Thank you for all the follows / reviews for the last chapter! Glad I've got you all intrigued :). The next few chapters will take us chronologically through those three weeks in between Gibbs leaving DC and ending up in a basement in Gaza, and I promise all will be revealed - but slowly!

Enjoy x

Tel Aviv, Israel, 8 November 2002

'Stay here'.

Gibbs reached out and hooked his arm securely around Ziva's waist to prevent her from rolling out of bed, and she gave a small squeal as he pulled her backwards towards the pillows that had somehow ended up against his stomach rather than underneath her head.

'Stop!'

She was laughing as she turned over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows, and poked him in the shoulder.

'We need to get up, Jethro, otherwise we will be late'.

Gibbs reached over to the bedside table for his watch, squinting at it while he moved his other hand up from Ziva's waist to run it through the dark curls that reached halfway down her back.

Ten minutes past two - in the afternoon.

Although, now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure whether he had changed it to Israeli time or not.

'That right?'

Ziva glanced at the watch and nodded, her brown eyes sparkling as she moved the pillows out of the way and lazily traced her index finger up and down his chest.

'Which means that we have been in this bed for approximately seventeen hours'.

Gibbs thought about it for a moment, and then chuckled as he realised she was right.

'Shocking'.

'It is', Ziva agreed, pushing herself up to a sitting position. 'So. Considering that this is your first afternoon in your new apartment, would you like the first shower?'

He shook his head.

'You go'. A smile tugged at his lips as he indicated the en-suite. 'I'll watch you'.

His comment earned him another poke, but she was grinning as she obliged by getting up and slowly walking around the bed to the small bathroom. Her body was every bit as sculpted and smooth and perfectly curved as he remembered and, although he had not really intended to stay in bed and watch her in the shower, he found that he couldn't take his eyes off her as she switched on the water and stepped under the hot spray. She really was beautiful. And he was finally here, with her.

Part of him still couldn't quite believe it.

The flight the previous day had been long, but uneventful, and he had landed on time at four-fifteen in the afternoon. Paperwork, passport control, customs, baggage reclaim...all of it had passed in a blur, until he had emerged into the arrivals area and had seen her waiting for him. That part had been very clear indeed.

He could still picture her amused expression as she had caught sight of his one suitcase.

'Are you not planning on staying long?'

'Just travelling light'.

She had driven them back here, in terrifying style, to the place that he would be calling home for the next few weeks. It was a small apartment that Mossad either rented or owned - he wasn't sure which - in the southern Florentine neighbourhood, fairly quiet but, Ziva had assured him, central for most things and very safe. And - most importantly - close to her own home, just a ten minute walk away.

The apartment itself was on the second floor of a detached house, with no one currently living on the floor below, and was fully furnished. Plain, but modern and clean. From what he had seen of things so far, it seemed nice enough...but admittedly, he had not seen very much. Just the hallway, which had laminate wood floors and cream painted walls, and where his suitcase was still sitting after having been abandoned as soon as Ziva had closed the front door behind them, and the kitchen, with fitted appliances and a round table that was just about big enough for two to sit round with a pizza box.

And the bedroom.

Leaning back against the pillows, he smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, listening to the sound of running water and thinking about the evening that he had dreamt up on the plane, the evening that he had planned for them to have last night. Unpacking, dinner out, hours of talking and touching and kissing...well, it had sounded nice, but he should have known that it was wildly optimistic. After three weeks apart, they had not been able to keep their hands off each other. But, as Ziva had pointed out in the hallway, there would be plenty more evenings for talking and meals out. And after she had demonstrated exactly what she wanted to do instead, he had agreed with her.

'Your turn'.

He opened his eyes again to see her leaning against the bathroom door, smiling at him. The towel that was wrapped around her body left little to the imagination, and the droplets of water that were still on her tanned skin glistened in the afternoon light that was creeping in around the blinds. Caught for a moment, he could only look at her in wonder, suddenly amazed that someone like her could have chosen someone like him. Amazed at how exciting he found her, and yet how comfortable at the same time. And amazed at how, despite spending more time apart than together, they had instantly slipped into a sexy, relaxed way of just being with each other that made him forget that he was five thousand miles away from home.

It made him feel like he was home.

