Catch Me if you Can

Part One

Jena Rink

Okay, so the Paperwork story fits into this universe...I think that's all you need to know besides the fact that I literally stayed up until 3am posting this for you guys, :) And that italics are most likely flashbacks, or the played back recording of something (like if Abby is playing a sound on her computer). And that I dont own NCIS. And that...Tony, and Ziva as a couple, will not appear in this story for quite some time. But it does deal heavily with them and their relationship, and what it resulted in. It takes place about 20 years after Season 7, and I have taken some plot liberties when writing this. And I think I need a beta. I write too fast.

But please tell me what you think. I really have enjoyed writing this, a lot. A lot A lot A lot. I tried to read over this get the mistakes out of the way, but Microsoft Word is not perfect. So without further ado, read, review and enjoy :)

-Jena

Her eyes were closed tightly as she attempted to rest without garnering attention to herself, the Eurostar train underneath the English Channel causing her ears to pop every so often. It had been this way for years. She couldn't remember the last time she'd stopped running, stopped long enough to look behind her into her past. Long enough to even remember her past. She was being paranoid. She opened her eyes slowly, and saw a spare newspaper sitting on the chair next to her, the date mocking her. May 12, 2027. She had to start acting normal. People were going to notice. It wasn't often that people her age acted as if there was a murderer around every corner. But it was the way things had been for her for quite some time. If she was a normal teenager, she'd be ogling the guy in the seat across from her, wondering how to start a conversation.

She didn't feel 17 years old. It seemed unreal that it was her birthday. She wasn't even sure who she was yet. Her entire existence had centered around protecting herself. She never had the time to trust anyone, to let anyone into her life. It was too risky. Her first memories were of running. The knife, the man cowered in the corner, her mother's frantic words, Mexico, and her surrogate father. Until he had died as well. And she'd spent the majority of the last three years running, relying on her good looks and ability to blend in, using the clues that had been left for her. She was an interesting mix. Dirty blonde hair, thick and wavy, ran down her back in shiny waves, her skin a soft olive color, her big brown eyes flecked with gold and green. She could pass for American, Indian, Israeli, pretty much anything she wanted to. She knew five languages, she knew how to handle a gun, and she was much smarter than her 17 years. Because she had been taught that way. There was no room for childhood. That ended when she killed her first man.

"Its so…hot in Paris," the man across from her said," You're a little overdressed," her jeans and jacket were incredibly heavy. She sighed, glancing down at the book in her lap, and up at his naval uniform. She'd been playing this game for years, hoping to find someone that knew him. It was stupid game, but the small child that was buried within her could not help herself. She didn't get to have fun a lot. It would help her interrogation skills, she reasoned, looking up to answer him.

"I came from St. Petersburg. It was cold there," she explained quietly, and the boy cracked a smile. He'd been staring at her the entire ride. She'd been doing a little staring herself. It kept things interesting. Boys were the perfect distraction.

He was the perfect American. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tan, his Navy uniform making him look incredibly dashing. He was probably at least 4 years older than her, but that didn't stop her.

"You don't look Russian," he said, and she raised an eyebrow. He was observant.

"That's because I'm not…"she responded, her voice a sultry mix of an Israeli, Spanish, and American accent.

"I'm pretty good at pointing out faces," he said," My dad taught me…but-"she cut him off, a small smile on her face, enjoying his boyish charm. He would be easy to fool if she needed to. But she didn't want to take advantage of him. He seemed too kind.

"I would assume that I'm hard to point out then," she responded, and he stuck out his hand. She shook it tentatively.

"I'm Connor," she pretended to notice his uniform for the first time, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

"You're in the Navy, yes?" she responded, and he nodded.

"I'm on leave," he explained, "USS Enterprise. I'm a Petty Officer."

"And this is where I give you my name?" she asked, biting her lip, and he shrugged. That would make things easier.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he told her, and she shook her head, glancing around her, noticing their compartment was empty. She could ask further questions.

"Where do you live in the United States?" she questioned, and he made a face.

