A/N: Hello all! So today roughly marks the 7th anniversary of the day Tony and Ziva first met. :D Apparently, once I learned that, my inner muse felt that Tony had something to say about this occasion. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't any rights to NCIS or it's characters. Or to the Sound of Music Sad but true.

Seven years. The number echoes inside his mind as he sits in the quiet hospital waiting room. The soft muttering of voices and nurses moving about the area give the space a tired lull, a lull that had already forced his partner to succumb to exhaustion. He glances at her now, head titled back against the wall, eyes closed against the world, fatigue etched across her delicate features. She hadn't been sleeping much, but then again, neither had he, not since the world had dropped out last week in a cloud of fire and smoke. Sleeping didn't exactly come easy when a madman was still on the loose and Gibbs was on a rampage, or when the smell of burnt flesh and sensation of gut wrenching shockwaves ripped through him every time he closed his eyes.

Seven years, his mind mulls over the words. Almost a decade since the day she had charged full force into his life, wild brown-black curls, a fiery expression in her eyes, and a retort quick on her lips. Then, he wouldn't have believed that she would be more than a blimp in his life; now, he couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like if she wasn't a constant presence, didn't ever want to consider it.

Having phone sex?

In hindsight, he should have known that he would fall hard for her. With only three words, she had managed to intrigue him, made him want to know more. She had challenged him; she didn't fall for any of his usual cheap flirts, only pushed back with quips of her own, and it had made part of him feel alive in the midst of too much death. By the time she had left him standing in the rain less than a day later, she was already ingrained in him; her sparkling brown eyes, lithe form, and husky voice invading his thoughts and even his dreams more than he cared to admit; his pulse racing just a little too fast when he saw her again that fall.

I'm not going without you.

Her words won't stop ringing in his mind, a haunting overture to the scene that he keeps replaying over and over. Her body colliding with his, the sudden tilt of gravity sending them to the floor, dust and plaster raining down on their prone figures as they cling to each other. The lights go out, and he tightens his grip around her form, desperately trying to protect her from something neither of them can control, to have her back even against even the universe. Reverberations shake the building, her hand closes around his, and he squeezes his eyes shut and begs with the fates to be kind. Something crashes into his head, the world feels fuzzy, and he manages a final plea before the darkness claims him. To either spare them both or take him as well, because he's already tried to live without her.

Couldn't live without you, I guess.

He drags his eyes across her sleeping form, his gaze focusing on the small scratches across her face, bruised collarbone just barely visible at the edge of her shirt, the stitches at the base of her neck. A shudder runs through him. It could have just as easily gone the other way.

Seven years. They almost didn't make it here. This day could have not ever come.

Her eyes blink open to meet his, and she sends him a tired smile. He returns her grin, forcing the what ifs out of his mind. He couldn't think this way. The nurse arrives to tell them that McGee is ready to be checked out now, and she meets his stare with a silent affirmation. The world has been kind, it spared the members of their quirky makeshift family. They were a little broken, scratched, and more than a little scarred, but they were alive.

Cherish each other.

Seven years. He thinks it's time they started to do that more.

zTz

The idea comes to him while they drive McGee home. Ziva is chatting amiably with the resilient Probie, dutifully filling him in on the latest leads concerning the deranged Harper Dearing. Tim nods along, jumping in with insights periodically, a little pale still, but filled with so much more life than when they'd found him last week, torso looking more made of glass than flesh.

The idea seems silly, he thinks she'll probably find him crazy, but he decides to go through with it anyway. Because who knows when they'll get another night off until Dearing is caught, and he hasn't seen her laugh since the day the bomb went off.

He's still feeling ridiculous and more than a little nervous three hours later as he attempts to juggle two coffees and a cheese pizza as he knocks at her apartment door. She answers, the door swinging open to reveal her questioning stare, hair just beginning to curl after her shower. His pulse pounds erratically, his breathing pauses.

Seven years. She'll never stop being beautiful.

"Tony..." she begins uncertainly, tugging slightly at hem of her tank top.

"Ziva..." he returns sending her a small smile, "May I?"

Slowly, she moves aside and he enters the living room. Shutting the door behind her, he feels her eyes follow him. He turns to meet her gaze, and she tilts her head, fixing him with a curious stare.

"You brought pizza," she states finally, eyeing the contents in his hand incredulously, "...and coffee?"

He gives a small chuckle, now or never, "Well Ziva I figured we needed to start celebrating the good things in life, especially in the midst of all this gloom." He sends her a sideways grin, "Although I gotta admit, your apartment is a much nicer place for a celebration than the doorstep of a hotel in the pouring rain."

Her eyes widen in shock and recognition. It's clear she never expected him to remember.

Seven years. He'll never forget.

With a small smile, she steps forward to take a coffee from his hands.

"Toda," her voice pulls him back and for a moment he can almost hear the rain and the soft roar of traffic.

"Prego," he leans forward, invading her space, mirroring his memory's actions. She holds his gaze, amusement laced with an intense affection, and it makes him want to lean further into her, makes him want to... He drops his gaze, clearing his throat and shaking his head to clear the fog of memory. She makes him dizzy.

"Also," he continues hoarsely, his throat suddenly much drier, "I decided to supplement this trip down memory lane with your favorite," he pulls The Sound of Music out of his pocket.

She laughs. It's a beautiful sound.

Moving fully into the living room, she places the DVD into the player, and they sink onto the couch as the movie illuminates her television screen.

She takes a sip of coffee, humming slightly in appreciation. Turning toward him, she focuses a light smile at him.

"So meeting me was a good thing was it?" her words come out as a tease; however, he catches the flash of uncertainty in her gaze. She is trying to give him an out. But her eyes have never been good at lying, and frankly, he's tired of finding false jokes to hide the truth.

He smiles softly. "Oh yeah," he says honestly, fixing her with an affectionate gaze. "Definitely."

Her eyes shimmer in response, and she drops her gaze, a shy smile gracing her features and just a tinge of red spreading across her cheeks. The back of her hand brushes against his, and he decides to take his chances and moves to wrap his fingers around hers.

Do you ever think about soul mates?

He's starting to finally understand her question. Because as he laces her fingers through his, he feels something inside him shatter and fall into place all at the same time. His heart pounds loudly in his ears. This is as bold as he's ever been with her; yet when she doesn't pull away, merely smiles and runs her thumb across his, settling back against the cushions, he hedges his bets and tugs her closer, drawing her into his side. She slides to him easily, and his chest tightens at how perfectly she seems to fit against him. Leaning forward he drags the pizza box across his lap, using his free hand to pass her a slice. Smiling warmly at him, she takes a bite as the first strains of Julie Andrew's voice begin to fill the room. Curling further into him, she whispers softly,

"Happy anniversary, Tony."

He mentally jumps at the word choice. Funny, he hasn't thought of it like that before. However, it really is the most appropriate word for marking what began all those years ago. He takes a deep breath, allowing his head to rest against the top of hers.

"Happy anniversary, Ziva."

She smiles against his shoulder, he smoothes his thumb across her skin.

I'm tired of pretending.

Seven years. It's time to stop; they're finally ready to fall.

A/N: Thanks for reading! And Happy Anniversary to my favorite partners; hopefully they'll soon be much more than that ;) If you enjoyed I'd love to read your reviews. Review alerts make my day! :)