This poor story - I really do love it, but those damn writers keep throwing things out that distract me. I'm still making my way through tagging Newborn King, but I wanted to get an update out here. It's very case heavy, and my first time writing an interrogation, so I hope you enjoy!

"I will be just fine if you have to go to work, you know."

Ziva shrugged, settling herself on the other end of the couch. "McGee is coming by in an hour; I will go in and get some work done then."

"There are two armed federal agents sitting in the kitchen and no one knows where I am…" She broke off as Ziva leveled a glare at her. "But I will defer to your expertise. How many times have you had to do this? Must get boring easily, unless of course you have good company..."

"Ohh no, I'm done talking about me. You've been so busy trying to collect information from me and from others," Talia gave a guilty grin. "But I haven't had the chance to ask you any questions in a few days!" Ziva teased.

"Not much more to tell, I guess."

"So you're definitely done with school now, yes?"

Talia nodded. "I was so happy to get into NYU for their Summer Publishing Institute. The contacts I made were amazing. I have a number of job offers waiting for me both in New York and in England."

"Do you want to return to London? Or...or maybe even Israel now?" Ziva kept her voice neutral, not wanting to show her distress over the thought of Talia leaving so soon. She had a flash of memory from her ridiculous psych evals after Somalia. Her shrink had left the office to take an emergency call and Ziva took the opportunity to snoop in her own case notes. The scrawled words serious trust/abandonment issues still made her teeth gnash together, and she tried not to think how the flutter in her stomach now was proving it true.

"If...if I had to, I guess I would. But England never felt like home, you know? It was just somewhere I had to be. Israel will always be home, and I miss it desperately …" She struggled to find the right words. "But I don't know if I can return there either. The violence and the ghosts," she shuddered, absentmindedly fingering a long scar hidden by her hair where shrapnel had necessitated 24 stitches.

Ziva nodded slowly. "I know what you mean."

Talia came slowly out of her reverie and nodded. "Yes, you certainly do. I like New York though. I can see myself living there, especially now if it means I'm closer to you!" She grinned, her face relaxed again, and tapped her toes gently against Ziva's shin.

Ziva smiled smugly, "Well that's good. It saves me the trouble of transferring. So you won't be leaving anyone...special...behind in England?"

Talia rolled her eyes. "Subtle, oh master interrogator!"

"Hey! As your big sister, it is my job to doctor all boyfriend contenders!"

Talia's brow crinkled in confusion as she considered that one for a moment. She laughed then. "Vet, Zizi. The term is to vet a person. Tony wasn't kidding about your English was he?"

"Hey now! This is about you, don't go changing the subject!"

Talia giggled again. "No, Ziva, there is no one for you to vet. I had hoped…" Her voice trailed off once more.

Ziva looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me. Do you want to talk about Tomas?"

Talia tucked her legs beneath her, her elbow resting on the back of the cushion, hand propping up her head. "There is so much else going on, but I feel like a horrible person for not...mourning him more."

"You said you met him at university?"

She smiled sadly and nodded. "A gaggle of my boarding school friends were in town and so we were doing the obligatory pub crawl. Tomas was there with a few fellow Marines. He was a couple of years older, but we really hit it off and ended up talking all night."

"Oh?" Ziva asked, trying to keep her tone neutral and failing miserably. But it made Talia smile. "Not like that. We were always just friends."

Ziva studied her. "You wanted more."

"Mmm," Talia shrugged. "I have been...careful...with my acquaintances. It was hard to get close to anyone without being able to tell them the truth of my past, you know? But with Tomas, it was so simple. We always talked about the future, not the past. We've remained friends for so long; I think we were too scared to jeopardize that, so we never took the chance…" Talia paused, her gaze flickering across the couch. Ziva knew they were both thinking the same thing; wondering if it was a David genetic trait.

Talia sighed and continued."I really thought that when we saw each other again, maybe…" She swallowed hard. "It's not fair."

"No. No Talia, it is not. But we'll find the men who killed Tomas. I promise you that."

Talia shook her head as if shaking off a memory and looked around the hotel suite. "How long does something like this usually take? I mean, this is very nice, but I can't live in a safe house indefinitely. Life has to go back to normal at some point?" Ziva's eyebrow shot up. "Okay, some semblance of normalcy then?"

Ziva chuckled and broke off when her phone buzzed. "David," she answered.

"Got a lead, McGee is sending you an address. Meet us there in fifteen," Gibbs said simply. She could hear the roar of the Charger's engine in the background.

"Gibbs, I don't want to leave Tali -"

"I'm sending Agent Coleman for additional back up; he should be there in five. She'll be fine Ziva."

