Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. I only borrow these characters to fulfill my obsessive tendencies.

Author's Note: So, I've officially got less than 16 hours to sleep, attend 4 hours of classes, type a 5 page paper and write the last chapter of this story.

Caffeine, ftw.

And I might need some serious reviews to get the motivation to make my deadline. lol

ONE MORE CHAPTER, GUYS. I'm so excited/happy/relieved/sad/anxious to see this story finish. I can't tell you how amazingly humbling it is to get your reviews and support every chapter. This entire thing would not be worth it if it weren't for you.

Resolution time? We'll see....


By the time she left Tony's hotel room, Ziva was sore and not in the gratifying way. Her calf muscles were strained; the crook of her elbow burned when she moved her arm. Maybe Tony had been right when he said her 'ninja skills' had no place in the bedroom, but then again, he hadn't been complaining at the time.

And it was entirely his fault that she had to leave wearing his NCIS shirt, as her own had a neckline too low to cover the multitude of bruises and bite marks he'd left on her chest.

She wouldn't have left at all if it wasn't for Gibbs' second interruption, telling them that they were headed back to the States in the morning and Ziva had better be ready to leave if she was planning to go with them. There wasn't any need for a conversation on the topic. Ziva knew she was leaving the moment Gibbs told her it was an option.

She just had some unfinished business to attend to first.

David wasn't at the apartment when she arrived. Ziva assumed he was at work and she couldn't contain the small sigh of relief that escaped her in that moment. She took the small black duffle that Tony had given her into the guest bedroom. Opening the dresser, she picked out a suitable button up, removing the shirt she was wearing and slipping into the other.

She considered leaving the clothes that David had bought her, but decided not to add insult to injury. Her mind made up, she carefully placed them in the bag and waited for the sound of the front door to open.

When it finally did, Ziva had packed and repacked her bag several times. The loaned knife and SIG were placed on David's nightstand, her e-mail address and a small note left in an envelope on the kitchen counter.

She met David in the living room as he arrived back at the apartment.

"I almost didn't expect to see you again," he admitted as he stepped inside, glancing at her before shutting the door and taking off his coat.

"I would not leave without saying goodbye," Ziva replied.

"But you are leaving." He didn't need to ask.

"Yes." She responded anyway.

She bit the inside of her cheek as David's head bowed, his shoulders drooping.

"I guess I always knew," he admitted, lifting his head to look at her. "From the moment I got that phone call."

Ziva felt small under the weight of his stare. "I am sorry," she began, only to have him wave her off.

"No, you're not," he said, not unkindly. "You have no reason to be sorry. You have thirty years of life to go back to. A few weeks with me could never compete."

Ziva frowned, stepping closer to him, her stomach dropping as he moved away.

"David," she said, the unfamiliar level of emotion in her voice causing him to look up at her. "Do not say such things. You are a wonderful man."

"But I'm not him."

Ziva shook her head. "No, you are not," she replied. "You are the one who cared for me when I was injured, who did not look at me with pity as I struggled to perform even the simplest of tasks. For that, I am thankful."

David's eyes shined in the dimly-lit room. "And the rest?"

This time, he didn't pull away as she came closer. Her hand rested on his cheek, cradling his face in her hand.

"You took me in when any other doctor would have let the system do its job," she replied softly. "You cared for me even when I could not offer you anything in return."

David shook his head. "You're wrong, Ziva. You offered me yourself."

She tilted her head. "I did, but you offered me your heart. I will never forget that."

His eyes bored into hers as the silence stretched between them.

"You're more than welcome to stay, Ziva."

"I cannot."

"Yes, you can," he implored her, taking her hand in his. "You can stay and we'll find you work. You wouldn't have to fight anymore, you could leave Mossad behind. We could be happy, Ziva."

It would have been much easier for her to say no if his offer were not so compelling. By returning to D.C., she would have to explain everything to Tony, to NCIS. David would not ask her for anything she didn't want to offer. D.C. meant she might get deported back to Israel, having no identity, no past. David would help her get both.

But Washington also had Gibbs, and Abby, and Ducky and McGee. Washington had Tony.

For once, she knew that the rational choice was the wrong one. She had to risk it all in hope that she would be gaining everything.

"I am so sorry," she whispered, watching David's eyes fill before she had to look away. Her stomach churned with disgust; she couldn't even look him in the eye.

