Against all odds, the case was solved.

Only two more sailors fell victim before they caught the P2P killer, and in the end he'd tried to commit suicide by cop, but a quick intervention on Ziva's part had him incapacitated before he could raise his weapon to trigger the ensuing massacre. They now had a disgruntled, dishonorably discharged Navy SEAL in custody, waiting to stand trial and inevitably headed for a lethal injection.

Barrett's team had helped in the end, but Gibbs still couldn't ignore that most of the legwork had been done by his team, not hers. To be fair, Barrett's team were good men and good agents, but he'd never been a fan of giving credit where it wasn't necessarily due.

But Barrett received a pat on the back, and her team received achievement awards for their exemplary work.

Gibbs' team were invited to the awards ceremony, of course, where they stood in the back with expressions of muted tolerance. The case had put them through ringer—and not just because they'd put a hundred and ten percent into the investigation. They'd all felt the pressure from above, and they'd all chafed under the yokes placed on them by having Barrett and Co. take point.

They stayed just long enough to be able to say they'd been there, but retired to the bullpen as soon as they could to finish the paperwork—which they weren't even close to seeing the last of. They worked in silence, too drained to try to keep up their usual banter.

They worked steadily until a voice broke the unusual quiet.

"You all did a fine job," Director Vance declared, his tone warm with honest congratulation.

Their work paused briefly as all eyes lifted to where he stood, leaning casually against the cubicle wall at the head of the bullpen.

Gibbs took in his crisp suit and unwrinkled visage. He looked as he did when he first took the Director gig, before the debacle with Domino, and the attack that landed him in the hospital with a knife in the gut.

"Thank you, Director," he delivered cordially—the respect was not heartfelt, but rehearsed. He didn't have the desire or strength to engage in a battle of wills with the satisfied Director.

"I mean it," he assured them, taking a few steps deeper in the bullpen. "You worked with a professionalism that did the agency proud, and you saved countless lives by getting the P2P killer in custody."

One by one, Gibbs watched his agents return their focus to the work in front of them, completely unimpressed by the praise. Whether or not the Director noticed, he didn't give any indication either way. Unfazed, he crossed to Ziva's desk.

"Agent David."

Her dark head lifted, and her pen lowered minutely. "Yes, Director?"

Gibbs couldn't help but hear her words to Agent Barrett echo in his years from weeks back. She'd said she didn't give her respect until it was earned— he couldn't think of any way the Director might have earned it, but she'd rendered him the appropriate respect... However hollowly.

"Your work on this case has not gone unnoticed," he told her, meeting her gaze. "Our successful apprehension of the suspect is largely in part due to your quick thinking."

"More like all in part," Tony muttered.

Vance ignored the remark. "You've proven yourself a valuable asset to this agency, and to that end, I'm here to tell you that you've outgrown your probationary term."

Everyone perked up at that, and Ziva shot a shocked glance to Gibbs, who shrugged. He didn't know anything about it.

Then she looked up to the Director, who nodded in affirmation. "As of 0700 this morning, you are hereby a full-fledged NCIS Special Agent. Congratulations, Special Agent David."

Shock quickly shifted into a broad grin as she got to her feet. "Thank you, Director." This time, it was heartfelt. Gibbs rose as well, as did DiNozzo and McGee, all three converging on their fellow agent.

"Ziva, that's great," Tony exclaimed, brushing past the lingering Director to wrap his partner in a proud hug.

McGee was close on his heels. "Congratulations, Ziva," he said warmly. "You've earned it." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "That means no more probie work, you know."

She grinned with a soft laugh, and patted his cheek affectionately. Then her gaze fell to Gibbs, and he nodded mutely. He didn't say anything, but when he saw her eyes spark with delight he knew she could see the pride he couldn't voice.

Then the Director's voice sliced through the intimate celebration.

"Pack your bags, Agent David."

All movement ceased. Gibbs watched as Ziva's smile faltered. Confusion clouded her eyes, and Tony moved closer instinctively. "Where am I going?" she asked tentatively.

"You've been reassigned," Vance responded, undaunted by the growing tension. "Turns out, an agent of your skill is in high demand these days."

"My… skill?" She didn't want to see where this was going, but Gibbs knew exactly what was coming.

"Your presence has been requested at Langley, and I'm inclined to acquiesce. You have a meeting with them scheduled for zero-eight tomorrow morning."

Ziva froze. McGee's stare flicked between Ziva and Vance, while DiNozzo's shoulders rocked back in realization.

"That's the CIA," he said, his voice low.

Gibbs turned to Vance, who met his gaze with a lofty one of his own. "You're renting her out to the CIA?" Vance didn't answer. He didn't need to. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Weren't you the one telling me to loosen up, Agent Gibbs?" Vance returned easily. "You and your team have been on the cutting edge of international intrigue these days—I decided one of your team would be the perfect ambassador to the newest effort in inter-agency cooperation." He tucked his hands in his pockets nonchalantly, seemingly oblivious to the shocked expressions around him.

"That, and they requested her specifically," he added unapologetically.

Gibbs took a threatening step forward. "And you're just gonna hand her over," he clarified. "You can't touch her—she's my agent. She's on my team—"

"No, Agent Gibbs, it's not your team. These people are my agents, and I will utilize them in any way I see fit. And I have." He met Gibbs' gaze for a heavy moment, before turning back to Ziva.

