Note: When Ziva first appeared, Donald Bellisario intended for her to be a mole, like Ari. Obviously. that didn't happen, but it left huge inconsistencies in her character. This story resulted from my curiosity of what could happen if they'd gone in the original direction.

If you're a big Ziva fan, this story probably isn't for you.

Nothing Good Comes from Mossad

Chapter One

Suspicious Minds

The late afternoon hum created by agents beginning to clear their desks and pack up for the evening was interrupted by the ping of the elevator.

"What the hell took you so long," LeRoy Jethro Gibbs' voice carried clearly across the bullpen, sounding like it usually did – clipped and irritated.

Even the fog on the skylight from the bitterly cold air outside seemed to still its lazy furl. The agents and personnel inside kept their eyes averted, but all had their ears attuned to whatever the man was railing about this time. Rage seemed to be Gibbs' default setting, often increasing to violent temper tantrums. Despite the prestige of the MCRT, most of the agents were glad they didn't have to navigate its leader's foul moods.

"I told you, Boss – there was a lot of rooms to clear. I couldn't be sure they were empty until I checked. You would've been even more pissed if those guys were able to flank us," Tony DiNozzo replied calmly, shrugging off his backpack and sinking into his chair with a sigh. The skin around his left eye was red and puffy and bore the telltale signs of a developing black eye.

Tony, the SFA who did have to deal with Gibbs' moods and temper, accomplished it with a grace and ease that baffled the others. Most of them didn't know why he put it up with it, but no matter how off-the-rails Gibbs' fury could be, Tony shrugged it off as if it was no big deal.

"McGee and I cleared our end quick enough," Gibbs said testily.

A smug smirk appeared on McGee's face, and he actually sat up straighter as he began typing up his report.

"Well, you can't expect us mere mortals to match the skills of the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs now, can you, Boss? We got the bad guys and found the money with no casualties. This was a win," Tony said, flashing his impossibly white teeth and clearly not counting his own bruised face as a casualty.

"We would have made fine time if Tony did not insist on re-checking the rooms I had already cleared," Ziva said, staring haughtily across her desk at Tony, who sat across from her.

"Yes, but Ziva, see… you need to actually look inside the rooms to know they're clear. Funny how that works," Tony said breezily, pecking on his keyboard.

"I was not aware you found something that I did not," she said slyly, eyebrows raised.

"Not this time," Tony muttered under his breath.

"No one leaves until I have your reports on my desk," Gibbs growled, sounding even angrier than before. He stood up and stormed from the bullpen, probably in search of coffee since his desk was missing its trademark cup.

Once the elevator doors closed, erasing Gibbs from sight, Ziva's fingers began typing furiously. "These endless forms are ridiculous. I have weekend plans, and I do not want to be late."

"Weekend plans? Ooh, do tell," Tony said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Are you jealous? How I spend my time off is none of your concern," she replied, nose in the air.

Tony's grin grew even broader. "Hmm, sounds like I hit a nerve. That means there's a man involved."

"Or a woman," she said, lowering her voice huskily. "Now you can spend your weekend contemplating that."

Tony snorted. "Ha! Sorry to burst your bubble, but once I leave here, thoughts of you never cross my mind. I have plans of my own involving the lovely Kerstin and a can of whipped cream."

"I thought you broke up with her," Tim said, eyebrows raised.

"She convinced me to give it another go. She can be very convincing," Tony said, leering.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "We do not want to hear any more of your exploits, do we, McGee?" she asked, looking across the bullpen expectantly.

McGee, however, looked as if he might actually want some details on convincing a woman to stick around, but at Ziva's words, he visibly shook himself. His eyes darted between his two co-workers nervously.

"No, I don't. We're not on call this weekend, so once these reports are finished, we'll actually get some down time."

"Right you are, McObvious – so the sooner you get me those reports, the sooner the weekend festivities can begin," Tony said, rubbing his hands together.

"Why do we have to give our reports to you? Gibbs is team leader," Ziva said crossly.

