I hope that he turns out to be

Someone who'll watch over me

George & Ira Gershwin [Someone To Watch Over Me]

The dark SUV had driven past three times. Once was enough to raise Ziva's alert level to high; she methodically began preparations for defense.

"Call Fornell; tell him we will have company."

An unflustered instruction to Martinez, as she moved around securing windows, doors and drew curtains. It was getting dark.

"How do you know?"

The FBI agent was a little unnerved by the cool way she had taken charge and by the odd, anticipatory, look as she smiled at him.

"A vehicle. One at present." Ziva was checking her guns; assessing her ammo. "There will be more. You and Agent Beck set up here." On arrival at the safe-house Ziva had familiarized herself with the layout. "I will keep Lance Corporal Neely with me." She had already identified the room most advantageous should a stand become necessary.

The two FBI agents exchanged glances. Ziva was so completely composed – apparently unworried about the impending assault despite the attendant dangers involved. Neither of them commented but privately both were convinced she definitely wasn't alarmed. In fact, she seemed perversely excited; which was a disconcerting realization.

"They will hit hard and fast. We are only required to hold until back-up arrives." She looked at Martinez, "which will not occur if you do not call Fornell – now."

She had been thinking about Tony; gone four weeks. He hadn't called and neither had she. He was due back in the next couple of days; his imminent return triggering a blend of reactions. There was the simple reunification of the team; easing the increased workload of being without one member. Additionally, each individual supplied different abilities and the synthesis resulted in a highly effective unit. The MCRT was off-kilter without Tony. That was the practical, sensible reason. Then there was the impulsive thrill. And, hard as she tried, Ziva was unable to convince herself it was only because the team would be back together. She knew the foolish excitement was a foray into more dangerous territory than Gibbs' outfit returning to normal.

And finally there was the turbulent confusion. In her spare moments, Ziva had contemplated, relived and fretted about sleeping with Tony. If she could have managed it, she would have avoided the replay; it had been so vividly erotic. Turned on and depressed, simultaneously, was a truly bizarre state. They had redressed the deficiencies of last time; an undoubted mistake. It was inverse logic; usually drunk people assign greater meaning to these events, experience emotions which might vanish in the cold hard light of day. Nothing had been said, really, yet the missing connection had been established. The prospect of losing that feeling made her heart ache -Tony had succeeded in shattering her shields.

Ziva assessed her conduct as irresponsible, ill-conceived. As the saying goes, succumbing to the attraction once was unfortunate; twice looked like carelessness. The encounter encompassed many ramifications. Not just because of the satisfying sex; two adults who knew their way around a bedroom should be capable of that much. The neutrality and detachment, of the night before he was re-assigned as Agent Afloat, banished. They would have to talk about it. And communication always meant confrontation - or worse, deliberate deflection leading to disappointment and regret.

Tony was pissed by the military's insistence on transporting him at ungodly hours. And his internal clock was five hours behind local time. He could have skipped the trip into the Navy Yard. There was no urgent need to brief Vance. His report could wait until the next day. He went in, after lunch, simply to see Ziva; he had missed her. Tony had been calling her since arriving back in D.C. - without success. Maybe, because of the situation, she wasn't taking his calls.

"Where's Zee-vah?" He finally asked when she hadn't made an appearance in the bull-pen. Trying to appear casually interested and not like he'd been 'phoning her all day.

"Safe-house; we got a lead in that arms dealing case – a beans and bullets guy willing to testify." McGee was puzzled by Tony's ignorance.

Ziva had been somewhat withdrawn during Tony's trip. The mysterious force which permanently surrounded their interactions was noticeably absent. However, she hadn't seemed excessively out of sorts. His presumption was they must have fixed the rift. And, for the simple reason they were incapable ever of leaving each other alone for any length of time - whether to fight or not – McGee assumed Tony and Ziva would have been in frequent contact. That conclusion supported by the fact Ziva was traced to Somalia, only because Tony was bugged no-one had heard from her. Secretly McGee had viewed the prospect of having to deal with Ziva, on his own, with trepidation. He was relieved at her reserve; they were friends but she did scare him. He wasn't keen on the idea of Ziva being upset about something, if Tony wasn't around to weather and calm the squalls; especially if what she was upset about was Tony.

"So she's at some place Fornell set up." McGee explained. "It's only temporary 'til they sort out jurisdiction, probably hand over tomorrow." Seeing Tony was about to ask more, he carried on. "They only got on site an hour or so ago. The Lance Corporal's still active."

"Alone?" Professional expertise recognizing there should be more than one – even one Ninja – on duty.

"There are a couple of Fornell's guys with them." McGee shook his head.

"Whose brilliant idea was that?" Inter-agency rivalry dictating the FBI support should automatically be regarded as of dubious worth.

