A/N: Hey everyone! Today's chapter is extra long, just because. Okay, well, partly because we just passed 200 reviews! Thank you so much! But also because I love you all. This chapter includes a little foreshadow and a little mystery and a whole lot of suggestion. Kind of. Have fun!

It was three AM when she called. Tony hadn't been able to sleep, and instead, found a copy of Moby Dick that McGee had given him his first year at NCIS for Christmas. He had never read it, but he'd seen the movie. Now he was a hundred-fifty pages in, and beginning to realize why Ziva had read so much.

It was the vibrating that startled him. He hadn't heard his home phone ring, so lost within the pages now, but the sudden movement of his cell phone on the glass of his coffee table. He leaned over and picked it up, replacing it with his book.

"DiNozzo," He answered.

"Tony, I've got your results," Abby said. "Figured you'd be awake,"

"What'dya got, Abs?"

"You were right. I found evidence that the blood had been frozen first,"

"Frozen?"

"Yep, like a TV dinner,"

"So she was faking her death," he said, his voice barely audible.

"She's alive, Tony. Just like you thought,"

"I'm coming in," he said, standing and looking around for his shoes.

"No, Tony, don't. You need to sleep, like Gibbs said,"

"Abby, my partner is alive. I thought she was dead and now I know she's alive and she probably needs my help and you guys expect me to sleep?" Tony finally spotted his shoes and scrambled to put them on, nearly tripping over his own feet in his hurry.

"She would understand. She does understand,"

"How do you know?"

"Ziva put you before herself every day she was at NCIS. Even when you were undercover and she knew you were dating someone, she didn't try to stop you. You kept the truth from her and it sucked, but she didn't say anything. She always made sure you were happy, even if it made her miserable. She'd understand if you got a few hours of sleep,"

Tony sighed and sat back down on his couch. "Abby," he began.

"No, Tony, you go to sleep, in your bed. She'll need you at your best tomorrow,"

"I was going to say, 'Thank you.' You're right, I guess,"

"You know I am," He could hear her sweet smile, lined with bright red lipstick on the other side of the phone.

"You going to get some sleep too?" He asked, suddenly realizing that he made her stay up.

"You bet,"

"I owe you a Caf-Pow,"

"Just one?" She said, her grin audible.

"'Night, Abby,"

"See you tomorrow,"

He closed his phone and smiled to himself, knowing that for once, he would actually sleep tonight.

I'll be back.

Tony was in the squadroom at six AM the next morning. For now, it was just him and the janitor, and he liked it that way. The sun had just begun to rise over the Washington Naval Yard, the shine reflecting on the water of the Potomac before into the squadroom, lighting it up sweetly.

Tony had been going through Ziva's bank records but saw nothing unusual. It was full of necessities, seeing as Ziva had never been one to indulge impulse buys as he was, so accustomed to doing.

After checking back for nearly a year and finding nothing, her moved to her phone records. He knew McGee had checked them the day before—the trashcan full of coffee cups proved it.

He read through the list quickly at first, skimming through the phone calls she made and received in the three last weeks before her disappearance. He recognized several numbers—she called him twenty-seven times that week, McGee fourteen, Gibbs nine, the requisition office once, and a number of witness and suspects from Holt's case. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the number of times she called him made him smile.

It was the restricted number that had called Ziva the morning she disappeared that piqued his curiosity. The encryption was beyond his low level of skills. He glanced over at McGee's still empty desk. He glanced at the time—7:02 AM. He glanced at the elevator, still silent. He sighed and minimized the window. He got up and ran a hand through his hair, walking towards the window.

"I'm gonna find you, Zi, I promise," He whispered quietly.

"Tony?" McGee's voice called from behind him. Tony turned around. McGee stood there, backpack slung over his shoulder, a confused expression on his face.

"Yeah?" Tony finally replied.

"Who you talkin' to?"

"No one, Probie. Hey, I have a job for you," Tony said, motioning to his computer. McGee set his things down at his own desk and met Tony at the senior agent's computer. "Found this phone number on Ziva's phone records. Day she disappeared. It's restricted, but we should be able to have access to it anyway, right?"

McGee furrowed his eyebrows and began to type, sending the information to his computer. He sat down at his desk and began to type again, pulling up the page from Tony's computer. "Yeah, we should," He said. "I'll have to run it through a program down at Abby's," He said, typing some more and hurrying down stairs to the lab.

Gibbs walked in then, two cups of coffee in hand. He handed one to Tony.

"You're late, Boss," Tony said, though he motioned a thanks for the coffee.

"No I'm not,"

"You're usually here at like what, six?"

"Had something I needed to do," Gibbs said, sitting down at his desk, turning on the computer he so rarely touched.