Ziva sighed, snapping her phone close and standing quickly. Talia followed suit, chewing nervously on her lip. "Did you find them?"

Ziva grabbed her bag from the table and then kissed Talia's cheek. "Hope so. I'll call as soon as I know more. Listen to what the agents tell you and please be safe."

"You too."

"How did you find this place?" Ziva asked, looking up at the decrepit building as she climbed out of her barely-parked car. She had been further away with a later start on the others and still managed to pull up at almost the same time.

"We were scraping the barrel for new ideas this morning and thought about your suggestion from last year when we were trying to find that auctioneer's tail. It made sense that if they turned over Talia's apartment, maybe they were also surveilling her. So we ran her phone records and found that one encrypted cell has pinged off the same tower as hers several times over the past few days," McGee explanation trailed off as Ziva's jaw clenched so hard she looked ready to crack a tooth.

"They were following her…" She gritted out, her hand tightening on her Sig as they entered the shabby apartment building. "HOW did I miss that?"

"Ziva…" Gibbs said warningly.

"I'm fine," she spat back at him.

McGee looked nervously between them and continued awkwardly. "Uhhh, we were able to narrow their movements down to this general area and compared it to the latest batch of BOLO reports...a local LEO saw two men fitting the description enter this building."

Tony met them in the hallway, jerking his chin to the staircase. "Management says new guys came this week, paid cash, apartment 305. Should be there now."

They moved as quietly as possible on the creaking staircase, glad for the cover of someone's bass-heavy music and a couple arguing on the second floor. Ziva was the first down the third floor corridor, glancing back to Gibbs as she positioned herself in front of the door, but the boss shook his head slightly and motioned for her to move to the side as Tony took her place. She scowled, but Gibbs knew better. If Ziva had her way, the men would be dead before they hit the floor.

With a nod for the go-ahead Tony kicked in the door to shouts of "NCIS! Federal Agents!" There was a flurry of activity inside; one of the surprised man swinging a gun towards them. He got off an errant shot before three rounds found his chest. The other man lunged sideways from the kitchen chair, taking refuge behind a shoddy couch.

"Drop your weapon!"

"Kap tvoj oružje!" Ziva screamed in his native tongue. "SADA!"

"Okay…" Came a halted response in English as they heard the gun clatter on linoleum, two empty hands slowly creeping up from behind the couch. "Okay, don't shoot!" Tony moved around, grabbing the man and shoved his face to the ground to cuff him. Ziva kicked the other man's gun away and felt for a pulse. She looked up at Gibbs, shaking her head, and turned her attention to the kitchen table. There was a box of half eaten pizza, greasy napkins littering the floor. A gun cleaning kit lay open, a bottle of upended solvent leaking all over a stack of papers beneath it. She pulled out a glove and moved the bottle; a splotched picture of her sister's face smiled up at her. She took a few deep, shuddering breaths, fanning the papers out. A picture of her having dinner with Tomas. Talia exiting the car at Ziva's apartment two days ago. A copy of her student ID from Cambridge.

Ziva dropped the glove, turning suddenly as Tony made to move past her with a now-cuffed Stankic. Her hand flexed into a V and flew to his throat, striking him hard enough to choke him up but not enough to leave a visible mark.

"Ziva!" Gibbs yelled.

"Is there anyone else?" She demanded, her fingers still twitching at the man's throat. "Another team?"

"ZIVA!" Gibbs was behind her then, knocking her hand away from Stankic and stepping in between them, forcing her to take a step back. Tony shoved past with the cuffed man before Ziva could protest further. "ENOUGH," Gibbs growled. "Stay here with McGee to wait for Ducky and process the scene."

"But Gibbs -"

All it took was a glare and one raised finger to silence her. She bit her cheek hard enough to taste blood, holding back the retort on her lips, and just gave a curt nod. She waited until Gibbs was out of the room before pulling out her phone and shooting a quick text to Tony demanding that he call her immediately with any information they got out of Stankic.

"This is good news, Ziva," McGee said quietly, watching her from the corner of his eye as he rooted through his bag for the camera. "We got both of them. Talia should be safe…"

"I hope so McGee," she said grimly, returning to the stack of information on her sister and trying to ignore the unease in the pit of her stomach.

"I could use some water," Stankic coughed, rubbing his throat where Ziva had struck him. "I think that kurvo bruised my windpipe."

Tony stared impassively back from where he leaned against the observation glass and then unscrewed the top off his own water bottle and took a few long, deliberate gulps.

Stankic scowled up at him and looked ready to retort, but the door banged open and Gibbs thundered in. He threw a file down on the metal table, yanking the empty chair back hard. It skittered into the wall behind them, the noise reverberating through the enclosed space.

