Disclaimer in the first chapter, but for the record, I can't even find gas to fill up my car, so I doubt I have the financial means to commandeer NCIS.

I apologize again for the delayed updates—I know exactly where I want this to go, and I am determined to finish it…I just wish my teachers would agree with my game plan a little more often.

Her Mission, His Mistakef

Ziva felt someone watching her through her drefams, the light but constant reminder from the hairs on the back of her neck tickling her from sleep. When she opened her eyes, her hand slowly inching beneath her pillow in search of her emergency knife, Ziva was relieved to see it was only Tony. He was sitting on the bed, looking at her, watching her sleep. There was a slightly frantic expression in his eyes, and the ever quirking corners of his mouth were dejected and worn. Something was wrong, Ziva could just smell it.

"Good morning." Tony said as he saw Ziva's eyelids flicker open. He leaned down and kissed her softly, still amazed he had the ability and the privilege to do so whenever he wished. After so long wanting to kiss her and hold her, Tony still couldn't believe he could. And she wanted him to.

"Mmm. Good morning. Is something wrong?" Ziva pondered, tucking the sheet around her as she sat up in the bed. Tony was already dressed, and from the looks of his hair, showered. In the two weeks they had spent in South Africa, he had never awoken before her.

Tony paused for a moment, not wanting to bring business and the mission into the morning he so desperately wanted to share with Ziva. He knew if he told her why he was awake, why he had already gone through every tactical plan known to mankind over and over in his head, than she would get dressed and scurry over to Jamal's room. And then Jamal would get to kiss her and touch her while Tony was stuck remembering how he just shot himself in the foot.

He kissed her again, half apology and half necessity, soft enough to show his pain but passionate enough to remind him of everything he was going to be missing. Ziva pulled away soon after and stroked his jaw with the corner of her thumb.

"What is wrong, Tony? The mission comes first, remember? I need to know."

"I know. I'm just not ready..." Tony faltered with the words, not quite sure how to tell Ziva that he didn't want to imagine a time in his life where he wouldn't wake up with her on the other side of his bed. It wasn't something he had ever felt before, and certainly nothing he had ever verbalized, so Tony found himself grasping at straws. "I'm not ready to let this go."

Tony's fingers were tracing the light outline of her collarbone as he spoke. Ziva reached forward and placed her hand on top of his on the bed, her eyes meeting his.

"It is time, is it not? Kaman is here?"

"Kaman is here. Jamal already sent a messenger requesting that I join Kaman at a business dinner to discuss the explosives I want to sell. And Jamal wants to see you, too, but that is hardly a surprise." Tony remarked with a harsh laugh, slipping his hand out from under Ziva's to run it through his hair. She began to reach for it, but stopped herself instinctively. If she pushed too hard, she might almost push him away.

Everything was happening too fast. They had just found each other, just learned how much happiness could be found in another's touch, how much safety and love in a place it hadn't been before. Kaman's appearance meant the mission was officially in its climax, and therefore at the peak of its danger. Both of them could die tonight, it was painfully obvious, and either way the mission went they would lose something precious.

Even if they lived, Tony didn't think he'd ever get to hold Ziva like this back in D.C. He wanted to; the ferocity of how much he wanted to scared the former playboy, but Tony was pretty sure Ziva had only succumbed to him because of the thrill of the adventure and the danger of the mission. It was a James Bond situation—once everything subsides, the Bond girls never stick around.

Ziva felt her stomach tumble and roll inside her body as it swallowed her heart. She had been prepared to face Jamal, prepared to help Tony handle Kaman, prepared to get them both out of here as safely as possible. Her fears over the mission didn't hold a candle to her fear over what would happen when they got back to D.C. Ziva had waited so long to be with Tony like this, to feel his arms around her and know that when she woke up in the morning he would be right there beside her. The idea of waking up alone again, of going back to being just partners again, gnawed a hole in her stomach. But he was a player, afraid of commitment and never with one girl for too long, and she knew better than to expect him to change simply because they had had a few good weeks while on a mission.

"I see." Ziva found herself answering. She stood up, the sheet wrapped tightly around her, and headed towards her suitcase. "So it is time for business, then."

"Ziva…" Tony tried helplessly. He wasn't ready to just snap back into business mode. If he was going to fight for his life tonight, he wanted to know he was fighting for her. For them. For their future.

"What?" She snapped, whirling around, trying to hide the tears in her eyes by narrowing her gaze. "What do you want me to say? That I am ready for tonight? I am not, Tony, but that is what I am trained for. That is what we came here for."

