A/N: I hope people are still reading- I know the updates aren't frequent, but that's because it takes me awhile to write in the 'heads' of the characters at these points during the series. Plus I got carried away writing the ending chapters instead of those in the middle, ha. I know it's a different fic. Hope people do stick with it. Enjoy :)

January 2009

"You think this is going to work?"

"I know it will."

In his ear, he heard all their voices. This was a terrible mistake, he thought, wiring up to have this meeting. In the back of his head he saw the surveillance photo Gibbs had slammed down on his desk, demanding to get in touch with her. They'd been on the tail of a so-called 'legal attache' at the Israeli embassy, who had been sniffing around various NCIS cases. A photo Fornell brought to them showed him in rather clear contact with one Mossad officer they knew very well.

Gibbs had reached out to her first. She'd come to him, to his basement, the most scared of places, he thought with a frown, looking around the empty alley, wondering how come this was taking so long. In the sacred basement, she had lied to him. He didn't know why she did it. Gibbs only said she lied. He didn't go into detail. Just that she lied. Get in contact, he'd ordered. How was he supposed to contact someone he swore he wasn't in regular contact with? They crossed paths. Except during one of the path crossings they'd set up a system. In Colombia, when he was Agent Afloat, he ran into her. They agreed if they needed something they'd have a way of contacting each other.

He initially called her cell phone, but when she didn't answer, he got McGee to help him with what she had wanted him to do. It involved some complicated instant messaging thing. He'd told her where to meet. She said she'd be there. Now here they were and no show. "Tony I think we should pack it in, there's no sign of her," Kate said. "Shocker. She probably knows what we're going to talk to her about and is already out of the country."

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, saying nothing to the voices talking in his head. He kept his hand on the butt of his gun, watching the shadows. "Shalom," he called.

She stepped out, her hands in her pockets, a blank stare on her face. "Hello," she greeted him.

"You mind showing your hands?" He grinned, shrugging his shoulder. "Get a little nervous with you around."

There was something wafting off of her he couldn't pinpoint. No joking, no smiles. They usually had at least a quick hug and mean thing to say to each other in greeting, but Ziva was all Mossad Ninja right now. That put him on edge. This woman could kill him with a paper clip. Literally. She removed her hands from the pocket of her coat, lifting her hands out. "You going to strip me?" she said. She glared at him. Her eyes narrowed. "You do not trust me?"

"What are you talking about? I just know you've got at least three guns and two knives. Maybe even a garrote on you too." In disgust, Ziva stormed to him, splashing dirty snow and water over his boots, and reached up to his ear, yanking at the earpiece. "Ow! Damnit!" His heart pounded fast. He knew this was a mistake. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he set it and tightly smiled. "Oops. How'd that get there?"

She locked eyes on him and spoke into the earpiece. "Hello Kate. I need to talk to Tony. Alone." She dropped the earpiece onto the ground and crushed it beneath her boot heel. Dark ropey curls flew over her shoulder as she tossed her hair back, still glaring at him. Now we really don't trust each other. "You called me to talk about Michael?"

Now we get to where we want to get. The joking, teasing, it was gone now. His hands went to his pockets. This was just them. Tony and Ziva. The US federal agent and the Mossad Officer. "We've known each other now, what?" he wondered, leaning back against his car. He shrugged, nonchalant. No big deal, the two of them. Just standing here and having a conversation. "Five years?"

"Four," she corrected. She squinted. "Or does it count when we never see each other, work together…" Wow, ferocious, he thought, scowling at her. She returned the scowl. Then she chuckled, looking down at her feet and back up to him, quiet. "What do you want Tony? You want to know about Michael? He is a legal attaché at the Embassy. What more do you want?"

"He's Mossad."

She smiled again. "I am Mossad."

"You're different Mossad. He's kidon." Another vague smile. So was she, but she wouldn't say it, not with listening devices around. They were partners. Everything Rivkin was up to, she would also be involved with. He never quite knew what her role was on the kidon unit, but he got the impression she was high-ranking. Hell, he had been Senior Field Agent for almost eight years now and here she was commanding assassins around the world and she was hardly in her thirties. Life was so unfair, he mused for a moment, glancing at her again. He straightened up. "What are you guys doing on US soil?"

"Liaison."

"Liar."