"Washington. My dad is a Senator," he said, rolling his eyes.

"And you joined the Navy to escape from him," she stated, and he nodded.

"I go back in a week…he wants me to start college. He's annoyed with me, I'm sure," Connor said, and she laughed softly, observing the way he held himself. Maybe he would be the one that could help her.

"What base are you stationed at?" she ventured, and he frowned.

"You know, you sure do know a lot about the Navy," he said, and she held up the book in her hands.

"Oh, I love those books!" he said, and noticed the cover, "Its autographed?" he questioned, and she sighed, staring down at the inscription.

"I don't think it is real," she commented," My mother loved these books…she was almost obsessed with them when I was little, reading them to me before bed every night," he stared at her, entranced.

"Your mom read you spy books before bed?" she nodded, staring at the inscription. It wasn't even the author's name. And it was hard to read. Her Mother's name was discernable.

"I love the characters," he said, walking over to sit next to her. She was slightly apprehensive, not many people got close to her these days. But for the sake of blending in, Connor seemed a nice enough cover.

"Oh me too. The story of Lisa and Tommy is very…interesting," she breathed, staring out the window, "I cried when she died," she added softly, watching the blackness out the window.

"It was pretty sad," he agreed, and swallowed. He was nervous. She could tell.

"Listen, my dad has a suite at the Intercontinental…"he started, and she glanced down at her lap for a moment,"And it has extra rooms, and you kind of seem like you'd need a place to stay…"he trailed off ,and she smiled at him.

"Your father has taught you how to read people very well in that respect. I do not have a hotel room at the moment. I was going to get one when I arrived, but I will stay with you if you'd like," she said, and he grinned,"And I will have to change my pants. I don't believe I can be in jeans there, yes?" she said, and he laughed.

"Been there before?" he asked her, and she shrugged nonchalantly, her mind flooded with memories.

"Not that Intercontinental. There are others, you know," she informed him quietly.

"You're very mysterious, you know," he responded, "And I think I want to take you to dinner," he added, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Dinner would be nice," she remarked, a smile creeping onto her face as they came up from the tunnel and Paris shone in the distance.

She always found herself in Paris. It was easy to get lost in the Romance of the city, regardless of how dirty it was sometimes. When she got off the train with him, she didn't see anyone tailing her.

"Do you want to go to the hotel and change first?" he asked her, and she nodded, surprised when a limo pulled up for them. He was too young to be evil, she decided, before getting in the limousine with him. She could always shoot him if he posed to be a problem.

"Are you in school?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"I had tutors. I completed my high school work when I was 14," she said softly, and he frowned.

"Mr. Marks, this young lady will be accompanying you?" the bellhop asked, and he nodded, both of them walking towards the elevator after he had tipped the man generously.

"I see why you would want to join the Navy. Living like royalty all the time can get annoying," she said sarcastically, and he laughed.

"It seems like you would know that," Connor responded, opening the door to the room,"In that door over there is a bedroom and shower…I'm going to go take one too, okay?" she nodded, staring after him as he walked towards the bedroom.

She hadn't showered in a few days. The water felt refreshing against her skin, and she stepped out of the bathroom, her towel around her securely, there was a man standing in the doorway. She couldn't see his face.

"Connor?" she questioned quietly, and he moved, the gun pointing straight at her.

It was not Connor. She had gotten another man killed. It had been stupid to even assume for a second that they were not following her.

"Do you know how much money I will have if I bring you back alive as opposed to dead. Its really a pity," the man said, his eyes scanning over her towel clad frame.

She opened her mouth to scream, and he shook his head.

"You make a sound, and you're dead, Sophia," her heart plummeted into her stomach.

"What do you want from me? You already killed my family, I suppose that should be enough for you!" she said her voice slightly emotional.

"Your mother was much better than you at keeping her emotions under control," he responded, and she tried to remember where her gun was. In the bathroom. She was an idiot.

He inched towards her, and she backed up until she was against the wall, her panicked eyes staring straight at him.

