He almost doesn't go, but somewhere between the airport and his apartment, he hears Ziva's voice telling him how she needed to honor Gibbs, to make him proud.

Stop this for him.

He finds him in the basement, sitting on a stool with a mason jar and nothing else before him. Silently, Gibbs offers him a drink but he shakes his head. "Not good for the jetlag, boss," he says, sitting on the other stool.

"You're back."

"It's been quite the couple of months," Tony remarks wryly.

Gibbs snorts.

"I had a text from Ziva when I landed. Said she talked to you," Tony prompts.

Gibbs takes a sip of his bourbon.

"When I got back from Berlin, you asked me if there was anything I hadn't told you," Tony starts. Gibbs looks at him, his eyes steely and blue and sad. "She wants to make you proud, boss."

"Blaming me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asks.

Tony smiles. "No. I'm," he pauses. "I'm thanking you."

Gibbs raises his eyebrows at the younger agent. "For what?"

"She needs this boss."

Gibbs is quiet until finally, "She said you were supportive."

Now it's Tony's turn to shrug, "I did ask her to come home with me."

"From what she said, you had a good good-bye."

Tony puts his hands into his jacket pocket and he feels the necklace against his fingertips. "I think so." Tony straightens his back, "I hope you know that I had to find her. There wasn't much of a choice." Gibbs' stare remaines unwavering. "You told me not to be like you," Tony continues steadily. "I couldn't just let her go without making sure that she would be okay. We both knew she wasn't."

"And you think she is now?"

Tony thinks about it for a moment. "I think she is on the right track."

"Gonna leave her alone now?"

Tony shrugs. "I'm going to wait."

"Until?"

"Until she's ready." Gibbs looks down at his drink and Tony stands up. "I understand that she has to do this alone, but at long as she knows that she's not in it alone," Tony shrugs. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He's halfway up the stairs when Gibb's voice breaks the silence again. "I'm proud of you, Anthony."

Tony looks back to smile at his boss, gave him a nod, and continues his way out the door.


He clicks the call button, not really expecting it to connect. Why would it when the rest of the day has been such a disappointment?

She appears in dim lights, curly haired and dark eyed.

"Hello," she greets him, voice heavy and tired.

"Hi." His lips curve up around the word. "Long day?"

"You could say that," she sighs. "But you do not look much better than I feel."

Tony chuckled, "Touché." He sips his beer. She sips her tea. He vaguely hears the sound of sirens behind her. "Where are you?" he asks around a yawn.

"A place that I will be happy to leave."

"Ziva-"

She shakes her head slightly. "It's not important and I would rather not dwell on it. I am just very glad to see your face," she says, although her eyes drift almost shyly to look away from the camera lens.

They settle into silence, sipping their drinks, studying each other. He wishes he could reach through the screen and touch her, hold her hand and tell her that she'll get through this.

When he is deteriorating into yawns and the sun is becoming bright behind her, she suggests that he goes to bed. He nods agreeably on a yawn. "Goodnight, Tony."

"Good morning, ninja."

Click.


"I do not know what else to do, Gibbs" she tells him. He says nothing. "I think, I think it is time to do something else. No more of searching through the past. But, I do not think that I am ready to move forward, yet."

"What are you thinking, Ziver?"

"Travel for," she contemplates for what exactly. Not a mission. Not a trip through the past. "Fun?" she tries. "Go where the wind takes me, perhaps?"

"Then go."


"I think I'm going to stay in South America for a while. Monique has been gracious enough to let me stay with her for the past week or so, but I think it's time to move on."

"Tell her I say hello – if she still remembers me."

Ziva's laughter is soft in his ear. "You made quite the impression, as always, Tony."

"Speaking of impressions, I found a new place to hide all of McGee's pens and paper clips," Tony tells her conversationally.

"You moved them?" She sounds almost indignant at the suggestion and he wishes that he could see her face.

"The desk drawer that you had claimed was stuck isn't quite as convenient anymore," he tells her lightly before realizing how the words landed. He fights the downturn. "You should have seen McGee's face when he realized that it glided open without a problem."

There is a heavy pause and Tony worries that he's unintentionally rocked her emotional-healing boat. "You moved them before he realized that it was never broken, I hope."

His face splits open to a grin. "Give me some credit, Sweetcheeks."

"Well, where are they now?" she presses impatiently.

"Um," Tony glances around in the stairwell. "This isn't a secure line, Ziva. You never know what the techies in the basement will do for McGee. Besides, I think he's on to me."

"Just tell me."

"I'll do you one better. You keep thinking about it and one of these days you can use your ninja sense to sniff it out."

His words are met with silence and then, a slow exhale. "Tony," she starts and all the levity that Tony had been feeling quickly falls away, crashing hard into the ground and tumbling down the stairs. "I do not know when I will feel comfortable visiting the Navy Yard."

He nods, though she can't see him. "I know. You have all the time in the world. It's not going anywhere."

One beat. Two, three.

"I should let you get back to work. I don't want to upset Gibbs," Ziva presses out.

"Y-yeah, I should get back there."

"Say hello to Abby for me?"

"Of course."

"Ducky, too? And Jimmy, of course."

"I'll even say hi to Ernie," Tony promises, although the security guard has finally stopped asking Tony where his girlfriend had disappeared to.

And she's gone.

He feels a strange murmur in his chest. He barely makes it back to the bullpen before his phone vibrates again in his pocket.

Janitor's closet by the back stairs.

His smile returns, bigger and brighter than before, as he responds. Lucky guess.


"Where to next, Carmen Sandiego?"

