"Ziva...it is Ziva isn't it?" She turned and found herself face to face with Michael Sinclair. He held out a cup of coffee which Ziva was only too pleased to take.
"Isn't Ziva an Israeli name?" She nodded and sipped the coffee slowly, trying to put off conversation for as long as possible.
"Israel's a beautiful country," Michael didn't seem to be talking to her but he continued speaking. "I stopped over on my way to Petra in Jordan." Ziva decided to ask a question.
"What is your opinion of the country then?" Michael sighed pensively and chose his words carefully.
"Israel is one of those things that people look over. They know it's there. It's unassuming. But when you give her a chance you find that she's delightful, beautiful and thoroughly enjoyable...easily relatable to you Mrs DiNozzo." Ziva stopped in her tracks and soon he did too.
"You don't know me Mr Sinclair," her voice was definite. He shrugged and looked her in the eyes.
"You aren't denying me." Tears welled up in her eyes and she walked past him.
"Please don't speak to me unless you have to," she said as she passed him.
"I better find Tom and Tali." She strode purposefully into one room, and then the next. There was no sign of them anywhere.
"Ziva." She sighed and turned to face Michael.
"Is this really necessary?" Ziva asked tiredly. He was the one thing stopping Tony from being with her after all. Michael shrugged again; a casual, almost lazy shrug.
"Yes, unless you think that your children's whereabouts aren't a priority..." She walked forward and pulled his cuff down roughly so that they were nearly nose to nose.
"Where are they?" He tried to pull away but Ziva's grip was really strong.
"They're in the reception." Ziva was immediately up and away. As she approached the reception she heard voices; familiar voices. Could it be...? After all there was no one with THOSE black boots...except for HER of course.