US Naval Base, San Diego, California. The letters, unassuming size 12 Times New Roman, stared back at him from the white page. He had read those words a hundred times during his career as an NCIS agent, usually during the course of an investigation. Always they had talked about other men and women being stationed there, Navy personnel, other agents. Never about him. Or someone he cared about. For the first time in a long time, Anthony DiNozzo felt absolutely sick to his stomach.

"Agent DiNozzo, you look green," Director Vance observed quietly. He sat behind his desk, hands folded calmly behind his head.

"I'm just surprised is all," Tony lied. "I didn't exactly see this one coming."

Vance shrugged carelessly, and again the sick feeling rose inside Tony's stomach.

"Changes happen, Agent DiNozzo. Something all members of law enforcement know, isn't it?"

It was, and there was no denying it-it had, after all, been such a change that had brought Tony here to NCIS. And then the time that he had been assigned as Agent Afloat, shipped off to that godforsaken vessel…

"But sir…Ziva-um, Agent David, she's a good agent. Hardworking, devoted…"

Vance fixed the younger man with what could almost pass as a sympathetic expression. But the director's eyes flicked away after a few seconds and he folded his hands primly on his desk.

"The matter still remains: Agent David will be transferred to the US Naval Base in San Diego, effective immediately."

The words brought a kind of sick, boiling rage to Tony's heart, and he felt weightless with the shock and horror of hearing someone else say it aloud. He managed a stiff nod and a numb,

"Yes sir."

He left without being excused and rushed into the men's room. He banged through the door, startling a young, fresh-faced probie who hastily zipped up his fly and dashed out.

"Damn it!" Tony half-shouted, kicking a urinal. His big toe crunched painfully against the ceramic, and the movement did nothing to extinguish his anger. Foot throbbing, Tony hobbled to the sink and leaned heavily against the porcelain rim, head bowed. He heard the door open softly, but didn't look up. When he felt a gentle hand against his back, Tony turned to Ziva standing behind him.

"I am guessing that you have heard the news?" She sounded like a very weak person who was losing the struggle to remain strong. He nodded wordlessly, and she put a very forced smile on her face.

"How did you know, Ziva?"

"I saw you coming from the director's office," she answered. "Does Gibbs know yet?"

Tony's heart sank a little more-if that was possible-when he thought of how completely devastated their boss would be.

"He's Gibbs," said Tony, "he knows everything."

Three Days Later

"Well, I guess this is goodbye."

They stood at the American Airlines departure gate, the runway lights of Dulles International glowing white around them. Ziva reached out, put a hand on Tony's arm. It was early winter, and the air was crisp and cold. Tony thought of Ziva's empty desk, of how the team had silently watched her pack up, offering their help only to be turned down. How the team had organized a farewell party that turned into Abby sobbing and clinging to Ziva while the forensic scientist recited all the things they would miss about their favorite former-assassin.

"Yeah," Tony agreed, though he thought he could actually feel his heart breaking inside. "Guess so."

Ziva seemed to be fighting a losing battle against tears, and it was a moment before she said,

"I'll come back, you know. Transfers like this are rarely permanent…"

They both knew that the words were false, hollow and empty. Meaningless.

"I'm going to miss you, Tony." Ziva said quietly. Tony just held out his arms and Ziva clung to him as though he were the only thing anchoring her to the ground. Tony could feel his arms around her, his face buried in her shoulder, but he felt light-headed, as though he were having a sort of out-of-body experience. He just wanted to hold her and never let go. Streams of humanity rushed past, people hauling luggage and small children, taxis careened madly through the traffic, but the universe might have all but faded away for the few minutes that Tony and Ziva stood there, holding each other. When she pulled away-and she was the first to-he gave her a final squeeze on the shoulder.

"I'll see you around, Tony."

This time, there was no funny movie quote, no ironic joke to make. Only goodbye. So he said it.

"Yeah. See you around, Ziva."

So I caved and wrote a romance story, which is the type of story that I'm most uncomfortable with and try to force myself to write anyway. I hope you all have enjoyed it, and please leave a review. :)