"Mossad," she shot back. She blinked at him, smiling, her eyes sparkling. I am not a mark, he thought, as she moved towards him, reaching her hand out to press at his chest, her voice silky. "I do not know what you are doing with Rivkin, Tony, but stay away from him. He is a legal attaché and nothing more." She smirked once more. "You're jealous of him, yes?"

Jealous!? He gaped at her. "Uh, I don't think so," he said. He grinned again. "Maybe he's jealous of me, you think of that?"

"Doubtful, Tony." She pursed her lips, serious once again. "I do not know what you expect me to tell you. Michael Rivkin is not Mossad, he is a legal attaché and any further inquiries will be treated as hostile and will be responded to by my government in kind." The smoothness of her brow flicked with a frown. "Please do not call me about him again."

"He's messing with NCIS investigations, Ziva." He set his jaw. "You aren't part of us anymore but you worked with us. You were a friend of Jenny's. You may be Israeli. You may be Mossad, but you still have a connection to us."

I'm playing the friendship card here, he thought, watching her face fade to blankness. She shrugged, her hands still in her pockets. "I have nothing to tell you beyond what I already have. Please drop this." She turned away and took a few steps back towards the alley, when he suddenly had a thought. There was a surveillance photo he'd found of Rivkin, the FBI had it. Of her and him together.

Shot in the dark, probably going to get slapped, but I need to know. "You're sleeping with him?" he called. "That what this about? I'm asking about your boyfriend's illegal activity in this country?" She froze, her back still to him. He smirked. Yes. Got it. "That's what this is about. You're protecting him. From Daddy."

Very slowly, she turned. Any sympathy, any friendship, anything that bespoke to their connection, was gone. Her eyes were dark and angry. "You are lucky I do not kill you where you stand," she murmured.

"You'll get your shot again Ziva."

"Is that a promise?"

"Consider it a warning," he said, dropping to coldness. This had not gone the way he expected it would. He played it all wrong and he was pissed about that. Ziva was too close with Rivkin, why shouldn't she be? It pissed him off for reasons unknown. He thought she'd help them, but no way, not if they were together. Not if Eli David had them working together for some reason.

She smirked. "I will." She lifted her hand, waving slightly. "Goodbye Tony."

"Goodbye Ziva," he whispered, watching her slip back into the shadows. His heart was beating so fast he could hear it pulsing in his head. He released a hard breath, turning to go back to the car. He climbed into the front seat and closed his eyes, scrubbing at his face. Son of a bitch. He hit his head back against the headrest, opening his eyes when the passenger side door opened. "Boss I screwed up."

"He left when she smashed the earpiece."

He glanced sideways at Kate, who was frowning at him, huddling in her coat, her hands folded in front of her lips, blowing in them to keep them warm. He closed his eyes again, sighing hard. "She's sleeping with Rivkin, we basically just challenged each other to a duel."

"A duel with a Mossad officer? You're a bad shot Tony."

"I have a feeling this one will slit my throat."

"Very likely." Kate looked beyond him out the window, whispering. "So what are you going to do? It backfired, we don't have anything beyond what we had this morning about the guy. Ziva's no help anymore, not if she's personally involved with him. Or friendly Mossad liaison is no longer." She scowled. "Thanks to Vance."

We deal with it like we deal with anything else. Push forward. He'd handle Ziva at a later date. This was far from over.

June 2009

I think I'm going to die in a Mossad dungeon, he thought, watching Eli David leaving the conference room, infuriated that "Agent Meatball" as he referred to him as, had gotten the one up. Don't try to play me, he might as well have said to David. I may not have Mossad's training, but I've got street smarts. I can bullshit and talk anyone into and out of anything. It was one of the few things he was good at and knew he was good at. He glanced at the camera in the corner again, feeling slightly hurt at what he'd just done.

He'd basically gotten Ziva's father to admit that he had ordered Rivkin to get close to her. Ziva had been on the other side of the camera. It was necessary. She had to know the truth, if she wanted to kill him for murdering Rivkin, that was fine. Maybe he deserved it in her eyes, but she deserved to know that Rivkin may not have had the same feelings for her that she had for him. Or maybe he did, who knew. Whatever the man felt, he'd been threatened enough to try to kill me, Tony thought, feeling his shoulder continue to ache from the separation. The long flight had done nothing to help.

He stood up and left the room, since Eli had left the door wide open, and walked down the hall, where Vance and Gibbs were already waiting. "Well?" he said softly.

"You're in it now," Vance said.