Her hand stung as he dropped it before stepping away from her.

"Then leave, Ziva," he said, his voice thick. "If you're only here to end this, then leave.

"David…. I never meant to hurt you."

His eyes were hardened and dark as they met hers. "But you did. You are."

She bit the inside of her lip to keep it from quivering. Her movements were unsteady as she stepped forward, his eyes challenging as she reached him. Without speaking, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his, a quick peck that was filled with all the sorrow and thankfulness she could manage. It was nothing like the romantic kisses they had shared before.

"Thank you," she said, moving back only as far as she needed to in order to speak. "I owe you for everything."

He nodded sharply, looking away as she lowered herself back to the floor. She grabbed her bag with one hand, opening the door with the other.

"Goodbye, David," she said, his back to her. Silence met her response and she allowed the door to close, the clicking of the latch doing all the speaking for him.

She leaned against the wood, guilt burning in her eyes. She wiped away a tear as it slipped over her lower lid. Her hands shook as she shouldered her bag, taking a deep breath and calming herself enough to make the now-familiar route from David's apartment to Tony's hotel room.

Her eyes were dry by the time she arrived, but Tony quickly stood when he caught sight of her, taking her bag and dropping it away on the floor.

"What happened?" he asked, his hands held away from his body as though he wanted to touch her but wasn't sure if he had the permission.

Ziva shook her head, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Tony. His arms came up to hold her in return as she buried her face in his chest, clutching him around the middle.

"Ziva, you're shaking," he murmured into her hair, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head.

She didn't speak. A part of her--one that never went through the experiences of Michael's death and the subsequent events--rebelled at the amount of weakness she was showing in front Tony. That Ziva would never allow Tony to see her like this, to grasp him in an effort to hold herself together.

But this Ziva… this one had lost the lover who betrayed her, had been tortured and lost her memory before breaking the heart of a great man. That Ziva knew the smartest thing she could was hold on to the man for whom she'd risked it all.

Getting onto an American military plane had been interesting. With no papers and no record of existence, their flight had been delayed nearly two hours while Gibbs went to the embassy to get clearance for Ziva to fly.

She would have been lying if she denied the small knot of tension in her gut during that time.

Once they had been ensconced into the back of the plane, the unanswered questions began to hang heavy in the air.

What happened to her? Did she betray them, or was she the one who had been betrayed? Why would Mossad erase her records? What, exactly, could she remember?Ziva didn't know where to begin.

She sat strapped in next to Tony, whose hand rested casually on her thigh. The contact was comforting, but she did not make it so affectionate as to hold his hand. She was strung too tightly to be romantic.

Clearing her throat, she finally broke the silence. "I am sure you both have questions," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Ask them."

Gibbs stared at her from across the plane, his face unreadable. "Why didn't you come to me, Ziva?"

Tony's hand tightly on her thigh and Ziva let out a breath. Even though she invited the question, she wasn't looking forward to discussing Michael.

"Michael and I had a very complicated relationship," she replied guardedly. "He was my partner at Mossad long before I ever came to NCIS. When he told me he was in D.C. on vacation to see me, I believed him. I should not have."

"There's nothing wrong with believing that your old partner would still have your six," Gibbs said, watching her. "But you knew he had a mission on American soil."

"Yes," Ziva admitted, forcing her eyes not to waver from his. "But I did not know the details. My father purposely ordered Michael to keep them from me, just as he ordered him to stay in D.C."

"Why, Ziva?" Tony asked, his voice much less strained than she expected, given the topic of discussion. "Why would you father order him to stay?"

Ziva looked away. "I was never told for certain, but I was able to figure it out," she said. "My father wanted me back in Israel, back at Mossad. He thought if Michael and I had something, he could convince me to return while carrying out his own mission. Michael was his means to an end."

"Start a relationship?" Tony asked. "Do you mean rekindle one?"

Ziva frowned at him. "What Michael and I had before was not a relationship," she replied. "I told you, it was complicated."

"You guys obviously had something when you went back to Israel, I mean you took a vacation just to go visit him again."

"When Vance terminated my position, I never expected to return to NCIS," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "Michael was there for me during that transition."

"So being there for a couple of months was enough for you to withhold information and tackle me down at gunpoint?"

Ziva gaped at him. "Michael was my partner! For years!"

