A/N: Look, another chapter! And one that is filled with... chapterness. I don't know. I just felt like writing today. Maybe that's what getting new books does to me. Or maybe it's because it's National Novel Writing Month somewhere. I think that's the US though, not here. Or I could be wrong. We might have National Novel Writing Month in Canada. I should look that up.

Enjoy, but I don't own anything.

She was gripping the counter far too hard, knuckles white and tension evident. Her teeth were locked as anger and confusion freely flowed through her veins. What right did he have to be here? Investigation or otherwise, this was her territory, her country - her home. In no way did it belong to him, and she didn't want him to have any part of it. She knew what destruction his arrival could cause… and she couldn't let that happen, even if it meant destroying everything between them, ridding the world of their friendship and any other bond that had been slowly dwindling away.

"Get a grip on yourself," she whispered, raising her eyes to the mirror. What was she doing? It was likely that her boss would be mad. In fact, he'd probably be furious at her for leaving so unprofessionally. He knew nothing of this man besides the basics, and yet he knew his own agent so well. Well enough to be sure that she kept her composure no matter the situation - until now.

"You have to go out there and face him," she stared at herself but did not move, locked in her position by fear and anger. "This situation won't get better if you stay here. Only worse."

Ziva drew a slow, deep breath before she began to move. First her arms released their death grip, then her torso began to turn. It was infinitely slower and far stranger than ever before - the simple act of moving. She squeezed her eyes shut and allowed a moment of hesitation before reaching for the door handle and exiting the small room. There was work to do. People to talk to, things to sort out. And then there's him…

Almost immediately, she came face-to-face with her boss, whose face told her everything. She'd messed up, and badly. His face demanded answers, and she knew she'd have to comply but had no desire to. Nevertheless, she backed up into the nearest corner to talk to them. It was the best privacy they ever seemed to have around the small building.

"What was that, David?" he demanded. She could hear concern behind his voice but chose not to point it out. He was like Gibbs in this way (and many others). Behind his hardened demeanour, he cared most for his agents and their safety. The age difference meant absolutely nothing between the ways of the two men.

"His name is Anthony DiNozzo," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Anger flickered in her boss's mind and she decided to change her train of thought. "I know him… from before."

"Before?"

"Before I was reassigned as an American liaison to Britain."

"Who was he to you?"

"My partner." And for a short time, my lover.

"Then why the negative response to seeing him again, David? Was there something on the side?"

Damn him and how perceptive he could be. "No," she replied, too quickly, and she could see him connecting the real nature of her former relationship with him. "We parted on bad terms is all. He wanted me to stay, I was unable to. I have since moved on. My reaction was unprofessional. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. Now, we can't keep them waiting. Come on," a small smile was present on his face as he said this, happy that the matter was somewhat resolved. He beckoned towards her and she followed him quickly through the small building. It barely took a minute to arrive at their small office (she'd stopped referring to such things as "squadrooms" because it brought up too many memories she'd wanted to forget), yet it took only seconds for her heart to stop again.

He was there. Staring at her. But there was no smile on his face, no spark in his green eyes, nothing that made him distinctly Tony. She could see her own feelings reflected in him, though he obviously had a better handle on those feelings. He soon switched his gaze to her boss, not even bothering to acknowledge her with his words. "Sir, we're here about the Petty Officer. We'll need him shipped to my ME."

"Can't be done," replied the other man. "Our soil, our investigation. Was he of some importance to you?"

"Yes. We gave you some details earlier."

"Not enough for us to give you a body that is clearly in our jurisdiction. I'll need more than what you've given me to do anything for you."

He gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes. "Look, the details are classified-"

"I have high clearance."

"Very classified."

"High clearance, remember?"

"I'd need permission from SecNav to even give you anymore information than you've got-"

"Which is no information. We aren't releasing the body to you without reason. This man's death is in our jurisdiction and we're keeping the body unless you have reason for us to do otherwise."

Ziva stared between them, beginning to get exasperated. Obviously the man she knew had changed, and was quite ready to argue with her own superior. She ran a hand through her hair before speaking up. "Just give us the details! Or do a joint investigation! Unless you can give us details, you have no right to be here."

And you have no right to be here otherwise, she thought. Not now. Not anymore.

The man instantly turned towards her, his eyes blazing in anger again.

"You never changed, did you, Ziva? Well, things are far more important than you and your new team think."