A/N: Okay, so I've finished all my exams, and have some extra time before going on holiday. This was just a little fic begging to be written (because I'm sure I'm not the only one who had to make up a scene where Tony and Ziva are re-united after his return from Mexico). So it picks up a couple of days from where the Season 7 finale left off. Hope you're all having a wonderful summer!

It'll be a quick fic, no more than two or three chapters at most :)

Enjoy! Please tell me your thoughts on it.

He'd left her a voicemail, you know.

To tell her that he couldn't come to her citizenship ceremony.

It was the least he could've done.

The most would have been to not miss it, obviously.

He's surprised that there are so few people in the airport; during the summer months it's usually brimming with tourists and families finally getting away from the bustle and stress of everyday life and jetting off to L.A or Spain or some other predetermined destination. He, on the other hand, lets out a contented sigh as he exits the terminal hails a cab. Home is where the heart is. And his heart – and mind – had definitely not been in Mexico.

When he had informed the director of his encounter with Mike Franks, his superior had instructed him to return to DC immediately – Franks' involvement called for more secure measures to be put into place whilst shadowing Riviera. Truthfully, a small part of him still felt insulted at the insinuation that he wasn't capable of handling the assignment with the new developments, but he hadn't been about to complain at the fact that he was able to go home.

As the taxi pulls away, he runs a hand through his hair – back and forth, back and forth – attempting to rub out the headache that seems to have clamped itself around his scalp during the flight. He catches a glimpse of himself in the rear view mirror. Non-smiling green eyes glare back at him, matching a mouth that's twisted determinedly downwards, and for a moment he doesn't recognise himself – since when did he look so tortured and pained?

Oh, wait. He'd seen that look on his face before.

It was the 'Ziva-is-probably suffering-because-of-me' look.

Well, hell.

He grunts in frustration and the taxi driver shifts forward slightly in his seat. Only then does he realise that what seemed like a small noise at the back of his throat may have actually been a fully-fledged growl. And between that and the fact that he looks like – well, crap– he couldn't blame the guy from feeling uncomfortable.

The leather head rest is soft, and he rests the back of his head against it, the headache easing slightly as his neck tilts backwards.

How had it gone?

What had she been wearing?

She'd probably looked radiant.

Huh.

A lump begins to form and throb in his throat, and as frustrating as it is – 'cause it's been forever since he's felt so upset - it's only natural, 'cause he's screwed this up so bad.

'I trusted my brother.'

'I trusted Michael.'

'I could not afford to trust you.'

'You have always had my back.'

He'd failed her. She'd invested in him, and he'd let her down.

He'd broken a promise.

She'd been right, after all. She couldn't afford to trust him.

Just how many times had he let her down, exactly? He tries not to think Jenny, or of Somalia and Rivkin, or of 'I'm tired of pretending'.

There. That's the reason he feels so damn disgusted of himself, really. And he just can't afford to lose more precious time with this woman- too much had already been lost, so he taps the driver on the shoulder and gives him Ziva's address.

After all, missed moments exist only to be made up for.

Reviews are very much appreciated; I would love to know any opinions you have. Also feel free to tell me your thoughts on the finale! :)