"SHE DID WHAT?!"

The Voice's bellow thundered through the warehouse, and all movement within the structure ceased. He had only returned from his long-distance Patrol ten minutes ago, and in that time the Voice had managed to corner a poor helpless Resident. He towered over a cowering Resident now, the poor soul who'd been unfortunate enough to suffer the Voice's impatient interrogation upon his return from a four-day patrol. The Resident had tried to stall, to find one of the council, but the Voice had had none of that.

He'd demanded to know where Ziva was, and when he was consequently enlightened, his rage echoed within the metal walls of the Warehouse. The sound of his shout sent Abby scurrying towards both men, intent on rescuing the hapless Resident. She rushed as quickly as she could without disturbing Natalia, who was perched on her hip, and within moments she was within eyeshot of them.

"Gibbs!" she called, rushing closer. The Voice turned, his features a mask of rage and—if Abby wasn't mistaken—slight panic.

"Abby!" the Voice barked. "What the hell—"

"Gibbs, calm down. It isn't his fault." She waved towards the terrified Resident, who was quivering in the Voice's grasp, whose fist was tightly gripping the front of his flannel shirt.

"Abby—"

"She's gone," Abby cut off. The Voice's eyes flashed.

"Yeah, Abs, that's what this idiot already said…"

"Gibbs?" Abby's voice was carefully calm. "Let the idiot go?" she asked with plaintive smile. Gibbs hesitated, but then relinquished his hold. "Okay, good. Sorry, George," she directed towards the Resident, who shot her an appreciative glance before scurrying away.

"Abby, tell me what the hell is going on."

"Maybe we should talk about this somewhere more private…"

"Where is my wife!" Gibbs demanded.

Abby winced. "Okay, okay…" She took a deep, steadying breath. "Two days ago, after you left for your Patrol, Tom sliced his hand open on some sheet metal. Ducky tried to patch him up as best he could, but there wasn't much he could do with band-aids and ibuprofen…"

"So?"

"So, Ziva was apprised of the situation, since she was in command, and when she saw what was going on—well… you know Ziva."

"She went to the hospital." Gibbs' voice burned with rage.

"Yeah," Abby said, her tone apologetic, even though she had had no say in it. "She said no one was going to die of stupidity on her watch."

"And you just let her go?"

"Hey!" Abby shouted back. "Don't blame this on me! I tried to get her to wait until you got back, but she wouldn't! You know what she's like when she makes a decision! And besides, she didn't go alone."

"Well, who the hell went with her?"

"Sergei and Rider. As soon as they heard about her intentions, they volunteered their services."

Gibbs took a deep breath, feeling somewhat appeased at that nugget of information. Of all the Residents in the Warehouse, Sergei Sokolov and Phil Rider were the two Gibbs would want most as Ziva's backup. Both were elite members of the Guard, both with extensive military training—Sergei as Russian Spetsnaz, and Rider as Navy SEAL. They were highly capable, and of all the Residents they were the two most devoted to Ziva.

They had been relatively new additions to the Warehouse, having only been around for a little over eight months. The two men had been traveling together since the Incident, and together they had been crass, abrasive and unwilling to trust anyone else. They only reason they had spent any time at the Warehouse at all was because Sergei had had an infected gash along his ribs. They had tried to pick fights with the other Residents, and had participated in multiple shows of alpha male posturing that had nearly driven Gibbs to murder.

Finally, Ziva had persuaded them into a Patrol, through a rather impressive and roundabout questioning of their manhood. Gibbs had been grateful to get them away from the other Residents, even for only a short time, but as always, it had not been completely without unforeseen consequences. They had been jumped by a band of lurking Locos—a short-lived motorcycle gang that had been at the peak of its power at the time—and had it not been for Ziva's quick thinking and knack for command, all three of them would have been killed.

As it was, her prowess and tactics had surprised both men, and upon questioning, she had revealed her history as Mossad. That was all it took to earn their respect, and their understanding of the situation placed them squarely in Ziva's debt. In their quest to repay her, they had remained with the Residents, and began to work as functional members of the quasi-society. As they stuck around longer, and as Ziva allowed them to spar with her, their respect and admiration had transformed into true affection.

