It was dark. That was Ziva's first thought as she pulled up near the alley way behind the building that the dinner would be held at tomorrow, the place where she would meet with her father, and killer, tonight. Gibbs had parked a couple blocks back so that there would be no way of Eli to see him, unless he went looking of course. Knowing that Tony and Gibbs were not far behind her made her calm down some, even if the only thing they could do if she was murdered was call Ducky to pick up the body. She did not care. Because despite the protest she had originally made Ziva was quite glad that they had not relented. They couldn't save her, they couldn't help her, they couldn't go to the meet in her place but having them close by did ease the anxiousness. Slightly at least.

She willed her heart beat to slow down and forced herself to breath evenly through the fear. She was a Mossad assassin and had been in situations of which were much worse than they would be tonight. Yet she had never felt more terrified than when she thought of what was happening next.

Ziva had killed many people, when she had been in Israel it was not even something that passed her thoughts, when she would pull the trigger or whatever method she had chosen for that specific target. That was why though, why she did not care when those duties called her to kill, why it was as simple as hitting a button to turn on the TV or as effortless as when she would run. They were targets, not people. It was a mission, not a moment of life or death. After killing Ari and then going to work for NCIS that all changed though. Ari was a target but he was also her brother. Now before each time she pulled the trigger, or takes away the life of another human being, she is reminded that this person is someone's friend, someone's son or daughter, someone's brother or sister, someone's Ari. NCIS taught her to feel, and as she gained the ability to know and understand her own emotions and sentiments she had also become well aware of the feelings of those around her. She had been trained to read people, amongst other things, and whereas before it was a few simple words of what they're state of mind was Ziva had now begun to want to understand it. Worst of it all was when she did.

Now in her life things weren't black and white, right or wrong, good or evil. There were no positive results, no definite outcome. Yes or no's had now become possibilities or maybes. That was life, she had begun to realize. That was how the world worked. There was a way around everything, a right was always there to match someone's wrong. A scapegoat was always available to remove one's shame and the blame that had previously been pressed upon them. It was when these wrongs had become to be accepted as right that Ziva had realized the true difference of how she was raised to see things and how the world actually worked. Lies had become a necessity, in a way where she did not think twice about them. Stealing, whether of the physical attributes or that of an emotional state, did not seem like such an evil. Murder, too easy. These things were too routine, too accepted. Ziva did not realize the guilt that she carried with her, she had felt it at the beginning of her training, as anyone would, but slowly she thought that it faded. Little did she know it only numbed. There was such a thing as a just kill, or a rightful lie however right and wrong cannot be entangled time and time again. Ziva knew she had killed for wrong reasons, taken wrong and walked on with no consequences so mistaking it for right. There were decisions she could never take back, lives she could never restore, broken hearts she could never fix. However she did not want to be the result of another's hurt and misery. Her job had now become that of healing, helping, and saving. She took pride in her job. Those things were her mission.

Her father however still saw things the same way Ziva had only a few years ago. He was the one who had raised her like that and he was the one that kept the consequences away from her so she would do as he asked. He knew she had a conscience so he did what he could to make everything seem like it was a good thing. Director David most certainly did not have a conscience though. Every murder was just, every life that was proven worthless by him must be. So that was how it was. Nothing had changed for him and that was a very good reason to fear tonight.

Ziva took another breath, after all there was no way she could be too calm. She had been trained by Mossad to be capable of hiding her fears and anxiousness. It would make little difference though, her father would be able to tell. He had been the one who trained her.

She stepped out of her Mini-Cooper and was grateful that her eyes had already had time to adjust to the darkness. Otherwise she never would have seen the movement that took place behind her. In one swift movement Michael was on the ground and a woman's size seven combat boot was placed over his neck. She couldn't do anything though, and Michael knew it. She had hoped even with his knowledge she would still be able to see fear in his eyes, even just the slightest, but no such luck existed. He smirked at her, in a way that desperately made her want to apply pressure to the leg she had placed over his throat. "A lot like in Israel," he said quietly and she gave him a confused look. "You on top." Just a slight shift of weight to the inner right side of my left foot and... She made her thoughts drift out and instead settled for taking her foot off of the kill spot and instead placing it at his hand and then, just for a moment that you most likely would have missed if you blinked, applied every last bit of pressure to his hand. Ziva felt prideful as his face twisted in pain but the feeling was wiped as a familiar hand was felt on her shoulder. Strong twist, contortion of the body, a simple flip and then grab the knife secured at my waist...Ziva smiled ruefully as the image passed through her mind. She had not thought about killing or injuring others like this in awhile. Not unless thrown into a life or death situation of course and then it was pure action, no thoughts. However she knew she had made progress from the fact that she manged to resist and keep these things just that, thoughts.