Tony's fingers momentarily clenched on his keyboard, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. "We've been over this, Ziva. Reports go up the chain of command. I'm surprised to hear Mossad didn't work that way."

Ziva curled her lip. "At Mossad, we do not waste time with foolish blood tape. So many forms when one would suffice. It is unnecessary."

"Well, one is all that's being asked of you. I'm the one who has to coordinate them all, so I don't see why you're complaining. And its red tape, by the way – interesting how your mind goes right to blood," Tony said.

"Why should you be the one to coordinate anything? McGee is the one with many degrees and vastly superior computer skills. He should be in charge of forms," Ziva said, condescendingly.

"Why don't you take it up with the Director at your next tattletale meeting, then," Tony said, countering.

Despite being a spy with all her self-proclaimed, vaunted experience, Ziva's eyes widened in surprise and automatically flickered to the balcony above the bullpen. "I do not know what you are talking about," she said stiffly.

"Of course, you don't. Just be sure your report is all in English this time," Tony said, smirking smugly that he'd caught her in a lie

Ziva was clearly affronted by both his amusement, and the fact he knew about her continued meetings with the Director. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him.

"Of course. I know my vast language skills go right over your head," she sneered.

Tony raised his eyes in mock surprise. "Oh, do they allow you to fill out reports in languages other than Hebrew at Mossad?" he asked.

She scowled. "I already told you; we do not waste time with all these foolish forms. Looks like you might not have time to see Kerstin after all. Poor Tony, you will have to wait to satisfy your baser urges, no?" she asked, leaning over her desk to give him a fuller view of her cleavage.

"My baser urges are well taken care of, thank you very much. Don't you worry about me," he replied, not reacting to her display.

"Finished," Tim said, as the printer began spewing out the pages of his report. He handed it to Tony, looking pleased that he'd finished first.

Tony read it over quickly while Tim stood in front of his desk, tapping his foot impatiently. Tim didn't have any plans that evening, but Ziva was right. It was irritating that he had to hand his report off to Tony rather than just giving it straight to Gibbs. Of course, Tim could concede that Gibbs probably didn't want to waste his time on paperwork, so he made Tony do it. Still, Tim thought Ziva was also correct that he would be a more suitable candidate to coordinate the reports for Gibbs' approval. He was better educated, after all.

"This looks good, Probie – except you need to document your search of the rooms leading up to the capture, not just your computer search of the area to find the right building," Tony said, handing back the report.

"Gibbs cleared the rooms," Tim said, sitting back at his desk and re-opening his report on his computer screen.

Tony tilted his head. "So… you didn't look in them at all?" he asked, leading Tim to the answer he wanted.

"No… I did, but Gibbs confirmed," Tim said.

Tony grinned. "Ah, just like I did on our side of the building, right, Ziva?" he asked, preening.

Ziva pursed her lips. "I was trained by Mossad. There is no need for you to recheck my work. It is far more likely you will be the one to miss something. Here. I am done. Read this, so I can go," she said, pulling her own report from the printer.

Once Tony had read and signed off on both of the junior agents reports, he began filling out his own, knowing Gibbs had timed his coffee break so that he could corner Tony alone once he returned. He sighed morosely, letting his guard down and the carefree mask he wore in the office slip. How did they get here? How had things deteriorated so quickly?

He glanced over at Ziva's desk – Kate's desk – remembering how the Israeli had callously swooped in and took it over after his former partner's death. Gibbs had given her a completely functional desk at the back of the bullpen, but Ziva wouldn't accept that. She had to be at the front, next to Gibbs, where she felt was her rightful place. It looked as if Kate had never even been there. Ziva hadn't seemed to realize – or if she did, she didn't care – that they were all still reeling from the loss. Now, after several months, even his memories weren't as sharp and clear as they used to be. Time and distance gave them that hazy quality that sometimes happened when you remembered your past. Despite the lack of clarity in his head, the ache of losing a partner he trusted to have his back remained. Ziva might not have actually killed Kate, but she'd gathered the intel that facilitated it happening. Tony would never be able to let that go.

