A/N: Here is my contribution to 8X05 Dead Air. I'm going to try and go back and write a little oneshot (Tiva, of course -because I am totally in denial over Ethel) for every episode this season (except maybe Cracked, but you never know). Anyway, this is just a little oneshot, as previously stated, because I really liked Dead Air -the Undercovers references? Perfect. So, until next time (soon because I have no homework this weekend), keep the peace and much much love, Kit.

DISCLAIMER: Absolutely in LOVE with Taylor Swift's new CD.

WARNING: There is nothing explicit, but there are some . . . . . implications. Strong T.

Between The Here And The Now

Tony: "This is nice. I miss the old Ziva."

Ziva: "I can tell."

Tony: "Don't flatter yourself. That's just my knee."

He tugs her with him as he rolls onto his back, releasing a sighing moan as she drapes herself over him, all warm and soft. Her hair falls messily around her, enveloping them both in a curtain of wild curls, and he absolutely adores her like this, natural and free and- he yelps as the playful kisses she was peppering against his neck turn into frisky nips and grazes of teeth. "Careful, sweetheart," he chides, brushing her hair off her forehead, "I'm old remember?"

Her dark eyes roll back in mock exasperation and she tells him, "Cute."

He grins at her cheekily, "Aren't I though?"

"Should you be talking right now?" she asks pointedly, kissing along his jaw and he groans softly. She chuckles lightly against his cheek, teasing, "Your third knee, I presume?"

"Well-" Her lips on his effectively shut him up until oxygen battles its way to number one priority and breathing is inevitable. She drops feather-like kisses across his jaw, over his neck, her body rising and falling with the rapid up and down of his chest. His fingers comb through her hair affectionately and he simply says, "I love you."

Something in her eyes shifts though, uncertainty chasing insecurity and he notices.

"Do you ever miss me?" she asks quietly, her breath fanning warm across his face. And his forehead creases in puzzlement because this is all too real to be merely a vivid dream and he can't figure out why he'd be missing her when, hello, she's right here with him.

She watches his face in the dim light of her bedroom, sees the confusion flicker through his features before clarifying softly, "As I was, I mean." And his face relaxes as comprehension dawns slowly.

"You from five years ago?"

"Yes," she says curiously, idly, as if it is an insignificant question hanging heavy in the air. Somewhere underneath her voice though, he hears the admittance as if it's something she should be ashamed of.

She lays her cheek down over his chest and he knows she can hear the steady hammering of his heart because, yes, she gets to him. And she's quiet, waiting patiently for him to reply, to say something. But his mind gets sidetracked during his musing, his fingers coming to tangle in her hair while his free hand coasts up and down her side lazily, eliciting an occasional twitch from her.

"You can be honest," she says, mistaking his silence for hesitation and not the contemplation that it is. Because he's just content to live in the moment.

"Sometimes," he confesses truthfully, his thumb rubbing across her hip. "Sometimes I miss the wildness, the impulsiveness. The stealthy surprises . . . . You would say something, catch everyone off guard –you still do . . . . Sometimes I miss the old familiarity, but then I look at now and, damn Ziva, this is familiar."

"But it is a good familiar, yes?"

He nods reassuringly. "Yes, definite yes. This is the best kind of familiar . . . . Ziva, I love you. For you. All of you. All your craziness and goofiness, your intelligence, your independence. You. And that woman you were five years ago, she's not the same, yeah, but she's part of you so I love her too. Sometimes . . . . sometimes it would be nice to go back, I think, but then I realize that right here, right now . . . . I would rather be in this moment right now than wherever else however many years ago . . . . I love you." And he can feel her smile against his skin.

She tilts her head up so she can see him and he's smiling gently at her and she doesn't feel quite as . . . . different. "Really?"

"Yes, really. And you know what else?"

"Hm?"

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, whispering tenderly, "I like this Ziva best. Because this Ziva, well, she's much more permanent than she was five years ago."

And her smile is genuine, lighting up her face and bathing him in a light he's becoming addicted to. "I love you, Tony," she says quietly and he kisses her again, softly, gently, coming to hover over her once more.

A/N: ;^)