You're the one throwing me to the wolves, he thought, eyeing his Director with distaste. They should not have come here to answer for Rivkin's death. They should have ordered Eli and his crew to come to D.C., pick up the body, and explain themselves then. He had no room to talk when it came to too close relationships with Mossad officers. He had been called to the carpet a few times now for how he could just call up one at will. He waited for Vance to disappear to join Eli David, glancing at Gibbs. "Where is she?" he asked.

Gibbs said nothing and then cleared his throat. "Getting air." He moved by Gibbs, who called out down the hallway. "Watch yourself DiNozzo."

He left the building, stepping out into a courtyard, looking over to see Kate leaning against a railing, looking out at the skyline. There were few tall buildings and you could see straight out to the Mediterranean. He walked over to her and sighed hard. "Tell McGee I'm sorry for torturing him those first couple years, you know, if they take me to some black site to torture me."

She glanced up at him. "You shouldn't have done what you did," she said quietly. She sighed and leaned back, shaking her head. "Vance brought us here to show we had nothing to hide. That you were in the right and Rivkin was in the wrong." She glanced sideways again. "You didn't have to do that, not with her on the other side of the glass."

I did have to do it. She needed to know what sort of man Rivkin was. Getting close to her, keeping tabs on her, keeping tabs on me…all because Daddy said so. He ran his tongue over his teeth, sighing. "Forget it Kate."

"Do you love her?"

That was…highly unexpected. He shot her a look. They were standing in a courtyard in Mossad Headquarters. Every breath was probably under surveillance. He snorted. "Love? Why would I love someone who wants me dead?" He fiddled with the edge of his sling, his shoulder hurting. It still felt like blades of glass were shoved underneath the joint. He'd never dislocated it before and had no intention of doing it again after this healed.

Kate stared at him for a moment, profiling him, scanning him, he was used to it by now. So far she'd been way off the mark with some of her assessments but then again…there was the occasion where she read him 100% spot on. They'd been partners now for a little over six years. They were friends, despite their tendency to piss each other off on a daily basis. She shook her head, imperceptible, whispering. "You went to her apartment because you thought she might be there…you were looking for something? Instead you found Rivkin. Why didn't you just call her Tony? Why not just call her, call Vance, call Gibbs hell…just anything? You went to try to talk to her before you did anything else. Why would you do that? What did it matter to you?" She poked her finger into his chest, tapping it against his heart, leaning in to his ear, maybe so the microphones couldn't pick her up. "You need to talk to her, before we leave. See what you can do to salvage your relationship." She broke away slightly and smiled again. "In fact, I think she wants to talk to you too."

"Tony!"

He straightened at the hard call of his name. "Thanks Kate," he whispered. He shrugged. "But I got it." I don't love her, he told himself, turning as he watched her approach. "Ziva."

"Will excuse us Agent Todd?" Ziva snapped. She was on fire. The sunlight glinted off her eyes, which resembled chips of coal. She was vibrating. I'm about to die, he thought, glancing at Kate and nodding the okay for her. Kate nodded back and stepped aside, watching him carefully as she hurried off, probably to go find Gibbs.

And now here we are. "You talk to your father?" he asked, smirking at her. He glared back at her almost growl. He laughed. "This place is nice. You staying on full-time still? Working for Mossad, after all that happened?"

"You jeopardized your entire career!" she screamed. They were the only ones in the courtyard. He knew there was a camera somewhere, watching them. No doubt her father wanted to see what happened. She jabbed her finger at him, yelling. "And for what?"

Are you in love with her, Kate just asked him. He stared straight at her, taking in the pain in her eyes, hiding behind the bravado she was showing to him and the world. She was heartbroken when Michael died. Devastated. Couldn't have cared less about what happened to him, since he was the guy that killed her boyfriend. He meant what he said when he told them he went to her apartment to try and talk to her about it. She was in town, he knew she was in town, and he wanted to find out what she knew of it, give her the opportunity to take care of her own affairs before he brought the news of Rivkin to his superiors. Rivkin was there first, it was Rivkin who attacked first. "For you," he whispered.

I did it for you, he thought, seeing the surprise in her eyes. She stared back, her chest heaving, and then he braced himself, seeing her tense. She let out a howl of pain and kicked at his ankles knocking him onto the concrete. He felt his shoulder give and he winced at the pain that radiated through. He didn't give her any indication of what she'd done, just accepting her tortured gaze. "You killed him!"

"Rivkin attacked me! I was just defending myself."