She crouched down in the corner, her eyes portraying all the emotions she had been taught to make an attacker think she was being submissive. It was at the last second that her leg flew out of nowhere, knocking the gun out of his hands. And then he was on the ground, facedown, her hand pulling at the hair on his scalp.

"Go back to Israel," she breathed in his ear, his gun in her hand.

"And don't you ever use my mothers gun again," she added as an afterthought, knocking him out on the floor with the butt of the gun.

When she heard the floor boards creak, she spun around, the gun in her hand, pointing at...

"Oh my God," Connor breathed, staring at the man on the floor, and the rapidly developing black eye on her face.

"I think he caught the door when we came in to shower," she lied, bringing the gun down slowly.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and she nodded quickly.

"That is not the first time I have been attacked," she said, noticing his eyes scanning her body.

"How is your towel even still on?" he asked, and she motioned to the phone.

"I will get dressed if you call the police," she said, and he nodded,"It is probably best that I go," she added, and he sighed, taking a step towards her. She took a step back, the gun still firmly in her grasp.

"You don't have to go…it was just a robber…"he started, and she shook her head.

"You have been incredibly honest with me…but I cannot be honest with you. I hope too see you again, Connor," she said, walking back into the bathroom as he called the police.

She was out of the building 2 minutes later. Paris had been a very, very bad idea.

Twenty minutes later, she was booked into a seedy motel, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, her mind lost in memories.

"You have to trust me," the man had said quietly, and she'd glanced at him, scowling.

"Where's my mother?" she shot back, and the older man glanced down at me.

"I don't know if you're ready to hear the answer to that question, kid. It's safer if you're apart from her, and I owed a friend a favor."

Her warm brown eyes stared up at the man, a calculating look in them.

"How do I know you won't kill me?" she questioned, her voice stronger than it should be for a six year olds.

"You're just going to have to trust me, kid," Mike Franks said softly, reaching his hand up to squeeze your shoulder, "Your mom is tough. You need to be tough too."

So she'd lived up to it. She was a David for Christsakes. Although she couldn't go by that name, let alone let anyone know that she existed, she had the hardness and drive that she had always admired in her hazy recollections of her mother.

She'd been harsh when necessary, and so caring as well. She fingered the picture of her mother that was hiding in her breast pocket, glancing at her watch nervously. She had somewhere to be. No time for sleeping.

She glanced down at the supplies that had been provided to her at the last drop box. A name, Melody Sahiri, and documents supporting that, as well as 1,000 Euros in non sequential bills. It was time to move.

She smiled demurely at the man at the front desk, and slipped past him when his phone rang, taking the stairs two at a time until I had reached the top. It was best to move quickly. She didn't know when they were coming, or even if they were still following her. Because there was never just one. So she had to make this quick.

When he answered the door, she was everything her mother had depicted him as, Albeit much older. Almost twenty years older than the stories. He was retired now, and the last time she'd had any access to a computer, she'd looked up his travel plans.

"Can I help you?" the gun in his hand surprised her and she put my hands up slowly. His hand was trembling slightly.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Dr. Mallard," she said quietly, and his eyes scanned her face, perplexed.

"Have I met you before?" he questioned, and she shook her head slowly before staring him straight in the eyes, trying to get him to realize that she was someone he could trust.

"We have a friend in common…."she explained quietly, her hands still in the air.

"How did you know I was here?" he questioned.

"I hacked into your credit card account," she said simply, and he glanced out into the hallway. His eyes were scanning her again, trying to figure out where he knew her from.

"Its just me. I come alone," she told him, and he motioned for her to come inside.

"What can I do for you, Miss…"he trailed off, and she smiled. He was trying to get her to slip up and say her name.

"My name is Sophie," she told him," You are everything my friend spoke of…"she added, and he stared at her, confused, until his eyes settled on her wrist. The tattoo.

"You are Mossad?" he questioned, and she shook her head quickly.

"That would be against my better judgment, considering all that has happened to my family, Dr. Mallard," he grabbed her wrist, examining the small symbol, his eyes squinting.

"This tattoo must be almost 16 years old, " she nodded.

