wednesday 8:33 am

tony: you & me. friday night. 7 pm. i'll pick you up.

ziva: that is a little short notice. i may be busy.

tony: ...ziva...

ziva: sorry, i couldnt resist. i will be ready.

tony: i'm excited to see what normal looks like for us i'm excited to see you. hell, i'm just excited

ziva: me too

tony: just so you know, i used to be much smoother than i am now.

ziva: no you weren't

tony: rude

ziva: :-)

ziva: xo

Before she knows it, Friday morning rolls around and Ziva is entirely unprepared for her date with Tony. She paces around the guest room of Gibbs' house - her temporary lodgings until she (they) can figure out what comes next.

She's been left alone in the house since Gibbs has to work and it makes her feel restless and anxious and lonely. So used to being on the run by herself, Ziva finds it strange to be so uneasy with the silence surrounding her. She's being silly, she knows. All of this is temporary.

But until those details are worked out, she feels uneasy, unsure.

Shaking her head, Ziva flips on the television for some background noise and begins to rifle through the clothes hanging in the closet, looking for something appropriate for her date - her first date - with Tony.

Nothing feels appropriate and it doesn't help that Tony hasn't told her where he's taking her. She flips through the clothes, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. Nothing is right and she feels out of her depth. Her gaze lands on her phone, sitting innocently on the night table, and Ziva wonders.

Without thinking too much about it, she snatches the phone and sends a quick text, replacing the phone in its spot and trying not to stare at the screen. She doesn't have to wait long for a response and a small smile graces her face when she reads the few words.

Letting out a soft, relieved sigh, Ziva heads down to the kitchen to rummage through Gibbs' cabinets in order to find something edible.

She's scrounged up some possibly expired tea bags and a bag of definitely expired granola by the time there's a timid knock at the front door. Ziva tosses the granola - probably bought by Fornell or someone looking out for Gibbs' health after another injury - and the front door opens soundlessly.

"Uh...Ziva?" Ellie Bishop's voice echoes through the house.

"Kitchen," Ziva calls back, pulling two mugs down from the cabinet and settling tea bags in them. Bishop appears in the kitchen doorway and smiles tentatively.

"Hi," she waves a little awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

Ziva smiles gently back and nods. "Yes, sorry if my message was...cryptic. Tea?"

"Oh, um, okay?" Ellie's eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. "It's just..." she trails off, unsure of what else to say.

Pouring the boiling water into the mugs, Ziva sighs. "Tony and I are supposed to go on a date tonight," she says, unable to stop a smile from forming on her lips. "I can't seem to figure out what to wear," she finishes sheepishly, her eyes never leaving the mugs of tea.

"Oh!" Ellie's voice immediately perks up. "I can help with that!" Ziva looks up to see a sly smile form on the younger woman's face. "Good thing I told Gibbs I had forgotten about a gynecologist appointment," she laughs, "he won't come looking for me any time soon."

Ziva laughs at that, surprised at how much she liked the mischievous look in Ellie Bishop's eyes. This is a woman she could be friends with. Gesturing with her head, Ziva picks up both mugs of tea and says, "Men and their idiot-syncracies."

"Idiot-?" Ellie's forehead creases in confusion and then softens. "Idiosyncrasies."

"Mine is better," Ziva replies easily, used to the corrections from so many years as Tony's verbal sparring partner.

"I'm not going to deny that," Ellie replies, following Ziva into the guest room and immediately kicking off her shoes so she can clamber onto the bed, crossing her legs underneath her body. She takes the proffered mug of tea with a quiet 'thanks' and sips carefully. "So where's Tony taking you?"

"I don't know!" Ziva throws up her free hand in exasperation. "He will not say."

"Well that makes this harder," Ellie mumbles, almost to herself. She sits up straighter and raises her eyebrows, "Lets see what we're working with," her tone is firm, but there's still a little awe in her eyes, which makes Ziva mildly uncomfortable.

It has been months since she first made her reappearance in D.C., months since she first met Ellie Bishop - the woman who finished what she had started in the Morgan Burke case, the woman who had kept her secret, the woman who had taken her desk - and still Ellie looks at her like a mythological creature come to life. Tim and Ducky had tried to explain that her empty desk had brought with it big shoes to fill ("Come on, it's a metaphor, Ziva. You really don't know that one?" "I'm yanking your chain, Tim." "...I know you're messing with me now.") and that in their (Tony's) reluctance to talk about her, Ellie had built Ziva up in her head as perfect, as legendary. Her mysterious act with Morgan Burke's mother's letter had only added to the legend.

Ziva supposes it's better to be looked at in awe than in fear or disgust, but still. She's not perfect, she's not legendary. She's just a flawed mother who did what she thought was best for her daughter. If Ellie can manage to stop thinking of Ziva as a figure on a pedestal, and instead as a fully-fledged person, Ziva knows that they will get along well.

