This could be, essentially, what we all love about the show: a nice mixture of criminal conduct, character-driven plot and relationships. While this story will be rather heavy on the relationships-part, there is quite the case woven through its plot, so there may be something for everyone in there…somewhere.

Voilà, the premise: Two years ago Tony seized his last chance at leading his own team and took on an assignment in Rota/Spain like he could have done several years prior. This time around, however, he left behind his life partner, Ziva David, with their two small children. While all of them - including the team at NCIS - try coming to terms with a long-distance family, what happens when fate steps in and they all need to pull closer together than ever?

Voilà, the disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of its characters, they belong to those whose intellectual property they are. No copyright infringement intended whatsoever.

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

Robert Burns, last two stanzas: "To a Mouse"

2018. Ziva David - not counting temporary operational stints, assignments abroad, visits and incarceration in an East African terrorist camp - had been living in the States for almost thirteen years now, about eight and a half of which as an US-American citizen. All this time she was living in D.C. where she now shared a small two-story apartment with her life partner and their two small children.

David Jethro Anthony DiNozzo was born on July 5th 2012 and Talia Rosalie Eliana DiNozzo was born on October 2nd 2015. Their father, Anthony 'Tony' DiNozzo, was a NCIS agent, just like their mother and virtually everyone they came to know as their family. Their parents were difference bi-personified turned into partners turned into lovers - David and Tali being irrevocable confirmation that Rule #12 had not only been broken by passion over and over again but also by sincerest devotion.

It did not matter to what Tony and Ziva shared as lovers that he had taken on a foreign assignment to help expanding the NCIS agency network in Europe via Rota/Spain in early 2016. It did, however, matter to what Tony thus could not share as a father with two children he seemed to be growing further and further away from - until fate took center stage.

Friday, November 15th 2018

Her mind felt like a tunnel to her, it was focused on one person only: her daughter. How could she miss it? Then again, she didn't even know what she had missed. She didn't know what the connection was, didn't even know what the connection even could be. All she knew, and she knew it for certain too, was that there was a connection to this cat-and-mouse-game they had been playing for almost two weeks now. Something had felt off all the while. From the moment they had stepped onto that crime scene something had been off. She had felt it, she knew she had felt it. Still, she hadn't voiced her feelings. Gibbs must have felt it as well. My God, his gut must have known all along too. They were missing something, something important. And now nothing could be more important than Tali.

She banged her palms against the steering wheel at the third red light in a row, punching the brake pedal with her foot angrily. She had promised herself, even before the kids were born, that no child of hers would ever be sucked into this world, her world - essentially a world of crimes, of hatred, of assault, of revulsion. She had left Mossad to flee from its extremes, but she couldn't help it. She was part of it, even as a part of NCIS. And she wanted her children to be part of NCIS, but only the part that was her family, the part that was her team.

She wanted them to learn from their Uncle Gibbs the way she had learned from him - the way he had taught her, like a father his daughter. She wanted them to listen to their Uncle Ducky's stories the way she had always enjoyed listening to them over a cup of tea - she had long found his stories to be a good test for patience as well. She wanted them to indulge in paradox craziness like their Auntie Abby and remain the most loving person in spite of reality - there was no better way of learning that being different is a statement about oneself and not to others. She wanted them to be as pure at heart and driven as their Uncle McGee - she wanted them to see that true genius stems from doing the best with what one's dealt. She wanted them to be like their father, she wanted them to be like Tony in their own, tremendous way. She wanted them to be happy.

She smashed her foot against the gas pedal, her knuckles turning white as she grabbed the steering wheel even tighter. Every thought of safe driving, of anticipatory driving was wiped clear from her mind. Her foot continued pressing down on the pedal, overtaking one, two, three cars before swerving back into line just in time to catch the street narrowing due to road works.

This is where it had happened. This is where she had seen the woman in the blue Mercedes. Who was driving a blue Mercedes anyway? She had known. She had known her, driving that awfully blue Mercedes, but she hadn't been able to place her. She could have slapped herself - photographic memory my ass. She should have known. She should have known all along. Why hadn't she trusted her instincts? This time it would be costing her dearly.

No, she couldn't let that happen. She had promised them, she had promised her children she would keep them safe. Bari veShalem - safe and sound. Her foot once again found its place on the gas pedal, once again pressing down on it with the heaviness of purpose. She was headed for NCIS headquarters. Everything would be alright. She would find her there. Both of them. One of them she would embrace in a bear hug and never let go again. And the other one she would kill. She knew who she was. She knew who she was acquainted with. She knew what they were planning. She could feel it.

She was driving 30m/s over the speed limit, when a black Sedan on the oncoming lane swerved to the left. Her foot was already on its intuitive way to hitting the brakes with full force and her face was already underway to contorting in horror - but it was too late. The black Sedan crashed into Tony's priced new car head on. Within seconds the two cars, both totaled, were the dead center of a massive traffic jam, oncoming cars left and right trying to avoid further crashes, witnesses and onlookers quickly gathering at the scene.

Amidst the masses of uh-ing and ah-ing crowds a man dressed in simple cargo pants and a white t-shirt didn't attract any further attention. His hair was dark, grey already setting at the edges, darkened glasses shielded his eyes and a slack smile crossed his face scanning over the heap of formerly car-like metal in front of him. His hand found its way to his belt, retrieving his cell. He dialed a familiar number and slyly held it to his ear, trying to let the chaos around him ring through to whoever he was calling.

In a bar in Washington's metro area a cell phone on a thinly carved mahogany table started blinking. The man looked at it curiously, narrowing his eyes at the furious caller alert. The leather of his chair squeaked in agony when he leaned forward. He took his cell with his free hand, grazing a button with his thumb to accept the call.

"It's done", a voice stated evenly on the other side. He could hear people screaming and sirens howling, the noise of chaos almost drowning out what he had waited so long to hear. Almost.

He flipped the cell phone shut and put it back on the table, distinctly closer to the ashtray now, farther away from him. He was waiting no more. His steel blue eyes gleamed in the smoky, faint-lit haziness of the room. His free hand instinctively tapped the gun attached to his belt, before he lazily draped it over the arm of the chair and leaned back, the leather squeaking again with his every move. He smiled lazily into his glass as he lifted it to his lips, tickling the taste buds on the inside of his mouth with the steeply sweet, auburn liquid. It was done.

At about the same time auburn alcohol trickled down the throat of a man in a bar in Washington's metro area, another cell phone rang in the squad room at NCIS headquarters at the Washington Navy Yard. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, just about to severely punch his computer for not complying, retrieved his cell from inside his jacket pocket and flipped it open without looking at the caller ID - he doubted he would be able to read it anyway. For a moment all he could hear was muffled chatter, he even made out the odd siren howling before a faint female voice breathed his name down the caller line.

"Gi-Gibbs." Ziva.

His eyes flew towards the TV on the other side of the bullpen where a breaking newsfeed on ZNN showed aerial shots of a damn nasty looking car crash near city center. His eyes widened with realization. It was her.

So much for the teaser. Please tell me what you think and if anyone's interested in my continuing this.