Gotcha

Summary: An old friend of Ari's pulls Ziva and the team into a mission. Rated for later chapters.

Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure the actual writers of this show get paid...

Ziva leaned in over the wall of Tony's cubicle to tease him yet again. His latest date had been followed by the woman sending him black roses with intentions not nearly as pure as Abby's. They all needed the levity. Two days had passed since the anniversary of Kate's death, and as the five year mark hit the team had been unusually somber. Ziva knew, though they hadn't told her, that Kate's parents had called each of them, to reminisce and make sure their daughter hadn't been forgotten. For an entire day, no one would make eye contact with her. Ziva was pretty sure Tony's date had been fouled by all of that hanging over him, but she'd been teasing him all day nevertheless. It felt good to get back toward normal.

As Tony looked up at her, waiting for it, a man walking from the elevators ghosted a finger to his lips, signaling Tony to silence. The man was huge, more than six feet tall, and broadly built. Tony nodded his head a fraction.

"Well, Tony," Ziva began—and then the man suddenly had her pinned against the divider, unable to move.

Tony saw panic in her eyes, but before he could reach his gun, the man whispered in her ear, "Gotcha." Ziva looked, if anything, more frightened, but then she smiled, relaxed, cried out, "Patrick!" and whirled into his arms.

When she pulled back a moment later, Tony could see she looked visibly shaken.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked. British, Tony noted.

"You should not do that to me anymore," she answered firmly.

"What, you're too old for games?" He smiled teasingly.

"No, I just thought--" She stopped.

Patrick's smile faded. "You thought I was Ariel."

She nodded, her eyes downcast.

He tilted her chin up so she'd look at him. "I won't do it again."

Ziva gave him a small smile and drew back to include Tony in the conversation. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Biotech conference."

Tony cleared his throat, drawing their attention, and raised his eyebrows at Ziva.

"Patrick, this is my partner, Tony DiNozzo."

"Patrick Dempsey," the man said, extending his hand to Tony. He gripped Tony's tightly and Tony tried not to wince.

"Tony DiNozzo, good to meet you. So how do you know Ziva?" Rule #37, Tony thought, never miss a chance for some good blackmail.

Ziva's face fell but Patrick spoke right away, "I went to medical school with her older brother. Until she had to join the army, Zi would come visit us once in a while in Edinborough."

Tony nodded slowly, glancing at Ziva and taking in how closely she was still standing to the man. She avoided his eyes.

"So, she's your friend's baby sister?" Tony asked.

Ziva answered him. "We worked together for a while in Berlin. Patrick is with MI5."

"Not anymore."

She looked up at him, surprised and concerned. "What happened?"

He sighed. "You know, someone is your best friend, and when he calls and asks for something, you give it to him because he's your best friend and you trust him. And maybe you don't even bother keeping a record of it because it's not like he'll betray you. And then he does. They took me out of the spy scene for two years, but it didn't matter, I'm not going back. I work for a biotech firm now, handling their most delicate negotiations and keeping abreast of the science." He smiled and shrugged as if to suggest it didn't matter, but the smile wasn't anything like his earlier ones.

"Yeah, we're not his biggest fans here, either," Tony replied, but Patrick was still watching Ziva.

"Part of the reason I found you is to see—I know today's the day. I though maybe you'd want to light a candle."

Ziva pursed her lips, staring at the floor. Tony couldn't tell if she was angry or sad. "I bought one. But I have decided not to lighten it."

Patrick set a hand on her hair, thumb stroking her temple. "Okay, kid."

After a moment, Ziva pulled away. "So how did you find me here?"

"I heard recently that you were in D.C. I was in Tel Aviv last month and stopped by your old place, only to find Miriam's living there now. I kind of walked in on her…"

Ziva grinned. "Yes, I heard about that."

"Gotta say, I look at your sister in a whole new way, now."

"Sister?" Tony piped up. "But you said…" He trailed off as he realized she'd never told him so many details of her life. He'd simply assumed that Tali and Ari—Ariel?—had been her only siblings.

With a wince of apology, Ziva filled him in, in her best sit-rep tone. "In Mossad they teach you not to talk about living family members. It can set them up for danger." She paused, then looked him in the eye as she spoke more softly. "You hear a few horror stories and you learn not to speak of your family much. My sister Miriam is also Mossad, so I must protect her identity even more fiercely."

Tony didn't answer. He was trying to picture Ziva as a girl among sisters. When he didn't speak, Ziva let the matter drop and turned back to Patrick.

"So you knew I was here, but why come to me?"

"I came to find you, really, because Miriam asked me to. She's undercover at the same conference I'm headed to and wanted your back-up."

"She is in DC!" Ziva exclaimed. Tony grinned.

"She seemed wary of letting on to her control officers that you were involved; I guess that's why she didn't call you herself."

"Do you know what her assignment is?"

"I really don't," Patrick answered, "she just said to let you know to come. I can get you in without any hassle about faking registration for the conference, you see. You can be my guest."