So, for now, she ignores the look of awe, and knocks the closet door open further with her hip. "I'm afraid there's not much to work with," she twists her lips in a wry smirk. "I was not necessarily planning on staying here for very long and then when I did need to buy clothes, I was not planning on," she pauses and licks her lips, "a first date outfit being among my concerns."

Ellie laughs, setting her mug on the night table and bouncing off of the mattress. "Yeah, I can imagine. Between wandering through sewers and running from terrorists, dating probably didn't even make the top twenty of concerns."

She looks into the closer and begins to flip through the hangers. She brushes past the cargo pants and jeans quickly, finding a pair of black slacks. "Maybe these?"

Ziva takes the hanger and holds the pants up to her hips, nodding a bit. "These are probably okay. I still wish Tony had told me where we are going."

"He's trying to be romantic and mysterious, probably " Ellie says, smiling gently. She hesitates for a minute and Ziva can see the internal debate waging in her eyes. She bites the side of her cheek and says, "For what it's worth? Tony won't care what you're wearing. He's just happy to have you back."

A sigh catches in Ziva's throat as tears well up in her eyes. "I hope you are right," she says quietly, Tony's own words weighing on her. She's made so many mistakes in the past few years - it's hard to see past them to a brighter future.

"There's a spark there," Ellie replies, still flipping through the clothes. "He's more..." she shrugs, "just more Tony, I guess."

Ziva's quiet, contemplative. She feels more herself when she's with Tony too.

"Wear this," Ellie says, wiggling a deep green wrap shirt in the air. "It'll look great with your hair and skin."

"Thank you, Ellie," Ziva says sincerely, taking the hanger. "For everything."

For keeping my secret. For helping me come home to my family.

"Oh," Ellie shrugs, scuffing her toe against the carpet and waving her hand in the air, "it's nothing. We're all on the same team, right?"

Ziva nods, still feeling out of sorts and unused to asking for help, but she has to admit that it's nice to confide in someone again. "Yes, we are," she replies warmly. Then smiling slyly, "Do you think Gibbs will say anything if your doctor's appointment runs a little longer? I'm getting hungry and the man keeps nothing but steaks and beer in his refrigerator."

Ellie grins and the look of awe hasn't quite disappeared, but there's a sneaky twinkle in her eye and Ziva's glad she reached out for help.

tony: leaving now - see you soon, z

ziva: should i count to a million?

His heart stutters in his chest - remembering the same irregular pattern it beat nearly six years ago when he had taken a risk and typed those same words. A moronic smile overtakes his face as his thumbs type out a tease.

tony: if i drive like you, i'll make it there before you hit 143

ziva: you are not funny, tony

tony: but i'd bet money that you're smiling at your phone right now

She is smiling at her phone, but he doesn't need to know that.

It's scary how quickly they fall back into the quippy banter like no time has passed at all.

Scary and familiar and like finally coming home.

Tony doesn't knock, just pushes Gibbs' front door open and steps into the front hall like he has a million times before.

It's different this time though. Tony almost feels like he's coming to pick Ziva up for prom and her disapproving dad is going to be waiting in the kitchen with a shotgun, which, with Gibbs, is always a reasonable possibility.

Speaking of Gibbs, Tony can hear the faint sounds of wood working coming from the basement. He grins to himself - some things really never change.

"Ziva? Boss?" he calls out, proving that old habits do die hard.

There's no response from Ziva, but footsteps from the kitchen indicate that Gibbs is coming up the stairs. He appears in the front hall a moment or two later, covered in sawdust.

"Oh boy, I thought we were past the boat building in the basement phase?" Tony cracks, grinning.

An enigmatic smile forms on Gibbs' lips and Tony doesn't know why, but it makes him nervous. God knows what the boss is building down there.

"Never know where life'll take ya, DiNozzo," Gibbs says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. A raised eyebrow seems to say, "you know that better than anyone."

Tony snorts a laugh. "Yeah, got me there, Boss."

"Not your boss anymore," Gibbs shakes his head and he seems a little sad about it, a little nostalgic.

Tony shrugs because he's both right and wrong and it's a weird feeling being back here - D.C. and Gibbs' house - after so many years away.

"What are you building?" Tony eventually asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

"You'll find out when it's done," Gibbs replies blithely and Tony's forehead scrunches in mild annoyance. He shakes his head, lines disappearing from his forehead like an Etch-a-Sketch, and shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

"Ziva been okay?" he asks quietly - one father to another.

"Gotta ask her that yourself, Tony," Gibbs says gently, or at least as gently as Gibbs gets.