Gibbs had no doubt that if the situation called for it, one or both men would give their lives for Ziva. His only concern was that it may not be enough against the Bloods.

"So," Abby continued, breaking Gibbs from his thoughts, "she accepted their help, gave me the baby—"

"And Tali didn't fuss?" The question was out of character, even to his own ears, but he was too surprised to remain silent. Since the day Ziva had reaffirmed her role in the child's life, Natalia had grown so attached to the Shadow that the baby could barely go a half hour without her before she began to scream bloody murder.

"Oh no, she did," Abby affirmed. "But I gave her one of Ziva's shirts, and I think Natalia recognized her scent or something, because she's been relatively calm since then." Finally, she sighed. "Look, Gibbs, I know you don't like it, but she did what she thought was best for us. And besides, she's supposed to be back this afternoon. You can yell at her directly when she shows up safe and sound." She grinned devilishly. "But I don't think you will because once we have both Ziva and more supplies in the Warehouse, you'll be so relieved you'll admit she was right. Or at least, that she wasn't wrong."

Gibbs gave her a stern look, but when the scientist wasn't fazed, he just gave a short huff. He stepped forward to kiss both her and Tali on the cheek.

"You're right," he admitted softly.

"Of course I am," she admonished. "Now could you take your beautiful demon kid? She weighs a ton! What have you guys been feeding her?"

---

The rest of the day was spent working with DiNozzo trying to compile and analyze the Intel he had helped collect on the long-distance Patrol he had just returned from. By all appearances, the Coast to the southeast was completely untouched by the Bloods. There had also been limited evidence of other gang activity, which Gibbs found reassuring. There was an escape route established that would take them away from both the Warehouse and the Docks, but beyond that, there was no existing plan in place as to what they would do once they were clear of the immediate vicinity.

The region Gibbs had scouted would serve well as a temporary haven. It included a system of natural caves that would give them some semblance of shelter, and would give them a defensible location from which they could find something more permanent.

He shared these observations and more with DiNozzo and together they began to form potential contingency plans. As they did so, Gibbs' worry for Ziva remained a sharp awareness in the back of his mind. But he held his peace, and remained focused on the task at hand. He tried not to focus on the fact she was still healing from her busted ribs and damaged knee. She would return before sundown, he reassured himself. She would.

But as the afternoon dragged on, and then the sun began to set, and there was still no sight of her, his concern grew. Dread filled him as the moon began to rise, and there was still no word. He kept Tali with him, which kept the baby calm enough to finally doze in his arms, and Abby remained close by once the sun disappeared. She knew he would be on edge until Ziva showed up, and the scientist ran interference to make sure no other Resident got caught in the crossfire.

Somehow, Gibbs managed to maintain his bearing, and had the presence of mind to have the Guards, Patrols, and Angels on duty to keep a sharp eye out for the missing trio, or any potential signs of distress. Then he returned to his Compartment to put Tali to bed, trusting that the Defenders' solemn nods meant that his confidence in their abilities was not misplaced. They didn't know all the details, nor did they need to. All the grapevine had passed along was the fact that Ziva had gone into Vector Nine. Her late return could indicate possible injury or capture, and they could not be sure that the Bloods would not be on their way to the Warehouse themselves.

But Gibbs allowed DiNozzo to organize them further, as he made the executive decision to stay with Tali. The baby began to snore lightly as soon as she was bundled up on the mattress, and soon enough Abby dozed off as well. Gibbs remained awake, too anxious to even think about sleeping. He waited silently, and as each uneventful hour passed, his feeling of dread grew heavier, until his gut felt leaden.

The first light of dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon when a development finally manifested. Gibbs had expected one of the Angels to give him an update as soon as Ziva was spotted, but instead the silence of the slumbering Warehouse was shattered by the explosion of a door slamming open against the metal siding of the structure.

"GIBBS!"

The bellowing of his name was heavily accented—but not the accent he had been hoping for. It belonged to a male, and it rumbled loud enough throughout the Warehouse to wake every single Resident.

