McGee-

Oh my father is the most arrogant person in the world! I can not stand him, McGee! I can not! He called me into his office today to talk to me about my relationship with NCIS. I told him I had a strictly professional relationship, and then he tells me that he has been spying on me again? He showed pictures of Tony and I together eating dinner in a restaurant and then walking out a movie theater. We are friends McGee, but papa will not believe that! Tony is part of the reason that he asked Vance for my position at NCIS to be terminated. He thought that I was getting married to Tony. He would not even listen to me when I tried to calmly explain to him what was really going on, but of course, papa does not listen. He is arranging a marriage for me, McGee, you must go and get Gibbs to convince Vance to let me come home. I can not and will not marry this man. If you do not hear from me for a while, it is probably because I am either hiding from my father and the person that he has arranged me to marry or I am dead. Since this may be my last email, I will tell you that what my partner and I did that night did not require clothes, but it did require a bed. So yes, when you assumed, you assumed right. Do not hate me, McGee. Know that I miss you all.

-Ziva

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"Ziva?" She looked up at her new partner, Michael Rivkin, who was standing in the doorway of her new apartment…with working water, and no dirt.

"Yes?"

"Your father would like to see you in his office ASAP." She sighed and closed her book, sitting up from her couch and walking towards the doorway, leaning up against the other side of the frame, opposite her partner.

"Thank you, Michael." She said, leaning up and pecking him on the lips, quickly, before disappearing down the hallway.

She didn't quite know when or how she 'got over Tony' but she had found something in Michael, she just couldn't quite put her finger on it. She felt almost guilty that she had 'gotten over him', but, to be honest, she really hadn't. She guessed that Michael would be just one of those 'replacements'. And he knew that. Michael knew that she was just using him as her 'candy' to live through the months she would have without her real partner. She didn't honestly know why she was doing it. She didn't understand why she took down the pictures of Tony in her bedroom, she didn't understand any of her actions during her months in Israel with Mossad. She almost hated herself for it, but she realized that the hating should come for her father instead of for herself as she knocked on the door for the director's office.

"If it is Ziva, Tzahal." The guard outside of her father's office nodded and then opened up the door, letting her in before quickly closing it, almost nipping her butt as she did so.

"Michael tells me that you wanted to see me."

"Yes, Ziva, I do. Please sit." he said, switching to English. Ziva was not used to hearing English…after a couple of months of nothing but Hebrew, she was not prepared, however, it would not take her long to switch. She sat down in the chair.

"What?"

"Ziva, calm down, please." Eli said, annoyed at the tone in her voice, "How are you liking Israel?"

"Father, you ask me that every week. Every day, as a matter of fact, and has my answer changed? No. Now unless you have a real reason for me to be in here, I will be going now."

"Ziva!" Her father's voice boomed, "Sit down." She rolled her eyes, huffed, and then sat down in the seat, crossing her arms, "I know about your relationship with NCIS."

"I love them, if that is what you mean, yes."

"No, Ziva." he pulled off his glasses, sighed, took a deep breath closed his eyes, and then looked up at his daughter, "Did you or did you not sleep with him?"

Tony.

She gulped, trying to find the words, trying to break out with some lie, "Who?" was all she could manage to say, to buy her a little more time.

Eli sighed, "Your partner. Anthony DiNozzo."

Just his name brought pain to her heart. Memories came flooding back to her…she knew she still loved him. Ugh, she knew. She knew. Ziva also knew that she couldn't lie to her father and get away with it. Who else told her that how to determine if someone was lying? She just looked down at her lap. She knew she was caught just as her father muttered, "I knew it. I knew it."

"Knew what?" She shouted, in Hebrew, "I am sorry that you sent me to NCIS not to make relationships with people! I am sorry that someone other than someone you have approved of." She said, standing up and walking towards her father's desk.

"He is not Jewish, my child."

"I do not care if he is not Jewish. He is my partner, and I fell in love with him!" The moment she said it, she froze. She just admitted it. In front of her father of all people.

"I refuse to let you marry this man."

"Marry?" Ziva asked, in shock, "I am not getting married, Papa."

"Pictures speak a thousand words, my child." He said, handing her the case file. She took it carefully and opened it up, flipping through the pictures. One was of her and Tony, smiling at each other in a restaurant. A date? They sure looked like they were on one. Just looking at him was making her tear up, but she would never cry in front her father. She turned to the next picture, one of her and Tony walking out of the movie theater, his hand around her waist. I don't remember that…She thought, It really felt that natural? She had to resist the urge to throw the file at her father; instead she just chucked it onto his desk, "You see? This type of behavior is completely…wrong. Are you pregnant?"

"No!" Ziva yelled, "And what are you going to do about it if I am?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly."

"However, I can arrange you a marriage."

"Marriage?" Ziva asked, in disbelief. How would Tony feel about this? "Excuse me? I am not getting married!"

