Disclaimer in the first chapter, but for the record, all I own is my overactive imagination.

As much as I would like to promise such a speedy posting every chapter, don't get your hopes up. I am currently on NCIS withdrawl until September, and will be posting as regularily as possible, but time has a way of getting away from me during the summer. All the reviews certainly helped to light the fire under my chair; thanks everyone!

Her Mission, His Mistake

Tony caught up to Ziva in the elevator on her way down to Abby's lab. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, each exchanging clandestine glances when they assumed the other wasn't looking. Ziva sighed heavily and flipped the switch, stopping the elevator with an audible thump.

"What, Tony?"

"What?" Tony shot her a bewildered glare and Ziva bit back the urge to smack him across the head.

"You look like someone bit your cat."

"No one kicked my cat, Ziva, if that's what you're asking." Tony couldn't help but react defensively to the aggressive tone in her voice. He reached forward to flip the switch back, annoyed with his partner and positively exhausted, but Ziva's hand covered his.

They stood there for a moment, both of their hands resting on top of the switch, both craving human comfort more than they were willing to admit.

Ziva was too proud to admit to anyone, especially Tony, that she was terrified. Going undercover may be her responsibility, but she wasn't stupid enough to not see the risks.

Tony didn't want her to infiltrate the terrorist cell, didn't want to picture her cozying up to Jamal, and that fact alone angered him more than the mission itself. She was his partner. He was supposed to be concerned for her safety, of course, but he wasn't supposed to feel nauseated at the thought of Ziva and the blue eyed man.

"I don't like it, Ziva. There's too much room for error." The tension between them crackled like tinder, and for a minute there Ziva was positive Tony was leaning forward.

"I do not make many mistakes, Tony." Ziva winced at the timbre of her voice. If he would just take a step backwards, then she could compose herself. But she was tired and scared and completely wrapped up in keeping those emotions under control, and a sudden rush of libido was out of her realm.

"It only takes one."

"Well, that is what you are there for, DiNozzo. To watch."

"To watch." Tony echoed. He'd been watching when Kate died, too, but a lot of good that did. Somehow just 'watching' didn't make him feel better at all.

He hesitated for a second, his hand tightening on hers ever so slightly, but the added pressure flipped the switch and the elevator roared to life. Tony withdrew his hand first, and Ziva sighed softly as she rocked back on her heels and shied away from the door. He was her partner; he was supposed to worry about her, and she was supposed to know that he had her back. So why was she picturing him in so many other positions?

"There you are." Abby's voice sounded painfully chipper to Ziva's ears, but she smiled at her friend anyhow.

"Did the Director call down here, Abby?" Tony asked, coming to flank Abby and her computer. She took a slurp from her Caf-Pow and nodded her head, sending pigtails rotating like mini helicopters.

"Two French ID's, as ordered." Abby passed the photo ID's and passports to Tony and Ziva, also handing them two new cell phones. "Each is bought and paid for under the names on those ID's, as are two apartments in France just incase Jamal gets curious."

"Jean Bonswa?" Tony rolled the French name around on his tongue. Of course he had to go undercover as a Frenchie. He didn't speak a word of French. Ziva did, of course, but Tony imagined she spoke just about any language.

"In Cairo I was undercover as Madeline Vonsewi, a Parisian prostitute hired by a wealthy Frenchman to keep him occupied while he traveled." Ziva and Abby exchanged slight grins, and Ziva wrinkled her nose ever so subtly. "It worked for me before."

"So I'm the wealthy Frenchie this time around?"

"So it would seem." Ziva took a seat in the chair Abby pointed to, bracing herself for the onslaught of makeup coming her way. She barely tolerated the stuff when it was of her own accord, but, as one can imagine, prostitutes tend to use shelves full of makeup every week. Just one more aspect of this case she was going to hate. It had taken her weeks to work the eyeliner off last time.

"What happened to the last guy?"

"Jamal shot him. Through and through in the forehead." Ziva's voice was strained, her face unnaturally stiff as Abby brushed powder across the assassin's cheeks. Kora had been her friend, and Ziva felt responsible for his death. He'd known her growing up, both their fathers rising in the ranks together, and he hadn't liked her position in the mission. According to Jamal, he had protested sharing too much for the South African's taste. Ziva couldn't imagine Tony being much more forthcoming once she was enmeshed in her role, and that raised a whole new level of fear.

"Of course he did." Tony's was beginning to look a little green around the edges.

"We never said this was going to be easy, DiNozzo." Gibbs remarked in his usual fashion as he walked through the door. "Abs, how long before we can send them to South Africa?"

