Thanks again to all of those who took the time to review the last chapter. Keep 'em coming-- I love hearing what everyone thinks! :-) Stick with me here, this chapter and the next are still developing where are characters are at before we get more into the plot. And I never intended to write the last section but Tony snuck in there on me...how rude! Hopefully you'll enjoy this regardless! I meant to post sooner but silly real life got in the way...I gotta get moving on this before season starts to wind down and more plot bunnies breed. Eek!


(3)

Tel-Aviv – D.C. - Barcelona

Tel Aviv – 5 weeks ago

"Fine work, Ziva," her father, Director of Mossad, mutters without looking at her. He signs a few documents in her case file and secures it in his desk.

"Thank you, sir." She is standing at attention. Waiting for her next order. The days have gone by in a blur. Her body still aches from her last mission, a close call in the crowded marketplaces of Cairo. The thought of turning around and heading out on yet another makes her want to curl up in bed and sleep. This is unlike her, she knows. It worries her. Has she changed so much?

So lost in her daze, she doesn't notice Eli David scrutinizing her. "Something wrong?"

"No, sir," she responds quickly. Eli narrows his eyes at her.

"Always so formal now?" He leans back in his chair. Ziva shifts where she stands, feeling all of twelve years old again.

"No, Papa," she answers with a forced smile. Then, impatience gets the better of her and her thoughts spill out of her mouth before she can stop them. "Has there been any word from NCIS?"

The look on her father's face makes her regret her words instantly. "Should there be?"

"No." A wave of disappointment flushes her body. Not that she expected anything…but still. There was always the hope.

She summons all the strength in her reserves to not squirm under her father's gaze. Finally, he looks away and begins shuffling files. "Officer Meir had some interesting things to say in his report." Ziva raises her eyebrows. "He seems to think you took certain liberties with the orders given to you in Paris."

Ziva frowns, trying to remember the mission several weeks ago. "Was the mission not completed to your satisfaction?"

Eli chuckles. "No, no. Amit Rosen, that traitorous scum, is disposed of. That's all that concerns me."

"Then, the problem?" Ziva feels her ire rising. She suddenly wishes Officer Meir was somewhere within striking distance. She clenches her fists.

"There is no problem, Ziva," Eli pauses, fiddles with a pen on his desk. This tells her he is biding his time before delivering a harsher blow. "I just worry that your time in America has softened your Mossad training."

That gets her. She explodes. "You do? And yet you've sent me on mission after mission non-stop since I landed in Israel. Russia, Lebanon, France, Egypt—you order, I go! Every mission was a success. I have been jumping around the globe, serving my country with honor, doing your dirty work with no questions asked, and you are calling me soft?"

Eli smirks as he watches her pace the office. "I suppose not."

Ziva is breathing heavy, staring at her father. She hardly recognizes him sometimes. Her eyes narrow at him. "Have I earned your trust yet, Papa?"

The Director gestures for her to sit down. She ignores him. "Of course, my dear." His voice is more vulnerable than she expected. She feels disoriented; all the blood rushes to her head at once, and she struggles to get a grip on something. She falls into the nearest chair. I just need time to breathe. When did things get so out of control? She hates feeling out of control.

"My trust in you was never in doubt, Ziva," Eli speaks softly. "You are one of my best agents."

She can't help but laugh. "Agent. Yes." This is familiar territory, finally.

"Something is different with you, Ziva," Eli frowns, studying her. Ziva lifts her chin defiantly. The thought that her father would know her well enough to recognize any one of the many emotions swirling through her mind right now is laughable.

Knowing she has him in a vulnerable position, she strikes. "I am tired of these missions, Papa."

He just raises his eyebrows at her.

"I have proven that I am still Mossad. Let me apply the talents I have learned at NCIS. I would be an asset to intelligence." She keeps her voice even and steady as she makes her request, hoping the false confidence will sway her father. It's a request she's wanted to make for some time. I'm not just a killer anymore. I'm an investigator.

"You are an assassin." A thread of anger laces through his words.

"Yes," she agrees, looking the Director in the eye, "but I cannot…" She hesitates, unwilling to admit weakness to her own father. Especially to her own father. But she has broached the topic and there is no turning back now. "Perhaps I have gone soft. These past few weeks have taken their toll on me, Papa."

She bites her lip so she doesn't say more. She wants to tell him about the nightmares, the regret and guilt that churn her stomach day and night. Sleep has become elusive until suddenly exhaustion catches up with her and it's too much effort to even lift a hand. Her mind is unfocused, restless. She knows that in this current state of mind it is only a matter of time until she slips and someone dies.

She misses NCIS more than she ever thought she would.

Eli shifts his gaze to a photo on the wall. A family photo, her and Tali, gap-toothed and innocent—she cannot remember when it was taken.

"You are still one of my best, Ziva." His tone leaves no room for further argument.

Her heart sinks. Her throat burns with unspoken emotions; she can hardly speak through them. Her future narrows into blackness before her. She blinks. Swallowing hard, she spits out, "Then maybe my future missions will see less success!"

