I'm really bored, and I decided that I'd do different one-shots that are related to each other in some ways on how the team spends their Saturday when they don't have a case. I won't finish the end, as that it will be its own separate epilogue type thing at the end of this story. And each chapter will be in a 'POV', but not really. Like it will follow one character through their Saturday. Like this one, is Ziva's! So enjoy!

The apartment was quiet, the living room left the way it had been from the earlier night, a bowl of half-eaten, and now stale, popcorn sitting on the coffee table, a quilt half on, half off the couch, a glass of red wine on the table, with a little residue sitting at the bottom. A bottle of wine, half-empty, was sitting next to it, an open DVD case for the Sound of Music next to the popcorn bowl. The TV was off, but the DVD player was still on, a little green light and a little blue light the only two things shining into the room. It was quiet, the occasional ticking of the analog clock in the living room the only sound inside of the apartment.

In the bedroom, a woman lay in the sheets, curled up like a butterfly in a cocoon, pulling the covers close to her. She was curled up on the right side of the bed, her eyes tightly shut, her clothes from last night and a couple of nights before strewn onto the floor as well as the towel from the shower she took last night. The smell of floral shampoo still filled the room, and a light snoring was heard from underneath the covers.

Outside, the sound of the rain on the roof vibrated through the entire apartment, slowly snapping her out of her dreams.

Pit. Pat. Splat. Pit. Pat. Splat. Pit. Pat… The rhythm continued to beat on her roof. It was 0500h in the morning, Saturday. She hated Saturday's; they made her realize just how lonely she really was. And the fact that it was raining…she groaned and lazily flipped on the light, her eyes closed shut in her large, empty bed. How come her bed felt so empty on Saturday's? It just wasn't fair. Why didn't anyone love her? Wasn't she pretty enough? She groaned and buried her head into her pillow; America has made you think these things, Ziva. She decided to finally get up, instantly knowing that her hair was a large poof, full of frizz and in need of a good washing.

Not even looking, she made her way over to the laundry basket that was sitting next to the door and rummaged through it before grabbing her jogging suit out and quickly changing. I need to do the wash. She thought, briefly, before grabbing a brush off of dresser and pulling it through her tangles. She still, did not open her eyes. She knew it was 0500h on a Saturday, but what else did she have to do? If she just sat here, in her apartment, like she normally would on a Saturday after running, she'd just think about how lonely she was, and how everyone had something to do on a Saturday. She would try to go to work, but she knew that since they didn't have a case, and unlike Tony, she finished all of her paperwork, he'd just turn her away like he did every other Saturday.

She put the brush down and grabbed a hair tie off of the dresser, pulling her hair back into a ponytail before running her hand over it. She frowned. It was way too poufy. Why did she even care about her appearance? She scolded herself and then grabbed another hair tie, wrapping her ponytail around and putting it into a bun before grabbing her knife and placing it where no one could see it and leaving the bedroom, opening her eyes to make sure she didn't run into anything. As she left her apartment, she started down the steps, the rain soothing as it finally hit her.

Cold and wet she felt the droplets run down her face before they really started coming. It was pouring outside, and she knew that she really shouldn't be running, but she needed to. She hated being lonely. She started to run, taking her normal course on the deserted streets of DC. She hated being lonely, correction, she hated being without him. Stupid girl, she hated herself for falling madly in love with her partner. She felt stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She was trained not to…she was drenched down to her underwear by the time she made it to the end of the street. No one was out. Because everyone has lives, Ziva, because everyone has someone to be with at this hour. Something to do. Someone to live for.

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She returned back to her apartment an hour later, completely and utterly drenched. As if she had just gone for a dip into the pool, however, she thought that if she got into a pool, she'd be drier. Muttering angry things to herself, she picked the lock to her apartment and then walked in, closing the door behind her.

