She sits at the table with her glass of wine, trying in vain to make it last longer. She knows the waiters and other guests are giving her piteous look, assuming she's been stood up and is just fooling herself into believing he'll show up.

In a way, they're right.

A waiter comes by and offers to bring out an appetizer. Her stomach is growling for food, especially now that she's gone through almost two glasses of wine, but she smiles politely and declines. As he leaves—imperceptibly shaking his head as he wonders how long she'll stay there—she gently begins twirling the ring around her finger.

"I'm so sorry, Alex. I know, I'm late."

She looks up and sees him rushing in as he sheds his coat. He looks tired. It's been a long day, no doubt. But even now—even after he has shown up almost an hour late—she can't be angry with him. She understands he doesn't do it on purpose. Perhaps the problem is that she understands it too much.

"It's just that we were working this case and the girl was missing and…"

"And Gibbs gave you one look and you scampered back behind your computer." She doesn't say it with any anger or sarcasm. It's a statement of fact, not an admonishment. "He does that a lot, doesn't he, Timothy?"

Tim winces. Somehow, her not being upset with him is worse than her throwing a fit. It intensifies the guilt bubbling up inside of him. "I am sorry," he repeats. "But…but it was this little girl, and I just couldn't help but think, you know, what if she was my daughter? Wouldn't I want the people looking for her to do everything they could? I mean, wouldn't you want them to do that for our daughter? Well, when we have one, that is," he adds with a sly grin as he gently places his hand over hers.

Alex's mouth reaches up in an attempt to smile, but doesn't quite make it. She slowly pulls her hand from his. "I understand, Timothy. You have a job to do."

"But I'm completely free for the weekend. All yours. It'll just be you and me and whatever. I know you've been dying to see that new exhibit at the Natural History Museum, so I was thinking we'll head down tomorrow and maybe have lunch down there at that new steak house."

"Timothy…" She stops and glances down at her hands as they rest in her lap. "I…I don't think so."

"Oh," he says, slightly taken aback. "Okay, well, then maybe we could just hang around your place…or, our place, I guess I should say. I mean, it will be soon."

She bites her lip. She knows he's waiting for some response, some confirmation that what he has said is true. But she gives him none.

"Alex…"

"Is this going to be our life?"

"What?"

"Am I going to spend my life being an afterthought?"

"Alex…Alex, you're not an afterthought."

"Not consciously, maybe." She gently lifts her glass and lets the remaining wine slide down her throat. "I guess it's my own fault, though. I shouldn't have allowed myself to go this far."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about us, Tim. I'm talking about me and you and NCIS."

"NCIS isn't part of this."

"But it is," she insists. "Because it's a part of you. It's so much a part of you."

Tim frowns. This isn't anything terribly new for them. Since the day he'd told Alex what he did, he'd seen that hint of worry creep into her eyes whenever he discussed work. But it was the same look his parents and sister gave him when he visited. Proud as they all were of him, no one liked to think about their loved one putting his life in danger day in and day out. A wife-to-be certainly didn't want to think about it while she was trying to plan a wedding. For a year now she had been slyly suggesting to him that he take time off from NCIS and focus on his writing. Between the money he made from sales and the money she brought in from her interior designing business, they could certainly get by for a while.

But it had been pointless. Tim wasn't going to give up the thrill and satisfaction of being a special agent and Alex hadn't wanted to push too hard, lest she should push him away completely. She had simply sighed and gone about her business, though always praying at night that Tim make a career change.

Tim had thought the issue was resolved and behind him. She had, after all, agreed to marry him despite knowing the risk of his job. Why is she bringing it up now?

"I've tried," she continues, her voice growing shaky. "I really have tried to understand, Timothy."

"Look," he says calmly, "I'll take a couple of weeks off and we'll just spend them together."

"And what will that accomplish? At the end of it you'll go right back and we'll be in the exact same place."

Tim levels her with a somber look. He sees the way she twirls the ring on her finger. His heart begins to thump harder and harder. "Alex…"

"I've gotten used to being kept more or less in the dark. The lonely nights, the mysterious 2am phone calls that have you racing out the door, the disappearing acts. I understand it. I know you have to do it and that you only want to protect me. But I keep wondering how much longer my patience can run, how many more times I can sit around waiting, only to get a call an hour later that something has come up and you can't make it. How many times can I sit there worrying, wondering if something terrible has happened? I get a call from Abby that you were taken hostage in a ladies prison and can't get any information for hours. You take off for days, only to come back looking like you've been beaten within an inch of your life and suddenly admitting you'd taken a suicide mission to Somalia."

