Note: Nine lives was amazing. Great mystery, great gibbs, great fornell, and most importantly, great Tiva. I mean, so much Tiva is was awesome. Especially the garage scene and the clip at the end were learns hebrew obviously just for her. just so awesome. Anyway yeah. This is what my inspiration from that episode turned. I liek how it turned out. Also, i'm still working about the 48 hours thing for those of you who read it. Now just read and please review because reviews are awesome. I really enjoyed writing it anyway.

First Class

The dim smoke filled atmosphere of the bar cleared as the majority of the occupants slowly began to leave. Of those who remained, there were only a few older men silently nursed beers in scattered seats throughout the room and a group of women near the rear who occasionally broke the silence with a drunken giggles. Then of course, sitting at the bar, was very special agent Anthony DiNozzo.

Tony sat on the bar stool that had supported him for the better part of two hours. During that time, he had had only one sentence, one phrase, running through his head.

First class...first class she had said. What happened to the jump seat of a C-130? Where was the God damn turbulence?

Tony angrily slammed his now empty shot glass on the bar causing a dull thud to resonate through the room.

The other patrons spared only a quick glance. Here, in this place, this late, your problems were generally your own.

"Another one Benny." Tony called out to the bartender.

"The name's Steve."

"Whatever. Another." Steve gave him a dark look as he thrust him the small cup of golden liquid.

Tony downed it in one gulp.

He stared at the bar before him, losing himself in the intricacies of the knotted wood and allowing his clouded mind to wander.

It returned to its prior topic almost immediately. Her.

She was probably nestled in one of those big cushy airline seats that cost more than his first car. His hands clenched. Why was he obsessed with those final few words she had said to him?

Was he angry at the fact she was comfortable? That she was able to travel in style while every flight he had ever been on he had spent stuffed into economy? He pondered that for a moment. No. He was a simple man, but not that simple.

Was he jealous that she had apparently found someone? Someone who her father obviously approved of, a man who was in all likely hood a fellow Mossad operative capable of truly and deeply understanding her? Was he jealous that she had found a lover of her own religion, from her home country?

Yeah, that sounded more like him. He heaved a sigh and stared into the now empty glass, as if not breaking eye contact with it would cause it to magically refill.

It was not as if he was helpless on the romance department. There was that blond last week...no, two weeks ago. Or was it last month? The timeline wasn't important. All that mattered was that he still had the DiNozzo charm, the style, the looks, to get any girl he wanted.

Hell, he was Anthony DiNozzo, he was a legend, a hero. They had a plaque above his bed in his old frat house for least number of nights spent alone. His name was synonymous with player, ladies man, yet here he was, drunk and alone.

"Hey there." A leggy brunette from the women's table had gradually situated herself beside the brooding federal agent. "Don't you know drinking alone is unhealthy?" She smiled seductively.

Tony glanced at her out of the corner of eye, but that cursory glance was all she received.

"Asshole." She muttered under her breath as it became apparent he was not going to respond. She slunk back to her friends to gossip about the cold handsome bastard at the bat.

Tony meanwhile returned to his own convoluted thoughts.

Normally, he would be drinking with McGee, but even he had some excuse. He was going to a video game exhibition or something equally embarrassing for a grown man to be caught doing. Poor McGee. One of these days, he was going to realize that there were better things in life than books and virtual reality. Like sex.

He had nearly asked Gibbs if he wanted a drinking buddy, but when he saw the boss's face, he realized that it was probably best to let sleeping dogs lie. Especially when the dog has big scary teeth and could fire you. After watching Gibbs' car peal out and head in the general direction of the J. Edgar Hoover building, he knew he had most definitely made the right choice.

Abby was now probably at a death metal concert listening to music that was about two hundred decibels above Tony's comfort level. Going deaf was not what he had planned for the night.

And so, Tony had eventually reached this particular bar. Alone. His train of thought had now officially come full circle. Great.

He motioned over to the bartender. It was going to be a long night.

An hour later, Tony half walked half stumbled out onto the street. He wasted a few minutes searching for his keys before remembering that Steve the friendly neighborhood bartender had taken them.

Damn.

He fumbled with his phone for a few minutes before finally managing to dial a familiar number.

"Hello?" An accented voice answered.

"Ziva!" Tony cheerfully slurred. "Yeah, I kinda got my keys taken by this guy...the guy who works at the bar...he, uh, pours things..."

"The bartender?"

"Yeah! That's it! Him. Took my keys."

"Tony, I'm in Tel Aviv, I doubt I could give you a ride home."

"Oh." Tony replied, suddenly sober. He faintly heard another voice, a male voice, speaking in hebrew on the other line. Ziva answered rapidly in the same tongue.

"I could call McGee to give you a ride if you wish." She said, reverting to english. The man spoke again and Tony distinctly heard Ziva giggle.

"No, it's fine. I'll call him myself." Tony heard himself say rather harshly before snapping the phone shut. He gritted his teeth and flipped open his phone letting his fingers hover over the McGee's speed-dial.

"Forget it." He muttered and turned back towards the bar. Ziva's giggle replaying in his mind. Ziva with another man.

He needed a drink.

Aren't happy endings great? Oh...this wasn't a happy ending...oops