A/N: Just a silly crack-fic cause the last episode and previews for fall got me annoyed beyond reason. Also, a small warning for a pinch of criticism pertaining to the lovely Ziva.

"Well, here we are, together in paradise after all these years of UST," Tony huffed, arms folded tightly in anger and disbelief.

"What do you mean, UST?" Ziva asked, and then thought for a moment."Oh yes! Unresolved Sexual Tension!"

"No, actually…Unbelievably Shitty Telling of stories and plots! I mean, are you freaking kidding me? I can't even at least end up with Abby, someone I can talk to who understands me? Youknow, someone who doesn't refer to me as 'dead weight' in front of our boss."

Now it was Ziva's turn to huff, and she readied to defend her name-calling just as she was bumped into by an Assistant Organizer of the Next Dimension. She took a stiff ninja stance, and searched her being for her odd assortment of knives, paper clips, and other deadly accoutrements, but came up empty-handed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, my dear Ziva, but no weapons of any kind are allowed past the checkpoint. That includes paper clips anymore."

"And just who are you?" the pretty Israeli spat, hands on hips, eyes shooting arrows of doom to the bubbly assistant.

"I'm here to direct you two to your reviews. Follow me, please."

"Reviews? As in - where are we, anyways?" Tony asked nervously. "Last I remember, we were in charge of helping all of the other poor, incompetent federal employees out of the NCIS building. 'Cause that's also our job, as we're the most important and impressive team in the entire building. The rest of the poor schlubs don't really do anything but wish they were on LJ Gibbs's team taking his bad temper and abuse. They were running around in circles crying 'Whata-we-do, whata-we-do?' till Ziva Ninja and Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo came along."

"Yes, well, perhaps you could explain then how it is that two highly-trained Federal agents were idiotic enough to take the elevator in a time of such a horrific catastrophe. Even grade-schoolers are taught to take the stairwell in the event of an emergency, and yet you two were conveniently near one and decided to really tempt fate and climb inside it instead of running to the stairwell and two flights outside to safety. Hmmm?"

"Well, we were - uh -" Ziva stuttered unattractively. "We don't question what the writers tell us to do, we like our jobs and who we work with, so we don't rock the baby."

"I think you mean boat, Zee-vah! But then again, who knows what those crazy writers have in mind. This could all just be a dream and I wake up and find out I'm married to you and you're expecting twins and Gibbs doesn't know it yet and he's going to kill me dead for touching his Ziver and breaking Rule #12, but then he gets over it and you have our babies, and we move in with him and...no, wait, that's fan fiction.

"On the show, we just hate each other on and off, and then make goo-goo eyes at each other, while all the time you insult and demean me, and even kick my legs out from under me while I can't defend myself and I nearly split my head open on the concrete. After which you hold a loaded gun to my heart. But that was all just a misunderstanding, right? I mean, you couldn't actually be mad at me for defending myself against a man you lied to everyone's face about, even though he was a terrorist and you're supposed to be a professional who can read people like books..."

"Enough already, so I made a bad judgment call, that is no reason to believe I do not want to get into your pants! Look at Jenny Sheppard, she gave Gibbs the old 'hi-ho' with a Dear John letter-"

"Heave ho, I think you mean, Ziva."

"Whatever. The point is, she dumped him like a bag of garbage off a bridge to further her career, and then decided that maybe she wanted him back after all and spent all of her time trying to get him back into her bed. That is when she was not busy trying to sabotage his new relationships with women and turning into a psychopath bent on revenge at any cost. So she got away with it, why can't I? Women behave badly, too. Gibbs was just smart enough not get sucked back in by her. What is your excuse?"

"My excuse, Ziva, other than writers who want me to look like a pussy-whipped nincompoop, is that I'm too scared of you not to cave. Yet another nifty plot line from the writers. They even had you throwing yourself over the top of me to save me from falling debris. Thus that piece of rebar sticking out of the back of your head. Funny, I didn't even notice that until just now."

Ziva reached up behind her head and felt the offending piece of iron, and with a quick jerk, plucked it out without so much as a blink of an eye.

"Now that's the super ninja chick- cartoon action figure we all know and love! The one that stands calmly in the road with a 50 plus ton tractor-trailer truck careening out of control towards her and she doesn't even flinch!"

"Yes, or have the sense God gave geese to run out of its way," the assistant mumbled in a perturbed voice. "We really had to pull some strings for her during that little stunt, we still haven't figured out what the writers were thinking on thatone. You had a better chance of surviving the plague than she did that that truck would stop in time, but, such is poetic license of television writers. But that's in the past, along with that hysterically funny time that Ziva threw a dinner party and invited everyone but you, knowing how insecure you were and how hurt you would be if you ever found out. And then that brilliant bit where everyone talked about being there as if you weren't in the same room. I laughed so hard at that one I couldn't see straight. Oh, and even funnier was the one where she and super genius agent Tim turned off your microphone and left you dangling in the wind with total strangers and a possible murderer because they got tired of hearing your voice! That one was such a hoot, and somehow Gibbs never found out and came after you two with a blow torch! Wow, never a dull moment with you guys, is there?"

Tony stood rocking on the balls of his feet, while Ziva looked around desperately for a hole to crawl into. Did the foolish woman not know that up until now, Tony had no idea that that had really happened, that they'd made it sound like it had all been a joke. How was she ever going to get him back into bed if people kept pointing out that she may not actually be perfect, that she may have just the teensiest fault here and there? She needed to keep a united front, of easily-swayed McGee, and Gibbs, the man she had wrapped around her little finger as his other surrogate daughter? Why, back in Mossad, they would...

"Yes, back in Mossad, you did things differently," the assistant chimed in after reading Ziva's thoughts. "We have heard that a thousand times in the years you were at NCIS. Why do you think we sent you back to Mossad? You seemed to miss it, and your father, so much. Now, over here, we have the craft services table, you're welcome to any of it while you're waiting for your counselor to go over your past life with you in painstaking detail. Perhaps both of you will learn where you could have been different people if only the writers hadn't turned you into cartoon characters for the sake of ratings. So much depth and dimension for both of you, along with Gibbs. Even McGee had so much more to offer than the snarky brown-noser he became. Such a shame."

"Timmy's here, too?" Tony choked.

"Oh, I have no idea. I was just in charge of you, Anthony, but then little Miss 'I-have-to-save-you-because-you-are-an-incompetent-agent-and-boob' swooped into the picture and changed everything. Really, Anthony, the way you let them treat you, sometimes I think you like the abuse! Makes for great plot fillers for the writers, at any rate, even if it doesn't really make any sense.

"Speaking of not making any sense, can either of you tell me why, when Director Vance's SUV was being dusted for prints and evidence in the lab, it was conveniently ignored for anything else? I mean, come on, you all knew Dearing was insane and had already killed how many people, and you don't even take the seats or doors apart to look and see if he might have, somewhere in his crazy thinking, put something dangerous inside it? He blew up a house, for God's sake, and Abby is this hotter than hell forensic scientist and it never occurred to her that an SUV could hold a pretty big booby-trap? And if they knew the bomb was in the SUV long enough to get a criminal to help disarm it, why not drive it across the street and push it into the Potomac? Silly writers..."

The assistant sighed in exasperation. "Ah well, who are we to question…Anyways, that's what fanfic is for. Give us your great characters, we'll take it from there..."