"It was forced upon my wrist. I did not want it. It is an identifying mark," she said quietly," I did not want it. Any of it. I have been running from it my entire life,"she finished in a whisper, pulling the envelope out of my bag and handing it to him.

"And what is this for?"

"The man that writes the Deep Six books. You are in them…"she said, and he frowned,"He can help me," she explained, and he stared at the envelope for a moment, realizing she was already out the door.

"Wait, Sophie…"she turned to look back at him, her eyes questioning.

"I like your necklace," he said, and she looked down at the star of david necklace she'd kept attached to her neck since she was six," I have seen only one like that before," he said, and she closed her eyes tightly for a moment.

"It was good to finally meet you, Dr. Mallard," she paused," I wish I could tell you why I am here. Its just not safe," she closed the door behind her, and he stared at the envelope, intrigued.

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"McGeek, you have the whiskey?" Abby snorted softly, staring across the couch at her coworker, a smile spreading across her face. It was pizza night. Although pizza night had long ended, and scotch night had begun. It was that time of year again, late May, when all their demons, as old as they were, came back to haunt them.

"Which one of us are you talking to?" she questioned, and Tony motioned silently over at Tim, who was staring at his laptop.

"You're McGoth, Abs. You know that," Tony said winking at her, "And McGee! Stop working. Its Friday night. The other team has duty this weekend, and we are finally getting a few well deserved days off…" he added.

"And yet we're still together," the woman on the other chair commented wryly, sharing a look with Abby, the non spoken communication that Tony was about to drink too much again. It wasn't as if they could stop him.

Chloe had been with the team for many years now, and everything seemed to fit in seamlessly. She was Tony's best friend, surprisingly, and was like Abby's sister. The only one she didn't get along with was Director Vance.

"Lo, get the whiskey, before McGee writes you into his next book," Tony teased, and she sighed, trying to get him to look at her. He always did this. It wasn't good for him.

"Are you sure you need any more?" she questioned lightly, and he shot her a look before getting up and grabbing the bottle himself and walking into the kitchen.

"Just…let him get trashed, Chlo…you know why we always have this weekend off," McGee commented, and she sighed, Abby rolling her eyes at Tim's acceptance of Tony's blatant alcoholism.

"Should I go talk to him?" Chloe ventured, and Abby opened her mouth to respond.

"Wouldn't recommend it," Tony commented from the doorway, setting down five shot glasses and filling them.

"You do not need five shot glasses, Tony," Chloe interjected, and he shook his head.

"No, I do…one for every important person I lost," he said, and Abby made a face.

"Tony, you do not need to do this to prove to them…"

"Kate, Jeanne, Paula, Jenny, and Ziva," he breathed, slamming back each shot quickly and leaning back into the couch, wincing.

"Tony," Abby said quietly, and he shook his head, staring at McGee, who had not said a word since his acceptance of the fact that Tony could just get drunk whenever he wanted. It wasn't going to fix things.

Chloe had rarely heard him talk about them. He changed the subject whenever their names were mentioned, and it seemed to be a common thing between him and Gibbs to get into intense staring matches over the women NCIS had lost, whether part of the team or not. It was an incredibly sore subject for the entire team.

"I'm going upstairs," Tony announced, and Abby sighed, staring over at Tim and then Chloe. Even though she was his best friend, she was completely unaware of Pre Chloe NCIS. The only access she had to it was files. Because no one else was talking.

There were pictures of Ziva, Kate, and Jen on Abby's bulletin boards, and Tim had one of them on his desk, from a Christmas party years ago. It was generally accepted that people died on the job. But the team she had come into had almost been like a family. It was hard to get her bearings at first.

"I'll make sure he gets to bed alright…"Abby said quietly, following him up the stairs and to his room, where he was laying facedown on his bed.

"You think any of them would want to see you like this?" she asked him quietly, and he mumbled something she couldn't understand against the comforter.

"Roll over and tell me what you're trying to say," she demanded, switching on the light he had turned off, "And stop falling asleep in your work clothes!" she added, annoyed.

