DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

Chapter 1: The Mission

"Has anybody found Ziva yet?" Gibbs demanded as he slammed down the phone once more.

"No, sir," both Tony and McGee said in unison.

"Stop looking, Agent Gibbs," came Jenny's heavy voice as she descended the stairs from the second floor. "You won't find her." She set down a folder on his desk and looked around at the lonely team of men. "Mossad didn't renew her work visa. Ziva is halfway to Tel Aviv by now. I just got the e-mail," she added warningly when Gibbs opened his mouth to blast her for not telling him earlier.

Tony stared at Jenny, dumbfounded. Gone? As in forever? Subtly, he slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket, where her badge, cell phone and her necklace still weighed heavily against him. Feeling around, he pressed the star into his palm, already missing those nights where that star would dangle tantalizingly above him, the lights in the room reflecting off the tiny diamonds as the dark curls would tumble down around their faces as their lips met, as he lost himself in those dark eyes, as the heat of her body warmed his own and the soft breath would tickle at his ear afterwards, as she lay against him, spent in energy and peaceful in sleep.

"No," Ziva said firmly, pushing the file back at her father from across the desk. "I will not."

"You will, Ziva," her father replied in an equally firm voice. "Because I am –"

"I will not jeopardize my relations with NCIS for you!" Ziva hissed. "Father or not, I will not be controlled like that!"

" – I am the one person in Mossad who can send you back to NCIS," her father continued calmly. "I am the one person who decides how long you stay there." He pulled out a second folder, which was clearly labelled Ziva: Visa Extension 2007. He opened it up, letting her see the contract term. "Five years, Ziva. I am prepared to leave you there for five years." Pausing, he pulled out the third file, also labelled Ziva: Washington 2006. "That is a long time to be with your American lover, Ziva, yes?" He set out the pictures that Michael had shown her all those months ago. He took out a third file, labelled Ziva: Washington 2007, and pulled out still more pictures, these in… closer detail. Photos in such close proximity that the photographer had to have been at her window, even a few that looked as though they were taken by web cams inside the apartment…

Damn him for holding NCIS and Tony over her head… "But in order for me to return," she said angrily, feeling incredibly violated as she realized just how far her father had gone to keep tabs on her. "I must ignore every moral, every rule of ethic I have learnt."

"Ziva, you are metsada, you cannot be burdened with morals and ethics," her father scorned. He closed the photo files and the visa file, holding them above the shredder threateningly. "Perhaps returning you to Washington would not be wise. Better perhaps to keep you in Tel Aviv, where you will not be distracted by such things…"

Damn him. Ziva had never hated her father as much as she did at that moment.

"Yes, I will take your assignment," she spat out bitterly. "On condition that I am not identified in any way, shape or form in the records. When I return to Washington, you will not have your men spying on me. At no point in those five years are you to recall me or withdraw my visa. You leave me alone. At the end of those five years, you will not blackmail me into another renewal. If I wish to return to Tel Aviv then, I will. If I wish to remain in America, you will sign the visa extension to be for an undetermined length of time."

"I am glad you see it my way, Ziva," he said with a triumphant smirk. He pushed the file back at her. "You are dismissed. Officer Ariel will be joining you shortly to brief you on your mission."

"I hate you," Ziva said darkly, taking the file angrily and stalking out. Benyamin waited until she was well and truly gone before taking the first set of photos out of the file and shredding them, leaving the newest shots in pristine condition in the filing drawer. Once done, he opened the visa file. He looked at the document for a moment. Then, taking it out, he fed every sheet individually through the shredder.

Ziva blinked rapidly to keep back the tears of frustration as she read over the dossier.

Target name: Lance Corporal Ashley James, USMC.

Citizenship: American

Age and physical description: 32-year-old male, military records indicate 6'3" and 200 lbs. Blonde hair, fair, green eyes. Burn scar from an IED prominent on the right cheek.

Family situation: Parents William and Anne James reside in Washington State. LC James is married 7 years to Rachel Iacocca-James, 31, and father of two – Ripley, 5, and Camren, 2.

Location: Baghdad, Iraq.

Wanted for: Cooperation with terrorist forces in several Middle Eastern countries, including Israel, Jordan, Syria, Gaza, Egypt.

To take note of: LC James is serving with Corps Unit 5294 and is well-known by American public as a hero. Take care not to make him a martyr for his country or his cause.

Sanctioned by: Deputy Director Benyamin David, Mossad Tel Aviv.

When had she become a slaughterer of men? It had been easier to ignore that this young man, barely older than herself, was a son, a husband, a father, when he wasn't a man but a terrorist. Not a person but a traitor.

Sighing in resignation, Ziva turned the page over and began to read the second file.

Target name: Officer Shiloh Sharon, Mossad-Komemuite.

Citizenship: Israeli

Age and physical description: 45-year-old male, black hair and brown eyes. Missing left hand from wrist to fingertips.

Family situation: No known family.

Location: Baghdad, Iraq.

Wanted for: Sales of top-secret Mossad operations to Al Qaeda, failing or refusing to execute direct orders and missions.

