…the SEQUEL to its prequel "Now a' is done":

It promises what its predecessor provided: multifaceted reading entertainment - intricate plot, relationship conjuncture and, most importantly, all that we love about the show in one well-ordered package, carefully wrapped and twisted by yours truly.

You do not have to read "Now a' is done" to understand this story, but I self-referentially invite you to do so anyway.

DISCLAIMER: I lay no claim to NCIS or its characters - they belong to those, whose intellectual property they are. No copyright infringement intended whatsoever.

Quickie-mart of facts: This story is slightly AU as it follows the events of the show only until the end of season 7, because that's when I started writing "Now a' is done".

2021. 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 over seventeen years now, about eleven years of which as an US-American citizen. There, her life had always been indiscriminately linked to the life of one Anthony 'Tony' DiNozzo.

They met in 2005. They joined lives in 2010. David Jethro Anthony DiNozzo was born on July 5th 2012 and Talia Rosalie Eliana DiNozzo was born on October 2nd 2015. Their parents were NCIS agents, just like everyone they came to know as their true family.

[Insert "Now a' is done" here.] Three years ago Tony was still working at the NCIS outpost in Rota/Spain, when fate stepped in and brought them all together to fight a lethal conspiracy directed at each and every one of them. Learning from past mistakes, Tony then decided to return to his old post at NCIS headquarters, subsequently taking over the MCRT from Gibbs when he resigned one and a half years later.

Then again, however, just as the past tends to catch up with its attendants, past team members might be caught up in present quandaries once again. And right now was just about one of those times.

Default Chapter
The beginning of time

Monday, March 15th 2021

"Where is she?"

"Now, if I knew that, we would not be here in the first place, now would we?", the smaller of the two men countered irritably.

"We are closer than we have been in years, Nuri", a third man chimed in.

Lackluster greed built up behind the man's eyes. His name was Nuri, evidently. He was well towering over the other two men, but the mass of his physical weight merely compensated for the simplicity of his mind. But that simplicity made for the kind of focus that shot rounds into unsuspecting crowds and broke the limbs of uncooperative adversaries. It was the kind of focus that wasn't distracted by duty or loyalty the way it was for the other two.

This didn't mean, however, that either of them was any less determined to go through with their plan.

"We will get her…finally."

Eli David stepped out into the early sun beams over Tel Aviv. He was hardly paying attention to the weather, though. He had his cell pressed to his right ear and clutched a black folder with his free hand. While he was still growling orders in muffled Hebrew to the voice on the other end, a woman followed him out into the morning.

She seemed to be around 30 years old, slim build, her dark hair falling down her back in petite curls. She turned around and closed the door behind them, all the while ticking off a mental list of items that were supposed to fill the briefcase she was holding in one hand. She nodded to herself approvingly before she entered Eli's line of vision.

The moment she caught his deep blue eyes she started leading his way towards the rearmost of two identical black limousines parked, as usual, in front of the apartment they had just left. She opened the back door expectantly.

His right boot was already halfway in the car. Suddenly, however, Eli paused his present conversation. His eyes dropped to the briefcase in the woman's hand. Following his eyes, she gave a feeble nod and handed it over without another word. Eli gave a curt nod in the direction of the car in front of them.

"Bevakasha, Baila." With that he climbed in.

The woman with the name Baila carefully closed the door and moved to follow Eli's non-verbal order, getting into the other car. The moment she had fastened her seatbelt the small convoy set out for Eli's office at Mossad headquarters - like every day of every week.

For some time the cars kept switching places via several forks along the roads of the outer districts. They had just joined the motorway when a blazing ball of fire erupted and engulfed both cars in the shock waves of the explosion. The smashing sound of destruction ricocheted off the sides of skyscrapers and houses all over Tel Aviv. An oncoming car was crushed between the force of the blast and the guardrail. Flames sprang to life all over, gushing with heat and drops of fried blood. Smoke started painting the morning in a dark shade of gray. Alarms were shrieking. Sirens were howling. All else fell silent.

Ziva was typing away at her keyboard, watching the letters skid along the virtual paper in front of her. It was Monday morning at NCIS headquarters in Washington D.C. and a small smile was playing on her lips.

For a very passionate reason Tony and she had not gotten a lot of sleep last night. Still, knowing their children, Ziva had opted for a bathrobe to cover her otherwise naked body before she had fallen into well seduced and restful slumber. Tony, however, tired from their ardent work-out, had fallen asleep with the last kiss to her lips.

Suffice to say, their morning had announced itself with quite the entertainment factor, when Tali had played wake-up call even before their time to wake up. Watching Tony frantically clutch the covers to his body, pending the opportune moment to slip away from his giddy daughter - morning version 2.0 -, while the little girl was jumping in circles all over their bed, was enough to drive a smile to Ziva's face even hours later. Sure, she could have eased his discomfort by simply sweeping their daughter up and hauling her off to make breakfast, but her joyously merciless side prompted her to wait a little while before she had eventually done just that.

"You do know that staring holes into the side of my face will not make that stack of paper on your desk go away any faster, yes?", Ziva asked sweetly, the smile still very much apparent on her face, but without looking up.

"I'm condoning healthy voyeurism at the work place", Tony shot back, mimicking the sweetness in her voice.

The edges of her mouth twitched with silent amusement. "Have you learned nothing in those sexual harassment classes you keep exempting us from?"

"Oh, you mean that whole boss-staff-line of command-triangle?", Tony rebutted innocently, "I don't think that comes into effect when the sexual part of the harassment is confined exclusively to the shared bedroom."

"What about filing a complaint for having to listen to conversations like these?", McGee butted in from where he was sitting at his desk, his face showing definite signs of irritation as Tony and Ziva waved him off with matching smirks.

"Don't take your frustration out on us, Probie", Tony said.

"Is Liora still not over her 'My room is home to thousands of nameless monsters no matter how many lights you leave on at night'-phase?", Ziva asked her partner-in-the-field with knowing sympathy.

"Nope, and after declaring Abby's and my bed the only safe place in the entire house, I don't see when she would", McGee moped, "But on our way to work this morning Abby was babbling on about a child-friendly but no less indicative exorcism. So, maybe there's hope…"

Tony, references from Father Merrin to Emily Rose on his lips, was stopped short by the shrill ringing of his desk phone. It was enough to make both Ziva and McGee abandon their current task and line of conversation. Tony's office phone seldom rang. For new cases Director Vance usually called him on his cell; to contacts, witnesses and villains he usually offered his cell number; and anything to do with the kids would alert his or Ziva's cell as well. At any rate, desk calls were highly unusual and they usually pertained to some unusual inner-office matter.

Tony murmured a curt answer into the receiver before hanging up again. "Someone's requested to see the MCRT, specifically", he answered Ziva's and McGee's questioning gazes at once.

After a minute of anticipative silence the elevator announced their somewhat mysterious visitor with the familiar ding. A few footsteps later they came face to face with a man. He had shoulder-long dark brown hair that was extended to his face by a few days' worth of stubble. He was dressed in casual slacks and a shirt. His face showed no real expression.

Tony had already stood up and rounded his desk. He extended his hand. "Special Agent Tony DiNozzo."

The man looked at Tony's hand for a second and, without shaking it, back up into his face. "My name is Ian Johnston and I have information you need", he stated.

"On what?", Tony shot back a little irritably.

"A case."

"We have a tip hotline for that", McGee cut in.

"That won't work", the man named Ian Johnston declared.

"Why?"

Johnston alternated his expressionless gaze between the three agents who hadn't yet realized what their innocent morning had just turned into.

"Because there's no case…yet."

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