"I will," Tony promises, scuffs his shoe against the floor, "I just wanted to know if she seemed..." he trails off, unsure of what he's even asking.

"She's Ziva, Tony. She's feeling exactly how you think she'd be feeling," their former boss sighs, suddenly looking much older. The years have taken their toll on Gibbs too. "I'm not playin' middleman here. You two sort your shit out and remember that you've got a little girl who takes priority over everything. Got it?"

Tony nods. "Yeah, boss. Got it," he replies softly and then whips his head in the direction of the stairs when they creak. Ziva appears at the top, hair wild and curly and a devious smirk on her face.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asks, a half-laugh escaping her lips.

Tony rubs at the back of his neck, looking like he's been hit with a stun gun. "You look...wow."

Color floods her cheeks and Ziva waves off the compliment. She looks okay, she thinks, the green of the shirt doing exactly what Ellie said it would and complimenting the darkness of her hair and olive of her skin.

"I mean it, Ziva," Tony says earnestly, grinning widely.

"Thank you," her voice is uncharacteristically shy. She's no stranger to compliments from men - she's not even a stranger to compliments from Tony - but something about the look in his eyes makes this different, makes her feel vulnerable.

He holds out an arm, "Ready?"

Electricity shoots up her arm when she rests her hand in the crook of his elbow and she laughs a little at the cliché. "Let's go," she replies.

"Have her back at a reasonable hour, DiNozzo," Gibbs jokes as they head out the door.

Tony turns and gives Gibbs a smirk, eyes twinkling in a way that Ziva just knows means he's going to say something stupid.

"Why?" he asks. "We already have a kid, what other trouble could we get into?"

Ziva groans and Tony laughs, entirely too pleased with himself. At least he's joking about the situation and not freaking out, Ziva tells herself.

Gibbs shakes his head. "Get outta here, DiNozzo."

Shaking her head as well, Ziva tugs on Tony's arm, pulling him out the front door, even as he continues to chuckle to himself.

They're both quiet in the car, but the air is comfortable and Tony reaches over to hold her hand, so the silence doesn't matter so much.

Ziva's heart beats hard in her chest and she can't stop herself from glancing over at Tony's profile every few minutes.

"Okay, I know I don't have anything on my face since I haven't been able to eat anything all day," Tony says dryly. "So why do you keep looking at me?"

It takes Ziva a moment to answer, waging internal war between the truth and a little fib. But, like she knew it would, truth wins out - it has to if they're going to make this work.

"I can't believe that this is happening," she sighs honestly. "And I've missed you."

A signature DiNozzo grin splits his face. "I missed you too. And I can't believe you use contractions now."

They both laugh and it's easy. So easy, it scares her a little. But then they stop at a red light and Tony looks at her like he used to once upon a time and her stomach fills with butterflies and her heart knows that they will be okay.

He holds her hand until they reach the restaurant and even then he only lets go to toss the keys to the valet and run around to her side of the car to open the door for her.

"How gentlemanly," Ziva teases, taking his hand again.

"Well, you know the French," Tony replies, "all about manners."

He gives his name to the maitre'd and then they're sitting at a tiny table in the corner, hidden away from everyone else. It's a small restaurant to begin with, exposed brick walls and low lighting. The chatter of other diners fades into white noise and their knees bump together under the table.

It's romantic.

More romantic than Ziva had been anticipating.

She swivels her head, taking in the atmosphere, and catches Tony's eye. He looks nervous - his fingers are tapping lightly on the edge of the table.

"This is a nice place, Tony," she says, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"Glad you like it," he replies, leaning in a little bit closer. "I've, uh, never brought anyone here. Always waiting for the right person."

He shrugs a little, a tony smile on his face. Ziva laughs and says, self-deprecating, "I'm not sure I was worth the wait."

"Yeah," Tony's expression goes serious, "you were. Wish we hadn't wasted so much time, but nothing we can do about that now."

"No, I suppose not," she replies, the heat of Tony's gaze giving rise to a blush on her cheeks.

"Oh! Almost forgot," he says, prior lightness retuning. He sticks his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket and withdraws a piece of computer paper, folded in quarters. "Tali drew this for you. Don't tell her I folded it up, I was under strict instructions to keep it nice." He laughs, eyes crinkling, and hands her the paper.

She unfolds it, "Already making me keep secrets from our daughter?" - a joke that hurts her heart to make, but gets Tony to give her a wry smile and an eye roll. Tears immediately spring to her eyes when she sees the picture. It's roughly drawn in the way only five-year-olds can manage, but the three figures are unmistakable. Tony, with his fluffy hair and suit. Tali, with a wide crayon smile and a crudely drawn Star of David necklace. And Ziva, with dark curls and a patterned scarf around her stick-figure neck.