To take note of: You MUST terminate Officer Sharon at the same time as LC James. Make the scene tell story of a gunfight between Officer Sharon and LC James for credit for alerting Baghdad Al Qaeda cells to USMC/Mossad searches.

Sanctioned by: Deputy Director Benyamin David, Mossad Tel Aviv.

"Officer David, I take it?" the man asked as he looked up from his newspaper.

"Officer Sharon," Ziva greeted, sitting down.

"You took this mission knowing that you're destroying the chance of returning to your American agency?" Shiloh asked interestedly.

"I didn't have much of a choice in the matter, Officer Sharon," she replied darkly. She looked up only briefly when the unit leader, Officer Chaim Ariel, entered.

"Shalom, Ziva, it's good to see you again," he greeted.

"I wish I could say the same, Chaim," Ziva returned. "Can we get this over with so I can return to my post?"

"The drop will be at Baghdad International Airport," Chaim said, taking a seat across from Ziva. "The safe house and its documents are located about a mile outside of Baghdad, ten miles from the USMC base. Your motorcycle is parked at the far west end of the airport parking lot. Blend in with the local population." He tossed a bag of clothes at each of them.

"You must be kidding," Shiloh said in disbelief. "I am not dressing as any damn Arab."

"Officer Sharon, do not make me tell you again," Chaim said warningly.

"No. I will not."

Ziva watched the argument in silence as she pulled the robes on over her clothes, carefully winding the veil around her head and face, wrapping the cloak around her shoulders. She could see why her father wanted Shiloh gone – the man was already insufferable. How he had passed the Komemuite selection process was beyond her understanding.

"Chaim," she spoke up calmly, pulling down the section of veil that covered her face, "if Officer Sharon will not cooperate, the mission should be discarded completely. I am not stranding myself alone in an Arab country."

"Officer Sharon, need I remind you of the deputy director's ultimatum if you refuse a direct order once more?" Chaim asked in a low voice.

"No, Officer Ariel," Shiloh replied darkly, yanking the robes over his head.

"I hate riding these motorcycles in robes," Ziva muttered under her breath as she swung herself up onto the passenger seat.

"I hate being forced to dress and behave as an Arab," Shiloh returned curtly.

"I hate you already," Ziva said tersely.

"The deputy director believes the Americans have softened you," Shiloh commented, shedding the robes the second they had entered the safe house. "This mission is your test, Officer David."

"Hmm," Ziva said, unwinding her headdress.

"How do you intend to escape identification by the Americans?" Shiloh asked, opening cupboards and drawers to take inventory of what was supplied. "They will realize it was you, and they will never open their agency to you again."

"I have reached a compromise with the deputy director," Ziva replied coolly, heading down the hallway to the bedrooms, leaving her headdress draped around her neck. Correction – bedroom, there was only one. "Oh, good God, I'm sleeping on the sofa," she groaned once she saw the state of the room.

"Let's get this over with, can we?" Shiloh said. "I don't like you. You don't like me. We're stuck here together. You stay out of my way; I'll stay out of yours. We'll rendezvous to kill the target; we get out and go our separate ways. You go back to your precious America if they'll allow you back and I go back to Israel. End of story."

"Sounds good to me," Ziva said tersely.

"Hey, I have a personnel issue," Gibbs said at Jenny as he dropped into the seat next to her in MTAC. "You know anything about that?"

"Officer Akiva has been sent to replace Officer David as liaison," Jenny replied quietly.

"I don't want any damn Mossad probie who couldn't hack it in the field," Gibbs said tersely. "I want Ziva, and I want her now."

"Well, you're not getting Ziva, Jethro, Mossad needs her in Tel Aviv. Aliza is young. She just needs some training. Deputy Director David thought that Aliza would be better suited to a liaison position."

"Meaning she'd kill his officers in the field in Israel, so he'll pack her off to NCIS so she can kill ours with her incompetence."

"I seem to remember you flipping out about Ziva like this, too, Jethro," Jen reprimanded gently. "I believe you used the phrases 'almost killed my agents' and 'obviously has no law-enforcement or investigative experience.'"

"Yeah, well, at least Ziva knew how to handle a gun and speak English." When Jen looked at him with a frown, he continued, "Yeah, you got a duped a good one, Jen. She doesn't speak English. She's not carrying, gun or knife. I'm not entirely convinced that she's out of high school. She's a pacifier, Jen. We've been whining for two weeks and they shoved her our way, hoping to get us to shut up about Ziva. I want Ziva now."

"I'll speak to Mossad today about Officer Akiva, Agent Gibbs," Jen replied, her voice turning into its director tone. "Officer David has already been sent on a mission for Mossad. We are not getting her back."

"Hey, you, out," Gibbs said sternly as he got down to the bullpen to find Aliza sitting at Ziva's desk. She looked up, confusion in her eyes. Sighing in undisguised irritation, he yanked her up from the chair by the arm and pulled her down to the fifth desk. "This is your desk. That desk," he continued, jabbing a finger at the now-empty desk, "is Ziva's. Got it?"

Aliza nodded silently.