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Chapter Thirty-Five

The Winner Takes It All

Secretary of the Navy Phillip Davenport arrived at the Navy Yard on the morning Ziva David was scheduled for deportation. There had been ugly decisions made here at NCIS, and the press was aware of it. Anonymous sources kept leaking more details, abolishing any hope leadership might have had of sweeping anything under the rug. After some intense deliberations, the party line had been determined, and Davenport wasn't about to let this messy stain blemish his record or reputation. So… changes had to be made, and he was here to ensure that it was done. His security detail walked behind him, along with a pair of Marines to handle the situation if it grew messy.

Not that he thought it would.

NCIS Director Jennifer Shepherd should rightfully have been a feather in his cap. After all, he'd appointed the first female director of the agency at a time where there was a lot of criticism for a supposed glass ceiling. Shepherd was young and ambitious, rising quickly through the ranks and befriending all the right people – while also shoving aside rivals as she ascended to the top. She didn't have a military background and hadn't worked in politics before, but Davenport thought she had the gut instincts for the job.

He couldn't have been more wrong – and he really loathed being proven wrong – publicly, nonetheless. Someone had to pay for the reprimand he'd received from the Secretary of Defense over this whole mess. A foreign national working as a full-fledged federal agent – with unlimited access to confidential intel.

Honestly.

The CNO was extremely concerned about the optics, and something had to be done to get ahead of it. There could be no whisper of a continued security breach at NCIS. Where Shepherd went wrong was in thinking of the agency as her own personal kingdom where she sat atop the pyramid like a queen, rather than as a shepherd – no pun intended – guiding a single branch of the full government.

It was one thing to let her ego put her in hot water; it was another thing entirely to let it get so out of control that it threatened his job. He'd warned her to be careful with how much access she allowed her liaison pet, and also to be sure said pet was fully vetted before bringing her in.

Apparently, Shepherd didn't take his directives seriously. David is the daughter of a deputy director at her counterpart agency. How on earth did she believe the woman could be impartial? Davenport was more than lucky that his secretary thought to have the initial conversation documented – with both of their signatures. In fact, he needed to make a mental note that his secretary was due for a significant raise.

The guards in the NCIS lobby straightened up, and those with military backgrounds saluted as he entered the building and strode through the lobby with purpose.

"I'm here to see Director Shepherd. There's no need to announce my presence; she's expecting me," he said.

The guard at the desk nodded nervously, and Davenport could read the conflict in the young man's eyes. Should he follow SOP and send the Secretary of the Navy up with an escort, or allow him access with his own personal escorts? Davenport could understand the dilemma – even if he was sent up with an NCIS employee, he outranked everyone in the building, and he could simply dismiss whoever was escorting him.

The guard sitting beside the nervous young man obviously had more experience.

"Allow me to show you up, Mr. Secretary," he said, leading the way through security.

Despite the fact he'd been here before and knew where he was going, he allowed the man to do his job. Once they reached Director Shepherd's secretary, the guard nodded and returned to the lobby.

Shepherd's secretary – Davenport couldn't remember her name – immediately ushered them into the director's office, eyes wide and hands fluttering. This told him that when his own secretary called to ensure Shepherd cleared her calendar this morning, both women were aware a decision had been made.

Jenny stood behind her desk, and she moved gracefully toward the conference table, stopping to shake his hand, all smiles and professional courtesy. The rest of his party remained outside as he closed the door behind him with a resounding click.

The director wore a navy-blue business suit with a stark white, high-collared shirt – very Navy appropriate. Davenport declined her offer of coffee and sat at the table, indicating she should do the same.

"It's nice to see you, Mr. Secretary. What can I do for you?" she asked, attempting to take control of the meeting.

"I'm afraid the time where you could have done something is long past, Director Shepherd," he replied heavily.

Her eyes widened and she shifted slightly, but she managed to keep her neutral expression.

"I'm not following."

He gave her credit for the bluff, but he was certain she knew exactly what he meant and was now suspecting the reason for his visit was not good news. She sat straight-backed and shoulders squared, so he gathered he was in for a fight. Again, her belief that her power was equal, or greater than others in the hierarchy, clearly highlighted his own faulty judgement when he'd hired her.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we? When you were appointed to this post, I had high hopes that you could put a shine on this agency. You've only been director for a matter of months, yet somehow, you've managed to paralyze the MCRT – the crowning jewel of NCIS – by giving a foreign national free reign. Without ensuring her attendance at FLETC to learn necessary laws and procedures, I might add. To make it worse, now I'm being asked by multiple other agencies about the availability of Agent DiNozzo, the SFA of the vaunted MCRT. This stops here," he said, anger and bitter frustration coloring his words.

