I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

Ziva and Tony make separate New Year's Resolutions that could either bring them together or part them forever.

New Year's Resolutions

She put the glass of wine down on the table next to the couch arm. She had thought it would help but it had not. She still felt sad and confused. Tonight she had to make a decision. It seemed an appropriate time for decision making, the end of the old year and the start of a new; the best time for making a decision regarding the rest of her life.

She got up from the couch and walked to the window. She saw the streetlights in the park clear and sharp in the freezing air. Spider webs of crystalline ice in the corners of the window made the glass looked shattered. She reached out a hand and touched the window pane. Immediately condensation began to appear around her fingertips.

Her reflection stared back at her, a woman with long, wild, dark hair, a serious face. She looked sad but really not all that different from the woman who came to America almost 4 years ago, the woman who had become an investigator as well as an assassin or should it be instead of an assassin? Certainly during her time with Mossad last summer she had not volunteered for any assignments requiring her killing skills, working only observation and apprehension. She knew her father had been unhappy with her choices but she did not think she ever could be the old Ziva anymore. She feels a small smile form and sees it reflected on the face in the window. Too long under Gibbs' command has eroded any desire to continue in the assassin business. She liked being on the side of the angels too much to continue killing just because someone ordered her to no matter who gave the order.

Reaching up her hand she touches her face and sees the movement reflected in the glass. She sees a slender hand caress a pale oval of a face with dark eyes and high cheekbones. The large puffy lips Americans admire so much are missing. She traces the mouth; it is more the classic Cupid's bow. She knows if she smiles again she will see small dimples form around her mouth. Moving her hand she sees the image move over the sharp little chin and then down the long neck traveling even further to rest on one of the small breasts camouflaged by the baggy NCIS sweatshirt she wears. Nothing pushes out the fabric to indicate the large breasts American men, including most of the males she works with on a daily basis, seem to consider a necessity. She had never felt inadequate in that area until the past few months. Always thought she was reasonably attractive to men but perhaps she had been wrong? Or perhaps it was only in America she was not considered pretty enough?

Abruptly she turned away from the window. Do not fall into this trap, Ziva. Do not dwell on this. You know you are attractive, you know men desire you. It is only one man who is not attracted to you, who does not want to be with you and he is the only one you want; which is why she must come to a decision tonight. Sitting down on the couch she takes a deep breath and then draws her legs up under her. In the winter here she is always chilled, even the sweatpants and heavy socks do not warm her sufficiently so she spreads the blue and white afghan her mother had made before she was born over her legs. She always feels her mother nearby when she has it wrapped around her. What would Ima say to me, she wonders? She cannot imagine. She can only hear her father's cold, stern voice deriding what she has become, a woman weakened by an unrequited love, a woman who has lost the edge necessary to assure not only her own survival but the survival of others who count on her, including the man she loves.

Yes, she has finally admitted it to herself. She loves her partner, she loves Anthony DiNozzo. She is desperately and truly in love with him. Annoying and juvenile as he is most of the time, he holds her heart although she is sure he does not know it. She prays he does not know. The humiliation would be too much to bear if he knew. She thinks she has kept it hidden; well, mostly hidden. The conversation in the elevator after the bogus war game had nearly given away her secret. If he had only being paying attention to her instead of nursing his anger he would have known what she meant when she explained why she had not followed her orders from Gibbs: would have known exactly what she meant when she said she was tired of pretending. But thankfully he had been too intent on his frustration and pain at being betrayed once again by people he trusted to hear what she said or note how she looked. She felt her face burn in embarrassment at both her lapse of emotional control and the fact he was correct. She had endangered their mission by not following orders. When she had seen him go down after the gunshot and the guard standing over him she had lost control. Totally lost control, something she rarely if ever did. If she had had a weapon the guards in the room would have died senselessly as they were as much puppets as she and Tony. They would have died because she could not control her pain at the sight of him sprawled on the floor, his face distorted in pain. Because seeing him down drove every logical thought out of her head and left only room for one overriding imperative. She had to take them out and save Tony, no matter how many there were. She had to reach him or die trying.

Remembering would not help. She had to make her choice now. She had to make the choice tonight. Right now. She could not sleep until she knew what she was going to do. The choices seemed simple. She could return to Israel and Mossad and bow to her father's wishes and give her life in the service of her country sooner rather than later as she knew now she could never be an assassin again. Or she could stay in America, stay at NCIS where she had found friends and acceptance but also where she posed a significant danger to those same friends because she had become weak, unfocused, a poor and ultimately dangerous comrade. Closing her eyes against the shame of it but acknowledging it all the same. By allowing herself to fall in love with her partner she had broken all the rules she had been taught by both Mossad and Gibbs. Loving a man who did not return her love was just an added humiliation.

She came to it then, her real problem, the driving force behind this decision. He did not care for her except as a partner. She should have learned that hard lesson earlier when he was involved with the Benoit woman. Ziva believed he had truly loved Jeanne and her heart had ached at his pain. Then Jeanne was gone and she felt they had grown closer over the past year. Now, though, after the last few cases, she realized she had been fooling herself. He had not changed; well, not in regards to her anyway. She remembered her words to him in Autopsy after Jenny's death and gave a rueful smile. Apparently Tony was not the only slow learner in their partnership. If he cared for her as she cared for him perhaps something could be done to make it workable but he did not and she had to move on with her life. She can do this. She can be strong enough to do this. She has to do this before she gets someone she loves killed by her bad judgment.

A huge wave of sadness overwhelms her, almost taking her under and she realizes she has already made her choice but had been unwilling to acknowledge it. She slowly pushes her mother's cover aside and picks up her tennis shoes and puts them on. She gets up and dons her coat and wraps her woolen scarf around her throat to keep out the cold. She picks up the bright orange watch cap she had as a remembrance of Roy Sanders, a beautiful man who had been in her life for such a short time but had left a lasting, bittersweet memory. For a moment she wonders what would have happened if he had lived. Would they have…?

STOP IT, she says out loud. Taking a deep breath she puts on Roy's cap. Now, while she has the courage she will go to the office and put her request on Director Vance's desk asking to be sent back to Israel. If he wishes to continue the liaison position with Mossad she is sure her father will send another officer. She has to do this now while the courage is there and then - then there will be no turning back.

She closes and locks the door behind her and it takes all of her Mossad training not to cry as she walks out into the cold.