She didn't bother to turn on the light, she headed straight for the bathroom and shut the door, turning on the hot water and removing her soaking wet clothes and her concealed knife. She wrung out her clothes and then hung them up to dry on the side of the sink before placing her knife on the counter as well. She could almost feel the heat from the shower as she quickly stepped in, planning on taking a long time, considering she had so much time to kill. The warm water felt good against her skin, and she smiled as she let it caress her muscles. Her skin tingled under the warmth, but it felt good to her. Once her hair was dry and the apartment smelled of her shampoo again, she turned off the water, dried her hair, and then brushed her teeth before pulling on her clothes. She sighed and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She thought she looked great, but how come Tony never thought she looked great?

Why does your mind always go back to him? Why? Why! Get over him! He will never love you! Sighing she grabbed her phone, SIG, knife, and car keys before heading out of the door and into her Mini Cooper. She started the engine and drove like a maniac to work. And the streets weren't as crowded; apparently people in DC were afraid to drive in this type of thunderstorm.

Speeding into the NCIS parking garage, she got out, heard the beep that he car locked, and stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the squadroom. She waited for the doors to open back up and they did, revealing the squadroom to her eyes. She smiled and then got out, turning around the corner when Gibbs suddenly appeared out of nowhere, blocking her path. She stumbled back, flustered.

"Gibbs." She said, startled before smiling at him, "Good morning." She said, starting to move past him and towards the bullpen when he closed his eyes.

"Ziver…" He groaned, almost warningly, and she had to stop. She hated nicknames; they always made her heart melt, even if it was coming from Gibbs himself. She turned around and stared at him.

"Yes, Gibbs?"

He walked towards her and put two hands on her shoulders, shaking them gently, oh so gently, "Go home. It's Saturday. You should be enjoying your time off. I always have to do this…"

"Do what?" She questioned.

"Come to work every Saturday we don't have a case and tell you to go home." He stared deep into her brown eyes with is blue ones, "So go home."

"What if I do not want to?" She challenged.

"Do you still want your job, David?"

She sighed, "Gibbs this is so…" She started as he started to move her towards the elevator. He lightly shoved her in and then poked just his head in to read the buttons as he pressed the garage button. He then quickly snapped his head back out and stood there, no emotion on his face as the elevator doors closed on a very angry Ziva David.

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When she arrived back to her apartment, she threw down her equipment angrily and glanced at the clock. Only 1100h? She groaned, how much more of this could she take? She ran a hand through her hair and noticed that it was partially dry. Maybe she could straighten it…yeah, that's what she could do. In the meantime, though, what was she supposed to do? It was too early for her for lunch, and she was pretty sure that no one was home on a Saturday. She remembered that Abby was going to some forensic convention, Gibbs was at home building his boat, McGee was probably playing some 'elf' game online, and Tony…Tony was probably hitting it up with some chick. She glanced at the clock again. 1101h. Nooner. She angrily thought as she sat down on the couch, part of the blanket falling on her lap. At that moment right then, Ziva realized something; she missed Jenny Shepherd.

She missed her best friend, besides Tony, because she wouldn't count him as a best friend. Sure, they were friends, best friends, partner's….more. She wanted that more so badly…She sighed and pulled her legs up onto the couch and laid down, her eyes glued to the blank TV screen in front of her. She was in a daze as she pulled the quilt around her. She could feel the wetness from the shower she took earlier start to run down her face and she sighed, absentmindedly pulling at the quilt.

Minutes past, and before she knew it, she had been lying there for three hours; she had fallen asleep, and her stomach was growling. She smiled at the thought of having something to do, and she pulled her now dry hair up into a bun before grabbing her coat, her keys, her wallet, and her concealed knife, just in case before starting out of the door. It was still raining, but not as much as this morning, and she pulled her jacket over her head as she started towards the car, getting in and just sitting.

Finally pulling her head together, she decided to go to get 'Big Wong's.' It was, in fact, the first thing that came to her mind.

Driving through the streets, it took her a total of three minutes and thirty-nine seconds to get to Big Wongs and parallel park. Getting out of the car, she pulled out her wallet from the glove compartment and pulled the top of her jacket over her head before running towards the entrance. She opened the door and there was a short line, about five people. She silently wished it was longer. She wanted time to fly by, and she wanted to kill it as well. The door opened again, a ding and she turned to see an Asian couple and a six year old daughter with them. They smiled at her, and she smiled back before she realized that everyone else in the line was Chinese as well.