"I don't give a shit about the mission, Ziva!" Tony roared, standing up quickly and thundering towards her. His hands gripped her shoulders roughly and his eyes bore down into hers.

"Well than what do you want?"

"You!" he exclaimed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And, to him, it was. "I want you, Ziva. I want us. I want this." He kissed her again, once on her lips and once on her forehead. "I want to know that when we get back to D.C I am still going to wake up with you beside me in the mornings and go to bed with you in my arms at night. I want to know that if I survive this mission I have something to look forward to."

Ziva found herself at a loss for words. Never, not even in her wildest dreams, had she imagines Anthony DiNozzo so willingly giving up his former promiscuity. She hadn't even allowed herself to dream about it, and here he was, offering her everything she had ever wanted on a silver platter.

"That is not going to change, Tony." Ziva answered softly, a thankful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "We do not exist because of this mission…we exist in spite of it. And I am not ready to let this go, either."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up as their lips met, the sheet abandoned, the mission forgotten. All that mattered was the soft mattress underneath his back and the beautiful woman in his arms. Tony and Ziva could death with Armageddon later, but right now, both agents felt like they desperately had to convince the other that nothing was going to change and no one was going anywhere.

Ziva watched from the bed as Tony headed towards the front door, where an armed soldier was waiting to accompany him to his meeting with Kaman Hacksmani. Kaman had arrived while Ziva and Tony were otherwise preoccupied and had requested his meeting with Tony immediately. And Ziva couldn't help but feeling like a nervous girlfriend as she watched him prepare. She knew the danger, and she knew he did, too, but was still scared as hell. Was this what it felt like, being in love?

"Make sure you tell him you can not ship him the explosives today."

"I know, Ziva."

"And speak clearly; there is a bug in every conference room and we need to make sure Jenny and Gibbs have enough to convict him."

"I know, Ziva."

"And keep an eye on the door and watch his hands. Keep one of your hands on the knife you brought at all times."

"I know, Ziva!" Tony tugged hard on the lapels of his jacket and turned to face her, his expression half consoling and half annoyed. "I'm a federal agent. I know what I'm doing."

"I know you do. I am just…"

"Worried? Obsessive?"

"I do not get obsessive!" Ziva exclaimed. Tony quirked one eyebrow and leaned over from the foot of the bed to give her a kiss. "Sure you don't."

There was a harsh knock at the door and a burble of Persian. Ziva shouted back in French, telling the guard Jean Bonswa would be right out.

Tony straightened up after her shout and cracked his knuckles. "I'll be fine. I want you to be careful, too, because when this is all over we are going to have one hell of a celebration. The finest restaurant in D.C, I promise."

"I will hold you to it." Ziva said with a shaky smile, her words struggling to get past the knot in her throat and the trembling in her lips. She was a Mossad agent who had lived through countless missions more dangerous than this, and had yet to cry in the face of any of them. But this was different. This was Tony, and it was out of her control. If something happened to him, chances were she wouldn't know until it was too late.

He was reaching for the doorknob when Ziva flung herself off the bed and wrapped her arms tightly around his back. "Do not dare leave without kissing me goodbye."

Tony smiled as he turned around to face her and wiped the remnants of a tear off her cheek with his thumb. The kissed to remember everything the might be losing, to forget everything they might have to endure to get back to this exact spot, to cement everything they had been through these past few weeks and to make sure the other never forgot how it felt to be loved. Completely and hopelessly loved.

When Tony pulled away, there were tears on his face, and he wasn't sure who they belonged to. He kissed Ziva lightly on the top of her head and quickly shut the door behind him.

Ziva ran a finger over her lips, still tingling from his touch, and paused by the door for a second. She sent a quick prayer up to the heavens for his safety, the first prayer she had made since Tali's death, and she hoped the monumental sacrifice on her part was enough to ensure its safe delivery. She then slipped into a backless red dress for her meeting with Jamal, hoping if she got there soon enough she could get it over with faster and they'd be home free.

Jamal had basically fed her, and the bug, all the useful information he had left. At this point, her job was to keep him distracted so he didn't join the meeting with Kaman and Tony, giving Tony the ability to wheedle his way into a deal and figure out the details of the bomb. Once she had put him to sleep, Ziva was then supposed to finagle the keys to any one of his cars. As soon as Tony was out of the meeting, she would make sure Jamal was out cold and they would jump out the back window of his room and disappear into the garage, an easy escape plan for a much too tumultuous mission.