"Agent DiNozzo was hurt while undercover. He has resumed desk duty status and is expected back after he's cleared medically, providing he passes his Psych Eval. I'm sure you're aware that is SOP for an undercover assignment," she said, choosing to address the latter rather than the blatant mistake of hiring Officer David.

He wasn't about to let her skirt it, but he could let her think he was playing her game rather than the other way around.

"I've been told that Agent DiNozzo has a healthy resume of undercover experience. Has he ever had a problem passing the required psychological testing to be effective at his job? If so, I haven't been made aware of it," he said.

"Not previously, but every assignment is different, and he came close to losing his life. That does tend to leave a mark," she replied, pressing her lips together to tamp down on the rising volume of her voice.

That, and the growing flush of her skin let him know she was losing control of her temper.

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I'm unaware of the roadblocks you've been attempting to place in front of Agent DiNozzo's return – and the displeasure of the team leader, Agent Gibbs – because of it. I won't allow the loss of a seasoned investigator added to the mess you've already created on the MCRT," he said, raising his voice to match hers.

"The MCRT is functioning and has an excellent close rate. That has not changed under my command," she said icily.

Davenport smiled. "Your arrogance is rather astounding. I walked by the MCRT on my way up here, and I saw only one member at his desk – and he wasn't working a case. The inactivity is glaringly obvious."

"That's because Agent DiNozzo is on medical leave, Officer David is being detained by the FBI, and Agent Gibbs has a habit of running off TADs," Shepherd snapped. "I will ensure they are up and running as soon as feasibly possible to ensure the best of care for our military families."

"Officer David won't be returning. The liaison position has been terminated," he said with finality.

"There's been a verdict?" she asked, her hand fluttering to her throat nervously.

"Guilty of Espionage, along with the attempted murder of her partner. She's being deported. You had to know this was coming. What were you thinking allowing her such unprecedented access? She shouldn't have even been allowed to handle evidence, never mind be involved in the discovery process. She was a liaison. Her role was to liaise only. You couldn't have been thinking clearly, so either Director David has something on you, or you were expecting something in return," he said.

"I resent that implication. Officer David was more than capable of carrying out her duties as an investigator, and her contacts and sources were of immeasurable value," Jenny said hotly.

Despite the staunch defense, Davenport could see her desperation. She knew it wouldn't end well for her, and was now looking for ways to salvage her own career. It was far too late for that.

"All of which could've been utilized without giving her access to military secrets. You've crossed a line, Ms. Shepherd – one that cannot be overlooked. You've abused NCIS funds, resources, and personnel all for what? Regardless, it equates to gross negligence. You are hereby relieved of the directorship of this agency." he said.

* * * * Section break

Shortly after SecNav's departure, Gibbs, along with most of the silent agents on the floor, watched as a pair of Marines escorted Jenny from the building. He'd suspected what was coming as soon as he realized the two Marines remained behind. She'd done it to herself, but he couldn't help the twinge of sympathy. He never could get over that desire to aid a woman in distress – particularly one he'd once cared about.

She walked out with her back ramrod straight, and her head held high, but he could see that recurring twitch in her left eye. She wasn't nearly as calm as she wanted everyone to believe. Her hazel eyes swept past him, hardening slightly as she continued on without a hint of recognition on her pale face. She held him somewhat responsible for the position she now found herself in.

That wasn't going to work. While he felt sorry for her, there was no guilt. He'd tried to warn her, and she didn't want to hear it. She blamed DiNozzo, too, insisting his mistrust of Ziva started the whole catastrophic chain of events. She wanted to believe that Ziva only gave military secrets to Mossad in retaliation for DiNozzo painting her into a corner. It was delusional beyond the pale, and he wondered if there wasn't something medically wrong with her, feeding this unhealthy obsession.

He also wondered what she'd do now. She couldn't return to being an agent – that bridge was burned. He doubted any of the other alphabet agencies would be willing to take her on in any kind of administrative role, or even if they could. Her name was mud amongst all the bureaucrats. Maybe she'd turn to the private sector. Someone there always wanted a driven go-getter to join their ranks, and most of them weren't all that concerned with scruples.

