Tony exits the observation room, and follows behind her. When she reaches Abby's doorway she spins around, and looks at him.

"Why are you following me?"

"Why are you running?"

"Did you just hear what she told me?"

"Yes. You don't believe her?"

"I do."

"Then what's the problem?"

"That is the problem," she turns around and walks into Abby's lab. He follows her.

"I don't have anything for the two of you, yet," Abby announces.

"We already have confession," Ziva reveals.

"That was record time."

"His murderer is an eighteen year old girl," Tony adds.

"What did he do to her?" Abby questions.

"He got her pregnant. He took away her childhood, her innocence," Ziva answers in disgust.

"How old was she?"

"Eighteen," Tony replies.

"She was fourteen, when she got pregnant," Ziva responds.

"Fourteen?" Abby raises an eyebrow.

"Abby how old were you when you..." Tony trails off as Ziva shoots him a death glare.

"I was old enough to know what I was getting myself into. Old enough to drive a car."

"Abby you were driving at ten," DiNozzo reminds.

"Legally," Abby amends, "How old were you, Tony?"

"Sixteen, I think."

"You think?" Abby studies him.

"It's hard to remember. It was such a long time ago."

"I forgot how old you were," Abby jests.

"How about you, Ziva? How old were you?"

Her eyes lock on his. She stares at him. He tries to read her mind, but it proves futile. She clenches her jaw, shakes her head, and walks away. As she walks through the doorway she breaks the silence.

"Don't follow me, this time," she warns.

He doesn't. He stays in the lab. He looks at Abby, unsure of what to say. She purses her lips.

"Tony, sometimes you should just keep your mouth shut."

"Obviously, I struck a chord, there."

"Ya, think?"

"I say dumb things all the time, without thinking. She doesn't usually storm off, like that."

"Did you ever consider that maybe, she just doesn't want to talk about it?"

"Yes, but I don't like that answer."

"Just give her time, I'm sure that she'll be fine. She's just upset over the case, and you being an idiot."

"I can't believe that kid could do something like that. I mean she is still just a kid."

"One who is going to spend the rest of her life in prison."

"I can't say that I blame her. He took advantage of her. She was young, and naive. She had to deal with the consequences, while he was off playing war."

"Where were her parents?" Abby poses an important question.

"When she got pregnant?"

"And while she was murdering petty officer Jonas?"

"I'm going to go find that out, before Gibbs asks," he responds.

Hours later he's sitting at his desk. He looks up, at his boss, who sits quietly at his desk.

"Boss? Where did Ziva go? She's been gone for hours."

"She went home."

"She didn't say anything to me."

"She was upset, I sent her home."

"You think that I should go talk to her?"

"I don't know, DiNozzo, what do you think? She's your partner."

"Right," he nods.

"If she were my partner, I would be concerned," he adds.

DiNozzo grabs his stuff, and heads for the elevator. Ten minutes later he arrives at her apartment. He knocks on the door.

"It's open," she calls out.

He turns the knob, and steps inside. He closes the door behind himself. He finds her sitting on her couch, flipping through the channels. He stops about three feet away from her. He clears his throat, and begins the conversation.

"Why did you leave the door unlocked?"

"Because A, I have a gun, more than one, and B, I was expecting you."

"It's nice to know that I am so predictable."

"You're a good partner."

"Why did you come home? You never willingly do that."

"Gibbs sent me home."

"You had a concussion, and refused to go home."

"I am fine. I just needed... I needed some air."

"Ziva what is going on? What about this case bothers you so much?"

"Everything. It all bothers me. She's eighteen years old. She has a three year old. She was taken advantage of. She killed someone who deserved to be dead. She should be going off to college, but instead, she's going off to prison, for the rest of her life."

"Maybe not the rest of her life. Maybe she'll plead out."

"So maybe in twenty years she'll get the possibility of parole."

"Probably not, once they tack on the other charges."

"Other charges? What charges?"

"Child Endangerment."

"What are you talking about?"

"Madison was asleep in the back seat of the car, the whole time she was murdering Grant. The car was off, and it was about forty five degrees last night. Then Ashlee drove to a nearby laundry-mat, and ditched her clothes, and stole someone else's, while the little girl was in the car."

"He got what he deserved. Did you look at the text messages, and emails he sent her?"

"I read them. They were terrible. And the one who suffers the most, is an innocent little girl."

"The innocent are always the ones who suffer the most. Can we talk about something else?"

"Like what?"

"I don't care, anything."

"You hungry?"

"Not really."

"Do you want to go for a drink?"

"No, that would probably end badly."

"You think?"

"I know."

"So what do you propose we talk about?"

"Anything, but work, or the case."

"That's all I've got."

"Talk about some insipid movie that you know every little detail about."

"What movie?"

"Tony, I don't care, any movie."

"Oh, I answered your phone while you were gone."

"My phone? Tony I have my phone."

"The one at your desk."

"Why would you answer my phone?"

"Because someone called like six times, and let it ring about ten times, each call. Finally I decided that for the sake of sanity, that I would answer."

"Do you have any boundaries?"

"Do you?"

"Did you take a message?"

"Are you asking if I wrote something down?"

"Yes."

"No, but I can tell you anything you want to know. I am actually glad I answered your phone."

"Why, who was it? The president."

"No, do you know the president?"

"Maybe," she shrugs.

"I wouldn't be impressed, if you did."

"Of course not. Who was it?"

"Someone I have never talked to before."

"You have never talked to most of the people that I know."

"I think that I should meet her."

"Meet her? Why?"

"Because I think that it would only be fair."

"Who called?"

"Your mother."

"My mother? Called me at work?"

"She said you weren't answering your cell phone."

"I didn't hear it ring," she pulls it out of her pocket.

He looks at it, "That's because it's dead."

"What did she want?"

"She said that she needed you to call her back, as soon as possible, because it was important."

"Why didn't you call me, and tell me?"

"I did. I even left you a voicemail, but your phone is dead, so you didn't get it."

"What is so important that I need to call her back?"

"You don't talk to her very often, do you?"

"Only when I have to."

"Why is that?"

"We don't exactly see eye to eye, about some things, some important things."

"Like your career choices?"

"Among many other things. What did she want?"

"Um... let's see, she said that you needed to call her asap. She even said asap, come to think of it. Her English is great..."

"She's lived here for years."

"She lives in D.C.?"

"In America. She lives in Florida, with my step-father. What did she want?"

"Right. She said that you needed to call, because it had something to do with Caleb."

"What did it have to do with him?"

"She wouldn't say, she just said that it was urgent."

"Great."

"Ziva, who is Caleb?"

She locks eyes with him. Her facial expression changes, and all the color drains from her face. He immediately picks up on the changes. She doesn't answer him. He breaks the silence.

"Ziva, did you hear me? Who is Caleb?" He asks again.

"I heard you," she says flatly.

"And the answer?"

"I need your phone."

He hands her his phone, and watches her walk out of the room with it. She leaves the room, with a panic-stricken look on her face. He sits down on the couch, as she closes the door to her bedroom.