Here's a preview for the continuation of "More Than Bargained For." I'm still working out a few kinks, but I should have the full first chapter up in the next few days. Still working on the title too. Enjoy.

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo walked deliberately over to NCIS' "Most Wanted" wall. He briefly looked over the faces he knew so well, criminals and terrorists all. On the far end of the wall, Tony affixed a new photo with masking tape; along the bottom he had scrawled "Nigel."

Leroy Jethro Gibbs leaned on the balcony railing, his standard Starbucks coffee in hand, studying his agents. The Sunday was almost done, the sun already having gone down. Earlier in the day, he'd sent McGee and Tony to Major Lincoln's apartment to see if there was anything of note there. Everything seemed to have been in order there. The Major's workplace was no longer viable, seeing as the whole building had been demolished. They were still awaiting the autopsy from Ducky and really had no new leads yet. So now, the team was working two cases simultaneously: Lincoln's and Nigel's. Not that they had much to go on for either one. Right now, it was only Gibbs' famous gut that said they were connected at all.

McGee was typing madly on his keyboard, several programs running in the background. One was a facial recognition program, running Nigel's face against every database available. The young agent kept looking up every few minutes to cast worried glances at his companions. Tony was leaned back in his chair, attempting to accomplish something on his own computer. Mostly though, he was looking at Ziva, concern and worry etched across his face. There was none of the teasing or easy banter that usually existed between them. There was a stillness in the air that seemed as if it could be upset by a pin drop.

Gibbs took more time to study the lone female member of his team. In short, she looked like shit. A sling and cast encased her left arm, a brace on the right leg, a crutch discarded at the back of her cubicle. Even from the balcony, Gibbs could see the break in skin and slight dent in her nose where it was broken; blood in her right eye from a fractured cheekbone. Gibbs knew there to be more injuries, the worst of which were probably not physical. If asked how she was, the response would most likely be a curt "fine" and a redirect. Looking closer, Gibbs could see pain lines on Ziva's face and her jaw clenching and unclenching, almost unnoticeably if he wasn't looking for it. She looked exhausted and was no doubt not taking any of the pain medication prescribed to her. If he had to guess, she was punishing herself for the events of the previous day. He had an idea, somewhat, of the guilt and blame she was probably putting on herself in that brain of hers.

The older man took a long pull of his Marine-grade coffee and noticed Tony looking up at him. The look on Tony's face spoke volumes to the team leader. Gibbs' team was bent, but not yet broken, if they could keep their Mossad Liaison Officer from self-destructing. She was drawing within herself, shame and self-hatred eating at her very soul.

It would be a long road back to normalcy. If nothing else, the fact that Tony was able to just watch Ziva openly, with no comment or her sneaking up on him, was enough to worry Gibbs to no end. He'd never seen her not bounce back.

One last sip from the coffee and he stood back from the railing. He would need to prepare her for what was to come. This would not die down easily. At the very least, an internal investigation was in store. It would not go well for Ziva if she didn't stop blaming herself completely for yesterday's events. Gibbs tossed his empty coffee cup in the trash; there was no time like the present to do what needed to be done if he wanted to keep his team together and time was in short supply.

More to come, soon, I promise.-Flygirl.