"GIBBS!" came the shout again, but it was not needed—Gibbs was already moving. He passed Talia off to Abby and sprinted to the source of the shout, only slowing when he came within sight of the huffing and puffing gargantuan form in the center of the Gathering Place. The form was alone, save for the two overstuffed sea bags lying at his feet, and even in the darkness Gibbs could see he was drenched with sweat.

Gibbs' heart nearly stopped at the desperate sight, but he shoved the sensation away as the voice took over.

"Sergei," the Voice said, drawing closer to the Russian. "What happened?"

"Gibbs!" Sergei gasped breathlessly. "Bloods—they blitzed us. We never saw it coming—"

The Voice rested his hand on the bulky man's shoulder. "Calm down," he ordered firmly. "Tell me what happened."

"We made it to the hospital. Ziva was right—it was packed with supplies, enough to tide us over for months. We took what we could, and started back. We were ambushed half a mile from the hospital. Twenty Bloods, maybe more." Sergei ran a meaty paw over his face as he gulped down a lungful of air. "Rider fell in the first attack, but Ziva and I were able to escape. We were followed…"

"Sergei." The Voice was hard as stone. He steeled himself to ask the only question that mattered. "Is Ziva dead?"

"I don't know," Sergei gasped, an almost sob escaping him. "God help me, I don't know. She said we needed to split up, to divide their forces. She told me to take the bags and go, to come here as soon as I had a decent lead on any who might pursue. She said she would try to lead them away, to act as a diversion. She told me to—she told me to tell you to evacuate, to abandon the Warehouse. There was no guarantee I would not be tracked. She said we had to leave immediately."

Gibbs' heart plummeted. The only reason Ziva would tell Sergei that was if she thought she would not be successful. He closed his eyes in pain, as he felt himself being torn in two. But then, Abby's voice drifted to his ears.

"Gibbs," she whispered, her eyes wide with fear. "What are we going to do?"

What indeed. His heart said to charge back into the lion's den and retrieve Ziva, but his sense of duty stayed his feet. He had more than himself to think of, more even than Ziva. He had others relying on him, trusting him to keep them alive.

Ziva knew that, and so did he. But—if he obeyed her relayed command, she would not know where they would relocate to. She knew the escape route, but beyond that their plans had always been vague at best. She had no idea where they might end up.

And that realization terrified him.

"Gibbs," Sergei said softly, straightening slightly. He leaned closer so that only the Voice could hear what was next said. "She also asked that I give you this."

Sergei's hand pressed a thin slip of folded paper into Gibbs' fingers. The Voice glanced down at it, then brought it up too look at it more closely. Upon unfolding it, he discovered it was an old prescription slip, no doubt swiped from the hospital.

There, scribbled in what looked like charcoal, was a message.

I will look for you as long as I live. Keep Tali safe. I love you.

Gibbs' throat tightened, and he fought to keep his threatening tears at bay. He needed to stay strong—for Tali, for the Residents… and for Ziva. Because he knew now what he had to do.

"Get ready to evacuate," the voice commanded, echoing in the tense silence. "We go before full light."

The Residents immediately began to obey, speaking in worried voices as they rushed to their tasks. Only the Council remained behind, and of them only one voiced their doubts.

"No, Gibbs," Abby declared shakily, cradling Natalia in her arms.

"Abby—"

"No!" she cried. "No! Not without Ziva. We can't just leave her out there."

Gibbs moved close to her, close enough to whisper in her ear. "Abby, please," he said softly. "Don't fight me on this." Abby tried to protest, but Gibbs pushed on before she had the chance. "Look at the little girls in your arms, Abs. Look at her." He watched her green eyes glance down. "Ziva entrusted her to your care, Abby, and you accepted. Natalia needs you now, until Ziva can find her way back to us."

For a moment, Abby didn't respond as she looked at the fussing baby in her arms. Then, slowly, she nodded, even as tears slid down her cheeks.

"Thank you," Gibbs whispered. Then, he disappeared, and the Voice took over. "Go pack," he ordered firmly. "For yourself, and the baby too."

