Of course I don't own any of the original characters, stories, concepts etc. of NCIS or otherwise, they belong to their respective owners. However, any characters and/or storylines that I have created for this story are mine.

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Weekend Fun Pass

Chapter 3: Confession

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I arrived at the restaurant, almost twenty minutest early. My nervousness still hadn't faded in the least. I went in, asked the hostess for a quiet table for two and told her that we would order after my dinner-partner had arrived.

Just two or three minutes later Ziva walked in, looking a little bit nervous, but also she seemed to be agitated. I knew I probably was the reason for that. After all, I hadn't been able to stop myself from making xenophobic remarks whenever possible, ever since this case had started. I had known it bothered her, yet still I hadn't been able to stop.

After a few seconds she spotted me and started moving towards our table.

"Hello, Tony," she said, sitting down opposite me.

"Hi, Ziva," I answered her, "did you get everything done you had planned?"

I noticed that she was wearing totally different make-up than she had at the office, she also had changed into other clothes. Both changes were subtle and understated, yet still I couldn't help wondering why she had done it.

Soon a waiter joined us at our table to take our order. After he had left we managed to start up a little bit of relaxed conversation. It was really enjoyable and even after we had gotten and later finished our meals, we still were talking about all different sorts of things. I obviously contributed some remarks about movies I had seen in the past weeks, while she had some information about a rumor Abby had told her this morning.

When I finally glanced at my watch, it already was a little past ten. We had been talking for almost three hours!

I looked up and smiled at Ziva, "Don't you think it's good we met and talked tonight, even though it really was about everything and nothing. I really missed that."

"Listen ...," Ziva started to say, but I interrupted her.

"Ziva, I'm sorry for all these stupid comments I made today. It was as if I couldn't stop myself," I apologized to her.

"Don't worry, Tony. I know you were joking," she said, blushing slightly.

"No, that's the problem! I mean, I didn't actually say all these things to hurt you or anybody. But I have been thinking about it, a lot, actually. I think I have been trying to keep you at arm's length for a while now, without even admitting to myself why I did it."

"So, have you figured it out, why you did it?" she looked at me skeptically.

"I'll answer your question if you let me ask you one first, ok?" I looked at her, waiting for a sign of approval or refusal.

She took a while, but then, after what seemed like an eternity, she finally gave me a reluctant nod.

I started, basically blurting out an unsorted bunch of different questions and ideas, all revolving around the same problem, the problem that had caused me to lie awake at night for many weeks now.

"Probably the only thing I really meant today was when I called your assignment a 'weekend fun pass'. I didn't mean it as an insult, but somehow the temporary part of your assignment has been bothering me. You are my best friend, Ziva and I have been wondering about your future plans for a while now. ..."

"... Is NCIS still a temporary assignment for you, would you like to stay or do you want to go back to what you were doing before you came her? Do you even have any influence over how long you are allowed to stay? And what if Mossad is calling you back someday?"

She looked at me concerned, as if I just had confirmed some of her worst fears.

"I think the temporary part of my assignment here is more or less over. I don't think that Mossad has any further use for me, they probably consider me to be too mollycoddled by now. ..."

"... During those past two years NCIS and the team have become my home, I never felt that way about Mossad. Working for Mossad was a call of duty which I felt I had to answer, but I couldn't go back there anymore."

Even though she had talked about the team as a whole, I was relieved that she'd said that NCIS was her home.

"Listen, about this afternoon," I started, "when you were asking about soulmates, you were talking about you and me, weren't you? Because if you didn't, that would make me the biggest idiot on the planet right now and I should probably leave," I paused, desperately waiting for a reaction that didn't come.

I leaned back slightly and studied her face. I saw the inner turmoil going on behind her almost always perfect facade. But asked straight out she couldn't bring herself to pick up her own thoughts from this afternoon.

"Listen, Ziva, I know this is a lot to digest. I just hoped after what you said this afternoon that you might... . God, I really am the biggest idiot imaginable," I moved to get up from the table but suddenly felt her grip on my left forearm, urging me not to leave. I let myself fall back in my seat.

"Ziva?"

"You're not an idiot, Tony," she started to say. "But I also don't understand what all this has to do with me being here on a temporary assignment?"

"It has everything to do with it! Because I hardly managed to deal with losing Jeanne, a woman whom I now know I didn't even really love," she flinched slightly at my mentioning of Jeanne, "and, ever since that damn undercover mission ended, I have had the same nightmare every night, over and over again: I finally muster up the courage to talk to you, tell you about my love for you and the very next day your father calls and orders you to come back to Mossad and you just pick up and leave," I said, immediately wanting to kick myself for using the L-word, it had been too soon. Instead of letting her process all that information which basically had poured out of me, I was putting more and more pressure on her. That wouldn't make things easier.

"I have always admired your ability to do whatever is necessary and keep yourself detached from things while doing it. But right now that just scares the hell out of me."

She sat there, still silent, her face no longer revealing any outward signs of what was going on inside her. I now knew that she wouldn't allow me any closer. I never understood how she could shut down her feelings like that. We sat silently for minutes and I kept hoping she would decide to say something, but it just didn't happen.

When I started to get up again she didn't try to stop me this time. Instead, she continued to stare at the place I had sat just a few seconds ago. Standing beside the table, I hesitated one more time, willing her to try and stop me. But she didn't. I started walking, making my way to the exit, taking care of our bill on the way out.

As I left the restaurant my facade finally caved in and I felt tears running down my face. I slowly turned left, walking towards my car. How was I supposed to face her in the morning? I had been so sure she had been talking about us this afternoon, I had been so relieved that she seemed to feel the same way I did. It had looked like all the bits and pieces, the little hints I thought she had been sending me, were finally adding up.

You really are some investigator, DiNozzo!

I reached my car and got in, willing myself to get back my composure, if only to be able to drive home and then be swallowed by the black hole that would be the next few days.

I had just started the engine, getting ready to leave, when I noticed the passenger door opening and closing again. Somebody had slumped into the seat on my side.

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