Once Jenny solemnly entered the elevator, and the doors closed behind her, Gibbs grabbed his car keys. The various agents and personnel who'd been observing the exit erupted into excited chatter.

"Going out for a while," he said to McGee, striding past without further explanation.

McGee's mouth opened, but the question never came. Gibbs could feel the other man's eyes on his back until the elevator returned and swallowed him up. He went directly to his car and left the Navy Yard, heading toward Andrews Air Force Base. Morrow didn't give him an exact time, but he was certain it wouldn't be before SecNav dealt with Jenny. He knew it would happen today.

He could wait.

He parked in a spot where he had the runway in his direct line of vision, but he also could see the road heading onto the base. He was sure Ziva would be accompanied by a convoy. No one was willing to risk a last-minute escape, or a Mossad retrieval team. Gibbs settled back against the headrest, folding his hands. He'd stopped to buy a fresh cup of coffee on his way, and he also brought a thermos from home to ensure a plentiful supply.

Falling back on his sniper skills, he settled down to await his target. The day moved on as the earth slowly rotated. It wasn't until dusk, when the winter sun was only giving low light while casting long shadows that Gibbs finally saw movement. He noticed the line of dark cars making the trek onto the base. He'd brought a pair of binoculars along, and he easily identified one of the cars as belonging to the Israeli Embassy by the flags, as well as the Armored Prisoner Transport Vehicle that he was sure held Ziva.

The convoy slowly meandered toward the airfield. The line of cars eventually formed a row, both sides equidistant from the transport vehicle in the center, directly outside the open hatch of a plane. He'd expected a military transport, a C-130 or something similar, but this was a private jet, with Israeli markings. They must've sent it to collect her.

He watched as the diplomats emerged from the Embassy car. There were four of them, and they met several of the committee members in front of the transport vehicle. An agent opened the door, and a handcuffed Ziva was assisted out. She wore an orange prison jumpsuit that hung off her small frame. Her curls were in wild disarray, but her scowl was easily discernable. Hostile, she glared at her guards, twisting her body to indicate she wanted the handcuffs removed.

One of the Israeli delegation emerged from the plane, nodding. Her handcuffs were removed, and she smirked triumphantly for a moment before her expression became stunned. A Mossad agent snapped another pair of cuffs on her, and nodded toward the plane's hatch.

This was Gibbs' cue. He wanted her to witness him watching her removal from the country. He stepped out of his car, and approached the plane with a purposeful stride. Several of the guards from various agencies aimed their weapons, commanding him to stop, but when Morrow recognized who it was, he allowed Gibbs to approach.

He strode directly up to the diplomats surrounding Ziva.

"Gibbs," she said stiffly.

"Ziva."

"Is this really what you wanted? Are you happy now?" she asked, her eyes pleading, soft and wounded.

He wasn't going to fall for it again.

"Happy? Happy that you valued your partner's life so little? No, that doesn't make me happy," he said, voice rising enough that a couple of the diplomats flinched, their eyes twitching nervously.

The Mossad agents who'd emerged from the plane, stepped back, giving them a modicum of privacy, although the diplomats and the many federal agents held their ground. Onboard the plane, an Israeli woman wearing an impeccable suit appeared, observing them closely.

"I asked the Embassy to reach out to you, but you refused to take their calls. Together we could have been an unstoppable pair, but you would not remove your blinders," she said, wistfully.

"There are no pairs at NCIS – there are teams – something you still fail to grasp," he said.

"We could have been a two-person team and been just as effective – even more so than any other," she said, chin raised in stubbornness.

He shook his head. "You still don't get it. Killing and torture aren't skills needed on an investigative team," he said.

"And yet my skills came in handy on more than one occasion," she sneered.

"I put my team together to utilize complementary skill sets, that's what made us effective," he said.

"What does that even mean? Computers? I know enough, and Cyber could fill in any blanks," she said. "We two are the best, and no one came close to our level."

"I didn't keep you for your skills with weapons, Ziva. Both DiNozzo and I can handle ourselves in a fight," he said.

She laughed incredulously. "Right. Why did you keep me then?"

"For your language skills, along with your multiple international contacts. Those are far more beneficial in criminal investigation," he said.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Why are you here, Gibbs? You have made it clear you will not fight for me; nor offer me the protection you have said you always give your team."

"Well, as it turns out, you never were really on my team," he said, getting to the heart of what he needed to know.

