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Ziva stretched like a cat as the plane came to a stop. Beside her, Abby Scuito yawned widely and opened her eyes.

"We there yet?"

"Yes Abby, we are here." Abby and Ziva had decided to take the much needed break Gibbs was giving them over the Christmas holidays, and go to Tel Aviv. The hot sun beat down on the tarmac as the pair of women got off the plane with the crowd of excited tourists.

"Oh my god! Ziva! This is soooo cool!" Abby squeaked happily, practically deafening those in the immediate vicinity, including Ziva.

"Abby, please be less noisy! We only just got off the plane and my jetspeed is really awful."

"Jet lag Ziva." Abby corrected.

"What else."

"Whatever Ziva, not what else."

"I really don't care Abby."

"Hey you got that right!"

"Abby, can we please just get a taxi and go to the hotel?"

"Sure Miss. Buzzkill. This is my first time in Israel after all." Abby's chatter continued all the way to the hotel, up to the room and into the bathroom as Ziva showered.

"And then I want to see the Holy Sepulchre, and the Wall..."

"Abby, we can't do that today. It's in Jerusalem and that's a four hour drive at least. I really need to sleep."

"Fine." Abby pouted. "I'll go by myself then."

"Ugh. How about this. You go down and tour the shops, and tomorrow morning first thing, we'll take a car over to Jerusalem."

"Deal!"

The door slammed as Abby sped out of the hotel room.

Abby returned a few hours later to find Ziva watching TV.

"Hey Ziva!"

"Hello Abby. How was Tel Aviv?"

"Sooo Cool! I found really nice guy while I was out. We're meeting him for dinner at nine."

"Abby! I can't do that tonight."

"Don't be such a killjoy Ziva. Besides, he's hot!"

"Urgh. Fine. Just this once I'll help you out. Never again though okay?"

"Yay!" Ziva groaned in pain as she was crushed in a massive hug. As Abby ran off to go take a shower, Ziva turned back to her TV show, head still aching from over exposure to Abby.

A few hours later, Ziva followed Abby through the crowded streets of Tel Aviv, past several night clubs and restaurants, until they reached a small cafe looking out onto the Mediterranean.

"Here it is! He should be here any..."

"Miss. Scuito."

Abby gave a little squeak and spun around. A tall man with very short cropped hair stood behind them, his face marked by a small tattoo of an ace of spades.

"Hey Taras! Wassup!" Abby hugged the man around the neck, then shrieked excitedly when the man planted a kiss on her exposed neck. Ziva however, had frozen. Taras. Taras, she remembered that name.

"Come on, we're gonna be late for our reservation." The man smiled easily at Ziva, the smile somehow not reaching his cold grey eyes.

Abby tugged Ziva along, as the trio entered the restaurant. They followed a waiter to a table at the back of the restaurant, looking out on the water, the seagulls flying past the open balcony, keening mournfully.

"Taras Stanislavsky." Ziva jerked upright. The man had offered his hand to Ziva, a quizzical look on his face, and Abby was shooting death glares at Ziva.

"What? Oh, sorry. Ziva David."

"Pleasure." Drinks were ordered. Abby got a Shirley Temple, Ziva a beer, much to Abby's disapproval, and the man ordered a full bottle of vodka. As Ziva half listened to Abby and the man called Taras talking, she searched her mind for where she had last heard the man's name.

"Ziva did you here! Taras says we can stay with him while we're in Tel Aviv! This is so cool!"

"Hmm? Oh yes very nice." Ziva murmured distractedly.

"Something on your mind Miss. David?" Taras asked, his face still in a relaxed smile.

"No, nothing. Excuse me, but have we met before?"

"No, I would remember."

"Of course. Sorry."

The trio finished dinner, and Ziva followed Taras and Abby, who now were walking arm in arm, down the streets of Tel Aviv. They entered a car park, and Abby and Ziva stood together while Taras got his car, a sleek black Mercedes convertible. Ziva smiled as she saw Abby begin to shake in excitement.

"You're okay with staying in the guest room Miss David?" Taras asked.

"Of course."

The house was beautiful. It sat on a cliff overlooking the sea and sunset, four floors rising from the cliffside upwards. Ziva installed herself in a room on the third floor, while a laughing Abby chased by their still smiling host up to the fourth. Ziva took off her shoes and walked out onto the guest room balcony, her hair blowing in the wind from the sea. Above her she heard the muffled sound of a bed shaking, and despite herself, began to laugh.

Hours later, Ziva woke to the sounds of voices outside her room. Padding silently across the floor, Ziva opened her door a crack and peered out. Taras was standing in the hallway, conversing quietly in what sounded like Russian with a monster of a man clad in a dark coat.

"It's not your fucking business who I bring to bed Ivan. Get that through your fucking skull."

"She's a cop you stupid shit! If she finds out who you are..."

Taras lashed out suddenly, his left hand slamming into the large man's nose so hard it made Ziva wince.

"You think I don't fucking know that! Get the fuck out of my house Ivan. Send Leo to take your place." Taras hissed, his face contorted with anger, blood splatter from the other man's bloody nose dripping down Taras's bare chest. THe big man murmured a hasty apology and trundled quickly down the stairs. Taras swore quietly, then turned back to the stairs back up to the fourth floor.

And stared directly into Ziva's eyes.

Ziva never saw someone move so fast so quietly. One second Taras was several feet away, the next he was tackling Ziva to the floor, expertly blocking the Mossad countermeasures to grapples with effortless efficacy. One hand clamped down on Ziva's mouth to prevent her crying out, the other pinned Ziva's arms above her head, while Taras's legs clamped down on Ziva's.

"It isn't polite to eavesdrop Miss. David." Taras whispered, his face cold and impassive. Then it hit Ziva. Taras Stanislavsky, Russian hitman and the only person Ziva had ever seen beat Gibbs in interrogation.

"Remember me Miss. David."

"Oh my god." Ziva whispered. Taras stopped covering her mouth and reached down to his belt. There was a gentle click as a pistol was cocked, and Ziva felt the cold barrel of a silenced pistol pressed up against her forehead.

"There's not god here Mossad. Just me."