"I said that I think Jeanne would enjoy it," Tony said, his voice slightly slurred,"Katie would blackmail me, Paula would kick my ass, Jenny would have told me I should have had bourbon, and-" he trailed off, starting to unbutton his shirt,"And Sophie…"

"Would call you an idiot, drowning your sorrows instead of moving on with your life!" Abby exploded, throwing her hands up, "We can't keep taking care of you for Ziva!" his eyes narrowed.

"Ziva, wouldn't, care." Tony seethed,"And don't say her name!"

"So you're going to drunkenly assault her memory then?" Abby shot back," Make a complete ass out of yourself?"

"You don't get it," Tony murmured, "Can you just…yell at me in the morning?" she huffed.

"The talk about this is going to happen. You aren't going to get past this until you face it, Tony…We miss her too," she left him alone, slamming the door behind her.

He stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, thinking of them. Kate's sarcastic banter and go getting attitude, the advice Jenny had given him concerning Jeanne, the smile on Jeanne's face when he asked her to live with him, Paula crashing through that door with the bomber, and finally, her.

Her long, thick black hair, her coy expressions and sexually charged conversations with him. The moments their eyes met on the bridge, working on a case. The days they spent undercover, Rivkin, their confrontation in Israel, her rescue in Somalia, their bathroom confrontation, and everything afterwards. It had seemed to move in a blur. And then she was gone, so quickly that he could hardly believe he'd finally had her. That it hadn't been just a dream. And then he was dreaming, the scene familiar.

"You're not getting on a plane. Its too dangerous. And we haven't seen her in seven years. Just because you saw her on a ZNN feed, or thought you saw her, doesn't mean-" Tony pressed the emergency stop button, and the elevator came to a stop, the lights dimming.

"She needs our help!" he said in a low voice, glaring at Gibbs.

"Dinozzo! She's not ours. She made that abundantly clear when she left. Especially to you," Gibbs barked, and Tony glared at him from across the office.

"Maybe I broke one of your rules. Maybe that's why Im concerned that the CIA is reporting that the entire upper crust of Mossad is being held hostage!" Tony said finally, through his teeth.

"Regardless of the rules you broke, if any, she obviously didn't feel the same way about you," Gibbs said back, surprised when Tony punched him in the face. That was the start of his first suspension. He'd stormed out of the office, avoiding the concerned gazes of McGee and Chloe, who first looked at his hands, which were tensed, and then at the developing black eye on Gibb's face.

"Get back to work, Matthews, McGee," he'd said, storming upstairs to the directors office as Tony banged through the doors and out of the office, feeling suffocated by the very thought of sitting at a desk while Ziva's life was in danger.

Air traffic was halted in and out of Tel A Viv at that point, and by the time Tony could have even thought of getting there, it had been too late. The entire David family, so it seemed, had disappeared off the grid completely, along with a portion of Mossad itself. The organization was defunct. And when ten bodies were found off the coast of the Indian ocean, it didn't take quickly for the new officers of Mossad to declare them the bodies of the Davids, along with seven high security officers.

Tony had never forgiven Gibbs, even though he couldn't have done much, if anything, to help his situation. In compensation, he'd thrown himself into his work, not caring if he received any recognition. Just if he caught the bad guys. And he'd gotten even better at his job.

When he woke up, it was too the sun shining brightly in his face, reminding him that he got to live while so many of the people in his life were taken away from him. People, in his opinion, that certainly deserved to live their life even more then he did. Much more than he did.

"Ugh," he moaned, trying to fix his bed head, and realizing that he'd fallen asleep in his workclothes again. Abby had been telling him to stop doing that. What exactly had happened last night? He glanced over at his clock, and realized why.

"Oh God…."he mumbled, feeling sick suddenly, and got up, stumbling to the bathroom and turning the water on, removing his clothes and stepping under the warm spray.

He'd lived with Abby and McGee for almost fifteen years now. His apartment had gone co-op, and after Abby and Tim had married, they had the extra space, an apartment over the garage that was perfect for Tony. He was just over fifty years old now, and he could barely believe it had been so long since everything had happened.

