A/N I wrote this a few weeks ago for my dear friend angel-death-dealer.

Pointless fluff, really. :]

DISCLAIMER: I lie. I do own stuff; an iPod, many Psychology textbooks and all of Gilmore Girls on DVD. Pity I don't own NCIS.


"Ziva?"

"…what?"

"Are you sleeping?"

Ziva lifted her head from her desk, glaring blearily at Tony. "You mean am I sitting motionless at my desk with the light turned off at 2100 for any reason in particular?" she asked sarcastically. "Yes, Tony, I am sleeping."

"Well, McGeek isn't here, so I need to talk to you about something."

This got Ziva's attention. She turned her desk lamp on and sat up straight. "What?"

"You know I wasn't serious, right. About you becoming an American citizen."

"What about it?"

"That we don't want you as a citizen."

Ziva blinked and brushed some of her hair away from her face. "What?" she said, still feeling half asleep.

Tony saw this. "Never mind. Doesn't matter," he replied, beginning to type again on his computer.

Ziva got up and went over to his desk, leaning on the front of it. "Tony, I know when to take you seriously and when to not to; it is a skill I have developed in the almost five years that I have known you."

"Just as long-"

"Tony," Ziva said seriously. "This team; you, Gibbs, McGee, everyone, means the world to me, and I am fairly sure the feeling is mutual."

"It is."

"I don't doubt that for a second," she said, smiling. "And I am very willing to officially be a citizen of this country. Mossad need never contact me again."

"And your father?" Tony asked. He saw her expression darken.

"He is all but dead to me," Ziva said, remembering they were the exact words she said to Gibbs; they were completely and utterly true. "I have no desire to return whatsoever. America is my home," she said, returning to her desk.

After Michael had died, Ziva couldn't even consider her old apartment to be her home, let alone the actual country. But, at that time, her life wasn't exactly stable. Now, she was happy.

Except for one thing. "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that I do not blame you for Michael, yes?"

"Michael?"

"He died. If anyone was at fault, it was me. I was influenced by personal sentiments," Ziva explained.

Tony absorbed the information. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I understand. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They both went back to work on their computers, both with a faint enigmatic smile on their face.