There's a long pause as she tries and fails to place the reference. For the last half hour she has excitedly described hiking the four-day long Inca Trail to Machu Picchu in Peru. "I haven't decided yet. Chile, perhaps. Maybe the Amazon first. I haven't made up my mind about Argentina yet."

"Don't cry for me, Argentina," Tony recites.

"Evita, I know," she tells him lightheartedly.

"Then I'm sure you'll also know that Buenos Aires is known as the Paris of South America."

"Yes, I have been." There is a lengthy, heavy pause between them before the corner of her mouth turns upwards. "Perhaps you should go there with me sometime."

"Maybe sometime I will."

In the background, she hears Gibbs bark "DiNozzo!" from the direction of the elevator. She watches his profile as he turns to look at his boss – "Just finishing up a conversation with Ziva, boss."

Ziva startles as Gibbs abruptly appears in the frame without warning. "Hello Gibbs," she greets. Her hair is curly and loose around her shoulders, her face open and warm. She can imagine the comforting scent of sawdust and coffee.

"You look good, Ziver."

"You look tired," she tells him, concern tinting her features.

"I need DiNozzo," he tells her pointedly.

"Don't we all," she smirks. From off camera, she hears Tony choke on a laugh. "Take care of yourself, Gibbs."

"You, too, kid." And with that, he's gone and Tony's grinning face is back in the frame.

"Well, you heard the man, Sweetcheeks. Back to work."

"I will talk to you soon, yes?"

"Yes," he tells her soberly. "Watch your six."

"You as well," she murmurs before ending the video.


"Turns out it was a good thing that I had to replace those windows – bullet holes aside. The new ones are better insulated," Tony says, his phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he shuffles through his refrigerator.

"Being sure to look after your utility bill, Tony?"

"Well, you can't be the only one making sure to look after the environment and Gibbs vetoed the idea of planting trees in the bullpen," he joked.

"So what's next? You're going to start building homes for people?"

"Nah, I'll leave that to you and Techo," Tony laughs. "You seemed to enjoy it."

Ziva considers it. "Yes, the people were friendly and it was nice to do something good. Something permanent."

"And, how's the beach now? I'd say you earned it." Tony glances over to the pictures she had sent him of the building sites through the Techo program in Chile and the tree-planting program in Peru. All of the ones she appeared in showed her with a smile on her face and a light in her eyes that had been gone for too long.

"It's very restful," she told him. In the background, he could faintly hear the sound of birds and waves and wind. "My tan is evening out nicely."

"And when should I expect those pictures?" he teases. "You know, something to show Ernie."

"Shut up, DiNozzo," she says, but she's laughing all the same.

"If you want to better the world, that's a very easy way to brighten mine," he continues. He can practically hear her eye roll over the line.

"When I was in Chile, the hostel I stayed at only had single beds," she says thoughtfully, suddenly sobering.

"Yeah?" he prompts.

"Yes. And, I was thinking that the last single bed I had slept in was yours."

"Zi," he starts, but she cuts him off.

"Maybe you should get a bigger bed, Tony. You might sleep better."

He resists the urge to say that he's sleeping just fine, but he's been waking up every few hours since his return from Israel. "I don't see the need," he tells her, his voice low.

"It might be a good step forward," she continues.

"Ziva. It's me. Just me here."

"But it won't just be you forever," she tells him.

"Please say that you mean you, Ziva."

He hears her inhale and then very slowly exhale. Suddenly, missing her hits him hard, square in the chest. He almost loses his breath at the feeling.

"Not quite yet, Tony," she murmurs in a watery voice. "But soon."


[Ziva:] Are you there?

[Tony:] Yep. Been a quiet few days. Everything okay?

[Ziva:] Yes. The internet is spotty here.

[Tony:] That's funny. I remember it being more linear.

[Ziva:] It's late. You should go to bed.

[Tony:] Is that your way of telling me you don't think I'm funny?

[Ziva:] You are a silly man, Tony.

[Ziva:] Goodnight. xo


"Do you have wine, mon petit pois?" Ziva asks him the moment her face appears in the video.

"Yes," he replies slowly. "Why?"

"Go get some."

"You seem happy," he smiles broadly at her. She matches his brightness in her own.

"Go get wine! I don't want to drink alone."

Tony laughs. "Okay, hold on, ninja. Back in a moment." He shuffles through his supply. "There," he says when he finally returns, presenting his own full glass of red wine. "Happy?"

"I went to see the, um, the houses covered with grass. The turf covered homes today." Ziva tells him. "Some of them looked like the homes from Lord of the Rings – like the homes of the little people with the hairy feet!"

"The hobbits?" Tony chuckles.

"That's it!" Ziva exclaims. She is so animated as she continues to describe her Icelandic adventures and so lighthearted that Tony finds himself smiling stupidly at her.

After two glasses of wine each and an hour of vibrant story-telling, Ziva asks how Tony is.

Tony shrugs. "I've at least managed to keep myself clean-shaven."

"I didn't mind it so much," Ziva confesses and when he gawks at the suggestions, she amends, "Okay, maybe not the full beard. But a little roughness has always suited you."

"Noted," he tells her seriously.

"I do miss you, Tony," she tells him soberly.

"You have no idea," he says on an exhale.

"I have been thinking about my next move forward," she says. Tony mentally guesses the United Kingdom. In the eight months that she's been out of the United States, she hasn't been there yet. And she always did like the accents.

"And? Where to, Sweetcheeks?"

"Well, I was thinking that," she pauses. Swallows. "Perhaps it is my turn to travel across the world for you, Tony."

His face splits into a wide grin, his eyes grow wet, and she doesn't try to guard her own emotion. "Are you sure?"

"Count to a million. On my way."