Her smile widened as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stepped over to her. His arousal after watching her in the shower was obvious, and as he lowered his mouth to hers, he felt her hips nudge gently against him, teasing him again as she responded to his kiss.

'We are really going to be late'.

'Umm-hmm'.

He murmured his reply as he pulled back from her lips and kissed his way down her jaw, his hands hovering at the top of the towel as she arched further towards him.

'Need to stop at yours for anything?'

The only immediate answer he got to his question was a quiet gasp as he lowered his mouth still further and kissed his way along the top of the towel where his hands had just been, but he sensed her shaking her head.

'No, I...I brought some things over here the other day. When I came to check on the house'.

He smiled against her skin. He didn't let on that he had already looked in the closet and seen the small pile of clean clothes and toiletries that Ziva had left there, precisely so that she would not have to go back to her own apartment for anything.

'Really?' He let his hand wander down to her hip, and felt a surge of heat rush through him when she moaned softly at the touch.

'I thought it best to, uh...be prepared'.

'Girl guide?'

'Army cadets'.

That figured.

'And it is just as well'. He felt her hand over his, firmly taking it off her waist, and he reluctantly lifted his lips from the top of her breast as she made a visible effort to pull herself together. 'Since we have managed to stay in bed all morning and we now have exactly forty minutes to get there'.

'Okay, okay'. He chuckled and moved around her towards the bathroom. She was right. Although he wasn't officially starting work for another couple of days, they had arranged to call into the Mossad offices where the new team - their new team - was based, in order for him to meet the other members and get his bearings a bit. He would also need to sort out some paperwork and pick up his ID cards, and it really wouldn't look good if they were late.

But, he thought wryly as he switched the shower back on, tardiness was not likely to be an issue.

Not with Ziva driving.

Thirty five minutes later, his assessment proved correct when Ziva pulled up at the side of a busy street in central Tel Aviv, and indicated left to turn into an underground car park entrance. Pulling an ID card out of her jacket pocket, she swiped it at the barrier to gain access before swinging hard right and round into an empty space.

'I will get you one of these today as well, for car parking access'.

'No need'.

Gibbs had no intention of ever driving anywhere in Israel if he could help it. He honestly wasn't sure what was worse - Ziva's driving or the driving of everyone else on the road - and he didn't think he had ever seen so many red lights jumped, corners cut and pedestrian crossings ignored. Not to mention the horns. The taxi drivers in particular seemed to lean on them constantly.

'What do they do if the horn doesn't work?''

She laughed as she switched off the engine.

'Get it fixed. It is as important as the brakes'.

He got out of the car with her, wondering where exactly they were going. There had not been anywhere outside that looked like it might belong to Mossad, although there had been a few anonymous office blocks in amongst the cafes and shops. Ziva led him out of the car park and back over the street, dodging the traffic, to the middle one in a group of high-rise buildings with one way glass in the windows.

'We like to keep a low profile'.

Gibbs just nodded. His Hebrew still wasn't great, but even he had been able to tell that the shiny plaque outside the block that they were entering did not say 'Mossad', and Ziva answered his unspoken question.

'Life assurance'.

Nice.

She waited until they were inside before she spoke again.

'Mossad has all three of the office blocks on this side of the street, this one and the ones either side'. She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. 'The one on the right is the Office of the Prime Minister - our parent agency. The one on the left is a law firm'.

'Right'.

Gibbs supposed that he should have expected something like this. It was a not-so-secret secret that Mossad had their headquarters in the middle of the city, although the exact address was the subject of much speculation and rumour, and it was logical that security would be their first consideration. He didn't think that, even in Israel, there would be many other life assurance companies that had quite so many armed guards and security scanners just inside the entrance. The set-up was very different to NCIS.

Just how different soon became apparent when he had to navigate the hurdles of human resources, paperwork and ID cards. He remembered when he had first joined NCIS, and he had spent an entire afternoon down in the bowels of the building, signing one bit of meaningless paper after another and taking three goes to get his ID card photo right. Maybe it was because he was a liaison rather than a new agent - but everything was waiting for him, ready for him to collect and sign for. He was done in less than half an hour.

'Nice photo'. Ziva smirked as she caught sight of his ID card. 'So. Coffee or...down to business?'

'Business'.

'Good answer. The coffee is disgusting. I usually go out, there is a very good cafe just around the corner'.