It had been torturing him, tearing up his insides since Morrow told him, and he needed to hear it directly from the source. It would complete his failure. His gut failed him, and his edge was no longer as sharp as he'd once believed. He'd fully accepted her deception, never once doubted her sacrifice – even allowed her into that long-frozen part of his heart that missed a daughter.

And it had all been a lie.

"What is that supposed to mean? Of course I was on your team. What are you saying?" she asked, frowning.

"Your brother, Ari," he said, glaring.

She reared back, the first hint of real emotion filtering through her eyes. "What about him?" she asked.

"Your father ordered you to kill him to gain my trust," he said coldly, aware the diplomats and Mossad operatives waiting all shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes," she said simply, not offering any excuses.

"That's a real problem. You used the connection I felt was forged between us to insinuate yourself in my life. All of it was a lie," he said bitterly.

"I was following orders, despite my misgivings. You have had to do the same, but the connection was real, Gibbs. I thought we both needed someone to trust implicitly. That we could become the best operatives either Mossad or NCIS has ever seen. I did need you. I still do," she said tearfully.

"I don't need you," he said flatly.

She flinched as if she'd been slapped.

"It's time to go," the Embassy woman in the sharp suit said, indicating that Ziva should climb aboard.

"Gibbs–"

"Take care of yourself, Ziva, but know this – if you ever come after my family – after DiNozzo – again, it'll be the last thing you ever do. I don't miss," he said, turning and walking away, ignoring her calls until they faded in the wind.

Once back in his car, he watched as they pulled her onto the plane. She tried to resist but was severely outnumbered. Once the many FBI agents emerged from their sedans and aimed their weapons, she was forced to comply. It wasn't long before the plane started its engines and took off.

He waited until it became nothing more than a spec on the horizon, at last disappearing from sight.

* * * *section break

It had been a week since Ziva's deportation, and Tony was still stuck on desk duty. He'd passed his psych eval with flying colors – he always knew just what they wanted to hear – but as of yet, he wasn't medically cleared to be in the field. He'd progressed steadily with his physical therapy on his hand, but he'd been told recovery from broken ribs causing a Pneumothorax would take at least eight weeks. He was only a little over half-way there, and he was climbing the walls. He couldn't stand watching Gibbs and McGee going into the field without him.

SecNav put one of the deputy directors in-charge temporarily at headquarters. Originally, everyone assumed that Assistant Director, Leon Vance, would get the post, but once it was discovered that he also had ties to Eli David, he was passed over as a person non grata. So far, things were running smoothly, but Tony wasn't sure what would happen the first time a conflict with one of the other agencies arose.

He made his way down to Abby's lab, hearing the music blaring before he exited the stairwell. His pulmonologist told him to try and get some low-impact activity throughout the day, so Tony began skipping the elevator and using the stairs. Gibbs carefully monitored his time in the gym to be sure he wasn't overdoing it, so he had to find other ways to get extra activity in. It was a bit smothering, but it also felt sort-of-nice that someone was watching out for him – even if Gibbs refused to believe he was fine.

Which he was.

"Abby!" he called, trying to get his voice to carry over the screeching music.

She still didn't hear him and was really absorbed in whatever she was working on. Tony walked over and grabbed the remote, turning the music off. She spun around, annoyed until she realized who it was, then a wide smile blossomed across her face.

"Tony! How are you? Is everything okay? Do you need to sit down?" she asked, wheeling one of her chairs over to him.

He'd realized too late that letting her sit with him in the hospital when he was really hurt was a mistake. Now she thought he was somehow made of glass and would shatter with the slightest exertion. He was going to have to take her dancing at one of those clubs she liked in order to disabuse her of that idea.

"Abby, if you ask me that one more time, I'm not going to give you your present," he said, keeping his arm behind his back.

"Present? For me? It's not my birthday," she said eagerly, trying to peer around his shoulder.

Luckily, he was taller than her – not always a given with Abby. When he maneuvered to keep her blocked, she tried to pull his arm out. He laughed at her eagerness.

"Nope, not until you say Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo is in peak physical form and unlimited in any way," he said, still dodging her attempts to get around him.

"Fine," Abby huffed, rolling her eyes while repeating his words tonelessly. "Now can I have my present?"

"Now, tell me how you've always admired my extreme good looks and vigorously manly physique," he said, striking a pose.

She punched him on the shoulder.