She grabbed at her gun and pointed it into his chest. "You could have shot him in the leg! But no, you let him up! You put four in his chest!"

The sobs behind her words resonated with him. This wasn't someone angry that their partner was shot. This wasn't even just someone mourning their boyfriend's death. He lifted his eyebrows, whispering. "You loved him."

She heaved sobs and breaths, swallowing them back. "I guess we'll never know," she whispered. She shoved her gun back into her side and straightened up over him, getting to her feet. She looked over her shoulder at him, saying nothing. He just looked straight back at her. The tension was palpable. They didn't know what they were, they never did. Were they friends? Did they love each other? They were former co-workers with a contentious connection. I don't love her, he said to himself. I don't. She was a contact. He could care less if he ever heard from her again.

I just don't want to die in Israel, he thought, getting back up. He watched her walk away, her hand lifted to her face. She was crying. He didn't think he'd ever see Ziva cry before. He closed his eyes tight and turned from the door, opening them again and looking over to where Kate stood. She had seen at least most of it. He waited for her to walk over. "Vance spoke with Director David," she whispered. She reached to adjust the sling on his arm. Her hands pressed into his forearm, burning into him. "It seems Mossad is accepting what happened. They aren't happy about it, but in the interest of protecting their relationship with us, they're going to take it. Rivkin was acting on his own." She set her jaw, whispering. "He was jealous."

It wasn't about love or jealousy. "I was giving her the opportunity to explain what another Mossad officer was doing on American soil, whether he was rogue or not," he said quietly. He reached over and rubbed at her shoulder, smirking. "I have this thing about rogue Mossad officers in the United States."

She smiled and shook her head, whispering. "If that's what you need to tell yourself Tony." She swallowed hard. "It might have been about that, about making sure she was remaining loyal and all, but we both know even if that was your reasoning for it, Rivkin thought something completely different."

I don't care what he thought. He was dead now, if that's what he thought. "Rivkin would have killed me," he said.

"Ducky said the blood alcohol content was about twice the legal limit. Rivkin would have had you dead." Kate let out a shaky breath. "She was there, when Ducky said that. She knows what Rivkin was doing…I don't know what she's thinking now, but whatever it is, don't take it personally, huh?" I don't take anything personally with Ziva because it isn't personal. It's strictly business. She's not part of my family. She's not one of us. She's just Ziva. The Mossad liaison who wasn't a liaison anymore. Just someone he could call when he needed something. He didn't say anything. Kate nodded towards the door. "Come on, we've got another meeting with the Director and then we're shipping out."

Get me out of this country, I'll be happy when we're in the air, he thought, not wanting to stay too long in case Director David changed his mind. He followed her into the building, sat through the lectures by Eli David, all the time glaring at the man who would do such terrible things to his daughter. He watched the interaction between her and her father. He thought he had a stressful relationship with his dad. This was off the charts. They must have talked. He didn't say anything when they were summarily dismissed, riding to the airport in silence.

He took one look at her as she dropped his bag on the ground in front of the C-130's hangar. Gibbs was glaring at her. Something went on there, he didn't know what it was, but there was definitely a disruption in the force. Kate shrugged when he glanced at her, questioning, and said goodbye, always the polite one, and made her way up into the aircraft with Vance. He nodded to her. "Goodbye Ziva." Shalom, they used to say. Peace. There was no peaceful sendoff here.

She said nothing to him, just glared at him with the same combination of regret and pain she'd looked at him with in the courtyard. There would be no more phone calls, he thought, tearing his gaze away and walking up into the hangar. Gibbs joined them a moment later. Kate called out over the sound of the engines spinning up. "So she's staying, huh?"

"She's staying."

Why wouldn't she stay, he thought, looking at Vance, who was adjusting the headset over his ears, not looking at them. He glanced at Kate, who leaned over, calling to him. "Vance offered her a position back at NCIS, if she wanted it. Liaison again."

Why would he do that? There was now ay she was going to come work with him again, not after what he'd done. He glanced at Gibbs, who had his eyes closed, and wondered what had gone on between those two. Guess he'd never know. He looked to the hangar, which was beginning to close, watching the woman on the tarmac stare back at him, the wind blowing her dark hair around her face. She lifted her fingertips up to brush it away and he didn't blink, burning the image to memory. It would be the last he'd see of her, he was positive. He closed his eyes as the back of the aircraft closed with a bang, locking into place.

Off we go. Back to the United States, where he wouldn't have to ever deal with Ziva David ever again.