"I want to speak to -"

"You are a member of Nula Osam," Gibbs growled, leaning over menacingly. "A group that aids and abets terrorists. You don't get a lawyer. You don't get an embassy call. You don't get any fucking rights. If you so much as blink in my direction right now and I don't like it, I get to send your ass packing to Gitmo. Are. We. Clear?"

Stankic didn't answer, but leaned back in the chair, his still-cuffed hands falling to his lap. Gibbs took his silence as consent, reaching back for the discarded chair as he flicked a picture of Zupan in uniform across the table. Stankic reached out automatically, stopping the sheet in front of him. "Your prints and DNA at the scene. An eye witness positively ID'd you. I already know you killed Staff Sergeant Tomas Zupan. I wanna know why."

Stankic's eyes narrowed and Gibbs could see immediately that the arrogant man wouldn't be confessing anytime soon. "All I know is that he stuck his nose into matters that do not concern him or your country."

"So that gives you the right to come into our country and murder him?"

Stankic was unresponsive, almost appearing bored. Gibbs nodded slowly, reaching into the file and pulled out another picture. "And the girl? Orders again?"

Stankic sneered now. "She is lucky to have made it so quickly into your protective custody. Tell me, do all witnesses get such attentive care in this country or only the ones who look like her?"

"ENOUGH!" Gibbs bellowed, slamming a hand down on the table. Stankic jumped and Tony smirked, starting a slow circle around the room.

"Want me to get those transfer papers to Gitmo going, boss?" He leaned in close to Stankic and whispered menacingly. "Ready to be someone's kurvo, are ya?"

"I had orders to collect information on the girl. That is all I will admit," he said, flinching uncomfortably away from Tony, who still hovered over him.

"Crncevic," Gibbs said simply. It was not a question. Stankic glared silently back. "So no problems with the change of management? You're okay taking your marching orders from a thirty year old rich boy?" Gibbs chuckled.

That got a rise out him. "Lukashka? That little kurac? I would never do anything for that sniveling excuse of a man," Stankic sneered. "He can't be bothered with such matters now that he fancies himself in control. He will not last one month in his father's world."

"So you admit that you are loyal to Crncevic Senior? That you were acting on his orders in going after our witness?"

The foreigner's mouth pressed into a tight line. "I want to make a deal. Information for immunity. I have plenty to offer."

Gibbs snorted, standing up and looking to Tony. "Forget Gitmo; start processing his extradition."

Stankic looked up, a hint of panic glimmering in his cold eyes. "Am I not to stand trial here in America?"

Gibbs shrugged from the doorway, "We've been asked to extradite you to Kosovo and, well, I think I can live with that." He paused at the door, turning to look at the increasingly agitated man. "Of course, if I were a betting man, I'd say that chances of you making it to trial are pretty slim. Luka may be a little kurac, but it seems you managed to piss him off pretty good. I bet he has a lot of people gunning for you…." Gibbs stared off into space pensively for a moment before smirking to himself and stepping into the hallway.

"Wait!"

He turned back to see both hatred and resignation burning in Stankic's eyes. "A confession and information. In exchange, I stay here and am tried in your system."

Gibbs slammed the door, moving slowly back to the table and sitting across from him once more. "Talk."

A breath hissed between Stankic's teeth as he leaned forward. "Your Staff Sergeant was set to testify against our boss and our orders were simple. My idiot partner was supposed to grab the girl but she's a quick little thing... so pretty too," he sneered. Tony took a step away, fists balling as he fought the urge to deck the man. He was glad Ziva wasn't on the other side of the glass.

"And good with faces apparently; she seemed to do well in her descriptions of us. So we got her name, looked for anything in New York to help us get closer, but you have had her under your care since day one. We tried to send the information to our people back home, looking for reinforcements, but that little bitch Luka is controlling all channels of communication. He shut us out, said the girl is no importance to him, and that if we ever stepped foot back in his territory, he'd kill us."

"I'm just supposed to take your word for it? That the hit has been called off our witness?" Gibbs said, doubt coloring is voice.

Stankic shrugged. "Her account in Zupan's murder will help keep Mr. Crncevic imprisoned, and that's exactly was Lukashka wants. The girl is not important."

Gibbs scowled and stood without another word and he and Tony both left the room.

"You believe him boss?" Tony asked dubiously once they were in the hallway. "There is some logic under that smarmy Eastern European accent…"

Gibbs shrugged; just like Ziva, something was still nagging at him. He just couldn't quite place the unease.

I have an (unhealthy) obsession with other languages, and that includes colorful and prolific profanities. I'll leave the translations to your own imaginations; they shouldn't be hard to figure out. :)

Happy Holidays to all!