She was surprised how quiet the room was when she entered. Jamal should be preparing for something, doing one thing or another. The lights were on, and he was sitting comfortably on the couch flipping through a newspaper.

"Why you certainly look comfortable." Ziva remarked with a slow smile. Jamal looked up from his paper when she spoke, and she paused in the doorway, feeling like a bug pinned to the wall under his heavy gaze. This was definitely one part of the mission she would never miss. "Feel like some company?"

"I always want your company, Madeline." He patted his knee and fluffed the pages of his paper. Ziva bit her tongue to keep from rolling her eyes as she walked over towards him. She perched on the end of the couch, her legs brushed up against his as a tactical maneuver more so than anything else.

"You look beautiful tonight, Madeline. Good enough to eat." Ziva was uncomfortably aware of his locked gaze on her too low neckline and just managed to twist out of the way as his hand reached towards the strap on her shoulder.

"Speaking of food, Jamal, I am famished. Do you mind if I duck back into the kitchen and see if there is anything for me to eat?"

"No, not at all." His words were smooth, his tone exactly the same mixture of lust and amusement it had always been, but there was something different about his posture. Ziva could just feel it in the air. As she made a move towards the kitchen he stood, too, and blocked her path. There was a slight smile on his face and Ziva felt her stomach turn. Something was odd.

His hand ran down the length of her back as he made a play for her lips, and Ziva fought the urge to use her teeth instead of her finesse. She was trained for this moment, had been since she was a teenager, and Ziva would be damned if the entire mission was blown because she felt slimy over a little unwanted kissing. She was Mossad, and Ziva liked to think her time in NCIS hadn't changed that.

When Jamal's hand began to work the zipper along the side of her dress, Ziva tried to sideswipe him by taking a step backwards and to the side. Much to her surprise, Jamal just moved with her. Before she knew it, her attempt to avoid him had landed them both on the couch instead. Definitely not the smartest move.

"I have been a patient man, Madeline, but I am tired of waiting for you. I have wanted you since the moment you came back to my camp." He was looking down at her now, the weight and the muscle of him pinning her to the couch. She could move if she wanted to, but it would give her cover away in a second. Madeline the prostitute wasn't capable of the same things as Ziva David.

His lips dipped into her collarbone and Ziva found herself grasping for the mask that had always protected her in the past. Tali, Ari, Mattie. Ziva just had to wrap herself in the pain and the hurt and the revenge and then she could do anything. But as she began to wrap the too familiar threads around her inner psyche, all she could think of was Tony. Tony who wouldn't understand. Tony who was protected by NCIS from situations like this, Tony who couldn't possibly fathom why she had felt this was a necessity. Not now.

"Jamal, I am flattered, really, but surely you must be exaggerating. I am not as special as you may imagine, mon cheri." She smiled at him and lightly but firmly tugged his chin up so she could look him in the eyes. "Could you allow a lady to get a glass of wine first, my dear eager man?"

"You are no lady, Madeline." Jamal said with a smug grin. Still, he eased off her and uncorked the decanter. Ziva felt herself frown. It was too easy. "But I am in no rush. Kaman and your agent friend should be meeting for quite sometime."

Ziva felt her heart stop in her chest as the realization of his last statement hit her straight in the gut. He knew. Jamal knew about Tony. He knew and oh, oh dear god, he knew and there was no way to warn Tony.

"Excuse me?" Ziva scrambled for control as she felt Jamal look at her slyly, hoping to gage her reaction.

"There is no reason to play coy with me, Madeline. I have known Jean Bonswa wasn't who he said he was for weeks now, just as you are not who you say you are. Do you think a man of my position doesn't think to place bugs inside my guest rooms?" Jamal handed a dumbfounded Ziva the glass of wine and took a seat beside her calmly on the couch. As if they were discussing what to serve for dinner.

"I sent my men in 24 hours after your arrival, assuming you had already done a bug sweep and wouldn't be looking again. I was pleasantly surprised by everything I heard." He took a sip from his own glass, and Ziva felt her cheeks burn with anger. He had heard everything between her and Tony, the sex, the declarations of forever. That was private. Jamal had no right.

"So why wait until now? If you have known about Tony and I since the beginning, why have you not done something beforehand?"

"Because that will not get me what I want." Jamal answered simply. "I don't care if your American friends learn about Kaman's plans, and I don't care if he gets incarcerated either. I want you, Madeline, and killing you and your agent friend for espionage would hardly be the best way to go about getting that."

