva?" Michael demanded. "If you had given me notice, I could have found another posting for you. I could have arranged for another NCIS placement. But you worked despite your visa's expiration for two months, Ziva – two months! Do you realize how much trouble you are in at Mossad now? The Americans have been screaming for my blood."

"I do not really care where, Michael, at this point," Ziva snapped. "So long as it is not Israel." She sighed and turned away, running her hand through her hair. "I may have… misled… some information on my report with Ari's death. Father promised me asylum if I remained out of Israel."

Michael sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I will see what I can do, Ziva, but I make no promises. If you do not hear from me in the next 24 hours, I want you on the next plane to Mossad. Is this order understood, Officer David?"

Ziva nodded slightly.

"That means you are seated on the plane, flying to Tel Aviv. Once arrived in Tel Aviv, you are going to headquarters to report for duty. At no point in the next 48 hours are you to go incommunicado, out of surveillance or anywhere near NCIS." He jabbed a finger at the elevator. "Out. Now."

Kate actually got a shudder of fear running through her body as Ziva turned back at the door to the elevator and her gaze zeroed right in on Kate. There was hatred in those dark eyes.

"DiNozzo, go after her," Gibbs ordered, shoving Tony forward as Officer Bashan and Ziva entered the elevator.

"Me, boss, why – Going!" Tony yelped as Gibbs' hand went swiping at the back of his head. Taking off like a shot, he slipped inside just as the doors closed.

"All right," Gibbs snapped. "Back to work! Dirtbags do not arrest themselves just because somebody blew the whistle on Ziva!" As McGee and Kate both scattered to their desks, Gibbs caught Kate's arm. "I hope you're happy, Agent Todd. You've sent her to her death," he said quietly.

"I'll drive you home," Tony said, sticking his hands in his pockets uneasily as Officer Bashan evil-eyed him.

"Thank you," she replied softly.

The elevator stopped at ground level, and Officer Bashan said something sharply one last time to Ziva before he disembarked and stalked off towards the visitors' parking lot.

Ziva looked at Tony. "Why are you here?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Gibbs told me to tail you."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to follow her. "So we will end the same way we began, yes?"

"Actually, we began upstairs, when you first arrived," Tony said, sliding into the driver's seat of the little red car. "You asked if I was having phone sex."

"Ah, yes, that is right," she said with a smile, reluctantly handing over the keys. "Do not scratch my baby."

Gibbs knew. She didn't know how, she didn't know why, but he knew she had called in a favour.

She hadn't meant to get her deported! She had just wanted her transferred. Transferred, that's all. It wasn't her fault Ziva had chosen to work illegally for two months – Ziva had to have known the conditions of her visa, she did that purposely! Why was she being made the bad guy?

And what was Gibbs talking about, sending her to her death? She wasn't a fugitive, a refugee or a target. Kate had checked all of that. Ziva was nothing but a Mossad control officer banished to a liaison position for losing control of her charge. A punitive position, and surely a source of great frustration. She ought to have been thanking Kate on bended knee – now she could return to her own country and do what she was trained to do!

Angrily, Kate slammed her fist into the keyboard, making multiple warning signals come flashing onto the screen in strange characters. They all ought to have been thanking her – she had seen how Tony was so distracted, how McGee was mercilessly tormented, how clipped and terse Gibbs' orders had been. She had done them all a favour by taking Ziva away!

Gibbs turned away as he heard Kate's howl of frustration – she must have discovered that Ziva's computer was all in Hebrew, set long ago as a preventative measure against Tony interloping. "Fornell, I need you to pull a few strings at the Hoover."

"What kind of strings, Gibbs?" Fornell asked.

"Ziva's got 12 hours to find another position in the States to avoid being deported to Israel," Gibbs said. "She can't go back, Fornell, Mossad'll kill her. She was the one who killed Haswari, not me."

There was shocked silence at the other end for a moment. "I'll see what I can find, Gibbs. Is there restrictions?"

"Just not Israel."

"Who do I contact?"

"Officer Michael Bashan. Director of Foreign Operations in North America. Thanks, Fornell."

"Don't thank me yet, Gibbs."

Ziva moaned as she was rudely awakened by the phone's insistent ring.

"Gawd, why does your phone have to be so loud…" came Tony's grumble from beside her.

She managed to grab the receiver and pull it towards her ear. "David."

"Ziva, you have friends in high places," Michael said. "I've found you something."

Ziva hung up only minutes later, yawning as she tried to pull the covers over her head. Possibly one of the worst positions she could have ever asked for, but she supposed that it was Michael's way of reprimanding her without signing her death certificate.

"No, go away…" she groaned when she felt his breath tickling her skin. Bad enough that she had lost control last night, in her panic and her fright and her frustration. Bad enough that one drink had led to another, and that one to a third, until she had woken up nursing one hell of a hangover.

He was supposed to have left long ago, just like every other man she had ever taken into her bed. They never stayed, that would imply a second night. A week. A month. A year. A lifetime. He wasn't supposed to stay. The only lover she had ever permitted into her bed on a regular basis, her father had had killed.

"So?" he persisted groggily, the stale taste of his own drinking heavy in his mouth as he managed to target her lips. "Are you staying or are you leaving?"

"Staying here," she said, pulling away even as her traitorous body started to react to his proximity. "Leaving NCIS. Tony, stop."

"C'mon, Ziiiiva…" he pleaded blearily, a slight smirk crossing his face when he recognized the way she unconsciously curved her body to meet him. "I'm not leaving you alone, you know, now that rule number twelve no longer applies," he added, sliding over her body, growing slippery with sweat once more as he slowly began again.

Now that they were both sober and in no danger of being separated, they would enjoy every minute of their newfound freedom.