/* /* /* /*

Unnoticed by any of the few remaining agents scattered in the now darkened bullpen, Director Jennifer Shepherd moved from her position in the shadows on the balcony above and slipped back into her office. The diminutive redhead moved swiftly towards her well-stocked liquor cabinet and poured herself a stiff drink, rattling the ice cubes in the glass irritably.

Sitting behind her large, ornate desk, she sipped her bourbon, brooding. This agency had been under her control for a little over six months now, but things hadn't gone as smoothly as she'd originally believed they would.

Jennifer Shepherd was no ingenue when it came to understanding how the world worked, and she knew the odds were already stacked against her when she took this post. Correction – when she was appointed to the position after kicking, shoving, and clawing her way to the top – forcing people take notice. She hadn't earned the title of the first woman to hold the position by being a shrinking violet. She wasn't going to be held back simply due to the fact the letters of her chromosomes matched.

She had big plans now that she was here, but she kept getting derailed by small, annoying details that demanded her attention. Everyone wanted to cement their place in the pecking order with the new director, and the constant interruptions didn't allow her to work on putting some of her larger plans in place. She knew the name of the game in DC was political favors and powerful connections. She needed them to continue her climb up the administrative ladder. She'd spent years cultivating contacts, stretching her network – she'd even had to sleep with the occasional frog to get what she wanted. She had no intention of letting the directorship of a small, less significant agency be the height of her career. She'd sacrificed too much, held her nose to make some otherwise unsavory deals, lost friends who were also rivals along the way. She could be as cutthroat as the rest of them to get what she wanted and rarely looked back.

Sitting in her office, she kicked off her shoes, clenching her toes in the luxurious carpet and leaned back as she pondered all she still wanted to do.

This post at NCIS was a stepping stone – and she planned to make the most of it. Already, she'd managed to establish an ally on the MCRT, thus smoothing the road for future cooperation with said ally's father – who also happened to be the leader of Mossad. A political favor and a powerful connection in one swift motion. She thought she deserved bonus points for that one.

Jenny had no doubt that Ziva was Mossad first, but she'd worked with the young Israeli extensively, and she admired her skills. Ziva was an excellent spy, and a valuable source of intel on the MCRT. That team was the shining star of NCIS, and Jenny wanted to guarantee its frequent successes were attributed to her. Having Ziva on the team would ensure that happened. The timing of Kate Todd's death couldn't have come at a more fortuitous time for Jenny's needs. She'd originally thought she would have to groom one of the existing members of the team to be her source as Jethro Gibbs, the team lead, wasn't usually open to new people unless he chose them personally. The stars couldn't have aligned more perfectly for Jenny.

She was no fool. She realized that the overriding reason she was given this post in the first place was due to her past relationship with Gibbs. Other candidates had turned down the post, refusing to work with the man. He had a reputation for being difficult and refusing to toe the company line. Most people were intimidated by him.

Jenny, however, thought she could manage him, so she'd eagerly jumped at the chance. The end of their relationship wasn't his choice, after all, and she thought she knew just what buttons to press. Anyone else who sidestepped the rules the way Gibbs did would be reprimanded, if not outright fired, but despite his methods, he always got results. Results were the key to politics, and politicians loved people who got those results. Therefore, he was well-protected.

She also knew that despite his trampling over the rules of fair play, Gibbs still got convictions. That meant that someone on his team knew how to tidy the paper trail. When she'd first sunk her claws into NCIS, she'd suspected that it was his Probie, Timothy McGee, a computer genius. He seemed like the type who would follow the straight and narrow yet never question authority.

Now, after observing the team, she wasn't as sure. She realized that Gibbs was more likely to listen to his SFA than anyone else, which she was having a lot more difficulty understanding. DiNozzo seemed like a loose cannon, and the intel Ziva provided was that he was an overgrown frat boy and a womanizer who didn't take anything seriously. That didn't fit with what she knew about Gibbs, however, so there had to be more.