"The coffee?"

"Nah," He held up a tag—a visitor's tag from the FBI.

"Fornell?"

"Yeah,"

"What'd you talk to him about?"

"Known foreign operatives,"

"Known foreign operatives?" Tony said, confused.

"Yeah,"

"You think that might have something to do with Ziva?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Gut feeling,"

"And why's that?"

Gibbs stood. "It was clean, Tony. The whole thing. Inconsistent, but clean,"

"No prints, no encriminating evidence," Tony said.

"No mistakes," Gibbs finished.

"And criminals make mistakes,"

"That's right,"

"So do you have any suspects?"

"Not yet," He said. He dug through his pocket and produced a USB. "Fornell put the profiles of a dozen foreign operatives on this thing,"

"Filing through it. On it, Boss," Tony said, taking it to his desk.

Gibbs watched him for a moment. Tony hadn't had that determined look in his eyes for months. He had been happy enough, he guessed, but he hadn't returned to normal. This was a step.

Three hours later, Tony had gone through the profiles ten times each, studying every word, analyzing it for any possible clue.

Across from him, McGee sat, doing some techie thing on his computer. Tony sighed and crumpled up a sheet of old paper. He aimed and took his shot; the ball of paper struck McGee's head perfectly. He looked over at Tony who had swiveled in his desk chair towards the junior field agent, arms crossed and eyes searching the oblivion before him.

"What?"

"Why'd they take her?"

"Ziva?"

"No, Probie. I meant your dog. Of course I meant Ziva," He said sarcastically. Guess I never made a full comeback… My jokes are seriously sucking, he thought to himself.

"What makes you think they took her? She did set herself up,"

"It takes a second person to draw blood. And there's no way Ziva planted the bomb in my car,"

"Sounds like she had an accomplice,"

"Or she was coerced," Tony shot back.

"Ziva has never been coerced into anything,"

"They're called orders, Tony,"

"They're called orders, Tony. You may not like them, but you follow them. That's why they they're called 'orders',"

Tony shut his eyes at the memory and ran a head through his hair. "She wouldn't do anything she didn't absolutely have to do,"

"Maybe they didn't give her a choice. Threatened her life or her father's life. He's the only living relative she has left,"

"She has her Aunt Nettie," Tony murmured.

"Hm?"

"Nevermind. But no, there's no way they'd be able to get to her father. He's the freakin' Director of Mossad. I can't even sneeze within a twenty mile radius of him,"

"The CIA can,"

Tony glared at McGee. He rubbed his eyes. "So why? Why'd she just pick up and leave? Where is she now?"

"Hostage?"

"No ransom requests,"

"Political statement?"

"There would have been a video, a public statement, something,"

"Maybe they want to get to you through her," McGee suggested.

Tony eyed him. "You think?"

"No," McGee said, and Tony let out a silent breath of relief. "They would have made demands,"

"Good thinking, Probie," Tony said and let his gaze drift away.

"Maybe Ziva knew something,"

"Something they didn't want anyone else to know," Tony said thoughtfully, processing the idea.

"Intel gets passed through her all the time,"

"So it could be anyone," Tony said, his heart falling.

"So where do we start?"

"With highly sensitive information," Gibbs said, walking through the squadroom. "We contact her contacts here and at Mossad,"

"If there was something highly sensitive she knew about here, shouldn't we be dead or captured too?" Tony asked.

"Someone did try and blow up your car,"

"That was clean too," Gibbs commented.

"Pros," McGee said, nodding in agreement.

"Pros," Tony repeated, thinking. "If you can excuse the inconsistent pool of blood and a car left in shrapnel,"

"Careless pros?" McGee modified.

Gibbs shook his head. "This was planned,"

"So… they weren't pros?" McGee said, trying to catch up.

"It doesn't make any sense," Tony said, his voice filled with confusion. He rested his head in his hand, elbow propped up on his desk.

"Too bad Ziva's not here to shed some light on this," McGee commented.

I'm here with you.

I'll be back.

I'm here with you.

Tony's head shot up. "I'll be back," He whispered.

"What?" McGee asked.

Tony glanced at the other two agents. Gibbs was leaning up against his desk, eyes expectant. "She said she'd be back, right?"

"Yeah," Tim said slowly.

"And we know she set herself up,"

"Yeah,"

Tony sighed and looked around restlessly. He stood and gathered his things quickly. "I'll be back," he said as he walked out of the squadroom, pace hurried.

"Where's he goin'?"

"Said he'd be back," Gibbs reminded him.

"Just like Ziva,"

"Just like Ziva," Gibbs agreed.

Any thoughts on what's going to happen? Any ideas? I'd love to hear! Don't forget to review!!