A/N: This is supposed to be a prequel to my next long case fic (which will probably be titled Laws of Navigation), but who knows if I'll get around to finishing that one? Fortunately this story can stand alone, but hopefully the muse will stay with me long enough so that I can finish LoN. This story provides the frame for the type of relationship T&Z have going into that one.
Rapture is set around the end of May in season 10, but is AU season 10 from before Shabbat Shalom and Shiva.
Haga to JMHaughey, jsq and Pitselehvv for beta work and Spanish lessons.
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Wednesday, 2310

"You've been humming that song all day."

The tune died on Ziva's lips as she looked at her partner sitting beside her. They'd been sitting at his desk for the last half hour, sharing Chinese takeout and trying to appropriately word Tony's report into why his weapon discharged in a crowded shopping mall car park. His first attempt to explain the situation ("The Jersey Shore wannabe douchebag had it coming.") may have been his most honest, but Gibbs had dropped the report back on his desk earlier that afternoon with a sigh and a murmured direction to be more creative before he turned it in again. Technically, there wasn't much of a problem here. The guy who had blocked Tony's car and then made obscene hand gestures hadn't wanted to report the damage to his car to the police, and no complaint had been made. Tony figured the words "open warrants" had been running through the guy's head when Ziva shoved her federal agent ID in his face. So technically, Tony could say whatever he wanted about it and there'd be no one to argue his version of events. No one aside from Ziva, that was, and Tony had no doubt that she would lie to cover his ass. After all, she was sitting there with him and helping him come up with a better version of the truth.

Scratch that. She hadn't made a creative suggestion in a while. She'd been humming while she ate her tofu and vegetables, and the vaguely husky sound had been derailing Tony's train of thought.

Ziva swallowed a mushroom and looked at him like she wasn't aware she'd been making any noise. "Have I?"

Tony nodded and reached over her to grab the container of Mongolian beef. "In the car, in the elevator, at your desk, in line at the coffee shop, the whole time you've been sitting here," he told her. "If I didn't know any better I'd accuse you of being in a good mood." He popped a curious eyebrow at her, inviting her to share whatever news was behind her verging-on-sunny mood. But Ziva just smiled and shrugged.

"I suppose I am," she said, stirring her chopsticks around her takeout box. "I am certainly not in a bad mood, or a murderous mood, or sad or—"

"Oh good," he cut in. "Not murderous today. Important information to have."

"But as you know, my moods can quickly change," she told him, twirling a chopstick in her fingers and then holding it up like a knife.

He rolled his eyes at her 'threat' but otherwise ignored it. "Seriously. Why are you so chipper?"

Ziva shrugged again and leant back in her chair, propping one foot up on the side of his seat. "No reason."

Tony eyed her. He didn't need 15 years of investigative training and eight years with her to read the big fat lie in front of him. He thought back over the last week of conversations with her and tried to recall if she'd said anything about something she was supposed to do today, or maybe a purchase she'd made or an event she was looking forward to. He came up blank.

"Don't lie to me," he told her, hardening his tone like he would to talk to a suspect. He immediately smirked to assure her he was teasing, and when he didn't end up with a chopstick in his ear canal he guessed she wasn't bothered by the scolding.

"It is nothing," she said, but there was a self-conscious curl to the corner of her mouth that told him it was actually something pretty significant to her. "It's silly."

He popped some beef in his mouth and gestured at his computer screen. "Silly like shooting a guy's car because he wouldn't get out of the way fast enough?"

Curious brown eyes searched his face. "That's not why you did it," she charged.

It was Tony's turn to shrug. "No." He didn't know why he'd done it. He knew he'd been feeling frustrated and angry and stressed out at the time, but he wasn't clear on why that was. He suspected it had something to do with Ziva, and that alone told him that he shouldn't search any deeper for answers. He'd only end up more frustrated and stressed out, on top of confused, if he did.

Ziva's eyes softened. "I am worried about you."