Ziva, who was usually so focused and determined, was apparently flummoxed by how to handle Anthony DiNozzo. Jenny had arranged for both of them to go undercover on the married assassin case at the Marine Ball not too long ago, certain Ziva would shine. It hadn't gone to plan. DiNozzo was the one who orchestrated Ziva's release, and managed the capture of a living assassin in doing so. Jenny was still smarting over that miscalculation, and Ziva was positively livid. She never did well with anyone who outsmarted her.

Jenny drummed her perfectly manicured nails on the table, pondering. She needed to do something to correct the situation and move her plans forward.

When she'd first placed Ziva onto the MCRT with barely any pushback from Gibbs, she thought it would be smooth sailing. She hadn't expected him to accept Ziva so readily, but she'd since heard a lot of scuttlebutt that he was always softer with women. His relationship with Abby, the forensic scientist proved that. Jenny hadn't wanted to believe it. She thought the fact he'd let her in was significant, and she didn't like to consider the idea it was simply based on her gender.

She got up and refilled her glass, foregoing the ice this time, and pressed her lips together like she often did when she was agitated.

Despite the bumps in the road, she'd managed to place her informant, and she hoped Ziva would be able to take on more and more of the SFA duties once she got a foothold and proved herself. Gibbs didn't care about taking credit or treading softly with any of the power players in other agencies. With Ziva keeping her apprised, Jenny could step in and not only take the credit but also expand her network. Washington was nothing without a 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' mentality.

She stared out the frosted windows, unseeing, as a light snow began to fall.

Gibbs wasn't quite as malleable as she'd hoped, however, and he steadfastly trusted DiNozzo over the others. Even more infuriating, DiNozzo stubbornly refused to trust Ziva. It was causing tension on the team, and it was taking them longer to get results. She needed to correct that before their solve rate deteriorated. She was counting on them to be a feather in her cap.

What she hadn't anticipated was being deluged daily with little nuisance items taking up so much of her time. Although Gibbs had readily accepted Ziva, both Human Resources and the in-house Psych Evaluator were unhappy with the choice for the MCRT. They were constantly filing their objections to the appointment. Human Resources insisted it was unprecedented and didn't fit within the confines of a liaison position. They felt it was too risky to have a foreign national placed on a team with access to classified intel, never mind the battle she'd had to wage to get her MTAC clearance.

The stack of complaints she kept having to override was daunting, but she knew it was necessary. Ziva was loyal to her, and she was also a strong supporter of growing the number of women in positions of power. Ziva would never do anything to jeopardize that. Jenny was sure of it, so their concerns were moot.

Human Resources also felt that a former spy with no previous investigative experience didn't belong on the lead investigative team. They'd suggested putting her in counter-terrorism. Oddly enough, Gibbs had the same objection when she'd informed him that Ziva would be a new member. He thought Ziva should've been sent to the CIA. She wondered how he'd feel to know Human Resources echoed his concerns. She had no intention of sending Ziva elsewhere. That would defeat the point of having ears in the MCRT, which got far more accolades than their Intelligence unit. Jenny knew Gibbs could train Ziva to give her the skills she needed. She was confident in her decision, so once again, she dismissed their objections.

The Psych Evaluator thought it was detrimental to the mental health of the other members of the team to have someone who'd provided the intel that led to the death of their partner take the resulting vacancy. That was also ridiculous. Ziva had nothing to do with Kate's death. In fact, she'd been responsible for killing the actual perpetrator. Jenny couldn't use that as justification, however, since Gibbs believed he and Ziva were the only ones aware of that fact.

He didn't need to know exactly how well-informed Ziva kept her.

Besides, Gibbs would never tolerate any – touchy/feely crap – his words, interfere with how he ran his team, so she felt safe ignoring those objections, as well.

Jenny dismissed any and all opposition from anyone outside the MCRT, but she still had the problem of DiNozzo. Ziva was frustrated because she'd been unable to make any inroads, and Gibbs trusted him implicitly. The fact DiNozzo didn't trust Ziva, however, limited the amount of freedom she could acquire while working on the team. She'd tried to undermine him, share her doubts about his abilities and worm her way closer to the other members of the team, all the while throwing shade his way, but nothing daunted the former cop.

