Ziva David: NCIS Special Agent.

No mossad. No liaisons. No soldiers.

She belonged. For once.

She belonged with Abby and McGee and Gibbs and... Tony.

Tony.

In a world of impromptus and makeshifts, he was a solid. Dependable, loyal. Deserving.

He deserved so much more than her.

I felt alone.

Her 'moment of weakness' ruined her life. Damn feelings. Damn emotions.

Damn Tony and his smile and his hair and his profile and his heart...

Ziva occasionally got sudden urges to shove Tony against a wall, kiss him feverishly, and then say, 'I'm sorry. I am really nailed up,' just so he could correct her. Screwed, Ziva. You're really screwed up.

Oh, that was an understatement.

"This one's for the Israeli," Gibbs says as he lights up a sparkler. "There ya go, Ziver."

"Thank you," she replies with a fond smile, letting him peck her forehead as he passes off the glowing stick.

Who would've known; going rogue really brings out the best in Gibbs. Or having his team resign. Or whatever their situation was classified under. She'd gone rogue before, and this was pretty damn close to what it felt like. Under the radar. Helping the right people under the wrong conditions.

She approaches Tony, watching his pretty green eyes twinkle with the moonlight that was reflected from the lake he stands next to. "Greece," he says as Ziva approaches. "Home to feta cheese and Aphrodite. That's where I should be."

She hands him her sparkler, and he waves it through the air. "I'm spelling your name. Zee-vah. Z-I-V-A."

"Have you ever been to Greece?" she wants to know, watching the flames dance in his eyes.

"Nope."

"Do you want to go?"

"Oh yeah. Mamma Mia! was filmed there. You've probably never seen it. That's okay. We can watch it."

"I can take you."

"Well, alright. Sounds like a plan. Let's board the plane now, what do you say?"

It would be nice to get away. To get away with Tony.

"It is a plan."

This man comforted her through nightmares. Never in her life had any man seen her that vulnerable, much less helped her through a bad dream.

This man was willing to drop everything for her.

She hurt him.

Fireworks sounded in the distance. Boom boom boom boom. But they couldn't see them.

"Independence day," he mutters.

"Well our group certainly is independent."

"Ain't that the truth!"

She thought about Ray. Thought about how she was just passing along her heartache from recipient to recipient.

"Alcohol?"

"Champagne, beer, bourbon. I can get you a glass if you want."

Fireflies flash, attract attention. They dance over the water like tiny stars. "Champagne."

"One glass coming up."

The sun is long gone, the murkiness of the lake masked in the black night. An illusion of something beautiful and shimmering, something that it was not.

"Nice night," Tony notes as he returns, nursing a beer.

She lets silence encase them. It's not uncomfortable. In fact, it's just the opposite. Nothing's awkward between friends.

"I want to get away," Tony admits. Which is weird in itself, because Tony doesn't admit. He's less revealing than she is.

"By yourself?" She wanted honesty. She didn't want him to feel obligated to baby her. It wasn't what she was used to.

I have never depended on happy endings.

He doesn't look at her when he replies, "No."

She slips her hand into his. "Maybe one day."

"One day."