17 and 18

A massive heat wave was breaking through D.C. With widespread power outages, many stores were closed, however, one local diner was not.

Seventeen year old Ziva stepped into the diner, relishing in the starched gingham curtains and pops of cooking grease. The restaurant had once been a hang-out place for her and friends. After school, they would walk there, share a basket of chips and work through their homework assignments.

As she waited for food, she became distracted with a young couple, making out in the seats diagonally across from her. They were being rather physical for a public place.

It was like watching a segment on Animal Planet. They were grunting and groping. The boy traced wet kisses around the base of the girl's neck, who laughed raucously like a hyena. The girl's long blonde hair whipped around, cascading over her shoulders and the boy's face. It was when they pulled back for a moment of air that Ziva saw them.

"Oy gevault," She breathed.

The boy's face immediately snapped in her direction, in surprise and recognition. Ziva mentally cursed at her own carelessness. He was about to speak when Ziva launched herself out of her seat and brought her hand across his face, stopping him.

Tony fell back on the hard plastic seat, left cheek stinging. His girlfriend, Maxine, screamed at the attack. A moment ago, Tony saw someone he hadn't seen in years. And less than a second later, he was being assaulted and he hadn't even said anything offensive.

The girl lifted Tony up by the front of his shirt, predatorily. She brushed jealous eyes over his girlfriend. People were staring at them, but she paid them no heed.

"Do you want me?" Her voice, taking on a different note, entirely. It made his skin crawl. "Because I want you."

She blew on his ear and he flinched. She used this moment of vulnerability to pull him up to his feet and drag him toward the restrooms.

Tony's eyes widened. A few bystanders wolf-whistled and his girlfriend looked on, speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but the girl pulled him into a unisex bathroom.

As soon as the door locked behind them, things got stranger.

She separated herself from Tony and meticulously felt along the walls, checking for something. Then, she set her cell phone on the ground and blasted rock music near the door.

Her demeanor completely changed from crazed and lustful to quiet and methodical. All signs of the previous episode had gone and what stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, looked like the girl her used to know. Although she was taller and more terrifying.

Finally, Tony was able to speak, "Ziva! What the hell was that for? What's going on?"

Ziva whirled around, "Keep your voice down." The music would only protect so much from eavesdroppers.

Tony looked at her, incredulously, "You just slapped me and dragged me into a bathroom."

"It is good to see you, too, Tony."

"Ziva," Tony persisted, not about to be diverted. "Give me an explanation, or I'm leaving right now."

Ziva nodded, stiffly. She gestured to the only available seat and he rolled his eyes before lowering the cover on the toilet and sitting down on the edge.

"I am being followed," She said, leaning against the wall opposite him. "By someone who knows my face, but not my name." She neglected to say why a teenager was being followed by armed men, but there had to be a good reason.

"I am sorry. I had to stop you before revealed me, however, I believe the slap was warranted. "

Tony looked at Ziva, but she was looking at the cracked tile, intently. One time, they had joked around about dating each other. But they were never serious.

"We were just kissing."

She laughed without humor, "No, you were roleplaying a couple of dementoids, sucking each other's souls through your mouths."

"Dementors, Uncle Vernon." He said, glad to see she was keeping up with the culture.

"Whatever," Though her expression softened at his correction. "I suppose it was my fault for saying anything. I only planned to stay for a few minutes."

"So holding me hostage in a bathroom wasn't your plan?" Tony asked, sarcasm lacing his tone.

"Are you not enjoying this Tony?" She asked, in the same tone.

"That depends. How long do we have to stay here?"

"No more than half an hour."

"You're not in any danger, are you?" Tony went back to the matter at hand, keeping his voice light, but his eyes betrayed his worry.

"It is doubtful." Not in grave danger, anyway.

"Who's tailing you?"

"A friend."

"Family friend?" Tony asked. Ziva spun her head toward him and he wondered where all the aggression was coming from.

"Maybe, I did not slap you hard enough." But Tony carried on, undeterred.

"But how do you know you haven't already blown it, with the scene you made back there?"

She didn't answer, perhaps she didn't know.

He looked at her, for the first time noticing her odd attire. Her hair was pulled back into a tight French braid and she was wearing makeup and floral print clothing. He liked the hair, although he never minded it when it was free or pulled back into a pony tail. He didn't know if it was due to three years in a foreign country or the fact that she was wearing a different identity.

"When did you get back?"

"Last night. I called you, but your phone was off."

They were quiet for a while, listening to the music bounce off the walls in a hollow way. Tony wished the bathroom was better ventilated.

"Senior kicked me out of the house. I'm staying with my cousin Larry." Tony stared at the water-stained wall.

Ziva was surprised at that, "What did you do?"

"I'm offended, why do you assume it's something I did?"

Ziva smiled, "Because I have known you for a long time." She remembered the fights Tony and his father would have, loud enough to alert the neighbors. How she left him sleep on her couch on weeks when Senior had women over. They would not talk for weeks.

"What happened?"

Tony was vague, "He was drunk and he said more than usual. We had words and he threw me out."

"Sorry."

"He will take me back in a few days. He doesn't like to eat dinner alone."

There was shuffling outside the door, which made Ziva tense up. Her hand hovered over her right hip. Tony wondered, briefly, what weapon was concealed there. She handed him a pocket knife from a hollow compartment in the heel of her boot. And they waited.

Someone knocked on the door and Tony, called out, "Occupied!"

"More, more." Ziva said, groaning, resuming the technique she had used earlier.

Tony played the role of a boyfriend having sexual intercourse, following Ziva's lead in making the scene believable to someone listening behind a door. Then they heard the footsteps retreating. Tony did realize that he was numb, until Ziva sat beside him, removing the knife from his lax grip. He had been in all kinds of trouble with Ziva, but never something like this.

"My father did not only send me to an Israeli high school to broaden my education. He wanted me to learn to culture, develop relationships and know the region. To gain experience."

"Why—?"

She ignored him, "After I graduate, I am joining the Israel Defense Forces."

Tony looked up, "I thought you had to be a citizen of Israel."

"You do. And I am." She said cautiously.

"You renounced your American citizenship?" He felt like a barrier had been erected.

"I had no choice, Tony. I have to serve my country."

"I thought this was your country."

"It is, as is Israel. And it has always been, regardless of what federal documents say" Ziva said, frustrated. "After IDF, I will join Mossad, an Israeli Intelligence agency. My father is Deputy Director."

"Is that who is following you?" It was all coming together. Years of secrets, mysterious meetings, martial arts classes and language lessons.

"If they are, it is a test." Ziva allowed. Her tone did not put him at ease.

She looked at her watch, "Five more minutes and you can go free."

But Tony wasn't thinking much about that anymore. At some point, their lives had started diverging in opposite directions. In the fall, he would attend college and Ziva would finish her last year of high school. Then she would leave the country…

He didn't know when they would see each other, but he wasn't about to let go. And, despite her choices, neither was she.

They would spend years of waiting to see Godot.

A/N- References to Harry Potter and Waiting for Godot

Sorry if the quality is a bit lacking; writing about teens/romance isn't my forte.

I think this is the last one. The 5th scene needs revising and my family is moving in a few days (and I need to focus on that).

So, for now, I am calling this complete.

I hope you enjoyed these little snapshots and thanks for reading! :D

Feedback is appreciated!