"It wasn't a suicide mission," he shoots back. "We knew what we were doing. And we rescued Ziva, so it was worth the risk."

"I know why you did it and I don't harbor any anger about it. I'm glad your team went there and that you were able to bring her home safely. But what about after we're married? Am I just going to be the doting wife who clutches the phone against her chest, waiting for any word? Am I going to lie awake in bed wondering whether you'll be coming home in your Porsche or in a body bag? Am I going to have to explain to our children why daddy won't be coming home that night? Or won't be coming home at all? I'm too young to be a widow, Timothy."

"No one is going to be a widow," he says firmly, "and you're becoming hysterical. I know my work is dangerous, but quite a few of our agents live long enough to see retirement."

She shakes her head. "Maybe so, but it's still a gamble."

"Oh, so you're thinking of throwing all of this away just because I might die?" he asks, his face growing red with anger and frustration. "Come on, Alex, be reasonable here. Even if I didn't work for NCIS, I might walk out the house and get hit by a bus or have a heart attack. Nothing in life is certain."

She looks away, her cheeks flushed. "Please…let's not make this harder than it has to be."

"You can't be serious!"

"Keep your voice down. People are staring."

"Good! Let them stare!" he bellows. This can't possibly be happening. They've been together four years. She understands him. She understands how his job works. Why voice these concerns now?

"Alex, I know you're getting nervous. I am too! But this is right! We know that it's right." He grabs her hand, willing her to stay, both literally and figuratively.

"I want it to be right, Tim. Believe me, I do. And I thought I'd get used to it. But as time goes by, it only gets worse for me. I can't let it go on."

Tim tightens his grip. "I'll quit," he says desperately. "I'll leave NCIS."

Even as he says the words, he knows they aren't true. As Alex has said, NCIS is a part of him. He still has so much to learn and so much to accomplish. Would he really throw all of that away?

She offers up a small smile at his frantic claim. "Thank you, Timothy, but we both know that isn't true. NCIS makes you happy."

"You make me happy."

"Perhaps," she concedes, "but in a different way. Not in the way I want to. Anyway, I couldn't let you leave NCIS."

He furrows his brow in confusion. "But…"

"Oh, I want you to, of course, but only voluntarily. If you were to leave NCIS just because of me? I couldn't stand your team resenting me. I couldn't stand you resenting me. It's no way to sustain a marriage. So, no, you will not leave NCIS. Not for me and not for any other person. Besides," she adds, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, "you belong at NCIS. The good you do there far outweighs our own selfish wants. You're the kind of man I like to know is helping watch over our country."

Then, she extracts her hand from his and slides the ring from her finger. Tim watches her motionlessly. It's as though she's pulling his very heart out of his chest. His breath stops in the back of his throat and he clutches at the edge of their table, force-feeding air into his lungs.

"I am sorry," she tells him as she pulls his palm toward her and places the ring into it. She closes his fingers around it, encases his fist in her own hands, and pulls it against her cheek. A couple of tears fall from her eyes, but she keeps the small smile on her lips. "I do love you. As hard as it may be to believe it right now, I do. I wish I could be the woman who could be your wife, but I see now that I can't. Maybe in another lifetime in another universe, but not here, not now."

She stands, releasing his hand back to him, and he pulls the tight fist against his chest. The diamond of the ring cuts into his hand, but he doesn't feel it. How can he feel such a tiny thing when his entire world is crashing down around him?

"It's not impossible."

Alex stops and turns to him. "I'm sorry?

"It's hard, I know, but it's not impossible to be married to a federal agent. Director Vance and his wife have been married for more than ten years."

She is silent for a few seconds, unsure how to respond. "Well, then she's a stronger woman than I am," she finally says in a soft voice, "and I envy her for that."

He sits still, even as he feels her kiss his cheek. Those lips that once brought such chills of joy to him now feel hollow and almost painful against his skin.

"I know there's a woman out there who is made for you," she whispers to him, "a woman who can be what you need in life." She lets out a sad, trembling laugh. "I'm ashamed to admit I'm actually jealous of her even though I don't even know her."

Tim remains stoically silent.

"Are you going to say anything?" she asks.

He finally turns to look at her. "I love you, Alex."

"And I love you. It's just not enough."

"It should be."

"I wish it were that simple."

"Why can't it be?"

"Because there's more to life than love. You need more than that."

"Not according to The Beatles."

A guttural laugh bubbles up from her chest. "Well, with all due respect, I don't know that they're the utmost authority on the issue."

Tim doesn't laugh. He doesn't smile. He turns away.

She nods. She understands. Nothing more can be said.

She leaves.

AN: This was just a story that's been poking at me for a while. Hope you enjoyed it!