Tony allowed his car to glide to a stop at the red light three blocks from Ziva's apartment. He hated this light. It always knew he was coming. He would make the left turn, see that it was green and accelerate. Halfway down the block, it would turn yellow. It would turn red in the moment before he decided to floor the gas pedal and he would give up, letting the car slow and stop almost of its own accord. He was convinced it was the only light in the Metro area that took vindictive pleasure in forcing him to wait; the wait was never less than five minutes.

It was probably more like thirty seconds. That was still too long. It gave him too much time to think about turning around and going back. There was just enough space to make a u-turn in the street. Just a sharp twist of the wheel to the left and he could do the scariest thing he'd ever wanted to do. The light turned green but he ignored it.

Leaving hadn't been a problem the first few times. They'd had sex and he'd taken off, going home and straight to sleep. Then, one hot summer night she'd handed him a glass of cold, homemade lemonade before he'd left. He'd swallowed it quickly and practically run out. That had been the first time he hadn't wanted to leave. The desire to stay had just gotten stronger every time they'd been together since. At her place he'd hang around until she told him to go; at his place he'd hold her until she pushed his arms away and left.

The light turned yellow, then red again. He tentatively searched the contacts list on his cell phone, his finger hovering over the call button when he found the one he wanted. Jenny had given him the night to decide how far he was willing to pursue his mission. He knew she wouldn't be pleased if he pulled out now. It had reached a point where his sacrifice of personal time was going to affect all of his relationships outside the office. She hadn't given him the night to make any decisions so much as to set things in order. The window to act was limited.

Pushing his upcoming lifestyle changes out of his head, he watched the light. It still glowed red. His hands tightened on the wheel as the ambient light around the signal changed from green to yellow. A red burst and he popped the clutch. The Mustang's tires squealed as he accelerated into his u-turn on green.

His confidence ebbed as he parked. Only a sudden eruption of guilt prompted him to slam his fist against the door. Once. He waited. If she didn't come to the door in one minute, he would leave.

59…58…

He leaned close to the door. The movement he'd heard sounded like it had been right on the other side. Why had she been so close to the door?

51…50…49…

The bolt clicked. The chain jangled. The door didn't open. He rested his head on it, just to the right of the peephole.

42…41…

The deep, shaky breaths he heard may or may not have been his own. He fought to keep his voice soft and level. "Ziva?"

34…33…32…

He turned the knob, but didn't try to enter. "Please, can I…"

25…24…

She stared into his eyes as she pulled the door open. "Yes."

He stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He tried not to focus on her legs, shown to advantage in her short robe. He pointed to the couch. "We need to talk."

"Is that why you came back?" She regarded him dubiously, moving to stand in front of him. Her fingers played with the remaining buttons on his shirt. He cupped her face in his hands. She turned away and stepped back when he tried to kiss her. "So let's talk."

"Right." He sat on the couch, his posture unnaturally rigid. Now that he was here, he didn't know what to say. He settled on the obvious. "I don't want this to be over."

She crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. "You made that decision. Did you expect me to come running after you?"

He wasn't sure if he were more struck by her callousness or his reply, "I would have come after you."

"I wouldn't have left for no reason," she countered. Although her voice remained cold, color was creeping into her cheeks.

"I have a reason."

"One you won't tell me."

"I can't." The answer was meaningless. He suddenly wondered why he couldn't. She was trustworthy. She wouldn't tell anyone about his mission if he told her about it. Would Jenny have even put this on him if she'd known he was involved with Ziva? Involved…it sounded so detached and sterile, nothing like the wet heat of the relationship he was trying to describe. Why couldn't it be a relationship? The hiding had been what ruined it. They'd hidden so carefully that they hadn't even been looking at each other. "We should have been open with this from the beginning."

"What, exactly? That it's been a long time since this has just been about sex?" She covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud." His chest tightened as she continued, "I know I've always been the first to say this isn't a relationship and we've both been seeing other people…"

The lie that was about to become true started to hurt more. "Ziva…"

She drew herself up but avoided eye contact. "It was always going to end. I respect that you've made that decision. You didn't have to come back to check on me. I'm fine."

"Ziva…" He moved closer and reached out to touch her cheek.

"You were right about everything. We should just forget about the last few months."

She trembled under his fingertips. "Ziva…"

"It was just a matter of time. Better to end it before anything…"

"Ziva…"

"Stop saying my name."

The kiss was strange – tentative and unsure. A first kiss. It was too much for him. "I'll go."

She nodded. "Goodbye, Tony."

He ran the red light, stopping just short of hoping there would be a next time to sit beneath it, contemplating whether or not to go back.

The End