(once again I don't own any of this)

He must have dozed off. He woke to the sound of the smoke detector and stumbled into the kitchen. He had to laugh. Oh, how he wished he had a picture of this. He'd even be willing to share it with McGee. Ziva stood on a kitchen chair rapidly fanning the smoke detector with one of his GSM magazines. "Don't you ever clean out your toaster? You are one of the worst housekeepers I have ever seen!"

He indulged himself with a look up her shirt. She swatted him in the head and said something in Hebrew that he did not understand. He was guessing it wasn't a compliment. "Just take the battery out, spy girl."

She obliged. She set the battery down on the counter with an angry thwack. "I made eggs and toast. Everything else in your fridge was unrecognizable. I think you're growing penicillin in there."

"Well health care is expensive these days." He served himself coffee and sat down at the table. "You get to call you contacts?"

She held her coffee cup with both hands. "Yes. I'm just waiting to hear back. It shouldn't be long now."

"Are you going to tell me who's behind this? No wait. Let me guess. It's Daddy, isn't it?"

"No, not directly. Ex-boyfriend. We dated for a couple months. I broke it off before I came here," she muttered. "I my father is just pulling his wire."

He leaned forward, "Do tell."

"His name is Peter. He was born in the Sates and moved to Israel when he was 10. We went through basic together. He got out of the army after his term was up. Still, my father trusts him to deal with matters that he wishes to keep discreet. Plus the guy's still mad that I dumped him."

Her cell rang, the vibrations making it skitter across the table. He didn't understand a word she said. When she hung up she seemed to be quite satisfied. She smiled at him.

"How long do you think it would take to get to Long Island?"

"If you drive, not long."

Tony's Dramamine wore off abruptly when Ziva slammed the brakes on behind a large truck with a placard that read 'Caution-Danger of Explosion' in the middle of the Long Island Expressway. She was steamed. Undoubtedly planning out her reconciliation with her Ex. She had JET blasting over the speakers as she played dodge and evade with the rest of the traffic.

It was well after dark when they got to Port Jeff. Slowly she cruised down the crowded street. Most of the houses had long ago been single story seasonal residences. Now they were year round homes. Denuded trees lined the street."That's it. Number 105." She said as they rolled past. The flickering light of a television shone through the curtains. "Drop me off a couple of doors down. Then you go keep him busy. I'll sneak in and get him. It'll be fun." She certainly looked excited. She was practically levitating.

"This is Long Island Ziva, people have guns."

"Be charming." She offered. "Keep him talking until you see me."

He complied, dropping her off at the end of the block and watching her disappear into the darkness. She was good. He blinked and she was gone. He continued down the street and parked at # 105.

"Be charming. Keep him talking." He told himself. He hoped she knew what she was doing. He knocked on the door. This was either going to go really well or very badly.

The man who answered could have been his twin. "I'm looking in a mirror," he thought. "This could explain some of her hostility towards me."

"Yes?"

"Hey I'm lost. How do I get to Carnegie hall from here? I have concert tickets."

"Can't help you." He moved to shut the door. Still no Ziva. Think fast. Stall.

"So, have you ever considered a home based business?

"Buddy no offense but I'm getting back to my game." Then Peter's eyes went wide as Ziva pressed the barrel of her Sig to his left temple.

"Hi Honey. I'm home."