As soon as Abby left, Tony approached. "You too, DiNozzo. Square your personals away and then focus on supply. You know what to do." Tony nodded.

"McGee," the Voice continued, "as soon as you're done with yours, help Abby with packing for Natalia. Pack as much formula as you can. We don't know what we'll be able to find for her later."

"You got it, boss," McGee replied simply. He was surprisingly stoic, for which Gibbs was grateful. It was yet another reminder that the world was no longer what it should be—they weren't at NCIS, Ziva wasn't with him, and McGee was no longer a quivering Probie. Gibbs hated it, and yet accepted it in one fell swoop.

He watched the younger man go, then paused for a moment to gather himself. He sighed, running a rough, dirty hand over his eyes as the weight of his decision settled on his shoulders. Then, he sensed someone approach, and he straightened, regaining his strong posture as the approaching man spoke.

"Jethro," came the wizened voice, low and careful under the gravelly, trademark accent. "This is—" Whatever he intended to say was cut off by the Voice.

"Gather the Medicinals," he commanded stiffly. "Get ready to go. Then check over Sergei, make sure he doesn't need any patching up."

And then he left, without once looking at his friend. He couldn't deny he was angry at Ducky, nor could he claim that he didn't blame the medical examiner. If only the man had respected the Voice's decision to disallow any ventures into Vector Nine, if only Ducky had not protested so vehemently about the supplies—then Ziva might have been more patient, and she would have waited at least until Gibbs got back before heading out. As it was, the Voice needed distance between himself and the Doctor, lest his thin control shattered.

The Voice focused on organizing the Guards and Angels into the Patrols they would be working in during the Evacuation. The Residents would be vulnerable in transit, being such a large target as they were, and so slow-moving. A permanent flanking Guard would be necessary. Gibbs was barely aware of completing the last moment preparations, but somehow, someway, the entire Warehouse was ready to go by the time the sun fully appeared over the horizon.

There was barely time to breathe—let alone think—before it was time to move out. Gibbs wanted to stall, to give Ziva more time to get to them before they fled. But the Voice knew it wouldn't do any good. The Shadow wouldn't risk coming back so soon, not with the Bloods so close. She would do everything in her power to draw the Bloods away, to give the Residents more time.

And now the Voice needed to do his part—he needed to get the Residents moving.

Before he moved to take his position at the head of the pack, the Voice was approached by the hulking form of Sergei. For a moment, neither spoke, but the Voice knew what was on the Russian's mind.

"It's not your fault, Sergei," the Voice told him.

"I should have stayed with her," the man rumbled. "I tried to convince her let me help her—"

Realization dawned then, and Gibbs' heart broke just a little bit more. "She was injured, Sergei. Even before she set foot in Vector Nine. She was probably injured again in the blitz. She knew she was going to slow you down. You couldn't drag her and both bags, and someone needed to sound the alarm here. Ziva made her decision, and it gave us a fighting chance." He sighed. "Now we honor that by getting the hell out of here."

"Let me go back for her," Sergei said. "I can catch up when I find her."

"No. You wouldn't do her any good now, and we need you here." And with that declaration made, all hope of seeing Ziva soon was obliterated. Having given sound to the truth of the situation, the Voice returned to take charge. "Arm yourself, get briefed by the Angels."

"Gibbs—" The Russian tried to protest, but the Voice didn't listen.

"You want to do something for her, Sergei? Then honor her by making the same decision she did. Protect these people." Then the Voice grew quiet for a moment, before adding one more thought. "It's what she wanted you to do, Sergei. She was counting on you. Still is."

Finally, the Russian nodded. The Voice clapped him on the shoulder as the man lumbered away, his usually sauntering gait now stiff with displeasure, even as his shoulders slumped in defeat. Gibbs surveyed the amassing Residents with pained, tired eyes. In the throng he spotted Abby, with Natalia bundled up in her arms. Determination filled him then, and he steeled himself for the command to come.

"All right!" the Voice shouted above the hubbub, which immediately fell silent as he captured the attention of the entire Warehouse.

He looked over them once more, then nodded once, with finality.

"Move out!"