Hi guys! You're comments have been so wonderful and I really appreciate all the thoughts you've given. Every comment is really appreciated. I just wanted to take a small moment to address two things that I think need clarifying after awesome people pointed them out:

Vance is DEFINITELY pulling a personal favor. He has no jurisdiction over where or what Ziva does, but I always thought the two of them are connected in a really sad way in that, if he asks, she will do whatever he needs.

Perhaps I didn't write it clear enough (something to work on – great note!), but Gibbs isn't angry at Ziva. He's more… weary. Because as much as he loves/wants Ziva back, he knows that Vance dragging her out of her self-healing, it's an ephemeral experience. She's there to help until it's done and then leave again. So Gibbs is concerned on what it's going to do to Ziva to get dragged back in, and what it's going to do with his team to only have her present for such a small amount of time. As much as he wants her here, a part of him knows no one will be happy when she is, so he's concerned.

I think that's it! Seriously – you guys are total rockstars. I hope you enjoy this next installment!

Chapter 3

You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello

She sips her tea. Everything around her is making her jump, her heart quickening at the slightest noise. The opening of a door, the dropping of a steaming pitcher. Every time the hot tea touches her lips, she sets it back on the table, only having the whisper of jasmine in her throat.

She's been here only thirty minutes and she can feel everything rushing back.

She thought it would take longer than this. Like a flood, slowly ebbing until it overtook all of her, but instead it was like a tsunami, crushing into her until she couldn't breathe. She could even feel like blood on her hands like a perpetual stain, always dripping, never rinsing off.

Ziva looks out the window to the familiar D.C. streets, but it grows blurry as tears rush to her eyes. She tries to subtly wipe them away, but it feels like all the eyes in the café are on her.

"My dear, somehow you still make forlorn stunningly beautiful, but it is a face I do not wish to see."

Ziva lifts her head and leaps from her seat, moving to embrace the man standing before her, but she stops herself. She clamps her hands at her sides and she can see the twinge of pity in his eyes.

"Ducky." Ziva states, sitting back down.

"My darling Ziva. I desperately wished I would see you again in my lifetime, but I daresay this is not the circumstance I wished it." Ducky states, seating himself. Ziva pushes a cup of tea closer to him and he smiles. "You remembered. Oolong."

"How could I forget?" Ziva asks softly, but her voice doesn't sound like her own. She picks up her mug for something to do with her hands, but she wishes there was a similar solution for her mouth.

"I must say I was surprised to receive you call and invitation." Ducky continues pensively, already drinking more tea than Ziva had. "I would've assumed that you would've waited until the last moment to see us, given the circumstances." He surveys her.

She was still the same Ziva he remembered, with one important distinction. The impenetrable cloud of confidence that she carried around with her wafted away. He could tell that she was nervous as her eyes darted across the café like they were in a war zone. Ducky resists the urge to reach across the table and grasp her hand, but he doesn't.

"You're afraid," Ducky states, curious to get a rise out of her. She barely flinches. "You're afraid and I imagine that I am one of the least of your concerns."

Ziva doesn't respond.

"You know, my dear girl, this is going to be difficult to everyone involved." Ducky fingers his mug. "The bad thing about clean breaks is that if you ever decide you want to tie them up again, the rope is frayed. It takes twice as long than a normal rope."

Ziva sets her mug on the table fiercely, the contents spilling over. "I read the case file." She snaps, not looking Ducky in the eye. "Are you familiar with the Old Testament?"

"Yes."

"Then you're familiar with the tale of Sodom and Gomorra." At last Ziva looks Ducky in the eye, her gaze so wrapped with pain and agony, he finds it difficult to maintain it. "Do you know what happens to the woman to look behind her? The woman who is supposed to stay moving forward, but at the last moment, she looks behind? Do you know what happens to that woman?"

Ducky closes his eyes.

"She turns to salt."

XXX

"We need to have a discussion, Gibbs."

"Does it look like I have a moment to discuss anything right now, Leon?" Gibbs snaps, focusing harder on his computer than he can remember ever doing. Both Tony and McGee peek up from their computers at the exchange.

Tony hadn't said much since the video played, but worked quietly by himself. Gibbs watched him carefully throughout the afternoon. If anyone looked in, he would just seem like a hard-worker, casually trying to get through his 9-5 job. But this was Tony.

"We need a discussion because she arrives here tomorrow and I would like this to be handled without creating a scene."

Tony and McGee's attention were caught now. Gibbs hated the look they were giving the two of them. It's like they already knew. They already knew who the 'she' is.

"Perhaps you should've thought of that before you called in your favor."

Vance clears his throat, straightening himself up. "Fine." He states. Turning toward Tony and McGee, Vance says, "Starting tomorrow, Ziva David will be returning on a temporary basis, in order to help with the current murders. She will be strictly answering to me. If this makes anyone uncomfortable, I can make sure she's as scarce as possible."

Tony stares at Vance long after he leaves. A part of him wonders if he heard him correctly. He hadn't been sleeping very well and Ziva seemed to be in all corners of his mind. Had she permeated this much?

"Boss," Tony states, standing from his seat, but then stops.

What does he say? What could he say?

Gibbs takes a breath. "We've got a case to solve."

XXX

There's something about purifying the body. He wipes the blade clean, watching the blood drain from the body. Everything starts out fresh and pure. But then it slowly gets tainted. The bad overwhelms the good.

He closes her eyes, unable to stare at the glassy death within their depths. She was pretty. He allows himself this fickle thought as he runs the rag over her body, making sure to get every last blood stain. No, not pretty. Beautiful. Pretty is for children. She was not a child.

He lifts her up, her head lolling back like a pendulum as he walks her through her apartment. Half the tub is already full. Prepared perfectly, as usual.

He sets her body in the tub, running his hands over the salt. As he dumps the rest of the container over her body, he leans closer to her face. In a gentle whisper, he says, "You're welcome."

XXX

Ziva paces around her hotel room. Everything here is just like she is – ephemeral. She's nothing but a passing ghost. That's what she'll always be. Returning to D.C. only cemented that fact.

She runs her hands on the fabric of the bed, a luxury she's not used to. Spending months on a cot in the desert left her with not a lot of possessions, but feeling fuller than she had in years.

But then again… something about returning to D.C. made a small, but very present part of her sigh with relief. The part that she told herself wasn't there, the part that she ignored, desperately trying to fill it with other things, felt more present that she can remember.

Ziva picks up her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she reaches his name.

He wouldn't have her number. She got rid of her old phone, only one person in the world knowing the number. Vance did his research and called the wildlife reserve directly, saying it was a matter of life or death. She supposes it is, but it doesn't make her any more thrilled to be here.

Without thinking, she presses 'send'. The phone rings several times, but she can't bring herself to hang up.

"Hello?"

When the husky voice on the other end sounds, Ziva freezes. Her thumb hovers over the 'end' button, but she finds herself clutching the phone closer to her ear. "Hello? Hello? Okay, this is like, the worst prank ever. The least you could do is breathe heavy into the phone. Hello."

Ziva presses 'end'.

Clutching the phone to her chest, she realizes she was shaking.

What happens to the woman who looks behind her?

Nothing but salt.

Author's Note: Hey guys! What do you think? I'm trying to strike a balance between the case and the character/emotional stuff. Next chapter will be first meetings! Let me know what you think if you have the time!