"You did all of this for one night with me?" Ziva asked in disbelief. He had known all along. Who knew if the information Jamal had been feeding her was accurate or not, and who knew if the bugs had sent NCIS on a wild goose chase. He had been playing them the entire time. This mission was going down hill fast.

Jamal laughed, and his blue eyes were hard when the met hers again. "You misunderstand me. I want you, Madeline, forever. Tonight, tomorrow, and the next day. You belong to me now."

"What the hell makes you think I am going to agree to that?" Ziva responded viscerally. Nothing was worth eternity in that man's slimy arms. Nothing. She'd rather die first.

"Because with less effort than I use crushing a cockroach I can have your Tony killed. All it takes is one call to Kaman. A bullet hole through the forehead, perhaps, although I doubt it. Kaman likes to shoot in the heart—it takes longer."

Ziva felt her heart stop now and everything around her ceased to exist. Tony was worth an eternity with Kaman, and the terrible thing was, she felt so much better when she realized she could save him. Tony could get out safe, could go home, and Ziva was the difference between him making that trip in a box or in a chair. The decision was the easiest she had ever had to make.

"If I agree to this, you let him go? Unharmed?"

"Of course. I am a man of my word, and I have no use for your American any longer. As of tomorrow morning, I will wash my hands of him. I will even make it look as if he escaped on his own to preserve his honor. I am not without feelings, Madeline."

"He will notice if I do not go with him, Jamal. He will not leave without me." Ziva was grasping at straws, hoping beyond hope that he would give her a chance to say goodbye to Tony. Before she did this she had to make sure he was alright. She needed to know he was going to be okay.

"I will allow you to say goodbye to your Tony, Madeline, but that is it. I will have a trained sniper on him at all times and if you as much as hint that you are not joining him, then I will have him killed immediately. The last thing I need on the heels of such big preparations is an American federal agency searching for you. I am a fair man, Madeline. Your life in return for his. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal." The word stuck in Ziva's throat and she felt every Mossad instructer she had ever had yelling and berating her for failure. A real agent would resist. A real agent would fight back. But she wasn't just Mossad any longer. She was NCIS now, and rule number one was never to screw over your partner. The chances of Tony escaping unharmed shrank to microscopic size if she as much as squawked and she couldn't take that risk. Tony was her partner, her lover, and quite possibly the love of her life.

If spending a few months with Jamal until she could figure out an escape plan was what it took to guarantee his life, than so be it.

Ziva stood up, running through a million scenarios in her head. She needed to convince Tony, but right now, all she wanted to do was see him. Hold him. Kiss him. Memorize the feel of him.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Ziva turned, halfway to the door. "You told me I could say goodbye."

"And you can. When I say so. But we are not finished here. I want part of my payment now."

Jamal was at her side in a minute, the fingers of his hand stroking her bare back. There was a glint in his eyes she had never seen before, not even during that first mission so long ago, and she knew that this time she wasn't going to avoid him. Ziva had played with his lust for too long, teasing and avoiding until he inevitably was ready to put an end to the games all together.

"What do you mean?"

"Stay with me tonight and I won't call Kaman and have your American killed. I need to know that I am not sacrificing a valuable asset for nothing. I need to make sure my sacrifice is worthwhile. Stay with me tonight, and I will let him live until the morning."

"You made a promise, Jamal." Ziva stammered. How could she face Tony with the stench of Jamal's cologne on her skin, the remnants of his touch on her body? But, then again, she may never see him again if she didn't.

"I promised that I would wash my hands of him tomorrow. But tonight I need to make sure I made the best deal possible. That you are worth everything I am prepared to give up. That you are worth his life."

Jamal knew he had her, and Ziva could see it in his eyes. He knew she couldn't avoid him tonight, and Ziva knew it too. Why was one night with Jamal different then the other nights she had readily signed up for to save Tony's life? Why was sex here different than sex somewhere else?

Because Tony could find out about this time. Because Tony wouldn't understand, couldn't understand, and Ziva couldn't bear the thought of saying goodbye to him with the imprint of another man on her skin. But she couldn't even fathom the idea of his death, so she knew her answer before she even opened her mouth.

Oddly enough, this time, she didn't need a flashbacks of her family to get her through. All she needed was Tony. The thought of him lying in a pool of his own blood, the remembrance of his mouth on her hot skin, the image of his cold vacant eyes. Tony. Tony. Tony.

So I think this was a little more intense than some of the other chapters, but rightfully so. Now, I would really appreciate it if y'all could help me choose. Should Tony find out about her night with Jamal before he leaves, or should they have a romantic goodbye and he learn it all later on?

Lemme know what you think!