"Mine, DiNozzo." Gibbs was right behind him.

"And that's why it's a brilliant idea, Boss." Tony didn't miss a beat.

Gibbs smiled at the typical save, genuinely pleased to see him back.

"Grab your gear. We gotta dead Petty Officer's wife." Not one to waste time or words on effusive welcomes, he merely clapped Tony on the shoulder with a minimalist accolade. "Good work."

They were halfway to the crime scene when Fornell's call came in. Gibbs hailed from the same school of driving as Ziva - without the near suicidal recklessness. For this journey it was a definite plus; the tension in the vehicle was suffocating.

"How many?" Tony succeeded in keeping undue anxiety out of his voice.

"Dozen, heavily armed. Maybe more." Gibbs might have been giving a baseball score.

"Against three? Shit." Tony muttered.

"Well, Ziva's got to be worth at least two extra." McGee, as ever, was trying to be hopeful.

Unfortunately, he concisely expressed Tony's exact fear. Concern boiled over – he even forgot a McNickname.

"Yeah, Tim, and she'll fucking behave like she is, too."

"Tony." Gibbs reprimanded calmly. He wasn't surprised or annoyed by the strength of Tony's reaction. However, Gibbs did want him to focus; hence the rare use of his Christian name. "McGee, can you getta plan of the safe-house on your gizmo?"

McGee was pleased to have something to do. Within seconds, the layout of the small, ranch-style house was on the display.

"She'll be in back." Gibbs knew his team; what made them tick, how they responded to situations. He knew Ziva would do what he would do under those circumstances, and where she would be.

They screeched to a halt, at a crazy angle. The scene was already chaotic. Lights and sirens blazing and blaring against the background noise of gunfire. The attackers were heavily armed and had thrown smoke grenades and flash-bangs into the house. The FBI and others were already there in force. Tony didn't even wait for the car to stop moving fully before he was sprinting across the lawn, gun drawn.

Ziva could tell from the sounds that reinforcements were indeed outside. And not a moment too soon; she was, as Gibbs had predicted, holed up in a small back room with their witness. She was out of ammunition – the next wave would have to be repelled physically. She had considered exiting through the one window to the room, before discounting it as too risky without knowing who was where.

Neely was a small, weaselly man; who had spent most of the time whining and justifying his activities. Earlier, Ziva wondered if she could get away with knocking him unconscious – certainly against protocols and he was the type likely to lodge a formal complaint. Still, in her current frame of mind, the idea became more appealing as the hours crawled past.

The first two through the door carelessly underestimated the slight woman they encountered. Grabbing one guy's outstretched weapon, a strike at the other's face before crashing him into his comrade against the corner of the wall. A swift, efficient blow to their heads with the gun – now in her possession – effectively disabled both of them. At that moment, Neely chose to emerge from his hiding place; momentarily distracting her.

"No…."

Ziva's instruction was cut off as the firearm was knocked from her hand. She was able to recover sufficiently to launch one vicious kick, knocking her assailant off- balance before another man entered the room, aiming a gun. For the second time, Pierce and O'Brien came face-to-face with Ziva – and this time, there was no element of surprise. Unknown to anyone, Neely's pursuers needed to take him alive. He had been smart enough to siphon off funds and incriminating paperwork as an insurance policy. Unfortunately, also stupid enough to believe his former accomplices wouldn't kill him once in possession of the missing money and documents. Neely held his hands up, smiling obsequiously and obeyed Pierce's gesture to approach. Holding his ribcage where Ziva's kick had connected, O'Brien stared at her and pulled out a knife. He was going to enjoy this.

Tony and Agent Sacks eased through the door and Pierce felt the barrel of Tony's Sig. press into the back of his head. With an outrageous grin, he glanced across at O'Brien.

"Looks like you brought a knife to a gunfight." In his best Sean Connery voice; three out of the five people in the room looked at Tony in utter disbelief. Including O'Brien – the only reason Pierce didn't was because he daren't risk turning his head.

"Oh come on; 'The Untouchables'?" Tony complained – as equally disbelieving as his audience.

Ziva was the only one unperturbed by his movie homage. She merely smiled at him – a spontaneous mix of surprise and genuinely delighted affection flickering across her face – and made the understatement of the night.

"You are here." Then she turned her attention back to O'Brien. "You touched me again." It was said with disturbing aplomb as she relieved him of the knife.

The big man visibly blanched and took a step back, as she moved toward him - before changing direction at the last minute. She pushed past him with a contemptuous toss of her head. As Sacks cuffed O'Brien, he formed two conclusions. First, the rumors concerning Tony and Ziva may well be true – based on the buzz when they saw each other. Second, he was glad Ziva wasn't his type – based on the instantaneous switch from pleasure at seeing Tony, to ruthless menace when she looked at O'Brien.