This must be a really good Chinese restaurant if there are so many Chinese people here! She thought, amazed. Chinese people did, in fact, have rather good tastes in food. The door opened again, the bell ringing again, and she couldn't help but turn to see who walked in. An old man walked in, he looked about ten years older than Gibbs. The line moved forwards, and she moved forwards as well. There were now two people in front of her. Once she got to the beginning of the line, she smiled. She was starving.

"What would you like?" The woman asked from behind the counter, and she felt her face go pale. She didn't know what to order, she didn't know what she liked!

"Uh…" She smiled, and then looked down, trying frantically to find something, "Sorry, I do not know. Serve the next person in line."

"I cannot do that, ma'am." She scowled at the formality.

"Ma'am?" She demanded, angry now, "Ma'am?" She demanded again, and she knew that she had to calm down.

"Ziva?" She suddenly heard someone ask her name, and it was only then that she realized that the door had dinged open again and she spun around as Tony DiNozzo walked towards her, a confused look on his face.

"Tony!" The woman behind the counter suddenly screamed, spreading her arms out wide as she shoved a waiter out of the way and ran to go and hug him.

"Gina!" He smiled back, hugging the woman.

"How are you?" She asked, patting his cheeks as she returned behind the counter, "The usual, Tony?"

"Yeah fine. But hold on." He said as she put the order down and into the machine. He walked over to Ziva, who was still standing in front of the counter, confused, "Hey." He said, smiling as another man walked over, nodded at Tony, who just gave him his famous smile, and then served the next customer.

"Hey." She nodded back.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"I am trying to get some 'Big Wong's, yes?"

He smiled, "That's what I thought." He grinned, "Need help deciding?"

She shook her head, "No, I am fine."

"Liar," He grinned, and she whacked him in the gut, causing him to pretend to keel over in pain, a couple people turning to look at him.

"Fine," She spat, "Maybe I need a….little help." She admitted, feeling foolish for not being able to pick out anything from the menu.

"Well are you kosher today or not?" He asked, and she fought the urge to blush. She just looked down at the counter.

"No."

"Well you normally like chicken. So I'll get you the Orange Chicken and a couple of dumplings, all right?" She nodded her head.

"Sounds fine," She nodded as the woman behind the counter told her the total. She opened up her wallet to pull out her credit card, and the woman saw her Mossad Liaison NCIS ID.

"You work for NCIS as well?" She questioned, and Ziva nodded, confused, as if she had said a dumb question. She handed her her American Express card. She swiped it.

"Yes." She said, pointing to Tony, "I am his partner." Gina gave the card back to Ziva.

She gasped, and Ziva looked up, startled as she put her credit card back into her wallet, "You're the woman Tony talks about all the time!"

"Gina!" Tony cut off, quickly, giving her an annoyed look as Ziva signed for the lunch. She handed her a paper bag and she took it, leaving quickly, not saying anything to Tony or Gina. Once in the car, she noticed that Tony was heading out quickly from Big Wong's, and she floored the accelerator, cutting off another car as she narrowly missed the car in front of her, where she parallel parked. She silently cursed herself for not staying longer, but she was starving, and she knew what happened when she was starving. The little monster inside of her came out and ate everything.

She couldn't have run up to her apartment faster; she had the lock picked and the door closed behind her in a matter of seconds before she quickly sat down on her couch, not bothering to turn on the light, letting the little light there was flow through the windows as she pulled out the chicken and the chopsticks from the bag and shoveling it into her mouth. She didn't care if she wasn't acting ladylike with her manners; in fact, she didn't think that anyone cared, because, of course, she lived alone. The orange chicken, after eating almost seven in a row, became spicy for her, and she quickly grabbed the glass off of the coffee table and the wine bottle, which was warm since she hadn't kept it in the fridge all night. She poured herself a glass and sipped it slowly, plopping the last piece of Orange Chicken into her waiting mouth.

