note: I think this is my fourth attempt at a finale tag. I had so many ideas but none of them worked properly. And then, I read an old Judgment Day fic that I found in the archives, and the parallels drew together in my mind, and with that idea, this happened. I'm not saying this is something I think happened or will happen, or that Season 11 will pick up with a continuation of what starts here, but I still quite like this and so, I'm posting it. I hope you guys like it too.

disclaimer: You know you're obsessed with NCIS when you watch the cast on The Talk and already know the answers to half the questions.

listening to: Falling Slowly, from the movie/musical Once.

It feels all too familiar, she thinks, as she lays her few belongings in the box in front of her. Tony and McGee are doing the same at their respective desks, and despite their all agreeing to this, the air is stuffy and tense, and they move in silence. A sad smile crosses her face as she picks up the flag that used to sit by her computer. Tony does the same with his own- the one that briefly resided next to hers- and when he meets her eyes she's only half-surprised at the weary expression she finds there.

"I'm gonna go tell Abby, guys. It's been... it's been good." McGee says, breaking the quiet, and the two turn to face him.

"See ya, Tim."

She can only nod; she cannot say goodbye. They said goodbye before, years ago, in the wake of Jenny's death, and the memory of that still lingers badly enough as it is.
No, goodbyes will not be said today, not when this is their own choice.

McGee walks away, to Abby, and Ziva supposes it's only fair the four of them split like this; like they always do. They both need their respective partners right now, and though McGee and Abby have never been professional partners, and herself and Tony are no longer even that, the company still counts, more than anything.
The two of them continue in silence, until their desks are clean and almost bare, only the computers and pen-pots remain.

Tony looks at her as he drops his stapler into his box and picks it up with an air of finality.
"You ready?"

"Yes."

They walk to the elevator together, and in sync, and something in her chest knots as she realizes, yet again, that this may well be the last time they do this. Before, when she was sent back to Israel, and Tony sent to be Agent Afloat, they left like they are now, as just the two of them. The memories of their private farewell five years ago still linger in her mind.
As she juggles the box and reaches out to press the down button, Tony's hand finds her shoulder, and squeezes it, and when she turns to him her eyes feel misty.

"Do you... Would you mind if I came round, maybe tomorrow?" she asks, her voice an accidental whisper. She hadn't intended to say anything at all, but the words just seemed right and she'd said them before she could think.

Tony, however, seems to like the idea.
"No... I wouldn't mind at all."

When the doors slide open and they step inside, their free hands meet and their fingers lace together, staying like that until they reach her car in the parking lot and slow to a stop.
"Is six o'clock okay for you?"

He smiles at her, almost shyly, and she wonders why this feels like they're discussing a date. And then, she realizes, that's basically what this is. Only now, the slate's clean and they've been given yet another chance to at least try.

She's about to say something, but then it hits her that they're standing outside, surrounded by cars, with arms full with boxes, and that this really isn't the place to have a heart-to-heart.
"Wait here."

She hops round to her trunk and lays her things there, then walks back to Tony, who's somehow taken the hint and set his own box on the ground by his feet.
But all of a sudden, words don't seem relevant anymore; not with the look that's in his eyes and the lingering smile on his lips, and so she does the only thing that seems right. She leans up, and kisses him.

It's by no means chaste, not at all, but it's simple and sweet and fills the space her lack of words had not. Most of all, it's a promise. And when she pulls back, breathless and blushing, she can't help but grin.

"I'll see you later." he says, and his breath fans over her face as he reaches to cup her cheek briefly.

"Yes, you will."

With that, he picks up his box and walks toward his car, looking over his shoulder and grinning at her.
She thinks a clean slate might not a bad thing at all.

And now, only four months to wait.