A/N: There is no excuse for the neglect I have given this story and all of you amazing reader. I apologize with my whole heart and hope you can forgive me. You are all fantastic if you're still reading this :D

As soon as the elevator doors closed on Reid, Morgan and Ziva, the Mossad assassin leant back against the cold elevator wall, trying her hardest to keep the memories threatening to overcome her at bay. Morgan and Reid glanced at her curiously, absently starting a profile on the young woman. As if Ziva had heard their thoughts, she abruptly stood up schooling her features, betraying no emotion.

Morgan was shocked to say the least, but Reid had read an article on Mossad. "You're Mossad, right?" Ziva shot him a suspicious questioning glare. Reid hurriedly answered, "Well, you have the accent, looks and your name is Ziva."

What he didn't add on was that she also had the emotionless mask most Mossad Officers had to practice but all the occupants of the elevator knew he had thought it. "Yes, I am," Ziva said stoically.

"What's Mossad doing with NCIS?" Morgan demanded trying to ignore the sudden chill of fear tingling down his spine.

"Strengthening the bond between America and Israel after a rogue Officer killed an NCIS agent," Ziva was fast to reply.

As her tone and body language told the two profilers Ziva was done with the conversation, Reid decided to change topic. "So, when are you going down to Chicago?" Reid asked lamely picking a topic from before, not knowing what else to say.

"As soon as this case is wrapped up hopefully," Morgan sighed. "I already missed her birthday as it was yesterday."

Curiosity over took Ziva's silence. "Who's birthday?"

"My mum's."

"Oh, that's nice," Ziva murmured her forced smile back up.

Reid didn't notice. "I write to my mum every day. She loves hearing about my work. And on her birthday I always go to Las Vegas and read to her. Do you do anything nice for your mum?"

"Died when I was 12," Ziva said tightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Reid muttered blushing bright red.

"Rule 6: do not apologize, it is a sign of weakness," Ziva recited automatically, as the three walked out of the building and towards the parking lot. "Anyway, we did not have a very happy relationship; my mother blamed me for many things that went wrong in her life."

"Who's rules?" Morgan questioned, steering the topic away from Ziva's mum.

"Gibbs'."

"You have to memorise them?" Morgan raised his eyebrow. "Or do you get cheat sheets?"

Ziva smirked. "They're not written down, Gibbs teaches them and we pick them up."

Morgan got behind the driving wheel of his SUV, Ziva took the passenger seat and Reid got in the back.

"What's rule 9?" Reid piped up, from behind.

"Always carry a knife."

"13?"

"Never, ever involve lawyers," was Ziva's fast reply.

"C'mon you've had to have read them somewhere," Morgan protested.

"Actually that not entirely true," Reid began holding his hands up as if to stop Morgan's speech. "It has been proven that when listening to somebody speak while paying minimal attention stores more information into the brain than reading something over and over again."

"That is why DiNozzo is always on his game. But, what if you remember everything you read, like you and I?" Ziva uttered cockily. Morgan and Reid frowned at the Mossad assassin curiosity clear in their faces. "I have a photographic memory; you have a similar memory, eidetic? The way you glance at everything so surely, you do not take a long look but still show in your eyes that you are certain."

Reid grinned. "You got me," he said.

Morgan clapped the thin man on the shoulder proudly boasting, "He can read 20 000 words a minute and has an IQ of 187!"

Reid caught Ziva's eye as Morgan went on to blabber about some hockey team that Reid didn't understand despite his cleverness. He smiled shyly his cheeks flushing a light pink. Ziva smiled back gently. The small glance was broken when Morgan jammed on the breaks stopping at an amber light.

"I am driving on the way back, you drive worse than my Mossad Instructor," Ziva complained jokingly but then added (deadly serious), "The amber light means speed up, not slow down."

TBC