A flash of disappoint crosses Eli's features, chased by something she thinks may be regret, but is soon replaced by cold resignation. A look she knows well.

Her father sighs, pushing a folder across his desk. "Then you are not long for this earth, my child. Here is your next assignment."

Ziva says nothing as she snatches the folder and storms out of his office.


Outside of Barcelona – Present day

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Ziva tries to calm her racing heart. She needs to calm down. She feels like she's been running for days, for weeks and now…there is nothing to do but wait. And waiting goes against every instinct she has.

She wraps an old quilt tightly around her shivering body. She can't stop shaking. Resting her bandaged head against the cool glass of the window, her eyes search the view for anything suspicious. Everything is as it should be—but for how long?

All she can do now is wait. Please hurry.


D.C. – 10 weeks ago

"Stop thinking, Ziva." The room is quiet when he wakes, but he can hear her thoughts anyway. He rolls over to face his former partner; she's turned away from him, staring out the window.

"I cannot help it," she whispers and he sighs in return. Rubbing his hands over his face, he tries to wake himself up. He doesn't want to waste any more time with her, even if the time they have now is veering into that uncomfortable I've-just-had-mind-blowing-sex-with-my-partner-now-what category. Not that he has any experience with said category. It just seemed a likely conclusion and so, shockingly, here they are.

He scoots across the bed to her. Capturing her body to his like he did their last night together (but not together like this) in the hotel, he is happy to note that he much prefers the skin-to-skin contact he's achieved tonight. Ziva closes her eyes as if in pain when he clutches her to him. But when he begins dropping kisses on her hair, her neck, her ear, and so on, the pained look melts away. Still, he wonders where her thoughts were. There aren't too many safe places for them to be tonight; he's doing his best to forget anything but the last few hours.

When Ziva doesn't respond to his caresses, he stops and props his head on his hand so he can watch her. "Are you…are you regretting this?" He really hopes not.

"No, Tony. I wish I was…but no," she sighs, shifting further into his embrace.

"Good," he whispers into her hair, inhaling her scent. He thinks he should be more freaked out than he is. He certainly didn't plan for this to happen. Well, that's not entirely true. He had a pretty good hunch things would head in this direction if he visited Ziva tonight. But before that, before Jenny's death and their reassignment, he did not plan for this to happen. Of course, he's always lusted after Ziva; he is a hot-blooded male, after all. This isn't just lust, though. This is something more. Something bigger than he ever anticipated.

He urges her to turn in his arms. She does. He maps her face with his gaze, making careful note of the arches of her eyebrows, the curve of her lips, and the smooth planes of her cheeks. Neither one speaks and Tony doesn't find the quiet as oppressive as he usually does. He's content to let her study him with those molten brown eyes, so intense and calculating when focused on something. She brushes her fingers along the stubble that has formed on his jaw. He kisses her hand.

"I wish…" She begins, and seems surprised that she broke their silence. Her hands drop from his face; she looks down. She doesn't continue.

Tony tries to pick up the thread of conversation. He wishes a lot of things now, too. "I wish that we hadn't waited until tonight to do this."

Ziva chuckles. Tony is really going to miss that laugh. "I'll bet. But then I would have been just another roll in the straw and I would have probably had to kill you in your sleep for that."

Tony makes a face, "First of all, it's hay. Not straw. And, no, you wouldn't have just been another roll in the hay because I know you can kill me in any number of ways."

"Oh, admit it, Tony," Ziva winds her hands through his hair and throws a leg over his hip; her eyes tease him. Tony has to struggle to concentrate on her words and not her actions. "Until tonight, the thought of another committed relationship scared the crap out of you. Now, things are different."

"Different how?" Tony groans as Ziva begins working over his neck. Normally, he would be annoyed at the spy's uncanny ability to read his mind; right now, he cannot be bothered with such negative emotions. Not when she is touching him like she is.

"Well…in the morning, you will leave and I will leave and that will be that." She avoids his gaze as she says it, tries to distract him with her body. But her words take a straight shot to his heart and the sudden thought that this is the only time he will have with Ziva nearly paralyzes him with fear.

"No, Ziva," he says firmly. "You're wrong." Her eyes widen in surprise. He takes advantage of her shock and flips them over so she's pinned under him. He still doesn't know quite what has happened here tonight, but also realizes that the thought of a life without Ziva is totally unacceptable to him. "This is not the end of us."

Ziva's expression softens. She stares at him for a long moment; he holds his breath. "No, it's not," she whispers, resigned. He tries, and fails, to read the look in her eyes. "Let us not waste any more time, Tony," she murmurs before she presses her lips to his. The kiss starts off sad and slow, as if it is their last, but soon becomes charged with heat.

Breaking away from her, determined to push aside the inevitable heartache for the time being, he grins, "I'm glad you say that because there's this one thing I've always wanted to do to you…"

Ziva's laugh echoes through her bedroom.


Let me know what you thought! I hope Eli was okay...not too many scenes to go on for him, so...I tried. The next part should be up soon...