Ziva nodded, processing, then pulled out her cell phone, stepping away from Tony's area and leaning against her desk as she dialed. She listened to it for a minute, and when she spoke, Tony started, for the voice she used was nothing like her own. For one thing, she no longer had an accent.

"Hi," she lilted, "This is Miriam. I'm off to a party tonight in DC, so don't expect a call back until tomorrow!" She snapped the phone closed and looked up, grinned at Tony and Patrick's faces.

"You sounded just like her," Patrick sputtered.

"What the hell was that?" Tony asked.

Ziva tossed her phone up and caught it. "It is a system we worked out years ago. We share a phone number that does not really exist—it is just a voicemail box. If I call and change the outgoing message, she'll get a text. Then she will call the voicemail, listen to her message, and change it. In our phone records it merely shows up as checking our respective voicemail, so there is no trace that we're communicating." She smiled at Patrick. "If she did not intend for you to accompany me later, I am sure she would simply have done this to stay in touch."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "How very McGee of you."

Patrick began to explain the science behind the conference and Tony drifted back to his work for a few minutes, but perked up again when he saw Ziva's phone vibrate on her desk. She flipped it open and tilted her head, presumably listening to the message. When she saw his eyes, she pressed the speakerphone button.

"This is Ziva," the phone said. Tony shook his head in wonder. Her sister apparently had the same talent for voices. "I am out at the opening gala of a conference in DC tonight. I have the perfect black dress for the occasion, and some fabulous accessories. Hope to see you there." A beep ended the message and Ziva ended the call.

"Accessories?" Tony asked, flirtation in his eyes.

Patrick barked a laugh. "Doesn't mean the same to them it does to you and me."

Ziva smirked at him.

"I still remember the first time Ariel looked over at me and told me to drive carefully, his sister had C4 in her purse."

"Oh, whatever. There was only enough to blow the three of us up if you got us in an accident."

Tony tried not to look horrified.

"Is she even talking about a real dress?" Patrick asked.

Ziva nodded. "I believe so. There is one I got in Israel, with her, when I was last home. It's loose enough on the bottom to conceal a weapon. Probably what she means by accessories. Plus…I'll carry a standard back-up kit—a wire, bullets, poisons, things she might need." She used a pen to tick them off on her fingers as Tony's eyes grew wide. He forgot sometimes how much she knew about these things as an assassin.

"I'll look forward to seeing the dress anyway," Patrick replied, flirting suddenly in a way that made Tony look at him sharply. "I have to go check into my hotel, but I'll pick you up here at seven, alright?"

"Seven." Ziva tossed the pen up and caught it in her hand, then stepped toward Patrick to hug him good-bye. As she started to pull away, Tony heard Patrick inhale sharply and realized Ziva was holding the edge of the pen cap against the artery in his temple. "Gotcha," she whispered. After a long pause she let him go and he shook his head as he relaxed.

"See you," Patrick called over his shoulder, and he left.

Tony shuddered. "Could you really have hurt him with that?"

Ziva shrugged. "It doesn't take much pressure to break skin, you know."

He watched, rapt, as she settled back down at her desk, his mind full of questions. "Are you really going to go?" made its way out first.

"Go where?" Gibbs interrupted as he swung into the bullpen, followed closely by McGee.

Tony stood to report but found himself unsure where to start.

"An old friend and contact of mine came by to say that my—my sister is in DC with Mossad and needs my help."

Gibbs' face registered more surprise than Tony had seen there in a while, but it was Tim who spoke. "Your sister?"

Ziva nodded once, firmly.

Tony watched McGee struggle to repress more questions.

"What does she need you for?" Gibbs asked, swinging around his desk and into his chair and he watched her, evaluating.

"Well, I am not really sure. The man who came by on her behalf is going to the same conference where she's undercover. He will get me in and I will help her however she needs."

"Who is he?"

Ziva didn't answer right away. She looked to Tony for help but he had no idea how to put it either. "He is a friend of my brother's. From—from before he was a double agent."

Gibbs tensed at the word brother. "Are you sure you can trust him?"

Ziva tilted her head. "I'm sure I can trust Miri, and she would not rely on Patrick if there were any question about his loyalties."

"Well, I'm not letting you go off alone with him, I don't care who you'll know there."

Ziva opened her mouth to protest but Gibbs railroaded over her. "Tony can go with you."

"Gibbs," she put in, hands on her hips, "the event tonight is a dinner, a gala, and I can only get in as Patrick's guest—it is a biotech conference, Tony would not be able to be convincing anyway if one of the other scientists started talking to him."

Gibbs exhaled, staring off into space. "Abby, then. She'll know the science. With Tony on her arm. I don't care if you're just going as your sister's back-up; you're not going without some of your own."

She didn't look acquiescent, but Ziva made no further protest.

"Well, go tell Abby to get you registered, and some fake IDs," Gibbs told Tony.

"Yes, Boss!" Tony darted for the elevator, McGee on his heels.

The rest of this is mostly planned, but as yet unwritten. Let me know if you want more...