The figures are all holding hands and a few fat teardrops land on the blank edges.

Ziva smothers a sob, pressing her fist against her mouth. She looks up at Tony with wide eyes and whispers, "How could I have left her? What kind of damage have I done to her?"

"Hey," Tony grabs her free hand, interlaces their fingers and squeezes hers gently, "she's going to be okay, Ziva. She is okay. Besides, who doesn't have a little childhood trauma, nowadays?"

She lets out a watery laugh and squeezes Tony's hand back. "Tell me about her, please? I want to know what I missed."

"Of course," Tony says softly. He thinks for a minute and tears into a piece of bread. "She's the smartest kid I've ever met, Ziva. And I know that I'm biased, but Jesus, she's so smart. She's fluent in French and English. Her Hebrew kind of sucks - sorry, but there was only so much Hebrew school could do when I couldn't practice with her."

"I can help her with that," Ziva replies. She gives him a sly look, "After all, we will need to be able to talk about you behind your back."

"Wow," Tony deadpans, raising his eyebrows. "Maybe T and I will just talk about you in Italian - which, by the way, she also speaks."

Ziva smiles widely and pokes his shoulder. "How quickly you forget that I speak Italian too, Tony."

He snatches her hand and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, looking up at her with soft eyes. "Guess I'll have to relearn everything about you."

"I'm looking forward to that," Ziva's voice is quiet, but the look in her eyes speaks volumes.

Tony doesn't let go of her hand until they bring out his entrée.

She doesn't want him to ever let go.

"So, T and I will pick you up and we can grab lunch and wear her out at the park," Tony says, gently swinging their locked hands back and forth as they walk up the path to Gibbs' door.

"I'm looking forward to it," Ziva replies softly, her gaze bouncing between Tony's face and their interlocked fingers. "She is okay with the plan, right?"

As much as she was desperate to see Tali again and to move forward, Ziva doesn't want to force the young girl into anything she's uncomfortable with, even if it breaks her heart.

"It was her plan, Ziva," Tony promises. "She missed you so much and getting you back...she just didn't know how to act."

Ziva opens her mouth to apologize again, but Tony cuts her off with a faux-glare, "If you apologize again, I'm throwing you into the Potomac."

She closes her mouth with a snap and then says, "sorry," with a sneaky smile on her face.

Tony groans.

"I'm just going to remind you of rule six, Ms. David," he says seriously.

"Neither of us work for Gibbs," Ziva points out reasonably. "And I think there are some things that one should apologize for."

They're standing on Gibbs' front porch - Tony leaning against the railing and Ziva standing in front of him. She purposefully takes a step closer, invading his personal space as if it were 7 or 8 years ago and they were still doing the dance around their feelings. It's all so similar - the charged electric air, the banter, the fluttering low in her stomach - and yet so much has changed.

"I've forgiven you, Ziva," Tony says lowly, hazel eyes boring into brown ones. "I may not have liked it, but I understand. I would do anything to keep our little girl safe."

His free hand comes up to rest on the curve of her hip and Ziva takes another half-step forward. His legs bracket hers and she can smell the sharp spice of his cologne - familiar and foreign all at once.

She looks up at his face and sees a question in his eyes.

A small nod and her eyes flickering down to look at his lips is all the answer Tony needs. He leans down and lets go of her hand, cupping her cheek and kissing her softly. The hand on her hip tightens and pulls her closer.

Ziva melts into the kiss, one hand braced on Tony's chest and the other curling into his hair. She's missed him. Kissing Tony feels like coming home.

Tony's lips slide over hers and she opens her mouth, deepening the kiss.

Even though they'd barely kissed before she left, they come together like this is an old habit, well-worn and learned from years of being together. There's nothing awkward or strange about kissing Tony and there's no hesitation when it comes to pressing her body against his - the desire to be close to him stronger than any voice in her head telling her to slow down and take time to heal.

The louder voice - the voice she listened to - reminded her that they'd already wasted so much time.

"Tony..." Ziva murmurs his name against his lips when they break for air.

He presses another soft, lingering kiss to her lips. "Don't say anything that's going to ruin this moment," he laughs gently against her skin.

"I wasn't," she protests, pressing her forehead to the side of his jaw and looping both arms around his neck to hug him. Tony's arms lock around her waist - solid and sturdy.

"Good," he replies quietly, "because I'm not doing that bullshit again. I'm not letting you run anymore."

And there, on Gibbs' front porch, with Tony's arms wrapped around her body and her lips swollen from his kisses, Ziva smiles into Tony's neck and answers honestly, "I do not want to run anymore."

A/N: T-10 days and counting! i love these two idiots and wow was this fic full of fluff. it's a follow up to "help me hold onto you" and in really don't have much to say other than please enjoy and let me know what you think! :)