She had never felt so alone in the world, and the rain outside didn't help either. Feeling the need to do something, she got up and walked into her bedroom, pushing her armoire out of the way to reveal a wooden target of a person. She then pulled her knife out of her pants and backed away from the target, pulling the knife back and throwing it, nailing the target right in the heart, her aim. She smiled, smugly, and then went to fetch the knife. She pulled it back again. She knew how much throwing knives calmed her mind, but, after a couple of throws, she realized that today, it wasn't happening. Cursing in Hebrew, she threw her knife one last time, not caring where she threw it. She turned to the clock, praying that it was close to 2000h. No such luck. It was 1800h. It was only then that she realized that she still was going to straighten her hair. Silently laughing to herself and thanking herself that she reminded herself, she started towards the bathroom and let her hair down, combing through it as she started to straighten her hair. It was only after she had finished straightening half of it that the doorbell rang.

Cursing again, she mumbled to herself as she started towards the door, nearly throwing it open as she revealed Tony to her eyes. Again, "What?" She demanded as she stepped angrily aside and let him in. He walked in and she shoved the door behind him.

"Hey, what happened to you?" He asked, "Wake up on the wrong side of the assassin case this morning?"

She just scowled, "Shut up, Tony."

"Well why's your hair like that?"

"I was straightening it." She said, clarifying as she shook her head. Idiot.

"Oh." He mumbled, "I like it curly." She just shook her head again and waved him away as she started back towards the bathroom, where the hair straightener was still on and burning. She pulled it through a part of her hair again as Tony leaned up against the doorframe, watching her.

She huffed, annoyed half at him, and half at the hair straightener. It just didn't like her today. Of course. She finally turned on him, placing one hand on the sink and the other on her hip, "Why are you here, Tony?"

"Uh…I was thinking, you know, our normal movie nights?" He asked, confused as to why she would forget it, "I brought one of the James Bond movies!" He said, shaking the DVD case in his hand.

"Oh." She mumbled, "That's right. Yes. Sorry." She said as she picked the hair straightener back up and ran it through her hair, trying not to make eye contact with the green eyed man next to her.

He furrowed his eyebrows together, "Are you okay?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"I am fine." She said, not missing a beat. She finally became frustrated and nearly threw down the straightener onto the counter before storming out of the bathroom, half of her hair still poufy and curly, the other side flat and straight. Tony had to admit that she looked insanely adorable, especially in the sweater that she chose to wear that day. He unplugged the straightener and picked it up, making sure only to touch the handle and not the actual hot plate itself before walking back into the living room and seeing her sitting at the couch, the container that once contained orange chicken in front of her, a half-full glass of wine, and an un-opened container of dumplings next to it as well as a nearly empty bowl of popcorn. Her head was in her hands, her fingers tangled in her beautiful hair. He walked towards her and reached down to plug in the straightener before taking a seat next to her, thanking the fact that the side of her that was turned to her was the side that wasn't straight. He waited for it to warm up, a couple of seconds, before he carefully took a strand of her hair and began to straighten it.

"You okay?" he asked as he moved to another section, her hands absentmindedly moving from the hotness that was the straightener. He scooted closer to her, their thighs touching as he continued to straighten her hair, "You don't seem like yourself today."

She scoffed, "Why do you even care?"

"You're my partner. And besides, I like the Ziva that threatens to kill me better. And she's also much more entertaining to watch movies with and correct American Idioms with." She smiled a little, and Tony smiled back as he moved to another section of her hair, not even paying attention to it, trying to see her face, but failing as she draped the straightened section of her hair over it.

"I have just been thinking a lot, lately."

"About what?"

"About me. My future. Look, I do not want to talk about this with you." She said, not looking up as he finished straightening a section of her hair. He took the moment to be daring and he moved a piece of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as his fingertips lightly brushed her cheek. She shuddered under his touch, and he returned to straightening her hair.

"All right. So I'll tell you what Gibbs told me this morning about the paper work I didn't do." She smiled and looked up at him, and he finally got to see her face as he told the story while he straightened her hair for her. However, as she stared into those familiar green eyes, even though they were never meeting hers, her heart soared. They spent the rest of the night telling stories about others and even themselves, sipping wine, and eating stale popcorn from last night as he finished straightening her hair, the movie he had brought over forgotten.

And if every Saturday was like this, maybe life wouldn't be so lonely after all.