Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Here's what you need to know:

This story is set in season 2, right after SWAK. It will not follow the continuing storyline, meaning Twilight, Kill Ari, and every episode after that will not happen. Ziva is in it, but she's not a part of the team.

I'll use Jenny as director in later chapters, because I don't really know much about the guy who was director before her, and Kate's not dead.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Promise to call if you need anything, okay?" Abby gave him a light hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"And by anything, she means anything," Kate said smirking, but Tony was too tired to understand the double meaning. "Take care, Tony, okay?" She followed Abby's example and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. He nodded, and they left him in his apartment.

He locked the door, walked into his bedroom and laid down on the king – size bed. He felt like hell, literally. It was understandable, seeing that he'd just survived pneumonic plague and been admitted to the hospital for only three days. It wasn't the hospital's fault, though. He'd decided, all by himself, that he wanted to go home, telling Gibbs he missed his belongings. He knew Gibbs would buy it, after all, he was Anthony DiNozzo, and if anyone could think, and miss, their flat screen while recovering from a deathly disease, it would be him. But even Tony could set his priority's right. He hadn't discharged himself from the hospital because of the flat screen.

Tony rolled over on his stomach and reached for his phone, groaning. The movement had caused a lot of pain, but hopefully it was all worth it. He flicked through his contact list and stopped when he reached the bottom of it. Should he do it? Should he really bother her with this? It was not like he was dying or anything. He missed her. He missed her so much, but should he do it? He decided not to, she was probably busy anyway. Who knew what she was doing right know? Except her father, that was.

He rolled over again, groaning once again, and began to think. Maybe he should call Abby and Kate, and make them spoil him. No, he thought. That would be betraying our friendship. The old Anthony DiNozzo wouldn't have thought about it twice. He would've called his colleagues, and made they work their asses off to help him get well. This new Tony wouldn't even argue with himself about the topic. Betraying and lying was wrong, he realized. Maybe this near-death experience had changed him? But for the better or worse? And with that question in his head, he fell asleep.

It was still dark outside when Tony woke up several hours later. He'd though he heard a noise, but he'd clearly imagined it. He was still holding the phone in one of his hands, and the clock showed 0316.

"Oh, great." He moaned and rolled over, still experiencing a lot of pain, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was sleep.

He'd barely closed his eyes when he heard the noise again. This time it was not his imagination. His eyes popped up, and he concentrated on the sound. It originated from the front door. Judging by the sound, somebody was trying to pick the lock and break in.

Great, just what he needed. A thief. A freaking thief! He raised his upper body, and opened the top drawer on the night stand. The drawer where he hid his gun. After Kate had told him she slept with a gun under her pillow, he'd started to put his in the top drawer. He would never admitted it to Kate, because of the way her face would've lit up like Christmas morning, but keeping your gun near your bed was actually a not a bad idea.

The thief had finally managed to pick his lock and was now walking through his apartment. Strangely, he or she didn't take anything. Judging by the sound of the steps, he or she just kept walking towards his room. Tony aimed at the door frame and waited for the thief to come through it.

Best to be prepared in case he too is armed, he told himself.

And then, the thief made it into his room. He neither said nor did anything, he just stood in the door frame while Tony pointed his gun at him. But he didn't shoot. He waited for the other person to make the first move.

They stood like this for almost two minutes, neither of them doing nor saying anything. Both were trying to study the other person as much as possible in the darkness. Suddenly Tony felt light flow through his window. He turned his head around and watched the moon and its light. He hadn't seen it in days. When he turned back he discovered that the light had made it possible to get a glimpse of the thief's silhouette. He was about 5'7, he'd curly hair, and then he discovered he wasn't a he. He was a she. He squinted and saw her brown hair.

Then he smiled.

She followed his eyes while they were studying her. All her training had made it possible for her eyes to quickly get use to the darkness. Now was no exception. The moonlight flooded through the window, and he turned against it. She caught a glimpse of his face and winced. He did not look good. His face was pale and his eyes were red burst. He turned against her and studied her a little more.

Then a smile broke onto his lips.

"You know, this has never happened before," she said smiling. "Usually I am the one pointing the gun at you." Though it was still dark, she could see his smile growing larger.

"Honey, you know I'm flexible, meaning I'm always up for a change." She smirked at him, and he grinned widely back.

"No offense, but what are you doing here? I thought you were on a mission." He clapped at the bed, wanting her to sit down.

"I was," she replied, moving towards him, "but I heard what happened, and came as soon as I could." He frowned.

"How?"

"How what?" She questioned confused.

"How did you know what happened?"

She sighed, "My father." She'd expected his face to grow dark, but it didn't.

"Well, for once it's good he's keeping tabs on everything and everyone." She laughed lightly.

"Yes, for once." She touched his face with her fingers and leaned over to kiss him, but stopped a few centimeters before her lips touched his.

"Why did you not call me?" She asked hurt. Why hadn't he called her?

"Didn't want to bother you," he replied. "It wasn't like I was dying or anything." She backed away from him, and he could see that he'd hurt her.

"You did not know that at the time, Tony. For all we know, you could be dead by now, if the plague had not had the suicide-trigger."

He sighed and looked into her eyes. She still had the chocolate-brown eye color he remembered so well, but her eyes were red edged. She'd been crying. She didn't usually cry.

"I'm sorry," he said, and placed an arm around her shoulders. "I really am, but I also know how much you love working without being interrupted. I didn't want to disturb you, 'cause of the risk it could've been. You could've been killed if you were distracted." He wasn't trying to blame it all on her; he was simply trying to explain the situation.

Before he could blink, he was nailed down on the bed. He cried out in paint, and every muscle in his body was screaming, but it wasn't much he could do. She sat on top of him, satisfied by the pain she'd caused.

"You think that hurt?" She leaned closer to him. "It will be ten times worse if you use my job as an excuse ever again." He moaned something incomprehensible, but agreed.

"And yes, I do like working without interferences, but I love you." She smiled, and leaned closer to him. He lifted his head, and their lips met in a kiss.

When they finally broke apart, he looked into her warm, brown eyes and smiled. Then he said what he'd longed to tell her for the past week.

"I love you too, Ziva."