DISCLAIMER: Unless something has radically changed I do not own NCIS or any of its characters. I just write about them occasionally.

Authors Note: This is the last part of a little arc that developed over the last month. Usually my literary Jiminy Cricket, M E Wofford lets me know a story needs one more chapter. But she's been MIA lately. However, even I knew I had to write this chapter. This is the last of the transfer chapters. Next one will be an original story for this title. Stay tuned.

Seamus Dolan's Apartment, Sunday, 0712hrs.

Ziva David awoke to the smell of brewing coffee. She stretched languidly. Whenever she spent the night at Seamus' she never felt guilty about sleeping late. Looking at the clock radio on the nightstand she noted it was 7:12 am. Usually she was up at 5:00 am. Grinning she rolled out of bed. Her clothes from the night before were neatly folded at the foot of the bed. On top was Dolan's Boston PD SWAT T-shirt. She'd asked him about it once and all he would say was 'I was a breecher for two years and then I went back to Patrol'. Ziva shrugged into the t-shirt inhaling. It smelled like Dolan. She padded down the hallway to the kitchen, knowing that's where he'd be. Ziva reached the doorway and leaned against the frame. Seamus was standing in just his boxers, sipping a cup of coffee and staring out of the window over the sink. There was a knife wound scar on the top of his right shoulder.

I bet a good story goes with that scar. I'll have to ask him about it.

There was something else Ziva wanted to ask him also. Last night made her realize that though Dolan wasn't in his words, 'the long term solution', he might just be the short term solution. She frowned a little at that thought.

If he still feels the same about me after how I treated him when I went down to Colombia. That was stupid.

Seamus Dolan sipped his coffee and wondered how long it would take Ziva to wake up. Usually the smell of coffee or food would wake her.

Shouldn't be long.

He shifted position slightly.

Better.

Last night had been pretty intense. Between the gunthugs and the Israeli scaring the crap out of him, and the possibility he'd had a nightmare about Vietnam for the first time in ages, he hoped today would be calmer. There was movement behind him. At the angle he was standing, the window acted like a mirror. Ziva was leaning on the doorframe, hair tousled, wearing his SWAT t-shirt. She had on her 'thinking' face, and from the way she was looking at him, he figured the thinking concerned him. Without moving, he spoke.

"Mornin' Zee. Coffee?"

How does he always know I'm there?

Seamus turned and smiled at the expression on her face.

I can't believe an ex-Mossad operator and current Federal agent hasn't figured out I'm using the window as a mirror. Score one for the street cop.

"Yes, coffee would be nice."

"Comin' up."

Dolan got a mug from the cabinet, filled it with coffee and handed it to Ziva.

"Be right back kiddo."

Seamus went to the bedroom and put on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. When he returned to the kitchen, Ziva was sitting at the table sipping her coffee. By her expression Dolan figured she was several light years away.

Wonder what's going on in that gorgeous but sometimes deadly brain?

Seamus put his hands on Ziva's shoulders.

"It's too early for deep thinkin'."

She looked up and smiled.

"Can we spend the day together?"

"Sure darlin'."

Ziva came off the chair quick as a cat, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. She pulled back.

"Then I am done thinking."

Forty five minutes later, Ziva was lightly tracing the scar on Dolan's shoulder with her finger.

"How did you get this scar?"

"Mmmph?"

Seamus was face down, his head buried in his pillow. Ziva poked his shoulder.

"I said, how did you get this scar?"

Dolan raised his head and turned himself towards Ziva.

"I made a rookie mistake."

"What happened?"

Seeing that he wasn't going to be able to deflect the question, Seamus sighed. He propped his head up with his hand.

"I had about eighteen months on the street. I'd been passed by my Field Training Officer, so I was feeling pretty salty. My partner Tommy Flynn and I went to a domestic. This was way before the state had the Domestic Violence Act. In those days, unless the guy smacked his old lady in front of you, there wasn't much you could do. You'd make two, three, sometimes four trips back to the same place. This was our third trip back to these people. We decided one of us would try and provoke the guy. Make him take a swing at us and we could then collar him up."

