Hey guys! God....I had to upload this document and edit it 3 times....it kept bloody refreshing! So....this story is like a prologuey thing to my other story 'Waiting for an answer'...if you were confused with that read this. The question is revealed. Oh...more Tivaish than Waiting for an Answer

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS....sob

Unanswered Question

Tony gazed at Ziva, as she held…was it a photo frame in her hand? The....entity was a dark, chestnut brown and she was gazing at it with such a fondness that seemed to make Tony's heart ache. He could feel his heart beating slowly. 54 beats later, Ziva bent down and stowed the photo frame carefully in a drawer…the third drawer to be precise. Tony was only precise with one thing…anything that Ziva did.

Tony did not realise how strange it must have been for Ziva. Ziva had felt Tony's scrutinizing glare….she classified it as a glare…when she was viewing the picture. It was a picture of Michael and herself on a boat… they were fishing. He looked incredibly handsome in the loose white shirt that day, with his curly hair ruffled by the wind. Ferdinand, a man she considered as her brother. Michael had unashamedly pecked her on the cheek (Ziva had made sure the kiss did not 'accidentally land' on her lips), and Ferdinand had captured that moment. Ziva could feel a slight blush arising, Michael had made his feelings and intentions very clear.

Tony continued to stare, until Ziva looked up. He saw merriness dance in her eyes, the edges of her lips were uplifted. A faint pink tinge coloured her glowing cheeks. She was obviously pleased by the photo, and Tony made it his job today to find out what it was.

"Why are you staring Tony?" The hint of the smile disappeared and the seriousness returned to those probing dark eyes.

"Umm…" Tony hesitated, he felt heat come to his cheeks. It was like the first time they met, and she had asked him the awkward question 'Are you having phone sex?'.

He hastily made up some excuse and ducked his head, concentrating just that bit harder on the work in front of him. He did not notice that Ziva's lips upturned once more in a smile of fondness, not directed at Michael Rivkin, but directed at Anthony DiNozzo.

"See you tomorrow, Tony." Ziva turned her light off, and, smirking slightly at his 'misfortune', waved at Tony. Tony grumbled incoherently, but secretly, he was pleased. This left him some snooping time.

Gibbs, naturally being Gibbs, had demanded (with such a force that no-one dared to oppose him) that the paperwork on Lieutenant Smith's case be finished by tonight or else. Tony was taking his time, he chucked a few paper-balls at McGee while he was at it. Slowly, they trickled out, Gibbs for coffee, McGee for home, and now Ziva. Tony was alone in the bullpen, and the possibilities were endless. He put down his biro, and then stretched lazily.

He walked leisurely over to Ziva's desk. He felt his hands begin to become clammy, and sweat beginning to build up on his forehead. Why the hell are you like this, DiNozzo? He asked himself. For goodness sake, he was only searching for a picture. But he knew that this picture was almost a life or death matter. It was a gamble. A phrase immediately came to mind. Curiosity killed the cat. It would confirm his much dreaded suspicions…or dispel them as he wanted it to.

When you at sea for a hell of a long time, you begin to see things. You begin to understand the people around you.

Tony began to love Ziva David. Cooped up in a tin can could make you start doing crazy things like that. At first, he was in denial. How could he love Ziva? The crazy ninja chick who threatened him a billion times that she was going to kill him with a paperclip or some other office stationery? Wasn't he meant to be pining after Jeanne? Yet when he couldn't dispel these feelings, he learnt to embrace them.

He was ready to confess. He had prepared himself for months in the tin can, and when he faced her for the first time, he was ready. He was about to open his mouth, when he suddenly noticed the look.

The look was there on Ziva's face. That he was too late. That she had already found someone.

And now, as he opened the drawer, he hoped with all his heart that it was not true. He hoped, oh he hoped.

And when the picture lay in his shaking hands, he felt his heart crack. He felt his world shatter. He felt the tears. He felt the loneliness.

He then felt the hate bubble inside him, hate for that smiling man in the picture whose lips were on his girl. That man had no right. That man had absolutely no right.

He gripped the frame until his knuckles turned white, fighting back a sob. Ziva was truly gone.

So... if you have not already read 'Waiting for an answer'....go read it now. It is the aftermath.

Hope you enjoyed it!