He pulled on some running clothes, and walked downstairs, glancing over at Abby, who was reading a book silently in the living room.

"Abs," he started, and she glanced over her book, her eyes scanning him critically,"I'm going to go for a run," she shrugged.

"You do that. We have to go in at four,"he opened his mouth in protest, and she shot him a look."They need me in Forensics and you and Tim have a meeting with Vance," she said in a clipped tone. Tony sighed, kneeling down next to her.

"You know I hate it when you're mad at me," he said, glancing up at her, and she put her book down.

"You know I hate it when you drink a bottle of whiskey like that…its not good for you, and I hate it when my children see you do it. You're lucky they are at science camp, or I-" Tony's eyes brightened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but caught the look in Abby's eyes and closed his mouth abruptly," Because if they were here you would be looking for an apartment again. And don't make fun of science camp," she said with finality.

"I'll tone it down," Tony promised," I'll even get you some black roses, Abs. I promise," she beamed up at him, and pointed to the door.

"Go and run off your stress, would you," he nodded, walking towards the door.

"Love ya McGoth," Tony called from the door, closing it behind him.

"Love ya too,Tony," Abby murmured, watching Tony run off down the street, shaking her head before picking up her comic book.

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"So, what's up with the Saturday meeting?" Tony asked Chloe, and she shrugged, leaning against him sluggishly, their chairs pressed together as they looked at an intelligence report.

"Its like he knows that we all got drunk! We're adults!" she reminded him, and he snorted.

"Sure, youngin," he joked, and she whacked him on the arm when he ruffled her hair.

Gibbs was sitting at his desk, his eyes glued to the computer.

"Hey, boss," Chloe ventured, and he nodded at her, going back to his work.

It was silent between him and Tony. It had been for years. Chloe wasn't sure why, but she knew it had something to do with a Mossad officer and the old Director of NCIS. When they did talk, it was quick sentences, only related to the case. She stared at Tony for a moment, whose head was in his hands, and back over at Gibbs, who seemed to be fighting off having any emotion whatsoever.

"I thought you'd all get here on time,"Gibbs said to Tony, and he shrugged.

"I'm not McGee's keeper, boss," he responded, and Gibbs opened his mouth to say something, before looking back down at the computer again, their communication over.

"Tony, you want some coffee?" Chloe asked, and he shook his head.

"Jasmine tea with lime…the coffee lady knows how to make it," he said, and she felt Gibbs staring at them,"Thanks, Lo," he added tiredly,"Could you get me a muffin too?" she rolled her eyes, but nodded.

"If we ever have a weekend off again, I will take you to dinner," he told her, and her eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Okay," she breathed, confused,"Coffee, boss?" he nodded, and she walked towards the elevator, leaving the bullpen in silence, besides the clicking keys.

The silence ended when Abby and McGee came in.

"Sorry we're late, boss. Traffic," Tim said, and Gibbs nodded.

"Its fine," he commented.

"How're you feeling?" Abby asked Tony, and he met her eyes.

"I'm fine, Abs. I'll be fine," he assured her, and she smiled, turning towards the elevator.

"If anyone needs me I'll be in the bat cave!" she said, smiling at Gibbs as she walked by, getting in the elevator as Chloe got off.

"So what do we have, boss?" Tim asked, and Gibbs clicked the plasma clicker, a scene coming up. It was security footage.

"That's Omar Hasad's brother," Tony realized, noticing the man that came in after the Navy uniformed officer, and a young girl, holding the door open.

"Intercontinental in Paris. Petty Officer Connor Matthews, and his…friend…"he trailed off, as Tony grinned impishly,"Were taking showers. When he finished getting dressed, he heard a struggle…walked into the woman's room, and she was holding Hasad down to the ground, pointing a gun at his head. She knocked him out, and told Matthews that she had to go, and that it wasn't safe to be around her. Anyone recognize her?" he asked, and Tim shook his head.

