Still keeping the whole 2 chapters a day thing going. And updating it earlier because I don't want to discriminate against people in earlier time zones. Like me. So, here you are, British people.

Ziva shifted impatiently on her stool. She wasn't sure why she had come in the first place but, now that she was here, she wanted to get home as quickly as possible. She opened her mouth to ask once more why Abby had brought them all here but a noise from beside her reduced her demand to a quiet groan, her words stillborn.

Tony felt his chest constricting and he wrenched the cigarette from between his chapped lips, spluttering and coughing violently. He banged on his chest with his fist and got up, pushing his stool back. Staggering towards the cracked ceramic sink, his hand fumbled for a glass to fill with water. His clumsy hand knocked a jar onto the floor and it went rolling, clinking and scraping across the stone floor, and ended up at Ziva's foot.

She kicked it away, sending it rolling back towards Tony. He bent over, still coughing viciously, picked it up and thrust it under the spurting tap. He tipped it back and let the water slid into his mouth, grimacing at the metallic taste.

He threw the jar back into the sink and strode back to the table, throwing himself onto his stool. He looked unconcerned by the whole affair. The others stared at him uneasily for, however crooked and unfeeling they had become, there was still a lingering notion of protecting their own.

'This is why you shouldn't smoke,' Abby said, breaking the silence at last. 'It makes you ill.'

Tony scowled. 'I'm not ill,' he barked. 'I'm fine.'

Abby raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

'Why did you start anyway?' The intrusive question was posed by McGee, blurted out in a moment of unthinking interest.

Tony's eyes flashed. 'That's none of your business,' he snapped. 'What are we doing here anyway?'

Ziva sat up straighter at the last part, finally hoping to get an answer to her question.

Abby tucked her straggly black hair behind her ears. 'I called you all here today,' she announced, feeling rather like the presiding king of a secret organisation, 'because one of us is in trouble.'

Ziva frowned and looked at each of the faces around the table, just to make sure. 'But, we're all here,' she contradicted.

Abby squirmed a little. 'It's Palmer,' she admitted. 'He's in trouble.'

Tony laughed, a grating sound which scraped at their ear drums like a cat clawing a blackboard. 'Palmer? Palmer couldn't get into trouble if he tried.'

Abby sent him a scathing look. 'Well, he has,' she spat. 'His children have been kidnapped.'

McGee leaned forward. 'Why?'

Abby drew a deep breath. 'He took over from Ducky after...' She stopped and glared pointedly at Ziva and Tony, both of whom refused to look suitably chastened. 'So, now, he's the ME at NCIS. It's all related to some case,' she explained vaguely.

'Whatever,' Tony said, completely indifferent. 'This isn't our problem; it's NCIS's job to find them.'

Abby shook her head gravely. 'Jimmy called us because all of NCIS's resources are being thrown at preventing a terrorist attack. The Director put a couple of junior agents on it and called the local police.' She sniffed and rubbed her nose before continuing. 'He and Breena divorced, you see, and she got main custody of the kids.'

She looked around. Tony had lit another cigarette and McGee and Ziva were staring at the edge of the table, stiff and slightly paler than before she had explained. Abby wondered what part of the story had touched a nerve with them.

'So,' she prompted. 'Are we going to help?'

Ziva sighed gloomily. 'I guess,' she muttered.

McGee shrugged. 'Sure. Whatever.'

Tony was the final one left with a question mark next to his name. Abby stared at him expectantly. Eventually, he pulled the cigarette from between his teeth. 'Ok,' he agreed reluctantly, rolling his eyes.

Abby grinned. Twenty-five years ago, she would have clapped her hands and jumped up and down but, as she would most probably break something if she expressed her delight in such a way, she settled for a wide grin.

'He's coming,' she told him as an afterthought. 'Jimmy, I mean. He's coming to lay it all out for us.'

Ziva glanced at her watch. It was a monstrous thing on her arm, with giant easy-to-read numbers. She resisted wearing glasses but her eyesight was slowly letting her down. Rather like Gibbs, she noted. 'How long will this take?' she asked.

Abby frowned. 'He's coming soon,' she answered slowly. 'But I don't know how long it will take us to find his kids.'

Ziva pursed her lips. 'I have a poker group meeting at my house tomorrow,' she said, more to herself than her old friends. 'If I leave at lunch time I can get back for nine.'

'Where do you live?' Tony asked uninterestedly.

She scratched her chin before replying. 'Boston,' she said flatly. She didn't return the question.

Hugging shopping bags to her stomach, Ziva waddled up the path to her front door. She tried to reach for her keys in her pocket without dropping the bags. She failed; the plastic bags tumbled out of her hands and oranges, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes rolled out and escaped into the small square of grass out the front.

She gritted her teeth, determined not to curse, and scrambled around, trying to collect all her groceries.

'Need a hand?' a helpful voice asked.

Ziva looked up. A man was looking over the fence at her and smiling pleasantly. Ziva returned the smile.

'Thank you,' she said, blinking.

He smiled once more and hopped neatly over the fence.

'I used to be on the athletic team at school,' he explained, obviously noticing her surprise at his agility. 'I was a crack at the high jump.'

Ziva smiled. 'I used to be quite athletic myself,' she remarked, not adding that while she was flying through the air, bullets had been whizzing round her head and, when she landed, she would send a few of her own bullets, most of them ending up lodged in someone's skull.

'You've just moved in here, right?'

Ziva nodded. 'Came from Cleveland,' she added after a slight hesitation.

'It's a nice area; I think you'll like it,' he told her.

'I'm Ziva,' she said, proffering her hand.

He shook it, still smiling. 'Nice to meet you, Ziva. I'm Larry.'

'Where are we going to sleep tonight?' McGee asked.

'My doctor would have worms if I slept on the floor,' Ziva chimed in grumpily.

Abby waited for Tony to correct Ziva's idiom. When he didn't, she took over his customary role. 'He would have kittens, Ziva, kittens.'

Ziva shook her head. 'No, he would have ringworms. Every time he gets stressed, he goes to the swimming pool. And he is very susceptible to fungi.'

McGee wrinkled his nose in disgust and repeated his question.

Abby cocked her head to one side. 'I might have passed a hotel on my way in,' she mused uncertainly.

Tony rolled his eyes. 'There is a Days Inn half a mile north, a Travelodge two miles north-east, a...' he recited, his observant eyes still in practise.

Abby held up her hand to cut him off. 'Days Inn sounds fine,' she decided.

Ziva shook her head. 'The service in Days Inn is terrible,' she grumbled. 'I told them that I'd never stay with them again.' She crossed her arms decisively. 'Travelodge is fine,' she added.

Abby sighed. 'Fine, we'll go to Travelodge.'

Ziva smirked, satisfied by the final decision.

Oh, Ziva's married. And not to Tony. It's so odd writing a different married version of Ziva to the Tiva wedding currently going in my other story. Review please?