"What were you going to do?"

"Ah, you know, get in his personal space, maybe step on his feet, whisper something to piss him off, like that. Understand?"

Ziva nodded.

"Okay, so we get there, Tommy gets in his face, and true to form, the guy does take a swing. I'd been talking to the wife, who was standing in the doorway from the kitchen to the living room. Like I'd been taught in the Academy, I was positioned so that I could keep an eye on the wife and help Flynn if he needed it. Tommy took the guy down okay, and the wife was being cool. Then the guy started to struggle and Flynn was having a little trouble getting the second cuff on. So I turned to help him."

Seamus stopped for a second and looked sheepish.

"Instead of stepping sideways and grabbing the guy, I turned my back. As soon as I turned, she reached back into the kitchen, came up with a four inch steak knife and stuck me in the shoulder. She was screaming how we weren't 'takin' her man to jail'. I went down on my knees. All Tommy could see was the knife stickin' out of my shoulder and this crazy woman reaching for it again. He drew his .38 and put two rounds in her ten ring. By that time I'd lost all interest in the proceedings. I woke up ten and a half hours later in the Mass. General ICU with a dandy new knife scar and a lot less faith in my fellow man."

Dolan rolled out of bed and headed for the door.

"Let's take a shower and get some breakfast, I'm starving."

Ziva was out of the bed like a shot grinning. Realizing what he'd just said Seamus groaned.

After they dressed, Dolan led Ziva to a neighborhood joint called Manny's for apple-blueberry pancakes. Five hours later, they were sitting on a park bench on the National Mall, watching tourists and natives enjoying the early spring warmth.

The bench faced the National Gallery of Art. During breakfast they'd talked about what to do for the day. Seamus discovered that even though Ziva'd been living in the District for at least six years, she'd never been to the National Gallery. That decided it. He led her to the Navy Yard Metro stop and they got off at the Smithsonian station. After walking up the Mall to the gallery they spent the morning wandering the exhibit halls, Ziva either holding his hand, or clutching his arm. This was new. In public they would usually just walk side by side occasionally bumping shoulders. Now on the bench, she was plastered to his side and his arm was around her shoulder.

"You did not strike me as the art museum type."

Seamus looked at her, his green eyes dancing with humor.

"Oh, so just because I'm an ex-cop, I'm nekulturny?"

Ziva's eyebrow arched.

"I didn't mean to imply you were uncultured. You speak Russian?"

Seamus closed his eyes for a second and then switched languages.

"It's been a while, but yes, I speak Russian."

"Your accent is very good. How did you learn?"

Switching back to English, Dolan smiled.

"When I was P.I. down in Florida I lived with a woman for eighteen months who was originally from Minsk. She was a nanny, and I got her out from under a kidnapping charge."

Ziva was quiet for a while after that. She was watching him watching the people passing by.

He constantly surprises me. I'd have never guessed he could speak Russian or appreciate art the way he does.

For his part Dolan was also thinking.

Still trying to figure what's going on. She's been awful couplely today. Not that I'm complainin' or anything.

Ziva finally spoke.

"Art does not seem to be something you would ordinarily like. How did you become interested?"

Dolan laughed.

"When I first moved here to DC, I was doing the tourist thing ya know. Hitting the monuments and the museums. I met this woman who was into ballet, classical music and art. So I tried to get into those things too. Appreciating art was the only thing that stuck."

Ziva laughed too.

"I'm sensing a trend and pattern here."

"Yeah, now that you mention it, I am too."

Ziva's face turned serious.

"So what has knowing me brought to your life?"

Seamus decided that serious was not the way to go. He smiled and poked Ziva in the side.

"That like the t-shirt says, 'Old Guys Rule!'"

They spent the rest of the day together, but Ziva chickened out and never mentioned moving their relationship to the next level. For his part, Dolan knew she had something on her mind but was content to let it slide.

If and when she wants to tell me she will.

A/N: I want to thank all my "regulars" as well as all the lurkers and occasional readers who really seem to like this pairing that I came up with. Now that I've transferred everything I'll be going "live" for the next chapter. Adios for now.