A/N: I don't know about you guys but I'm looking forward to the prospect of TIVA this season - but only if the writers do it right. If they go down the route they took with Tony/Jeanne and Ziva/Rivkin, then I'm going to throw something at the TV. A relationship based solely on physicalness (?) is not what these two need especially after all of the drama, trauma and tragedy of last season. What do you think?

Anyway, this is Ziva's POV on Tony, though I may add a chapter of Tony's POV on Ziva - the ways they are growing up, their relationship, etc. I hope it doesn't seem too out of character, but we all know Ziva's changed quite a bit and is, even only a tiny bit, more open about her feelings (although I did enjoy kick-ass Ziva).

Set in season 7, about a week after Faith (7x10). Short, I know.

My apologies for rambling. I don't own NCIS.

It was the perfect night for her to sit and stare as she always did; a sideways glance over her computer with thousands of thoughts racing through her head and her lips sometimes moving, begging her to voice those thoughts but never managing to find a way to. She often pictured Gibbs as a younger man, what he used to be and how he turned into the fierce Special Agent that they all respected and loved. McGee was no puzzle for her although she sometimes wondered what he thought when she left and told him nothing. And then there was Tony.

Her partner, her best friend, and what could have been her lover. The one she didn't have to picture, or pretend, about because she knew him too well. Somalia had proven that he would go to the ends of the Earth and back for her, for any of them. In no way was he the same playboy cop she'd met almost five entire years ago.

A slow, gradual process but she was so glad to have been there to watch it with the same fascination of a mother watching her child grow. She had distanced herself at first; unsure. He was merely an asset to the corporation and, in the case of their rather famous under cover mission, another member of the undercover op, and nothing more. Tony always seemed to correct her, and though it got on her nerves, it was something to miss in Somalia.

How many times she heard his voice in her head, how many times she broke down inside and tried to beg him to forgive her only to find him pushing her away. And then to wake up, find she's still locked in a cell and be glad, if only for a second, that he was not here to scream at her, and one day they could be what they were before.

It was hard to forgive, but she had to. She had to look at the reality in front of her and try to take it like she took everything; be strong and never falter. And she did; she looked him in the eye and she forgave everything because he had been right. He had protected her when he knew she needed it, jealous or not, and he rescued her from Hell even though she knew he beat himself up for putting her there, for killing her (or so he thought).

He kept proving his loyalty to her, and she felt so out of place, unable to do much to show him she trusted him again. She knew that he knew, but it would make her feel so much more at home to be able to make him believe. It was a debt too large to ever repay; he saved her life, but then again, he took another's. It was a vicious circle that she could never figure out. To show him that she still cared for and believed in him? Or was forgiveness enough?

"Like what you see, David?" a voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked up to realize he was now staring back with a smile on his face. His old, playful voice. How she loved the attention now.

Ziva chose to raise an eyebrow and just stare at him, her head cocked to the side. Her lips pursed in a playful manner, but her eyes narrowed at his next words. "Aww, come on, you can't resist me."

"Are you sure about that, Tony?" she asked, standing up slowly to glare at him from across her desk. He stood up and mimicked her expression, their eyes locked with one another.

"Nobody can resist the DiNozzo charm!" he exclaimed. "Come on, Ziiiiiva, you know-"

"Don't speak," she growled, a paper ball flying across the squad room to hit him directly between the eyes. He backed up in surprise but quickly retaliated, ripping a piece of notebook paper he should have used to collect witness statements earlier in the day.

As paper rained down around them, Ziva couldn't help but smile.

It was good to be home.