Apparently the literal translation of Aliyah means Ascent - or can mean to return to Israel. Yerida is the opposite - literal translation meaning Descent - or to leave Israel... Just a random fact to go with your fic fix... Reviews are always welcomed and makes my heart sing ~ Ozzy.

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Groaning to his feet, Tony manipulated his head from side to side trying to loosen the suddenly tight muscles across the back of his neck and shoulders. Reaching up he delicately fingered his left shoulder. Rivkin might have done a number on his radius, but his shoulder wasn't in much better condition. Of course it could have something to do with the fact the drunk Mossad Officer was trying to rip his arm out of its socket like a trucker at a diner would do to a chicken leg at the time. Ducky said that there'd been some slight dislocation that seemed to have rectified itself leaving muscle pain and weakness – he wasn't kidding.

Satisfied that Ziva's put down hadn't seemed to have done any further injury to the inflamed muscles, Tony considered his situation. Ziva was pissed. If it was possible she was even more pissed than when they had left DC. His gut churned, and it wasn't for the local food and drink. It'd been churning since McGee and Gibbs got back from LA. Too many things hadn't added up and his own stupid sense of cat like curiosity, coupled with a large dose of protect-itis for his team-mate had landed him hip deep in this mess.

"You're a real winner DiNozzo!" he admonished himself as he walked back towards the guest assembly rooms.

The sooner this nightmare was over the better. Tony hadn't been home in three days and all he wanted was his bed, but right now he was five thousand eight hundred miles from it and unlikely to see it any time soon.

Tony was still trying to figure out Vance's game. Sure he could see the political savviness at work bringing him all this way to Tel Aviv, an act of contrition from NCIS to Mossad on the death of their agent. But there had to be something more to it than that alone. Vance had been more than emphatic that Tony 'play nice' with the neighbors as it were, but too many things still didn't add up. Like why Vance had let him go into that meeting alone in the first place?

The meeting with Director David had been educational to say the very least. Tony hadn't known what to expect from Ziva's father. What type of man was he going to be? In his minds eye he had pictured some one a little different, a bit more like Topol in Fiddler on the Roof maybe? Probably not, that was stereotypical even for him. But he was expecting someone other than the stylish man about town that'd walked into the 'assembly room' – DIS-assembly room more like; Tony had seen crypts that were more welcoming than that place.

Eli David was turning out to be as much of a contradiction as his daughter. For a man who spent most of his time secreted away behind bullet proof glass, fortress like walls and layers of personal protection details, he looked more like someone Tony's Dad would share a game of Baccarat with in Monte Carlo than the head of one of the most deadly intelligence agencies in the world. He hadn't been kidding when he had complimented Eli on his dress standards. The man had style and taste. By Tony's calculations conservatively the Director was sporting somewhere between three and half and four grand in his couture, money not to be sneezed at.

Pulling the door open, Tony stood aside to allow two attractive young women pass him. Tall whippet lean with the same unique beauty that Ziva possessed, Tony paused to reflect on a conversation he and Gibbs had shared so many years ago about the similarity between Ziva and her contact at the Excelsior Hotel on the ill fated week Kate had died. Maybe Gibbs was right... Mossad really was like the Mob dey keep it in da family! Smiling politely Tony let the two young Israeli women pass before moving into the gloriously cool interior of the building. The heat here, he absently reflected, really was intense. Despite his good Italian genes he would look like a Maine lobster if he stayed outside any longer.

Standing in the cool almost corporate lobby of the main facility Tony reflected on his experiences so far. Confronting Rivkin, Ziva's anger, flying to Israel so Vance could minimise the political fall out, all part of a larger tapestry that he only held one small thread of.

Tony was man enough to admit that when Officer Hadar had 'invited' him to join him for the trip from Sde Dov airbase to the Mossad offices in down town Tel Aviv he had mildly concerned. How easy would it be for something untoward to happen to them during the trip? It might have been true that Ziva and her father were the only two with the authority to kill him, and despite their recent issues, Tony trusted Ziva enough that if she was going to kill him she would take the great satisfaction of using her hands.

Unfortunately the unknown element was her Father. Tony had very much doubted that the Director of Mossad would lower himself to the level of an assassin when he had some of the worlds best at his disposal. Only now sometime after having survived the trip and then facing off with the director, Tony still wasn't sure if his life was in danger!

The dichotomy between the world outside and the world within the walls of Mossad was startling. When they had been brought in they had come in through a maze of underground passages and a well-fortified subterranean garage. From there Hadar had speedily lead him through a warren of tunnels emerging in the concrete bunker he was to spend the next couple of hours in cooling his heels. It wasn't until after his confabulation with Director David in the 'assembly room' that he had been given the opportunity to explore the main base of Mossad operations, within reason.

