Here is a teeny little Tate one-shot. Enjoy.

Anticipation courses through his body, he knows that any second that elevator will ding and she will walk out. He refuses to look at the elevator; instead he busies himself with rarely done paper work. Still the elevator hovers on the edge of his consciousness. He imagines that they will meet on the middle between the bullpen and elevator, standing a few feet apart. She will wordlessly smile and he will walk to her and offer his arm in an unusual and oddly cordial gesture. He thinks about how he misses her, much to his chagrin. She is special and he misses everything about her, the little fights, the never changing smell of her perfume, the air with which she carries herself. It's verging on three weeks since he's seen her face, tasted her lips, held her small hand. He recalls the brief free falls towards bliss in the elevator. She'll hit the stop button and her face will become a half-moon outline.

"Ding!" He can't stop his head springing up. The elevator doors pull apart, dramatically in his mind, and she finally does walk out.

"Tony." She nods.

"Kate." He replies, surprised at himself for not rushing forward and pulling her to him. But he calmed his breathing and looked her square in the eyes. And she smiled.

Let me know what you thought. Was the POV wierd?