"She could be Israeli, but its hard to tell," he zoomed in on her wrist, and Chloe sighed.

"Why would someone from Mossad go after someone else in Mossad?" Chloe wondered, and Gibbs nodded.

"That's what we're going to find out," he told her,"Matthews just arrived in the states this morning, along with the body of Hasad. The blow to the head killed him," Gibbs said, and Tony continued to stare at the video of the girl leaving the hotel room, her eyes glancing at the camera, and then down the hallway, before it went to static.

"Well whoever it was, she obviously didn't want to be seen," Abby said appearing suddenly in on the bridge, "And I ran facial recognition software…there wasn't a match. None on he fingerprints either." She told Gibbs.

"They were after her, and we need to figure out why before the CIA takes this off our hands, okay?" Chloe nodded,"Matthews is in interrogation…his father is a US Senator," he said to Tony as a warning, as Tony climbed the stairs.

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"I don't see why Im in trouble here," Connor said,"I didn't know that inviting incredibly hot foreign girls back to my hotel room was a federal offense," Tony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"It isn't…but the man that she killed was a known terrorist," Tony said simply, and Connor's mouth dropped open.

"She was fighting with him when I saw them through the doorway. She was like..a ninja or something," Connor described, and Tony rolled his eyes," And she was only in a towel, ouch!" Tony had slapped the back of his head.

The kid was too, normal. He was all, Midwestern America, I played football, getting by with my good looks and my fathers status. He was Tony. He was staring at himself at a younger age, but less of a smartass. And for some reason, he felt protective of the girl. Who obviously could protect herself.

"I don't care if she was in a towel. Did you hear what they were saying?" he asked, and Connor shook his head.

"It was in Hebrew, I think," he said, "But I didn't think she was Israeli. I couldn't figure out what she was, actually…"Connor mused.

"And you met her, where?" Tony asked, and he sighed.

"Train to Paris. She was reading Deep Six you know, that book by the NCIS officer…it was a conversation starter. She wouldn't tell me her name at first, and she was asking questions…where I was stationed, things like that," Connor said, and Tony furrowed his eyebrows, staring at this kid. He wasn't going to be much help.

"She didn't seem dangerous at all," he added," I don't want her to get in trouble.."

"Wont be hard, since we have no idea who she is," Tony responded, "And she told you her name?" he said, still thinking of the necklace he saw on her collarbone.

"She said her name was Sophie. The man called her something else, but I couldn't understand it," Connor said, "Can I go now? You know this is going to be all over the news…and my dad's going to kill me, "he pleaded, and Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Sophie?" he breathed, and Connor nodded.

"If you remember anything, could you just call me on my cell number?" he asked the boy, who nodded, taking his business card.

"She was really, really pretty, exotic almost. But she spoke English fluently. She was on a cellphone when I got on the train, talking in Russian,"Connor said, and Tony nodded,"I couldn't place her accent. I think some of it was Mexican? Maybe some Israeli too. But she knew her English. Well."

"Thanks, Petty Officer, you're free to go," he said, staring at the picture he had in his hands.

Gibbs opened the door as he left, and Tony looked up at him.

"She didn't hurt him…she just…eliminated whoever was following her," Tony said, "They met on the train, he offered her a place to stay, and you know the rest. He said she knows Russian and Hebrew. His statement also noted that she finished high school at the age of 14. Must have told him on the train," Tony said, staring at the photograph, perplexed.

"So how is she getting around if she's so young?" Gibbs pressed, and Tony shook his head.

"Fake passports? Drop boxes? She never left the hotel, or at least not where there was a camera. The trail went dead there," Tony said, and Gibbs shook his head.

"She's gotta know something. Its more than an coincidence that she had Mossad chasing her, They were after her for something. Information?" Tony said, and Gibbs frowned.

"Did you notice her necklace?" he asked Tony, and he closed his eyes tightly.

"I'm sure those are very common in Israel," Tony said, and got up, Gibbs making him sit back down.

"Dinozzo," he started, and Tony shook his head.