"You will like being married. It will get you away from this Anthony man."

"You have never even met him! He is a good person, papa." She cursed in Hebrew before muttering under her breath as she paced back and forth across the floor in her father's study. She couldn't believe this. Her heart was beating a thousand times a minute; she couldn't stop it.

"He is an American. Catholic. He is not right for you."

"You do not know…you are…you are so…prejudice!" She felt guilty for telling Tony that he was prejudiced, it almost literally hurt her.

"I will pick out a good husband for you, Ziva. Do not worry." Eli said, looking down at his paper and writing down some names from a list he had up on his computer.

"No, papa. I will be going back to NCIS, back to Washington DC, and I will be with my American boy. I refuse to marry whoever it is. I do not care. I refuse."

"Ziva, you do not understand, do you, my child?"

"Understand what?"

"You are not going back to America. What memories you have collected with your time in America are the only ones you will have. Your last memory with Anthony DiNozzo is what you are going to have to live on. You will never see him again. Understand?"

Last memory…last memory…

"So, I guess this is it." Tony said as he closed the door to his apartment with his foot, flipping the lights on and revealing his oh-too-familiar apartment to her eyes.

"I guess so." She mumbled, wringing her hands together as she stared at the couch, reliving memories after memories of her and Tony watching movies together on that couch, her and Tony sharing thoughts about cases on that couch, her and Tony just talking on that couch.

The sound of smooth jazz filled the room, and she smiled, recognizing it as one of Tony's favorites; Frank Sinatra. Suddenly, a glass half-filled with red wine was in front of her, and she turned her head to the left and saw Tony staring down at her, without his famous smile on his face; it was just a grimace this time. She took it and gave him a sad smile, swirling around the wine in the glass but not drinking it.

"Come sit down, Ziva." He said, sitting down on the couch, patting the seat next to him. She sat on the edge, very tense, very on edge with herself, as she traced the rim of the glass, "Relax." He said, placing one hand tentatively on her shoulder, massaging it, "Relax." He repeated.

"I am…I am fine, Tony." She said, looking down at the ground.

"Come on now, Ziva, don't try to fool me. You're lying. Come on, spill. What's on your mind?" He asked, taking a sip of the wine before placing it back down on top of the coffee table.

"I am thinking about what my life is going to be like…without Gibbs without McGee, without Abby, without Ducky…" she turned to look at him, "without you."

"Aw, Zi, don't start this."

"No, Tony, we are never going to see each other again, do you not understand? My father will not let me come back to America, even on missions. He is probably very upset at NCIS right now, especially Vance, for terminating my position. He will not let me come back. Do you not understand? And you…you will be trapped on that boat!"

"Ship, Ziva, and I know. Vance is an ass." He smiled, and then let it grow wider as she couldn't help but break out into a little grin, "See? You know it's true."

"So what now?" Ziva sighed, "This is goodbye, Tony."

"Not yet." Tony said, trying to convince himself that he could do this.

"What are you talking about? We are leaving, Tony. You and I are both flying out tomorrow, we will be a thousand miles away from each other, maybe more. It is over, Tony, this is goodbye!" Ziva put her wine glass down, and Tony turned her cautiously on the couch, to face him. He placed his hands on top of hers, gently massaging the backs of them with his thumb.

"Ziva? Ziva." He said, demanding, "Look at me." She didn't budge, "Look at me." He commanded, a little more forcefully, but still with a little compassion. He couldn't be too hard on her, it was obvious that she didn't want to leave. And he didn't want her to leave, "Ziva. Look. At. Me." He said, and she sighed and gave up, looking him straight in the eyes.

"What?" She asked, and he could tell that she was fighting back tears. This was a side of Ziva he had never seen before. A vulnerable Ziva. He was going to tell her his dying feelings for her, at the moment, but he didn't want to take advantage of her in this delicate frame of mind.

He wished himself luck as he moved in for the kill. He could feel her hot breath on his face as she stiffened, squeezing his hands, which had been on hers in her lap as she moved closer towards him. They stopped, freezing just millimeters in front of the others' lips, "Tony…" She breathed, and that was his cue to go in. He closed the gap and pressed his lips against hers, tasting her sweet breath, but keeping the kiss slow. He wasn't going to take advantage of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer to him as Tony wrapped his arms around her waist. She moaned in pleasure, and that was Tony's ticket. He opened his mouth just as she opened hers and their tongue's met. The kiss was a thousand times better than the one that they had shared when they were undercover nearly three years ago, but that was only because this one was full of passion; they weren't acting. She fell into his lap and started to un-do his shirt, her lips not leaving his. Their clothes came off, one by one, until they were both naked on top of his couch. They finally broke the kiss, only to breathe, and Ziva looked down at him.