He grinned, handing over the small box wrapped in shiny gold paper. She tore through it as if she didn't even notice the intricate wrapping. Inside was a brand-new dog collar, bright red with silver cutouts in the shape of diamonds. A few crystals lined the trim.

"Tony!" she gasped. "I love it."

She immediately removed the black one she was wearing and placed the new one around her neck.

"What do you think?" she asked, beaming.

Putting his finger over his lips, he made a show of considering it carefully. "It's a little fancy for casual wear. I think it needs to be for clubbing," he said.

"Ooh, good idea. There's a new place over on H street I've been dying to go. You're right. I'll wear it there. Want to come with?" she asked, removing her present and replacing it with the one she'd been wearing.

"Sure, why not? We should get McGee to come along, too. The idea of him in one of your clubs amuses me," he said.

She giggled. "He's a little stiff, but he loosens up after a few or five drinks," she said. "What's the occasion? What did I do to earn such a spectacular new accessory?"

"You saved my ass – literally," he said.

She frowned. "Huh?"

"Those dorm pants you brought me in the hospital saved my ass, my knees, and my manhood when we had to duck out of that room. There was glass everywhere. I owe you," he said, nodding solemnly.

"Don't joke about that. It's not funny," she said, scowling.

"It's over now, Abs, and I'm fine. McGee is fine, Ziva's gone, and Gibbs has been unusually supportive," Tony said, not quite sure how he felt about that last bit.

Abby grinned. "I know you don't like it when he's nice to you, Tony, but he almost lost you. You know no matter how gruff he likes to come off, he'd be devastated if anything happened to you – especially so soon after losing Kate."

"I know. He's had me over for steaks at least twice a week, sometimes three times, and he's been pushing me to make a decision on a new teammate," Tony said.

He knew the team needed to add another member, a woman, because sometimes victims just felt more comfortable speaking to a woman – plus, it gave him time to brush up on his charm during the day. Still, he couldn't quite stop that sliver of insecurity that didn't want a new member joining in on field work when he couldn't be there. He wanted the new team to be a cohesive unit, and he didn't want to become an afterthought. He wouldn't be able to join them until he could pass his medical clearance.

"Gibbs won't let anyone push you out ever again, Tony. He wouldn't even allow anyone to try," Abby said intuitively.

Tony knew she was right. Gibbs had more than had his back recently, even encouraging Human Resources to push his paperwork through quickly, and ensuring a date for his award ceremony. It would happen in a couple of weeks, but Tony was really looking forward to it. Gibbs said they'd go out for a team dinner afterwards – and for Gibbs to willingly socialize was a huge deal.

"I know," he said… and he did.

"Do you have anyone in mind?" Abby asked, a bit too casually to be believable.

"What did McTattletale say?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"He didn't tattle… just… let me in on the idea," she said, a little pouty.

"The idea of what?" Gibbs asked, striding into the lab, McGee on his heels.

They'd been out searching for another UA sailor. Hopefully this case would have a less-bloody ending.

"Find him, Boss?" Tony asked.

"He's back with his unit – probably facing a court martial," Gibbs said. "What idea?"

Abby looked at him expectantly.

He sighed. It was time.

"I've been looking over those applications while you've been out in the field. I think I've found a viable one, and McGee agrees."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Name?"

"Diana Reardon. She's a metro detective who's had a lot of experience working with the mentally ill," he said.

Reardon was a couple years older than him and had a lot of self-confidence. Unlike Kate – or Ziva, for that matter – she had a law enforcement background. Quite often, the feds didn't like LEOs crossing over, but he really thought she could hack it and withstand Gibbs when he was on a tear. Plus, a lot of sailors returned from overseas with PTSD, and her background could lend itself to helping to talk them down, so things didn't end in tragedy.

No one on the team possessed that formal training, so it was a good skill set to add to the mix.

"You think she's a good fit?" Gibbs asked, addressing both Tony and Tim.

"I do," Tony said.

"She's good, and she has some technical skills that would give me a hand on heavy workloads," Tim added.

"There's only one problem," Tony said.

"Yeah, and what's that?" Gibbs asked, squinting.

Tony and Tim exchanged glances, waging a silent war on who would speak. Tim raised his eyebrows, which Tony took to mean:

You're the Senior Field Agent, you do it.

"Well, you see, Boss… she's a red-head," Tony said.

Gibbs reached over and smacked him on the back of the head. "Bring her in for an interview," he said, easily.

And that was the beginning of their new team.