A/N: I'm horrible, I know. I should be working on Breaking Hearts and Fear, but this idea came so I'm going to go with it. I'll just have a lot more to update. And I mean a lot. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story. It might be a little confusing, but all will be clear in the end.

I don't own anything.

By the way, if you can guess which person said what in the first five lines, you deserve a Probie snack. From the vending machine, not my desk. ;)

"See ya, boss. Take care."

"Take care of yourself, Jethro."

"Goodbye Gibbs."

"Bye, Gibbs. Make sure to come back, okay?"

"Boss, are you really leaving Tony in charge? He's gonna kill us all. But, uh, bye."

Each individual member of the team stepped back after their own goodbye to the team leader. In most cases, it would simply be formality that bid him goodbye and farewell, as most people are known to despise their boss. Months without their boss, however, was almost unheard of and almost always unwelcome. They relied on him far more than they knew they should; they relied on each other more than they should. The glue that kept them together was too strong - if they were ever to lose a member, the destruction would be unimaginable. The anger, the grief, and the panic.

But they weren't losing Gibbs. At least, not forever.

Why he was leaving was painfully fresh in each of the field team's minds. They'd all seen the gunman, and though Tony had yelled, Ziva had nearly screamed, and McGee had stared, their efforts had been for nothing. They'd seen the bullet screaming through the air, and they'd seen it rip through the boss's shoulder. They'd all turned, revenge in their eyes, and raised their guns - but only Ziva had shot. Tony had been on the edge of shooting, and he may have pulled the trigger if his partner had not put herself in front of him (as not to allow any overkill, she'd said later).

Director Vance had given clear instructions after their silver-haired boss finally left the hospital after a surgery to remove the bullet. Gibbs was to take medical time off, and he wasn't allowed to poise any argument. However long he was gone would depend on the doctor, who'd been strict to say that any field work would strain the muscles and only cause more trouble.

There was no such thing as 'no fieldwork' for Gibbs. He was either there, or he wasn't.

It had been less than a week since the shot, and now he stood, putting on a bit of a smile for his co-workers and friends. Each had their own individual goodbye, meaning something entirely different than the other's, but nevertheless the same. McGee's had been a comical goodbye, but who else would he leave the team to? Ziva, though a capable field agent and killer, was the least experienced of them all. McGee, though highly trained and logical, was prone to crumbling under pressure.

Besides, Tony was his Senior Field Agent. He'd leave the job (if only temporarily) to no one else.

And so, he turned and left, waving a goodbye over his shoulder. Ducky tailed him (driving was out of the question for a man with his arm, once again, cradled in a sling), a smile on his face as he went on about the time he'd been to Florida as a young child and the disaster with himself and a penguin at the local zoo.

Tony turned to look at the team in front of him. Ziva's eyes met his unflinchingly, while McGee had already been looking back at his computer. Abby allowed her gaze to linger on the elevator.

"Okay. Gibbs is gone, so, as Senior Field Agent, I'm captain of the team. Any problems, straight to me. And don't make a repeat of what happened LAST TIME Gibbs was hurt," he declared, wiggling his eyebrows in the direction of Abby and Ziva (both of whom glared). "We're working on a case, don't forget. So let's try to concentrate, and all that."

"But, boss - uh, Tony -" McGee started, only to be cut off by Tony.

"I love it when you call me boss," Tony grinned devilishly at the younger agent.

"We don't really have anything to do until the Director gives us a go on the undercover op.," McGee pointed out. He grinned as he watched the smirk slide off Tony's face.

"Correction, McGee," Ziva interjected, staring at the two of them as if they were a pair of toddlers caught doing something they knew better than to do. "We may review the case file and attempt to build a stronger identity for whomever will be going undercover. We know that this person must be female. We know that this person must be skilled with a gun. We know that this person must have experience."

"Wait, Tony, are you bringing in another agent or sending in Ziva?" Abby asked, her own gaze confused.

"This is gonna be a dangerous mission, Abbs. I don't know if we should risk Ziva," he admitted. "But there isn't anyone I know more skilled with her weapons. It depends on Ziva. Are you up to it?"