"I don't want to have this conversation with you," Tony responded honestly,"Not today. Especially not today."

"I'm retiring in six months. Vance will be retiring soon, and things are going to shift around here. You cannot let your emotions get in the way, "he said, and Tony couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Trying to be the father I never had again? Didn't you give up that act 20 years ago?" he questioned, and Abby's eyes widened from the other side of the glass. Tony was staring him down.

"Uh oh," Abby murmured, staring at them through the glass.

*********************************************************************************************************************************

She'd lost count of the years. For the first six months, she knew, she'd been asleep. And when she finally awakened, it was to be thrown into a cell. Her hair hung in tangles down her back, and her body was frequently covered in cuts and bruises, all part of the interrogation she was subjected to weekly. She remembered the first time this had happened. Praying that it would end. That time it did. This time, it wouldn't. She knew that.

She was the only one that had survived. The last one they had taken. The outsider. They had assumed that she would spill her family secrets after what they had done to her, spill the inner workings. And despite the pain it caused her to stay silent, that was what she did. She had not spoken a word in years, no matter what they threw at her.

"Get up," the metal toed boot connected with her stomach, and she clenched her teeth, getting to her feet, being forced down the corridor.

"How is your cell treating you, my dear?" the man was well dressed. She said nothing. She knew of him as Omar Hasad. When he slapped her across the face, she barely flinched.

"When I ask you a question, I expect an answer," he said, walking back towards the other end of the room, "Perhaps if I tell you about your friends?" her eyes narrowed "We have not spoken of them in quite some time."

"I see that I have your attention now. We have not talked about your friends in a while. Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Dinozzo have not had a conversation in years," she stared down at the table when he threw pictures at her. Tony drinking from a bottle of Scotch, Gibbs alone in his basement..

She bit her lip, staring at the picture of Tony, trying to not give away who it was they could hurt to hurt her the most. Tony was a sore subject. She could only hope that he was okay. But obviously he was not. His face was haunted. Instead of staring at Hasad, she stared at the picture, taking in every detail of his face. He had a small scar she hadn't seen before. His hair was longer, still the same color, and his face was not as strong as she remembered. It was because he wasn't smiling. Not even smirking.

"So, Mr. Dinozzo is the one you care the most for," she bit her lip so hard that blood escaped to keep from saying something. She knew it infuriated him that he couldn't get her to talk.

"Your Friends Abigail and Timothy had twins, they are seven years old. Mr. Dinozzo lives with them, in the apartment above their garage," she wondered if she was hallucinating again. That this was some strange tactic her mind had come up with. Punishing her for not telling Tony, or any of them, what was really going on.

"We almost found her in Paris," he said, and her eyes stared at him in shock. He had never mentioned her. Not once until today. So he knew. This changed the game. And made everything obvious. She knew what he wanted. But she didn't have it. Her daughter, however, did.

"She killed my brother. With your gun, "he said, and she could not help the smile that spread across her lips, staring at him, daring him to do something. So she had done exactly as she was supposed to.

"Tell me where he hid them, and I will not kill her," he threatened. She stayed silent.

"Well what if she came to us, then?" he asked her, and she furrowed her eyebrows, staring at him.

"You will talk," he breathed, and she stared back down at the photo of Tony, refusing to meet Hasad's eyes.

"Do you need a picture of Dinozzo for your cell?" he asked her, kicking her in the stomach. She grunted, continuing to stare at his picture.

She stared at him defiantly when he yanked her hair upwards.

"We will continue this tomorrow," he told her, motioning for the guards to grab her and drag her back to the room, leaving him to stare at the pictures on the table.

For the first time in a while, she had smiled. She didn't know what year it was. She didn't know what day it was . She had no idea what was going on out there. But something had changed. Because now, she had hope. A tear slid down her cheek, the liquid mixing with the blood and dirt there, and she didn't even care that she couldn't wipe it away. Because they were alive.

So, what did you think? I worked hard to get it out today. Sorry if there is a spelling or grammatical error. Ha. Its super long, so you should enjoy that, at the very least.

-Jena