Her honestly made his throat tight. The two of them didn't do honesty that much. They did plenty of hiding behind metaphor and a lot of deflection. They'd even gotten good at talking in riddles, and more often than not their sighs and glances would carry an entire conversation. But flat-out honestly, the kind that most people relied on every day, was so alien that if it was used at the wrong moment it could bring on a full-blown panic attack. There was just too much that honesty could expose between them. Things that they'd both been working hard on being more open about, but which habit had them trying to hide. Things that, if given too much thought, could drive a normally stable man to shoot at the rear fender of a stranger's car in a desperate attempt to alleviate some of his frustration.

Huh, maybe he was clear on his motivations for that incident.

Ziva was still looking at him, her brow furrowed with concern and her oh-so pink lips barely parted. The lip-gloss she'd been wearing earlier in the day had come off sometime after her third coffee, but Tony kind of preferred it when she wasn't made up. The natural pink of her lips made his thoughts go to a sex place at least half a dozen times a day, and he'd always thought she looked younger and somehow happier without all the eye makeup she'd taken to wearing a year or two after arriving at NCIS. And her hair…Sweet baby Jesus how he loved her hair when she didn't bother straightening it or pulling—

"Tony?"

"Huh?" He dragged himself back into the present and tried to focus on what she was asking him. Except now he couldn't remember what that was.

"I said I am worried about you," she repeated. "And the way you are silently staring at me is not reassuring me."

He cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm fine," he told her. "I was just tired and cranky. The donut place was out of the glazed kind with the cherry filling, and you know how I need my daily hit of sugar."

His attempt at deflection didn't work. "Is there something going on?" Ziva asked gently. "Anything you want to talk about?"

He shook his head quickly, waving the entire incident off as nothing to be worried about. "Ziva, seriously. There's nothing going on. I had a crappy morning. Don't worry about it." He looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. "But if you want to talk about why you're in such a good mood…?"

She opened her mouth, but whether she was going to fill him in or tell him to mind his own business, Tony would never know. A voice from above cut into their dinner and study date and demanded attention.

"DiNozzo! David!" Vance called from the catwalk above them. "I'm glad you're both still here. I need to see you in my office."

Tony tilted his head back in time to see an upside-down Vance retreating towards his office, and then rolled his head to the side to look at Ziva. She cocked an eyebrow at him as Tony winced.

"You think he's about to drag me over the coals for shooting up that guy's car?"

Ziva wiped her mouth with a napkin and shrugged as she stood up. "Perhaps. But I doubt he even knows about it yet."

"Maybe Gibbs told him."

Ziva shot him a look that told him how ridiculous she found that idea. "Why would Gibbs tell on you to Vance?" she asked.

Tony pushed his chair back and joined her on the other side if his desk. "Maybe he's trying to teach me a lesson."

Ziva snorted as they rounded the corner to the staircase. "It is not a lesson you need, Tony," she lectured. "You are not a probie. You just had a brain snap."

"Yeah," he sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe he's going to give us another undercover assignment."

Ziva clicked her tongue. "Possibly. If I were to pull two people off Gibbs' team for another assignment, I would also wait until the dead of night when I was sure Gibbs was at home before putting my plan into action."

He shot her a knowing smile. "Gibbs would still know. Right now, this entire scene has probably just entered his dreams and he's monitoring the situation from his bed until he decides whether he needs to spring into action."

She eyed him as they reached the top of the stairs. "What movie is that from?"

Tony shook his head. "Not a movie. It's from a documentary about Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Ziva paused outside MTAC and touched his arm. "Tony, you know he does not really have superpowers, yes?"

Tony clutched his heart in mock shock, and then continued to Vance's office. Ziva grabbed his arm again inside Vance's secretary's office and stepped in close enough so that her chest touched his.

"If you are in trouble," she whispered, "whatever you say, I will back you up."

It didn't need to be said, but Tony appreciated it all the same. He gave her a smile in lieu of kissing her. "Thanks."

She nodded, and then let him lead the way in to Vance's office. The director was standing behind his desk pulling files out of the filing cabinet and dropping them into his briefcase. He glanced up when Tony and Ziva made their entrance, and then chuckled at the rigid stance they took in front of his desk. Ziva stood with her hands clasped behind her back, ready to receive orders. Tony's hands were by his sides, but his spine was as straight as Ziva's. Shoulders straight, chin raised, jaw set. Soldiers ready for war.