"He wasn't just your partner, Ziva. Partners don't sleep together!"

"Oh, and what about you?!"

"HEY!"

The two of them stopped, their heads flicking to Gibbs, who was now glaring at them from across the plane.

"I'm not spending the next ten hours listening to you two argue about your relationship problems," he growled at them. "Fix it on your own time."

Ziva scowled and looked away as Tony crossed his arms. She knew there was a lot of unresolved issues between her and Tony, but Gibbs was right. They didn't need to be angry with each other before they even got back to America and especially not in such close quarters, under Gibbs' watchful eye.

They sat in silence for some time before Gibbs spoke again.

"Ziva, your father would not have let you leave Israel," he said, watching her.

She nodded. "Yes, I know."

Even though an apology for letting her go would have made her feel better, she knew not to expect one. Gibbs did the only thing he could in an impossible situation. He had nothing to apologize for.

"What happened after we left?" Gibbs' voice was soft, concerned, but still she stiffened in her seat.

"If you don't mind," she said, her voice shakier than she would have liked, "I would like to wait until we are back to tell that story. I would not like to tell it more than once."

Gibbs' nodded and Ziva flinched at the unexpected weight of Tony's hand returning to her thigh. She flicked her gaze to him, seeing the concern in his eyes. This time, she didn't hesitate to slip her hand over his.

The questions ended and Ziva relaxed in her seat. Gibbs soon fell asleep, despite the rough turbulence. Tony's spine straightened every time the plane shook and Ziva traced absentminded circles on his hand in response. Once they reached calmer skies, his muscles began to regain their pliability and his arm made its way around her shoulders, pulling her as close as he could in the cramped seats.

"We've got a lot to work out, you know," he said quietly.

"Yes," she said, letting out a breath.

"Do you think we can do it?"

She lifted her head to look at him.

"If we try," she replied. "And if we speak to one another honestly."

Tony nodded. "Right. I can do that."

The corners of her lips tugged up. "So can I."

The rest of the trip was made in silence, both of them dosing off an irregular intervals. Only Gibbs managed to sleep the entire flight, waking up well-rested when they arrived at Dulles.

Once again, it was thanks to Gibbs that Ziva could get past security. The guard at the Navy Yard had been replaced since Ziva's departure and was none too keen on letting her through without proper documentation. A few well-placed threats and a heated call to the director secured Ziva a visitor's pass and guaranteed her admittance anytime the red-faced officer was working again.

The familiar steel elevator filled Ziva with a sense of nostalgia. She closed her eyes as the car descended, lifting her head and drawing in a breath. Tony caught her hand, squeezing reassuringly as they came to a stop, the doors opening to the bright orange décor of NCIS.

"Oh my, God! Oh my, God, oh my, God!"

Ziva had just a second to brace herself before Abby flung herself into her arms, squeezing the breath out of her. She said a silent prayer of thanks that her ribs were well healed, or else the scientist may have re-fractured them with the force of her hold.

"Ziva, you're alive!" Abby squealed into her ear as Ziva got the chance to bring her own arms around her friend.

"Yes…."

"Oh!" Abby said, pulling away at the sound of Ziva's voice. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," Ziva reassured her. "I am fine, Abby."

She squealed again, pulling her into a hug that was much more welcome this time. "I'm just so happy you're back! I knew you wouldn't betray us, Ziva, I just knew it!"

Ziva nodded stiffly at her words, accepting them while trying not to acknowledge how close to home they seemed to hit.

As soon as Abby backed away, they were able to get properly into the bullpen where McGee sat perched on the edge of his desk, smiling at Ziva.

"Ziva."

She smiled. "McGee."

They watched each other for a moment before McGee stepped forward, pulling her into a embrace. The action said more about their friendship than any words.

Ducky was the last to make his way to Ziva.

"Welcome back, my dear," he said warmly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"It is nice to be back," she replied. She looked around at the familiar faces and noticed for the first time that the knot of tension that had plagued her since she woke up in Egypt was finally gone. She felt safe for the first time in weeks.

"Miss David."

The entire team turned their heads toward the catwalk at the familiar voice.

"Director Vance," Ziva said evenly, meeting his steal gaze.

"I think we have a few things to discuss."

She felt Tony step up behind, Gibbs taking his place at her side as she took a deep breath before answering. "Yes, I believe we do."