Disclaimer: I mean no profits with this story. The show and its characters belong to their owners.
Rays of light tresspass the clouds in a lazy way while Tony takes outworn breaths, distracting himself with the urban architecture he already knows by heart.
Staring out the window, he spots two young people clumsy making out by his apartment complex.
And he can't help but smile in a bittersweet way, remembering his last kiss; remembering how he didn't want to let Ziva go.
One more day without her… He thinks he just might lose his mind sooner or later.
Crazy scenarios run through his mind and Tony finds no strenght to fight them… He wonders if there's a couple making love in Paris right this instant. Or making up in Berlin. Arguing for some stupid reason in Bogota. Sharing a cup of coffee in Rome.
He wonders if the love of his life is waking up in a stranger's bed right now.
It hurts and his eyes start to burn with the irrational though of it.
But he wonders… he wonders if she misses him half the way he does her.
(All the time.)
It's Sunday and he should have been asleep hours ago. But he couldn't; he just can't. He's restless; completely empty without her. Whenever he closes his eyes, she's all he sees. And eventually when his body does give in, he dreams of her disappearing right before his face and wakes up feeling even worse.
It doesn't seem right to see someone else sitting by her desk or to keep her necklace into his top drawer. It feels wrong in every single way to have lunch without the sound of her voice coloring the world around him or the sight of her slim yet strong fingers stealing some fries from his plate.
Reaching in his pocket, Tony catches his phone with a trembling hand. He touches the screen and easily finds the contact that he's looking for. Her picture comes up and his heart skips a beat — the smile, the pair of irresistible brown eyes, the sweet curly hair. Is she already asleep? Will she pick up and complain in that raspy voice he's come to love so much? Will she simply ignore his call?
Before he can make a sane resolution, Tony hears someone unlock his door. His bones freeze for a second, before his instincts take over. He moves carefully toward the side table, reaching for his gun with his unoccupied hand.
The air leaves his lungs in a hurry. His heart starts beating faster with the sight of her, holding his front door open and a spare key.
Wearing a mysterious smile —so hers—, Ziva nods toward the hand that's holding his cellphone and boldly asks, "Having phone sex?"
Tony feels every cell in his body finally come to life and takes three forthright steps before closing the door with full force.
Ziva's arms go around his neck as she balances herself onto the tip of her toes, molding her body to his. Tony hides his face in the space between her face and shoulder, breathing out a sigh of relief and tightening his arms around her waist. He pushes her against the wodden door, finding himself in need of an extra support.
"Tony", she whispers against his cheekbone —as if she's been missing him terribly as well—, running the tip of her fingernails against his scalp.
"Ziva", he holds her impossibly closer.
The sun comes out with an incredible vitality now. Its rays go right through his living room, making it three times more colorful and alive.
There are no questions as to what she's doing here, why the surprise visit or how often he can expect such thing.
They hold each other with intimacy and self-possession and for the very first time in a week Tony feels like, yeah, it's a beautiful day.
