A/N: I'm BAAAAAAAACK! To let people know—this story is AU set in between Season 8 and 9. This clears up the complications of Ray coming back (And Ziva punching him) as well as Barret (at least she was better in Season 9)

Just a Little reminder:

-Fan-FICTION is purely fiction. If you tell me about how this is unreal, I will bite your head off!

-I DO NOT Own NCIS. Yet. :D

. . .

There were two things wrong with the world at that exact moment:

Ziva David was in love with a man named Ray Cruz who had promised eventual marriage.

Ray Cruz was dead.

It happened not even twenty-four hours ago, when the sanity of our newest NCIS agent—my favorite too- went haywire. It was a relatively calm day, for we were just finishing case reports. Nobody, especially Ziva, would have guessed that it was going to be the day of the return and death of her precious CI-Ray.

. . .

"You know, after ten years of working with NCIS, I still don't understand the point of filling out case reports," I remarked as I closed my own. The papers hit together with a satisfying thunk.

"It is so people like you can see our perspectives on the cases. And so they remember what it is about twenty years from now," Ziva replied as she typed away.

"You do realize that I take offense at that right?" I said, actually well offended without an ounce of sarcasm dripping from my words. When she smiled after I spoke, I knew something was up. "Well since you're too nice to be laughing at my expense, what are you doing? I know for a fact that case reports do not make people smile."

Her smile broadened, "I finished my report about ten minutes ago, I'm emailing Ray."

"CI-Ray, huh? I bet he has never even responded, let alone read them," I said with some snarl. I didn't really want to hurt her, but I couldn't help but be a bit jealous. Personally, I thought it was quite stupid for her to hang on to a man who was selling her so many lies.

Ziva gasped and shot daggers at me with her eyes. I was just about to open my mouth to apologize when she turned away, showing me her back. I sighed and turned to McGee. "McGoo, where are you with your reports?"

"I've been done with mine for a good twenty minutes, Tony. It's on Gibbs's desk along with Ziva's," McGee said, also on his computer.

"Well, what are you doing now?" I demanded.

"I'm—Why do you care? You hate what I do with my free time." McGee said, also annoyed with me.

I turned back to Ziva who was still avoiding eye contact with me. "I'm being ignored by both the Probie and the Probette, what a concept!" I exclaimed. After a few uncomfortable minutes of me shifting in my chair, I decided to break the silence and I turned back to Ziva, "Ziva, I'm sorry. I asked 'cause your Casanova is lying to you. Probie, you're right, I couldn't care less what you do with your geeky time. I just needed to talk, or else I would've gone crazy. But it seems I'm too late." I looked at both of them, waiting for a response. When all I got was eye-rolls, I got up. "If Gibbs asks, I'm taking a break." They both ignored me as I walked out of the room and toward the vending machines.

. . .

That was how the day began, with everyone mad at me. It continued like that for a while. McGee was easy to apologize to; I gave him a red foil package of NutterButters on my way back from the break room. He accepted them with open, greedy hands. Ziva was a bit more stubborn—as always. I tried to upright apologize in the bull-pen and she turned away. Later, I cornered her in the lady's room, but she pushed me away and walked off, leaving me in the dust. I finally was able to apologize before she left for home. I left early and was able to place a single white tulip from the front planters on her red mini cooper and waited until she came down from work. When she saw me, my woes from before were forgotten when she smiled and told me she forgave me.

. . .

I had been home for a few hours and I began to change out of my clothes when my doorbell rang. I proceed to the door in an awkward waddle as I pulled on my sweats. I opened my door to find a bloody Ziva David in my doorway. Her eyes widen slightly when she saw me shirtless, but she continued to remain silent and keep her eyes at the floor. "Ziva? Ziva, what the hell happened?" I ask, and then opened my door wider when she didn't respond. "Come in, let's get you cleaned up." I led her into my apartment and sat her down on my couch—not entirely giving a damn about the blood. "Ziva, what's wrong? If Ray hurt you, I swear-"

She shook her head looked up at me, a single tear falling down her face. "R-Ray, is dead."

. . .

A/N: This was revised by my dear friend from our underground asylum, OldStoneFace (if you like Discworld—check him out!). This is slowly being revised by my lazy butt and my idiot grammar skills.