Gibbs smiled as she led him towards the elevator. Even though she was trying not to show it too much, he could tell that she was proud to have him there. The promotion to joint team leader for the new counter-terrorism unit had meant a lot to her, much more than it had him. He had also known - and appreciated - the fact that she had a great deal of respect for him as an agent, just as he did her. Now, he realised for the first time just how glad she was, on a professional level, that he had chosen to work alongside her.

He just had one question.

'The other agents. They know about us?'

Ziva nudged him off the elevator before answering.

'They know. You will find that gossip travels fast'. She smiled up at him briefly. 'But they also know that we will keep it professional'.

He nodded. That was fine. He hadn't really expected anything different.

'In here'.

Ziva pushed open a door at the end of the third-floor corridor, and Gibbs stepped in after her. As far as he was concerned, the mere fact that they had not been relegated to the basement was a good start, considering that the team was new, very small, and essentially on probation. And, as he looked around him, he saw that the office was even a decent size. Five desks, a printer station, several filing cabinets and something that looked suspiciously like a mini-fridge all fitted in comfortably with room to spare. A single computer sat on each desk, and he noted the silver apple motif on the back of the monitors. He had not used a Mac before.

Something else to get used to.

'Shalom. You must be Agent Gibbs'.

Gibbs took the outstretched hand and nodded, taking in the tall, dark agent in front of him. The accent was not too heavy, the grip firm, the face open in a friendly, confident smile. A good looking man - and aware of the fact.

'Gibbs, this is Officer Malachai Ben-Gidon'.

So it was Gibbs at work, Jethro at home. It made the distinction easy, at least.

'And Officer Binyamin Azar'.

A shorter man stood up and reached over from behind the nearest desk to shake Gibbs's hand. He looked younger than Malachai and was stockier, with a completely bald head and startlingly blue eyes.

'Ben'. He grinned at Gibbs. 'Binyamin is too much of a mouthful. Even my mother struggles when she's trying to get it out in a temper'.

Gibbs returned the smile, wondering as he did so where Ben had learnt his English. His accent was barely noticeable.

Ziva seemed to read his mind.

'Ben went to university in America'.

The officer nodded, slightly shyly.

'MIT'.

'So anything to do with that...' Malachai indicated the computer on the nearest desk. 'He deals with it'.

'We have been setting up the systems and databases we will be using - or rather, Ben has'. Ziva corrected herself. 'Malachai and I have been watching and supposedly learning. But you have not missed very much'.

'And the reason you haven't missed very much is because the tech people still have not got their act together to get us connected to the intranet'. Ben looked frustrated. 'Everything external is set up. But none of us can even access internal email from here yet'.

'I will get onto them'.

Gibbs watched as Ben took Ziva through something, some minor change that he had made that day, and he couldn't help feeling a twinge of admiration. Underneath the atmosphere of friendly banter between the three agents, he could tell that the two men had a good deal of respect for Ziva, both as a fellow agent and as their new team leader. It was a good way to start off, and he was impressed with her immediate authority. He was, however, suddenly very aware of the change in his own position. He had been a team leader in his own right for several years. Now, on paper, he was sharing that command with Ziva. In practice, he knew that he would probably be deferring to her on several things until he fully found his feet in a new country and a new working arena.

That might take some getting used to.

'Ben and I were thinking of going for a drink tomorrow if you would like to come along?'

Malachai addressed the question to Gibbs, but with one eye on Ziva, and it was her that answered first.

'How about tonight? Other plans tomorrow'.

His attention drawn away from his own thoughts, Gibbs raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked at Ziva. Tomorrow was Friday. Shabbat. And it was the first he had heard of any plans, but Malachai just nodded.

'Sure'.

After a few minutes, Malachai and Ben became engaged in a somewhat heated discussion about the finer points of the fingerprint database, and Ziva rolled her eyes in amusement as she beckoned Gibbs over to the desk that would be his. He took the opportunity to speak quietly, for her ears alone.

'That just an excuse to get me to yourself?'

Ziva smiled.

'Unfortunately not'. She looked a bit sheepish as she turned to him. 'I was trying to get out of it - that is why I did not tell you. But it seems I did not say no quickly enough'.

'Say no to what?'

'Shabbat dinner'.

She gave him an apologetic look.

'With my mother'.