Ziva was a beautiful women, skilled in the art of seduction, but even that hadn't worked against the alleged playboy. Jenny thought Ziva had vastly underestimated Gibbs' rule twelve, and the likelihood that members of his team would follow his rules. Jenny knew it would be a problem since she was the reason the rule existed in the first place.

She was dismayed to realize that for a trained operative, Ziva gave in to her emotions all too easily. Jenny didn't want discord on the MCRT – she wanted things to run smoothly so they were successful. She was going to have to tell Ziva to play nice and not antagonize DiNozzo. Unfortunately, she doubted Ziva would accept that directive gracefully. In fact, she was surprised she hadn't already had a phone call complaining about the restrictions the Israeli found stifling.

It would be better to get in front of that before it happened. With that in mind, Jenny picked up her phone and dialed.

"Gibbs," it was answered gruffly on the second ring.

"Hello, Jethro. It's getting late, and I'd like to go home at some point this evening. Are you ready to give me an update on the Brady heist?" she asked, trying to add a bit of a soft purr to her annoyance that he'd taken so long to come up to her office.

There was silence on the other end.

"Jethro," she finally prompted impatiently.

"I'm at home," he said.

"What do you mean you're at home? Didn't you find the money and arrest the suspects earlier tonight?" she asked, stunned that he hadn't seen fit to come to her to report the details rather than just the brief summary he'd given when he called from the scene.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "I told you that."

"That's all you told me. I am the Director, Jethro. I need the actual details," she said, gritting her teeth.

He could be so difficult. Why did he have to act like asking him to use actual words was akin to being asked to give up his first-born child?

"When DiNozzo finalizes the report, I'll give you a copy," he said.

She supposed that's how he usually did things, but considering the bickering she'd heard from the bullpen earlier, she knew there was more going on, and she wanted the full story.

"Were there any problems?" she asked, her frustration bleeding through her words.

"Nothing worth mentioning," he said, and she could almost hear his shrug through the phone.

Did he really believe that, or was he just being obstinate? Either was possible.

"It looked like Agent DiNozzo was injured, and your team seemed to be sniping at one another," she said, prompting him.

"Eh, dirtbag managed to get in one good pop. DiNozzo handled him," Gibbs said, a hint of pride in his voice.

"And the sniping?" she asked once she realized he wasn't going to say anything else.

"Sniping's how they work," he replied.

Jenny clenched her teeth. She wondered if he realized how unflattering his arrogance could be. He probably didn't care.

"I don't think Ziva realizes that, and she's concerned. She's a new member of your team, and as team leader, its up to you to keep the inter-team relationships well-oiled. You need to put some grease on the interactions between Ziva and DiNozzo," she said, thinking maybe being blunt would get more results than the subtle hints she'd been giving up until now.

"Ziva's a spy, Jen. I think she can handle someone not trusting her," he said.

"Lack of trust on a team could get someone killed. I know you know that. It's your job to fix it," Jenny said.

"Team works fine. Case solved; money found. What more do you want?" he asked.

Jenny felt a tension headache forming. "I want my team leaders to keep me apprised on the status of their cases and to utilize the people skills that had to be involved in making them team leaders in the first place," she said, her control finally snapping.

"Good, then we're done. Gotta go," he said, and she heard the phone disconnect. He really was infuriating.

She'd thought she heard the sound of a door opening at the very end of the conversation, but she couldn't be certain. Was he seeing someone? She'd noticed that he'd been picked up by a red-headed woman several times, but he'd been typically closed-lipped when she'd tried to pry. It's not like it should matter to her, but she couldn't deny the curiosity. Of course, she supposed it could've just been someone delivering a pizza.

Before she had time to ponder, her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at the caller ID, futilely hoping Jethro had called her back.

Ziva David.

She sighed. It looked like she wouldn't be getting dinner anytime soon.

Note: Fic title came from a comment by Jesco0307 in my story, All We Are. I thought it was too good not to use.