This one has been simmering for awhile...it keeps me sane to think of ways to wrap her into canon storylines. This takes place in May-ish/end of Season 11.

Disclaimer: Still not mine, but I did quite enjoy playing with them again for a little while.


"Okay, this is getting ridiculous!"

Tony slammed his finger on the backspace key, watching as the cursor erased nearly an hour's worth of wasted effort. As the letters disappeared, he reached with his other hand for the beer and drained it. After a few seconds, there was nothing but a blank page staring up at him from his laptop screen.

He pushed off the couch in disgust. "This is all your fault," he snapped, glaring at the picture of his father on the bookcase. Tony had been really trying, had found a font of patience he hadn't known existed within him as he helped Senior plan the wedding. He had already become an unwilling expert on buntings and flowers and (thanks to McGee) those fancy place settings that required at least three more forks than he knew what to do with. But his father had shattered Tony's last nerve earlier that evening with his latest announcement.

=.=.=.=

He had been just leaving the office for the day - on time and in good spirits for once - when his phone rang. He sighed and answered, not even bothering with a greeting.

"Dad, I'm not talking to Linda about the music selection again. That's your headache."

His dad chuckled. "Nah, I've given up on that battle. No, listen about the guest list…"

Tony grimaced; regardless of the couple's repeated ruminations about wanting an 'intimate' service, the guest list was already hovering around one hundred and fifty. "The invitations already went out last week."

"I know but we had a few extra here, and I just wanted you to know…" his father's pause was uncharacteristically long and Tony rested his hand on the roof of his car as he braced for impact. "I've... I'm inviting Ziva."

Tony froze, the perpetual Ziva-knot in his stomach tightening. "Dad, you can't…"

"Junior, I know things are complicated…"

"No," Tony interrupted. "I mean, yes, they are. But I mean you literally can't. I don't think she checks her email anymore, and I don't know her new mailing address."

Tony could almost hear his father's dismissive wave through the phone. "Oh, that's no problem. I've already sent the invitation to my buddy Schmiel and he's promised to hand-deliver it to her."

Tony groaned, resting his forehead against the cool metal of the car's roof as the knot constricted tighter still.

His father's voice grew more serious. "Listen kid, she's important to the both of us. Regardless of how you two left things, I love her like a daughter, and I at least want her to know I've found happiness," he paused for a moment and then added hopefully, "Unless you've already told her?"

Tony didn't have to try to remember the last email he had sent. It was on the anniversary of her father's death to say he was thinking about her. He had not heard back.

"No," he whispered.

"Oh. Well, then that's settled. Keep an eye out for her RSVP, okay kid? Linda and I send our love, gotta run!"

The line beeped and went dead and Tony could only fall wearily into his car, resting his head on the steering wheel. Regardless of how far he and Senior had come in the past few years, there were still moments when he hated the man.

=.=.=.=

The second beer was half-gone in one swig, but it did nothing to spark sudden clarity or eloquence. He had known from the second he left the parking lot that he needed to give her a head's up. Needed to ensure that she wasn't blindsided by the invitation.

Almost a year later and he still couldn't help but have her back.

"It's simple, DiNozzo," he said aloud, trying to refocus on the stupidly difficult task at hand. "Just keep it simple...Couple of sentences…"

He flexed his fingers, letting them hover over the keys as he took a deep breath.

Dear Ziva,

He grimaced and backspaced, muttering, "Too formal."

Hello Ziva,

"Hello Clarice," he quipped and shuddered, erasing it as well.

Hey Ziva,

He paused to stare at that for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod and rewarded himself with another swig.

I hope you are well. It's still freezing here; it was an unusually cold and rainy spring and of course all the dead bodies have been outside lately.

His fingers hovered for a moment as he considered the macabre opening, but then just shrugged and pushed forward.

Abby is at a conference about DNA. Or is it fingerprinting? Blood? Something like that. Breena is pregnant and Abby got Palmer this daily calendar with pregnancy facts about the development of the baby. It's the size of a gummy bear I think; I haven't really been listening all that well. Gibbs is Gibbs. Delilah is over near you now. McGlum misses her and won't stop sulking, but the assignment is only for sixteen months and then she'll be home.

Unlike you...

He allowed those two satisfyingly painful words to remain on the screen for a few moments before erasing them.

So, listen. Dad is getting married. Again. I know, big surprise right? But this time is different. First off, for the first time in several decades, he has chosen a woman who is older than me. And considering that (despite my best efforts to stop the process) I myself am significantly older than the last time he walked down the aisle, well that is impressive.

The lucky woman is actually my godmother, Linda. Did I ever mention her to you? She was my mother's best friend. And yeah, I already accused him of screwing around with her back in the day, and he got all high and mighty and denied it. And yeah, I believe him, despite all the other screwing around he did. But it still kinda feels like a betrayal to mom. I know it shouldn't, but I can't help how I feel. Don't worry, I'm not letting it show and am being a good son and even helping with the wedding plans. Every time he annoys me, I can hear your voice reminding me that he's the only father I've got...

He paused, one corner of his mind wondering if it would stir bad memories for her, wondering again how she had handled the anniversary of Eli's death. But the larger portion of his brain was focused on her voice now echoing in his head, debating if it was still an accurate representation of the real thing. He let it play through his mind so often, he thought it must be.

Anyway, he's recruited Schmiel to give you an invite. I tried to talk him out of it, but you know how he is. He is really happy, Ziva. More happy and content than I've seen him since mom died. Seems silly to go almost an entire lifetime waiting to get that back. But all he seems to care about is that he got there in the end.

He swallowed hard, leaning forward into his laptop. He didn't try to stop the words any longer.

And it made me think, Ziva. I can't wait an entire lifetime. I can't believe how much time we've already wasted. All those missed opportunities. If I would have just said something, made a move any one of the thousands of times we teetered on the edge. Who knows, maybe we would have imploded each other's lives by now, but maybe...just maybe...you'd be sitting here beside me helping me plan my father's wedding.

There'll never be anyone else, Ziva. There is no moving on, no forgetting you, no getting past you.

Tried, couldn't. Remember?

I too will wait a lifetime if I have to. But I hope to God that you won't make me. Please, come to the wedding. Come back to me. I miss you. I need you.

Love,

Tony

He slumped back against the sofa, a hand scrubbing across his stubbled face. He stared at the words on the screen, the proof of all the feelings and pain he thought he had been suppressing so well. "Guess not," he mumbled, sighing as he forced himself upright once more. The cursor hovered around the SEND button, his finger tracing ever so lightly across the trackpad. He increased the pressure, wondering idly how sensitive the keypad sensor was, how close it was to sending at this very moment.

"Enough," he sighed after several long moments, moving the cursor and himself safely away from the edge of the abyss. "That's enough now."

He highlighted the entire body of the email and hit delete. Clenching his jaw and flexing his fingers, he began typing, his fingers pounding slowly but methodically on the keys. He was done in less than sixty seconds.

Hey Ziva,

I hope you are well. I wanted you to know that dad is getting married and he gave Schmiel an invitation to pass along to you. Don't worry about responding; I know you're not able to come. He just wanted to let you know he was thinking of you.

Take care of yourself,

Tony

This time, he didn't hesitate in clicking the Send button, and then watched as the words dissolved away. Somewhere, on the other side of the world, her computer would be pinging. Would she hear it right away? Would she bother to look? Or would it follow its predecessors into a deserted account, leaving no trace that she even existed anymore outside of the voices in his head?


This might have another chapter or two...the muses are still wallowing a bit longer, so I shall keep it marked opened for now. I hope you enjoyed it!