"At ease," Vance threw at them with a chuckle. "What are you both doing here so late?"

"Had a report to finish," Tony replied. It was the truth. Just not the whole truth.

If Vance was curious, he didn't let on. "Uh-huh. Barring any new investigations, do you two have plans tomorrow?"

Tony and Ziva glanced at each other, as if they knew each other's social calendars inside out.

"No sir," Ziva replied.

Vance searched the pile of folders in his briefcase and then pulled one out. He tossed it across the desk at them. "I need you to fly down to Miami and escort this witness back to DC. He was supposed to get on a plane today, but I've just been advised by Agent Larson that he conveniently missed his flight."

"Conveniently?" Tony echoed as he picked up the file and flipped it open. Ziva looked at it over his arm.

"He's been uncooperative," Vance replied. "Mostly because he drinks like a sailor. I need you to pick him up from his motel, drag him to the airport, keep him sober the whole way and deliver him here." He looked between them. "Think you can handle that?"

"Sure," Tony said at length, not managing to hide his extremely reluctance to fly to Miami and back in a day and play babysitter for a drunk.

Vance cocked his head with a knowing look. "It's a crappy assignment," he said bluntly. "And you're both too good for it. But I need someone to get on a plane at 0600 tomorrow and you were the first two agents I saw." He smirked. "Maybe you'll both rethink hanging around in the middle of the night when you don't need to from now on."

Tony nodded. "Yes. I think I might start doing that."

Vance shut his briefcase and locked it. "My apologies, agents. If you find a conference you want to go to down in the Bahamas, let me know and I'll sign off on it, no questions asked."

Tony's smile lit up his face. "Really?"

Ziva smacked his stomach and shook her head. "Tony, no."

Her response and the look on Vance's face was enough to tell him it'd been a joke. His smile fell. "Oh."

Vance eyed him, and almost had a change of heart. "Maybe," he said, then picked up his briefcase and walked around his desk. "Thank you, agents."

Tony and Ziva preceded Vance out of his office, and waited while he closed and locked his door.

"I take it Gibbs is not aware of this assignment?" Tony asked, waving the folder.

"No, he's not," Vance replied, and overtook them both as they passed his secretary's desk. "But it's not classified, so you can feel free to go ahead and tell him whatever you need to." He turned back to flash them a smile that told them he knew exactly how Gibbs would take the news, and then gave them half a salute. "Good night."

They watched as Vance walked at double-time down the hallway and rounded the bend to the elevator. A moment later they heard the ping of the doors opening.

Still standing at the head of the hallway, Ziva looked up at her partner. "I suppose he had somewhere to be."

Tony looked back at her. "You think there's a chance that was his punishment for me shooting that guy's car?"

Ziva made a face. "Why would he also punish me?"

"Conspiracy to commit fraud."

Ziva's shoulders slumped as she sighed and started down the hall. "You must let this go, Tony. The douchebag is not pressing charges. The only reason you must fill in a report is because it is standard procedure when you discharge your weapon. Stop worrying about it."

"I'm not worrying about it," he lied as he followed her.

"That is not to say that I do not think you should talk to someone about what is bothering you," she went on.

"There's nothing bothering me," he lied again. Ziva snorted in response but didn't push it further. He changed the subject. "Okay, so you book the flights and I'll book the car."

"And you can call Gibbs," she added.

Tony made a face at her back. "Why me?"

She spun to face him with a smile. "Because you are my senior field agent," she replied. "It is your job to ensure that our team leader is aware of the location of his team members."

"Technically that's his own job," Tony countered. "I just do it because I'm nice."

"And because you are a mother hen," Ziva mumbled.

He heard her fine, but took umbrage. "I'm a what, agent?"

Ziva sighed but humored him as she led him to the staircase. "You are an extremely proficient and overachieving senior field agent," she said, raising her voice so he (and anyone else within 20 feet of them) could hear her. "And you worry so much only because you care so much."

"Thank you, Agent David."

She twisted to look up at him for two steps down. "You are still calling Gibbs," she told him.

"Yeah," he said with a wince. He knew his place. "But maybe not until we're about to board our flight out."