"Let's take this someone more…comfortable." Tony smiled, and she nodded as she picked her up bridal style and ran into the bedroom, setting her down on the bed, gently before climbing on top of her. He placed a kiss on her lips, "You ready?" He breathed, and she nodded.

"Yes…" She moaned as he entered her. They were two pieces of a puzzle, fitting together as one, in one fluid movement. Suddenly, Ziva wrapped her hands around his back and flipped him over, "You should remember that I prefer on top." He smiled.

"I remember." He said as she mounted him, moving up and down, their hips meeting the other's perfectly, as if they had rehearsed this for months. Slowly, she moved her lips down to his, kissing him more passionately than she had ever kissed someone. Ziva didn't know how long she had stayed like that, and neither did Tony, but they both knew that they were having the time of their lives.

The next morning, Ziva woke up to the soft beeping of an alarm clock, signaling 0500 hours. Their planes would be leaving in a couple of hours, and she didn't know what she was going to do. She could still hear the soft jazz music coming from the living room, Frank Sinatra's voice singing to her. Tony must have left the CD on repeat, she assumed.

"You awake, sweetheart?" Sweetheart…it sounded good coming from Tony's lips.

"Yes." She sighed, twirling his chest hair with her finger, "We have to go in a couple of hours, Tony." she said, placing a kiss on his chest, "Maybe we should take a shower."

"Good idea." he said, kissing the crown on her head as she sat up and got out of bed, walking towards the bathroom. Tony didn't follow her, and she was almost grateful that he didn't. She didn't want to have to have another painful memory. When she was done with her shower, she walked out of the bathroom and noticed Tony, walking around in just a bathrobe, packing up his things. He smiled up at her, "You done?"

"Yes, Tony. Look, I was just thinking…maybe I should pack up my stuff and then pick you back up so we can head to Dulles, yes?"

"Sounds good, Zi." He smiled, "I'll just finish packing up here and then file my leave papers for the apartment. I'm really gonna miss you, Ziva."

"Me too." She smiled before slipping on her dress from last night; she had yet to change, and starting out of his apartment, slowly. She stopped in the doorway, turning around as she took in the last of his apartment. The movie library he had, the huge TV, and the couch, as well as the movie posters he had around his living room, and the small kitchen with the fridge that was normally full of beer, pizza, and buffalo wings. She smiled as she slowly closed the door, taking it all into her photographic memory, Frank Sinatra singing his last words to her…a song she knew fairly well. However, the last time she had heard it, Tony had been singing it. Frank's voice changed to her partner's as he sang:

"Luck be a lady…tonight."

"Ziva!" her father shouted, snapping her out of her thoughts. She felt her cheeks wet, and she realized that she had been crying, thinking about their last memory.

"What?" She spat, "I am not getting married, papa." She said, switching to English, "I refuse to get married to anyone but Anthony DiNozzo."

"Then, sorry to say this, your life will be shortened."

She gaped at her father. Her father was going to kill her? For not marrying some man she didn't know? For not marrying the man she actually cared about? "I hate you, papa." She spat before walking out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She ran to her apartment across the street, crossing the busy traffic in front of the Mossad building. It was worse than DC's. Once she entered her apartment, she noticed Michael sitting on the couch, looking down at his hands. His head snapped up as she entered and he stood up.

"Ziva! How was it? You look upset! What's-"

"Shut up, Michael." She spat, and Michael's worried expression faded.

"Understood. Sorry, Ziva." He said, walking out of the room as she sighed and sat down on the couch, thinking briefly about Tony. Their last moment together? She knew it was coming, how come she couldn't believe it now? She walked over to her suitcase and searched through her bag before finally finding what she was looking for. She put the CD into the stereo she recently bought, and pressed play, switching to track two as jazz music filled the room and Frank Sinatra's voice came on. She pulled on Tony's t-shirt;

"They call you lady luck, but there is room for doubt…at times you have a very unlady-like way of running out…" Frank continued to sing as she picked up the photos she had strewn across her old room and smiled at them, lying down the couch as she had a proper 'goodbye' session for Tony. Tony would want her to be happy, "Luck be lady tonight. Luck be a lady tonight. Luck if you've ever been a lady to begin with. Luck be a lady tonight." She started singing along before reaching over and grabbing the glass of wine she had poured a couple of hours ago. She toasted it to the sky, "Shalom Tony…luck be a lady with me." She laughed as she sipped the wine, but, even though she was trying to be happy, she couldn't help but feel like a part of her was slipping away, "Stick with me, baby, I'm the fella you came in with….luck be a lady tonight." And the trumpets started as she started dancing around, pretending that Tony was there, her glass of wine in one hand, her hands up in the air as if he was really there, "Stick with me baby, I'm the guy that you came in with, oh luck be a lady" She spun around, smiling as she moved her hips to the beat of the music, "…luck be a lady" She spun around again, "…luck be a lady….tonight!"