A/N: I'm not so sure about this one, forgive me if it is a little out of character. I'm the only one who has read this, and any and all errors are mine. This is my attempt to add a little bit of closure for Ziva and Tony at the end of Season 7 - I was actually so happy to see that they were including Ziva's citizenship ceremony that I was going for forgive the fact that Gibbs would obviously not make it, however I was not prepared for Tony to be sent to Mexico… I should have known better. Apologies for the rant, I hope you enjoy it the piece!
"So help me God."
And there it was. She was a naturalized American citizen, but the moment was bittersweet. She was no longer the Israeli fighter, she no longer pursued the interests of Mossad or Eli, and she was no longer probationary. She was a permanent NCIS agent. And that alone should have made her smile.
But there were two empty chairs at her side, a gaping chasm between her left shoulder and Director Vance.
Before she could form a smile, or even a breath, Abby's arms were around her, unintentionally threatening to collapse a lung. "Congratulations, Ziva!"
"Thank you, Abby." Ziva sucked in a breath and placed a smile on her face. She hugged Jimmy and McGee, and accepted the Director's congratulations with a handshake.
And there she was.
Alone.
She woke up to the feeling of weight shifting on her bed, and soon she felt the familiar texture of rough stubble against her neck, like those rare Saturdays when he didn't bother to shave, or those mornings when he was feeling a little frisky and very brave. She wondered if this was just a very vivid dream.
The feeling of his lips connecting to her skin, and again pressing gently against her jaw, told her that this was very much not a dream. Her hand found its way into his hair, running gently through the short locks.
"I'm sorry I'm late," he murmured quietly, his voice low, his breath hot against her skin.
Her hand moved down to his cheek, gently guiding his face to hers. It was clear he hadn't shaved in at least a couple of days, and if the marks under his eyes were any indication, he hadn't been sleeping well.
"When we returned to the building for the briefing, the Director told us that you were on a mission," she brushed her thumb over his cheek. "You're back, sooner than I expected."
"It's been a week, Ziva," he chuckled.
"I did not know where you went," she pressed a kiss to his chin. "When did you get back?" She asked, though she had a sneaky suspicion that she already knew.
"Just landed and took a cab here."
"Did you pick the lock?"
"You gave me a key," he reminded with a smirk.
"That key is for emergencies, DiNozzo," she growled, narrowing her eyes and pinching his side gently, causing him to yelp – so maybe it was only gentle by her standards.
"I've been messing up lately," he sighed, dropping his forehead to her shoulder.
"Tony, I am not actually upset-"
"I've been a screw up lately, and we both know it."
"Don't apologize, we can move on."
"We," he flashed her the DiNozzo grin, "There's hope."
"Anything is possible in this country, yes?"
"Yes," he kissed her.
"How was the ceremony?"
"It was nice… very, final."
"Final?" He asked, incredulous. "It's a new beginning."
"It was strange, in a good way. But I do wish you had been there, or at least Gibbs-"
"Gibbs wasn't there?"
"No."
"Where was he?" Tony asked, propping himself up on his elbow, concern evident on his face.
"I don't know and I do not intend to ask."
"I'm sorry I wasn't there."
"I cannot and will not fault you for doing your job."
"I promised you that I would be there and I missed it."
"I know," she nodded her head.
"I'm tired of letting you down, Ziva." And his eyes meet hers, and flashes of the past years together pass between them, most recently Dana Hutton.
"I know," she repeated, and pressed a kiss to his lips. "But you are here now, at…" she strained to see around him to the digital clock on her bedside table. "Three in the morning," she laughed, the sound soft and low. "You're lucky that I was so tired, otherwise you might have had a gun to head for this surprise."
"I thought about that," he admitted.
"And?"
"Totally worth it," he grinned and kissed her forehead. "I am sorry, Ziva."
She sighed before fusing their lips together, her body awoken as she pressed closer against his.
"Congratulations, Ms. America."
"If you forget that nickname, we can call it even, yes?"
"Deal."
And there she was. An American woman, in her home, with an American man in her bed with no intention or need of conversation for the next hour.
"Ziva," he pulled away, his breath ragged.
"Tony," she narrowed her eyes at the further interruption.
"I love you," he promised.
And for the first time in the week since she had become an American, she really smiled, and that smile became a laugh.
"What are you laughing at, ninja?," he nuzzled her shoulder against, dropping another kiss on her skin.
She responded with another kiss and for the first time, she understood that line in The Declaration of Independence. "To the pursuit of happiness," she murmured against his lips.
"To the pursuit of happiness," he echoed.
And there she was. Happy.