They returned to the bullpen, and Ziva grabbed her chair from Tony's desk and rolled it back to her own. As she started looking up flights, Tony saved what little there was to his report and cleaned up their dinner.

"I want the aisle," he called over to her.

"Yes, I know."

He slid on his jacket. "I'll pick you up about ten to five."

Ziva shook her head. "No, I will meet you there. It will give you another 20 minutes of sleep."

Tony looked over to her and had to smile. Getting up at 0400 wasn't much effort for Ziva. But for him it was an epic battle. For every minute past four in the morning he was able to sleep, he would feel a year younger when he finally got going. And the odds of him being in a good mood got better. At least that was the theory Ziva had developed after about their fourth early-morning trip together. Tony had to concede that he thought she was probably right.

"Thanks."

She glanced up at him with a brief smirk, her thoughts most likely mirroring his. "If you get there before me have coffee waiting."

He nodded and tossed the rest of his takeout in his wastebasket. He held her container up and shook it in question, but Ziva shook her head. It joined the other container in the bin.

"United at 6:05," Ziva told him. She reached for a Post-It and jotted down the flight information, and then held it out to him. He peeled the note off her finger and stuck it to the face of his cell phone.

"Coming back?" he asked.

"I have not gotten that far yet," she told him. "I will let you know tomorrow."

Tony leaned back against his desk, despite being dismissed. "I'll wait."

She shook her head. "Don't be silly. You are going to be sleep deprived as it is."

"Five minutes won't kill me."

"No, but you might wake up feeling like you're forty-si—"

"Hey!" he cut in, pointing his finger at her warningly. "It doesn't need to be said aloud, Ziva. We all know how old I am. You don't need to bring it up."

Ziva smiled at his predictable reaction. "I apologize."

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her to cover his sensitivity over the issue. He'd made peace with the fact that Father Time marched on and that everyone from physicists to Cher had failed to find a way to turn back time. On most days, Tony didn't have a huge problem with the fact that he was advancing in years and had passed another significant birthday milestone. His body was holding up okay without too many aches and pains, and he thought he still looked pretty good. When Gibbs or McGee teased him about entering his forties it didn't bug him so much. But for some reason when Ziva did it, his confidence took a hit and he started panicking that by the time he got around to having kids, strangers might confuse them for his grandkids. Probably it was for the same set of reasons that had made him shoot that guy's car.

"You are sulking," she said softly.

"No, I'm not," he argued. "I'm just thinking about which part of your car I'm going to shoot."

Ziva sighed and pushed her chair back from her desk. "Coming back at 1630," she told him. As she crossed to the printer by the window she patted his cheek gently and gave him an apologetic smile. Tony's mood instantly lifted again. All was forgiven.

When she returned from the printer she handed him his boarding pass for the morning flight. Tony folded it in thirds and stuck it in his inner jacket pocket.

"I'll book the car from the airport," he told her.

Ziva bent over her desk to shut down her computer. "So you can smile at the desk girl until she upgrades you free of charge?"

"Yep."

Ziva smirked and slid on her jacket. "And will you once again make me wait out of sight while you do this?"

"Probably."

Ziva nodded to herself. "Good. At least we are clear on that." She picked up her bag and joined him to walk to the lift.

"It's nothing personal," Tony told her. "It's just easier to take advantage of women when another woman isn't standing next to me." He watched Ziva purse her lips as they stepped into the elevator, but he wasn't sure what that meant. "What?"

Ziva leaned back against the wall as her eyes slid over to him. "I am trying to work out if I am offended or not."

Tony hit the button for the foyer. "It wasn't intended to be offensive. To you, I mean," he added. "Although the idea itself is generally pretty offensive, I guess."

"Yes, it is," she assured him.

He looked away uncomfortably and scrambled to change the subject before she could get mad at him. "So, you were about to tell me why you were so happy today."

Ziva stared at him blankly for a moment before their conversation that Vance interrupted came back to her. "Oh, yes," she said, and then paused as the same self-aware smile from before crossed her face. "It is silly," she said again as she lifted her hand to rub her ear nervously.

"Tell me anyway."

She glanced at him under lowered lashes. "It's just…today is my anniversary."