Security here was discreet but present. Eyes, human and electronic watched his every move. Tony deduced correctly before Hadar informed him, that his movements would not be interrupted provided that he respected anyone's request that he leave an area immediately. So far Tony hadn't come across any areas that required such a request. This was simply for two reasons. Firstly, he hadn't ventured very far into the complex, and secondly any proclivity he had to let his usual sense of investigators curiosity had been fairly well drummed out of him on the twelve-hour flight over from both Vance and to a lesser degree Gibbs. The Director was only doing his job Tony sighed, knowing his tendency towards the inquisitive was a first rate method of getting up the deep brown creek real fast! Gibbs in his own subtle way had reaffirmed Vance's demands trusting his Senior Field Agent would do the right thing.

Had neither man said anything to the Agent, Tony still would have been on his best behaviour with one quick look at his Mossad teammate. Ziva had removed herself to the far end of the Transport near where the aircrew had secured Rivkin's coffin and had remained resolutely silent for the entire journey her face a mask of stoic grief. Tony abortively tried on several occasions to go over and talk to his obviously grieving friend, only to find any movement on his part was met with a lethal glare from her direction. Respecting her blatantly obvious wishes Tony had remained apart from her until a few minutes ago where she had made her feeling all too apparent.

Tony now found himself at a loose end. The logical thing to do would be to seek out Gibbs, or at a push Vance, and wait for the all clear for them to return home. Making his way through the light and airy atrium towards the rooms that had been set aside for the visiting Americans Tony was not particularly surprised to find neither the Director or Gibbs present.

A soft cough behind him caught Tony's attention. Turning towards the sound he came face to face with a young man no more than nineteen years old.

"Agent DiNozzo the Director would like to see you in his office. If you would like to follow me please."

Tony eyed the young man with veiled caution. The Director? No great leaps which one that was going to be. "Director David wants to see me?"

The young man nodded. "Please, come this way."

Two parts of Tony's mind warred within him. The brash, self confident part wanted to saunter in and face Eli David with all the sass and bite he knew came so naturally to him. The cool rational politically astute part of him appreciated the inherent danger in going into a meeting like this without back up. With neither Gibbs or Vance readily to hand Tony weighed up his options. Waiting could serve two purposes, one maintaining the chain of command – Tony wasn't sure that Vance would want him going into a private meeting with Eli David without prior knowledge or consent, and two it would demonstrate to the Mossad Director that Tony wasn't one of his officers who could be ordered around at will. Refusing also served to pander to the Puckish side of Tony's nature.

Leaning back to sit on the edge of the conference table, Tony crossed his arms and legs and grinned wolfishly at his escort.

"I don't think so Bucky."

The youngster blinked, caught by surprise at the Agents reaction. "I'm sorry?"

"No, but after you tell your Director I'm not coming, you probably will be."

"Agent DiNozzo, the Director asked for you specifically." A fine beading of sweat formed on the youth's upper lip.

Tony's grin grew wider.

"I'm sure he did, and while I appreciate your Directors request, I have deep seeded father figure issues and the idea of meeting him alone in his office cuts just a little too much like unpleasant childhood memories for my taste. Thanks all the same." Tony winked.

"Really Agent DiNozzo, I must insist."

"Must you?" Tony narrowed his eyes lowering his voice to a dangerous purr.

"Insist on what Agent DiNozzo?" a new voice interjected.

Tony smirked and ran his tongue along the back of his teeth. "Director Vance. Director David has asked to see again, in his office."

The Director of NCIS arched an eyebrow. "That's funny. I've just come from Eli and he didn't mention anything to me. What more could he want with you DiNozzo?"

The Directors tone was harsh, and to anyone else would seem to be directed at the NCIS Agent, but after two years working with Leon Vance, Tony had learned that words and the reality behind those words could be two wildly different things. Tony watched his Director closely, intently watching for minute changes in his expression and more importantly his eyes to determine if Vance was really pissed at him. Tony narrowed his eyes matching the Directors gaze, looking for any indication of which way Vance would jump. Finally – beneath that mask of impassivity deep in the recesses of Leon's deep brown eyes Tony saw it. A spark, a hint of life – not the flat adder like stare of death most people were familiar with.

Tony felt his shoulders relaxed. Oh Vance was pissed all right! Just not with him. Well, not over this anyway. Quirking his mouth into a trademark impudent grin Tony arched his eyebrows at his Director.

When suddenly some of that previous amusement bled out of Vance's eyes Tony figured he'd pushed it about as far as he could go and revised his position. "Go?" The question hung between them.

Vance nodded. "Go." Tony stood from his slouched position against the table and moved towards the door and the Mossad Officer retreating from the assembly room. "But DiNozzo…" Vance added pausing Tony at the door, "… use you head for once, not your mouth!"

"Hey… it's me." Tony grinned

Vance rolled his eyes as the Han Solo of NCIS jogged off after his escort. "Yeah, this is gonna end well."

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Sorry... I'm a geek at heart... the idea of Tony using that classic Han line was just too good to miss... honestly... who else can't see him doing that?