"Agent David, you are expected at Langley at 0800 tomorrow. If you fail to make the appointment, you will be considered in dereliction of duty and will be held accountable under the full extent as applicable to an NCIS Special Agent."

This time, he didn't bother to stick around to witness the fallout. Without further ado, he left Gibbs and his shell-shocked team speechless in the bullpen, their gazes following his departure in muted shock. Then Gibbs saw Ziva's head bow, her shoulders slumping under renewed burden. Tony looked to Gibbs with wide eyes.

"Boss… Can he do that?"

Ziva's brown eyes lifted to him then, not-quite-hope gleaming deep in her eyes. But one look at him tamped that gleam out, leaving only muted resignation.

"He has the authority," he told them softly, hating himself even as he spoke. "I'll try to call in some favors, but something like this—"

Something like this was massive. This was more than just SECNAV, if SECNAV was in on it at all. This was Vance and whoever he was in cahoots with in the CIA. Hell, for all he knew, Mossad could be involved, in some twisted, convoluted effort to get Ziva back.

But even if he had all the chips in the world, it would take time to work everything out in his favor. Time they didn't have. It was already 1400; she was due at Langley in eighteen hours. It wasn't even enough time to get to the heart of all this.

"Don't bother."

Ziva's low voice interrupted his racing thoughts, and all three men turned their attention on her.

"Ziva, we're not going to let them take you," McGee told her fiercely. "They can't do this. Your contract—"

"Only protects me from getting fired," Ziva supplied, her voice low. "As the Director said, I am still an NCIS agent, and as such I am obligated to obey his orders." She moved to push past DiNozzo, no doubt to start packing up her desk, but her partner stopped her.

"Ziva, please—just… let us make some calls, see what we can do—"

"You don't get it, Tony," she bit out sharply. "There is nothing you can do—nothing any of you can do. It's done. The best thing you can do is just forget about it. Forget about me. About all of this."

McGee shook his head. "It's not like we're never going to see you again," he declared. "You'll only be in Langley; we could have lunch on the weekends—"

"Do you really think the CIA requested me for my desk driving skills, McGee?"

His features fell, telling them all that he wasn't as naïve as he was trying to be.

"I am a soldier, Tim" she continued. "A killer. That's the only reason they want me."

"Ziva…"

"It's okay, Tim," she said, her voice soft. "I came to terms with it a long time ago." Her gaze met Gibbs', over the tech's shoulder. "I was foolish to think I could be anything more."

But her eyes thanked him, for giving her the chance to try.

She moved to her desk, and gathered her jacket and purse. She didn't grab anything from her desk—not even the small Israeli flag sitting in her pencil holder. She tugged her bag onto her shoulder and draped her coat over her arm, as though it were the end of any other work day.

When she moved to leave, Gibbs intercepted her.

"I'm gonna fight for you, Ziver," he promised her. "I'll get you back."

Her lips pressed into a tight-lipped smile. "I don't think you can, Gibbs." She looked up at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Not this time."

Her hand brushed his arm in silent farewell, even as she pulled away to leave. Impulsively he reached out and snagged her by the arm, pulling her back to wrap her in a strong embrace. She remained stiff for a split second, before she responded in kind, pulling her arms around his waist. He could feel her tension, her apprehension, her shoulders nearly trembling under his hold.

"Stay safe," he murmured softly in her ear, only to feel her jerk—in a sob or laugh, he didn't know.

When she pulled away, she quickly drew a hand over her eyes, wiping her tears from her cheeks. She looked up at him again. "Could you let Abby know what's happened?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'd tell her myself, but I have to get home and start packing. I'll be at my place the rest of the day, so if she wants to come over…"

And Abby would want to, they all knew. No way would she let Ziva disappear a second time without a goodbye. They also knew that the reason Ziva wasn't telling the scientist herself was that she simply couldn't deal with her own emotions as well as Abby's. She wasn't strong enough. But come the Goth's visit later that night, she'd have had time to put up her walls, and reign in her anguish enough to reassure her friend.

But Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. I'll tell her."

Brown eyes looked up at him, silently begging for him to fix this. But this time, he wasn't sure he could.

"Thank you, Gibbs," she told him softly. "For everything." The last was directed at the others as well, as her gaze met theirs briefly.

Stunned, they wordlessly nodded, then watched helplessly as she left the bullpen. They stood frozen as the elevator doors dinged, opened, and then closed on her solemn figure one last time.

For a long minute, no one moved, and the room remained absolutely silent—besides them, the place was empty, in honor of Agent Barrett's team ceremony. It was eerily quiet, and now heartbreakingly empty.

In the end, it was Tony who broke the silence.

"What the hell just happened?"

A/N: Okay, so this story kinda went off on its own little tangent. Don't ask me how these things happen, cuz all I'll say is "magic". I might do a sequel, I may not. Heck, I probably will, cuz Ziva at the CIA just sounds like fun. But then again, if people don't want to read anymore, I'd take that under consideration. If I did write a sequel, it'd be kept short as well. I'm trying to avoid starting another epic while I still have two fics open. :D

So shoot me some reviews- feel free to rant about Barrett, Vance, the season in general. This is a safe environment, I assure you. I only ask that you keep it clean.

Thanks for putting up with me, CSIGurlie.