Hello, hello, hello. Now, today is very exciting, and I am uploading this now for that specific reason. Today is November 15th, and you might remember, one year ago today, a little fiction I started. Do you remember it? Can you recall its name? The billion dollar answer is It Takes Two, of course.

Can we all remember back to chapter 57? The one where they are writing letters? No? The go read up to there. Actually, the first letter will make sense without reading it, so you could read this one, but the rest will make no sense at all, because they will be letters to characters that you have not been introduced to.

Anyway, I said at the end that I might upload the letters as a separate story, if I got around to writing them. And I have! Yay! They are super depressing, though. Have fun with that.

I was not really sure of the dates of things. Angel Of Death was aired on May 22nd, and since Bury Your Dead took place the day after, I sort of went with that, even though Bury Your Dead aired in September '07.

23nd May 2007

Tony,

You died today. I watched it happen on a grainy traffic camera. And then I had to process the scene. It was horrible. All the while I was wondering how I was going to go on without you sat at the desk opposite me. I had always thought you would out live me, I was born to die. But you, you have always managed to cheat Death. And then today you did not. I felt my heart shatter a thousand times, and then a thousand times all over again. I felt like I too was dying. And McGee, he kept playing the tape over and over and every time it was like I was breaking in half.

But you are not dead. You did not die when I watched you die. And now my tears feel wasted, because you are sat across from me again, thinking I am writing my report by hand because my computer is not working. I am not. I am writing this, because I think it is important.

I have been working with you for two years now, and I feel like I have been through more here than I ever had at Mossad. Not in the sense of seeing more bodies, killing more people, being shot at more times, but in the sense that I have learnt more from all of you than I ever did from my father. You have taught me to laugh and smile, to make friends and to love.

Yes. Love. I do not want to tell you who it is that I love, because I will be dead by the time you read this, and I do not want to hurt them any more than I already have.

You taught me to do that. You taught me how to feel, and I will be eternally indebted to you for that.

But I need another favour from you. Firstly, remove your mind from the sex-place, I know that is where it leapt immediately as soon you read the word 'favour'. Honestly, I am dead and you are thinking about sexual favours? At least you are not imagining me in one of your movies (McGee told me about your Bond Girl fantasies. I am not impressed, by the way). No, what I really need you to do is move on. I need you to stop moping about, stop snapping at McGee and provoking Gibbs. I need you to be nice to whoever takes my desk, let her (I assume it will be a her, since Gibbs has always had a woman on his team) be a part of the family like I was. Do not isolate her. Do not spend nearly half a year shutting her out, and do not let Abby hate her for the simple reason that she is replacing me.

Oh, and do not blame yourself. Whatever happened, whatever caused my death, it was not your fault, no matter what you think. Do not drink yourself into a stupor, do not blame yourself, or Gibbs, for what happened. Just move on. Find a nice woman – you deserve a nice woman, someone who will wash your socks for you and cook dinner for you and actually understands your movies – and buy a house together, and have two kids, and forget about me.

Do not mourn me. I had two of the happiest years of my life here, and can say that I have felt loved here. I know what family means now. It means you would die for another person.

Tony, I hope I died for you. I would be happy to die for anyone at NCIS, but I really do hope it was to save you. That would make me happy. My life has been destructive, taking away peoples loved ones and pulling families apart. But I hope that my death has saved someone. I hope that in dying I have given somebody else the freedom to live, the liberty to love.

Part of me sincerely hopes that you never have to read this, Tony, for that means that I have not died in the field. I have survived long enough to die of illness or old age. But I do not think it is likely.

The other part of me, the part that I do not like so much, hopes that you do have to read this, that you will outlive me. Because I do not want to have to live in a world without you. I do not know how I will go on. I had a taste of it today and I hated it. I hated how empty I felt. I felt that the whole world was crumbling down around me and it would not stop. Please, please outlive me. If only to keep me safe from my own loneliness – I know how much you love a damson in distress.

Find someone you really, really love, Tony. Find someone and never let her go. Tell her that you love her and grow old together. Lay in bed together with grey hairs and the sound of hundreds of grandchildren running around, telling you how much they love you. Surround yourself with family. Will you do that for me? Please?

Thank you for my life, Tony. I owe you everything.

Yours with all the gratitude in the world,

Ziva David.

P.S. Look after everyone for me. I do not think I have the strength to write letters to all of them. Oh, and Ducky likes someone to have tea with on a Wednesday afternoon. I have enclosed a set of very specific instructions on how to make the tea properly. FOLLOW THEM AS IF YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT! Trust me, with Ducky, IT DOES! The man takes his tea very seriously.

Good luck with life and love, Tony. Good luck with everything.

The other letters will be up at different times, when I get around to finish them. I have them all started, but I do not have them finished.

For my reference: 51st NCIS fic.