"Is that really necessary, bat?" Eli questions and at first Ziva thinks he has seen her intentions but then remembers that she had just impaired Rivkin on one of his hands...And why. Not only had Ziva not wanted to be reminded of the unfortunate past relationship between her and Michael but now Gibbs, Tony, Abby and McGee all knew as well. Most likely Ducky and Palmer too. There goes that secret.

"Yes."

'I do not believe it was," he responds and she is glad that it took him a second to regain his same tone of voice. He most likely had not expected such a strong and forceful response from her.

"It was either that or a bullet through his head." Truthful. That is what she would be up until whichever on of them it was died. No hiding anything, no watching what she said. A good tongue lashing never hurt anyone, well it very well may but in all honesty she did not think it would nor did she care if it did. "Perhaps one through your's would be better though."

Her aba smiled at her as though she had just given a witty response to that stupid ostrich crossing the rode question. "I suppose Michael's hand will recover."

"I hope not," Ziva replies and is grateful that they had not risked adding an earwig to the wires in fear that her father would discover the extra accessory. She did not want Gibbs or Tony to kill her buzz and force her to be polite. He would not kill for the words she spoke, as long the secret remained intact. It was no longer but he did not know that so it did not make a difference. Ziva shrugged the hand off of her shoulder and begins to make her way to the alley. However a stronger force grabs her wrist and tugs her back to spin her around and face him. The tug was hard, angry, but she finds the face of the same man she saw as a child, the non-upset Aba. Sometimes she liked him, especially when he would praise her. The words of encouragement had been few and far between in her childhood but she treasured each one of them. She hated this face now, she hated every face that he had ever shown her because Ziva David hated him.

"I think a meeting in the car would be better. It is rather chilly out tonight," he says and gestures around corner, in the opposite direction she came in and farther away where Gibbs and Tony were parked.

"I would prefer we speak outside," she tells him hating the idea of being confined with her father and Michael in a car. A car with an engine, one that could unexpectedly drive her away. He would not though. He knew in order for this to work she would have to be at NCIS tomorrow. She would have to put some sort of elegant outfit, which she had no clue as to what would be, for the formal dinner. He knew these things so she should not worry. Of course she did though.

"I would not." Which clearly marked the end of the conversation. Once again Ziva pulled away from his grasp and he smiled wryly before turning and walking in the direction she was to follow. Michael walked behind as though she would actually make a run for it. Her aba was just as smart as she gave him credit for.

Ziva ignored the growing anxiety knowing paranoia was just getting the best of her. Be held hostage once and you're scarred for life, and she had been held hostage more than once. Ziva wondered if this was what Gibbs' gut feelings were like. If they really were this strong then no wonder he trusted them so much. It was like her fight or flight instinct was telling her flight for the first time in her life. It was all because of fear though. Of course she was scared and she hated admitting this fear even to herself. After all it was the man who she knew capable of anything. Specialty: Murder. She also knew his biggest animal peeve though and that was not completing the mission. Her death would be just that. The realization comforted her as did the fact that Gibbs and Tony were around the corner, Abby and McGee at the office keeping an eye on the activity and of course the reliability she had on herself and the four different weapons she had safely strapped to her. Another breath and her heart rate decreased some, easing her mind by dotting the i's and crossing the t's in her thoughts and worries.

They turn the corner and Ziva sees a car very similar to the one she had been in before, different license plate though, and is surprised that her father sits in the backseat. She had imagined her and her father in the front seat with Michael in the back. That must mean either all three of them would be squished together or...Stop Ziva tells herself once again going over the facts. Michael is close behind her as she climbs into the car. However she is surprised to see two more men in the front seat. One at the steering wheel and one with a lap top. She sees the man gliding his hands over the keys with ease.

"You have not been obedient." And then every calming breath, every forced even heart beat, it all disappears as she hears the engine rev in the car she's in. Tires squealing from not far behind and shots ringing out from all directions. Damn it.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Did you expect that? Because up until a few paragraphs before I sure didn't... Sorry it's been so long I meant to have this up a few days ago but I was sick. Hopefully it was okay and I know it's a little short but I do love cliff hangers. The chapter came easily to me so hopefully it reads easily to you. Please review and have a great day :)