Late night in Cartagena, Columbia and Monique Lisson had driven the NCIS agents, DiNozzo and David, to the airport where the plane was awaiting their arrival. Ziva and Tony were walking towards the plane when Ziva noticed that Monique had no followed them. She remained by the van. Turning around, the Israeli rushed over to her. Tony, upon realizing what Ziva was doing, followed his partner as she walked towards her mentor.

"Uh…" Tony started. "The plane is waiting. I'd like to be on it before the Columbia government changes its mind."

Monique agreed with the Italian-American federal agent. She wanted Ziva to go home, remain out of the trouble she had found herself in. Ziva need not be involved any further. She did not need to be hurt due to Monique's problem. At least that is how the European Interpol agent saw things. She cared for Ziva in ways she would never fully be able to explain.

"He's right. You should go." Monique said almost hurriedly.

"You should come with us." Ziva offered, her tone coming across as somewhat desperate.

Monique did not respond right away. She wanted to so badly but realism hit her as though it were a ton of bricks for she knew that the possibility of her just going to the states with Ziva and living happily ever after just was non-existent. There was no way that that could happen. It just could not, no matter how badly she wanted it. Monique knew that she had to stay and Ziva had to go. Tony then bogusly quoted "Puss 'n' Boots" before scurrying off to the plane. Monique smiled at the man as he spoke. He could make her happier than she could. That is honestly what she thought. She could not do as someone else could for her. Ziva deserved so much better than what Monique had to offer. She had not wanted Ziva to look back on a cold bed and memories.

"He is more than he seems." Monique finally spoke.

"You're staying?" Ziva asked, her eyebrows going up as she spoke.

Honestly, Ziva did not want to go; not at all. She wanted to either stay with Monique here in Columbia or take her back to Washington, D.C. Yet this ultimatum did not really seem to be working in Ziva's favor.

"What do you think?" Monique replied, her voice a bit cold, rugged, emotionless.

"We made enemies today, Monique."

"I have enemies wherever I go." She said dismissively. "Nothing I can't handle."

"You are not going to tell me what you are involved in?" Ziva asked; slight sorrow in her voice.

Monique said nothing and to be honest it was because she was not sure what to say. She knew could not tell the younger woman what she had found herself trapped within. It would be better this way, right? It would keep her safe, out of harm's way.

"Will I-?" She paused, the sorrow becoming more apparent within her voice and her eyes. "Will I ever see you again?"

The question literally pained Monique. It had hurt her heart to hear those words coming from Ziva's lips. She hated seeing her and hearing her so sad. It took everything within her to say what she had to say next.

"Don't look for happiness from others, Ziva. People make too many mistakes." Monique spoke, her voice yet again so terribly cold and emotionless.

She allowed her right hand to go to the left side of Ziva's chest, on the spot just above her breast.

"Look to yourself. That is where you will find it."

'The wise words of a hypocritical mentor', Monique inwardly thought as she looked into Ziva's mocha brunette eyes. Her orbs still retained that sadness, despite the fact she had a small smile on her face. She turned and walked away from Monique, waving as she went. Tony saw Ziva get onto the plane, so did Chaplain Castro. Both individuals watched as the Israeli woman trudged to the back of the plane. She took a seat in the farthest back seat, pulled her knees to her chest, and simply cried.

Three days after returning to the United States and Tony, McGee, and Gibbs were in the squad room working. It was the middle of the day and they all would occasionally look over at the empty desk, the desk that belonged to one Ziva David. She had not gone to work since they had returned from Columbia. In fact, she had not left her apartment.

She lied on the couch, curled underneath a blanket. She wore a black tank top and grey sweats as she lied there. Ziva was never the type to cry but now, when faced with just the idea of losing Monique, she could do nothing but sob. This was what Ziva was doing in that moment, sobbing. Her entire body shook with each dreadful wail she let out. Every now and then she would change places and positions but she never left, hadn't eaten, or even showered. She did not feel like doing anything else but cry.

Another day had passed and Tony was becoming beyond worried. He was unable to get a hold of her in any way, shape, or form. However, the NCIS agent was able to find out Monique's phone number and he had gotten a hold of her, informing her of what was going on. Half a day later, Monique had gotten herself to the U.S., and found her way to Ziva's apartment before going inside. It was quiet, scarily quiet. Though, Monique had been able to hear one distinct sound. The sound of crying.

Heart broken, Monique walked further into the apartment, following the sound. She arrived at a cherry wood door, and listened as the crying got more intense. Her chest tightened. It was a panging in her heart that she never wanted to experience again. She took a hold of the doorknob and opened it before going inside. She was lying in that bed, her frame shaking as she cried. A hand went to cover her mouth at the sight she was reluctantly beholding.

"Oh, Ziva." She whispered as she got to the side of the bed.

Crouching down, Monique watched the woman crying vehemently in front of her. And to be honest, she had no idea what to do. With teary eyes, Monique reached out to the simpering Israeli before her. She caressed her hair and moved a little closer to her.

"Ziva, sweetheart, it is okay." She tried to soothe. "I am here. It is all right. I promise."

Yet she continued to sob, nothing seeming to keep her settled. It utterly shattered Monique's heart and soul to see her in such a manner. She then stood to her feet and walked around to the other side of the bed before climbing inside and wrapping her arms around the crying woman. Monique allowed her hands to almost randomly roam Ziva's frame in the attempt to soothe her further.

"Shh," Monique hushed, dragging it out somewhat as her lips were right next to Ziva's ear.

After a while, Ziva turned around and buried herself within Monique's frame.

"Yes, that is it, Ziva. I am here." Monique managed to say, all the while trying not to break down herself.

She tightened her hold on the woman within her arms. Ziva sniveled and sobbed for a good twenty minutes before grasping at Monique and speaking.

"Monique." She finally said.

"Yes, Ziva. It's me. I am here." Monique affirmed; her voice soft and loving.

Ziva gripped her even harder, her sobs starting again.

"I missed you so much!" She said through sobs. "I was so scared!"

Monique swallowed her own tears and nodded.

"I know, sweetie. I know." She spoke; her accent thickening with emotion. "But, Ziva, I'm here. I am safe. Everything is okay."

"Please, never leave me again. Never. Please." Ziva begged, her crying slowly ceasing.

The European woman had never seen her Israeli protégé like this before. She seemed as though she were a different person now. She only nodded.

"I won't leave you. I swear." Monique assured, holding Ziva.

"I love you." She replied sleepily before eventually slipping into a deep, and much needed sleep.

Monique's coffee brown eyes went wide with shock and surprise. She had no idea what to make of it. Did Ziva love her in the way Monique thought she meant? A secret part of her hope she had.

"I love you, too." Monique whispered to her with a loving tone.

She too fell asleep in the hopes that when they awoke, things would be better between them. She prayed that all would be forgiven and for once she would not have to look back on cold beds and memories, because her bed would be Ziva's and it would be warm as they held each other in their arms, and the memories they would create would be nothing but something pleasant and pleasurable that they could remember oh so fondly in the near and or distant future.