"Of course," Ziva replied automatically, hiding her smile. She'd known from the start that Tony had planned on sending her undercover, though he'd had some hesitation that she couldn't quite place at first. He had mentioned that it was dangerous. Could he be worried for her?

"Then it's settled," a voice came from behind them. They all turned to see the Director staring at them in his same would-be intimidating stare he always seemed to have, a stare that seemed only to be meant to remind them who was in charge. "The undercover mission will take a lot of work, Agent David. You will need to keep your head and your cover at all times. I hope you're prepared. DiNozzo, fill her in on the rest of the details."

Tony nodded, relieved when the Director began to walk away. He'd never been particularly fond of that man, not the way he'd been friends with Jenny. The man just always seemed to be missing the key point in befriending his agents, and he probably always would.

"Other… details?" half of the team asked at once.

He shrugged in reply, beckoning for Ziva to follow him. "Classified. Uh, need-to-know information pretty much."

As they departed for the conference room, he could have sworn that McGee had whispered, "I know what classified means."

"Okay, Ziva," he started as he sat down in the conference room, staring at her. She'd already taken her place, leaning gently against the wall. On the table in front of him lay a pair of fat folders.

He didn't want to send her in. Somethings crossed the line with him. Sending Ziva into an extremely dangerous operation that could so easily go wrong… he almost couldn't do it.

Too bad that he had to, if he valued his job.

"As you know, this is highly classified information. You will be resuming the identity of Petty Officer Justine Keach, who's, well, dead. We've found evidence on her computer that she's been scheduling a meeting with the head of the notorious Black Jade Company, Xavier Jade, aka Quicksilver. Don't ask about the codename, these guys just pick the weirdest things. I'd probably go with something like Bond or Assasin or whatever."

Ziva coughed, and he gave her an apologetic grin. "Anyway, this would be a network of known hitmen, arms dealers, and they are alleged to have a few terrorists in their bunch. Keach was supposed to be meeting with Quicksilver to discuss a job for herself once she got out of the marines. According to the emails, she was quite interested in becoming a trained killer. But really, you'd think these people would bother to encode their emails more."

"You're going to have to dress as a Petty Officer. Hope you like that. And you're going to need to keep your temper, Ziva. But I don't have to tell you that. There'll be surveillance in all corners of the apartment we've stationed you at. One of us might chance a visit - undercover as well, of course - occasionally, but otherwise, you're on your own unless we call. Standard equipment, of course. Cameras. Earpiece."

"Ducky's profiled Keach for us, as well as Quicksilver. You'll need to read the folders." Tony stood up and shuffled aside, pointing to the folder and allowing her to sit. "If you have any doubts, get out of their immediately."

"And one more thing. Uh, Quicksilver is known to be charming or whatever. If he tries any advances on you… We'll have to trust that you keep your head. Don't do anything you wouldn't do anywhere else."

She grinned at his comment. Anywhere else? What was he insinuating? That she never did anything with anyone?

He noticed her grin and began to chuckle himself.

Oh, yes, this would be an entertaining mission.

Ziva stood in the squadroom, shifting uncomfortably in the clothes that Petty Officer Keach would have worn on a regular day. She hated this part of undercover operations - wearing clothing she'd normally never touch with a ten-foot pool. Ziva David was a lot of things, but a marine she was not.

Her team stood in front of her, much the same as they had for the departure of Gibbs. Tension was high and they were all worried for her. The mission could go wrong in so many ways. What if she said the wrong things? What if she stopped Quicksilver's advances - if he did as he was know to? Would it blow the undercover operation?

She would be leaving in a few moments, in a car brought especially for her use. The apartment she was in had already been prepared (she'd seen it through the cameras when McGee had been testing the quality earlier). All seemed to be in order.

None of the other team members had said much more than "good luck," but Tony hadn't even spoken a goodbye to her. He'd only stood there, staring solemly.

Now, however, he moved, signalling that he wished to talk to her quietly. Confused, she moved to stand by the window with him. She became more confused at his quieted voice as he spoke. "Good luck… But Ziva, I meant what I said earlier. If you've got any doubts, get out of there. We don't want to lose you."

"And for God's sake, Ziva, get out of there alive."