"Two hours tops if someone can get the right clothes in here, Gibbs. I can find some for Ziva but I don't have any French suits at home."

"TMI, Abby. McGee will be down with the clothes within the hour. I want them ready to go as soon as he arrives."

"You're sending McGoo to shop for clothes for a prostitute?" Tony smiled widely at the idea. "Do you think that's a good idea?" Gibbs fixed him with a silent glare before turning around and heading towards the elevator.

"Of course you do, Boss, or you wouldn't have sent him. I just meant—"

"He's gone, Tony." Abby looked up from the stack of makeup before her to flash Tony a sympathetic smile. "Here." She tossed him a file folder. "Go get acquainted with Jean while I take our Mossad officer and turn her into someone who'd make Ducky blush."

"I could help, you know." Tony offered, but Ziva's withering glare shut his mouth on impact. "On second thought, I will just go learn my cover."

When Tony poked his head into the lab twenty minutes later it took an act of God to keep his jaw fused shut. His eyes were nearly popping out of his head, but he was too shocked to utter the typical DiNozzo wolf whistle.

Prostitution agreed with Ziva. Her hair had been teased and coffered until it fell around her shoulders in ringlets, larger and taller than before, and certainly more polished. Her skirt was three inches shorter than even he was used to seeing, and her shirt, if he could even call it a shirt, was a pale silver and nearly transparent. He knew she was watching him as he stared, but Tony couldn't even pretend to care. It was Ziva, but yet, at the same time, she was an entirely different person. To Tony's dismay, as he took in everything the outfit didn't leave to his imagination, he found himself more jealous than anything else. Insanely, irrationally, jealous of the man who had managed to take Ziva David and turn her into every man's wet dream.

"We should send McGee shopping more often." Tony stated as he walked into the room, his eyes never leaving Ziva. She looked so entirely different; he was Tony, after all, so it wasn't as if he hadn't noticed she was beautiful before. But she looked so…vulnerable, so utterly human, Tony felt an entirely new rush of emotion. She was Ziva and she was a super ninja, but she was still a woman about to put herself in a compromising position that would make anyone squirm.

"You don't have to do this, you know." Tony said softly as he helped her off the stool. Ziva's eyes met his, and he saw the emotion swimming there. But, like she always did, Ziva closed the emotional door and pretended as if she was perfectly fine.

"Yes, Tony, I do." He nodded his head and accepted the suit from Abby without another word. "Alright, then, I'm in too. In for a dollar, in for a dime, right?"

Ziva watched Tony as he left the lab, and smiled lightly when she felt Abby squeeze her hand. There were so many emotions running through her head, so many conflicting feelings, she wasn't sure how she was going to survive a 23 hour flight. 23 hours of thinking time was the last thing she needed right now.

America had made her soft. Ziva David the Mossad officer would not be worrying about what lengths she'd have to meet to preserve her cover, she would have already accepted them without thought. Ziva David the Mossad officer would not be worried about anyone else's survival besides her own. Ziva David the Mossad officer would not be scared, and certainly not scared of belittling herself in the eyes of a man. But Ziva David the NCIS liaison was terrified that, after it all, after she had done her duty, Tony would look at her like the rest of her team had back in Ciaro. As if, because of her cover, because of Jamal, she was tainted. Different.

"Ready? The chopper is waiting." Gibbs and Director Shepard hovered in the door way, and Ziva felt Tony as he moved to stand beside her. "The pilot is going to take you to France so you can board a French NCIS helicopter, which will then take you to Johannesburg."

"We're on our way." Ziva gave Abby an awkward hug, more because the gothic scientist was tearing than because she herself wanted one, and exited the lab. Jenny grabbed Ziva's arm as she passed, whispering softly in her ear not as a Director but as a former teammate.

"Be careful, Ziva. Don't do anything you may not return from."

"If I don't, Director, I won't be doing my job." Ziva patted Jenny's arm and entered the elevator without looking over her shoulder. Jenny laid a hand on Tony's shoulder as he passed, lowering her voice to speak to him directly as well.

"Keep an eye on her. She has a habit to over extend herself, and I want her back in one piece. Watch out for her."

Tony nodded, his eyes never leaving Ziva. She stood there, her posture screaming confidence, but her chin was facing the floor and his trained eye could detect a tremor in her shoulders. She'd never admit it, but maybe she needed him, too.

"Nothing will happen to her on my watch, Director. You can count on it."

Could that possibly be (gasp) foreshadowing?