Tony cocked his head to the side and smiled under a curious frown. "Your anniversary? For what?"

Ziva shifted her weight to her other foot and made a wild gesture with her hand. To Tony, these were classic signs of a Ziva who was feeling very emotional but was trying not to. He turned further in her direction, curious about where this was going.

"It has been two years since," she paused to take a breath and let it out with an indulgent smile. "Well, two years since I became a citizen."

Tony stared at her smiling face as dread fell over his. He took a step away from her and hit the emergency brake and then turned to face her. "Are you kidding?"

Ziva's smile faltered. "What?"

She wasn't kidding. Tony felt his stomach drop and raging guilt took up residence in his chest. He lifted a hand to rub it over his face and barely resisted the urge to slap himself. "Jesus. Ziva, I'm sorry."

What remained of her smile drained away. "For what?"

He eyed her carefully, and when he realized she was asking sincerely he felt a big pile of self-loathing drop on top of the guilt. "For not remembering."

Ziva shook her head and waved her hand through the air, absolving him. "Tony, don't worry about it. It is a silly thing. I would not expect you or anyone else to remember."

"Of course you should," he argued.

Ziva chuckled. "I doubt they even have Hallmark cards for such an occasion, Tony," she said. "I am not upset. It was just a happy day for me." She shrugged. "It is no big deal."

He stepped closer. "Yeah, it is. It should have been a big deal that we all remembered."

She patted his chest, still refusing to get upset about it. "You do not have to," she told him. "And you were not even there for the ceremony, so why should you—" She stopped herself at the look of look of remorse that he felt cross his face. Her hand rested against his chest as she stepped into him. "Tony, I did not mean for that to…" She trailed off as she tried to find the words. "I do not blame you for not being there. You know that. We talked about this."

Tony sighed and his shoulders slumped under his guilt. They hadn't gotten around to talking about his absence from one of the most important days of her life until this day last year, when Abby had remembered it was her first anniversary. On that day he'd apologized for letting her down (and Ziva had argued that he hadn't, and that she understood that orders were orders), and promised he'd remember for this year.

It was another promise he'd broken.

"I'm so sorry. I forgot again."

There was just enough softening of her eyes to tell him that she'd wanted to hear that. But still, she shook her head. "It is not your anniversary. And I have never been interested in celebrating other anniversaries anyway."

"Yeah, but I promised you I'd remember," he said.

"Everyone forgot," she said, as if that was the thing that was supposed to make him feel better. "It is not the end of the world. It is not as if I gave birth on the day. I honestly do not expect anyone to remember."

"I should have," he insisted, but Ziva was done with his self-flagellation.

"Tony, enough," she said sternly. "I do not want any more of this guilt from you. Just say 'Happy anniversary, Ziva,' and that will be the end of it." She raised her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for him to follow her orders.

It didn't seem nearly enough, but right now what more could he do? He could only think of one thing. He cupped her jaw and closed the final distance between them to press a soft kiss to her cheek. "Happy anniversary, Ziva," he said, his lips brushing the skin of her cheek.

He felt Ziva's hand on his chest curl around the fabric of his shirt, and as her breath hitched he swore she pressed her hips forward. He turned his head, and for a fraction of a second he was sure he was going to kiss those soft pink lips he'd built countless fantasies around. But he hesitated too long, and Ziva's head barely tilted away from him. He took a breath and stepped back, and he used the three seconds it took to turn around and restart the elevator to calm himself down. By the time he faced her again, he was regular, in control Tony.

"I'm going to make it up to you," he told her, trying to ignore the fact that she was breathing harder than she had been a few seconds ago. "Saturday night, we'll have a second anniversary celebration, okay?"

Ziva swallowed before regaining composure and smiling back at him. "Okay," she said, and then paused. "Unless Vance has fired you by then for shooting up that man's car. In that case, it we will have a farewell party, yes?"

Tony threw her a flat smile at her teasing. "Yeah. Thanks, Ziva." He pumped his fist. "Partners to the end, huh?"

She winked at him as the elevator pinged and the doors opened. "Until the end of your employment, yes."

Note: I have finished writing this, so I won't leave you having for a year and a half like I have in the past on other stories.