So I wrote this out before we found out Ziva's reasons for staying were to "find herself" or whatever. This is following the idea that she stayed because someone was after her or something like that. This is the part two of two, so no, there won't be anything after this. Thanks for reading!

Eighteen Months Later

"DiNozzo."

"DiNozzo?"

"DiNozzo!"

Tony jumps, snapping out of his silent trance to see an angry Gibbs glaring at him. "S-Sorry, Gibbs," he stammers, looking away from the intensity of the stare boring into him.

Gibbs narrows his eyes. "What is it, Tony?"

The use of his first name lets Tony know that Gibbs is serious, and so he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I miss Ziva," he says honestly, feeling his heart break even more as he says the words. He lets his eyes travel to the small picture of her he keeps on his desk, from the previous Christmas. It's a picture of both of them, actually. There had been alcohol involved and they were both making goofy faces. Tony's was goofier, of course, but Ziva's had her tongue poked out, her eyes bright and her smile wide. She looked beautiful.

He doesn't look up to see the expression Gibbs will have on his face because while he isn't sure what the expression will be, he is sure that it probably won't help matters much.

"Have you talked to her?" Gibbs asks, and Tony can almost hear the judgement in his tone.

"I tried a couple times after I got back. She never responded." Tony stares intently at the Israeli flag from Ziva's desk that he'd put beside his own American one the second he'd got back from Israel. "I guess she didn't want to come home."

"You don't know that," Gibbs tells him softly. "Go get some lunch, DiNozzo. We'll still be here when you get back."

Tony nods and gets up, heading down the elevator and outside to the yard. He looks around for a moment before deciding that he isn't all that hungry and sitting down on a bench. He lets out a heavy sigh, putting his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his knees.

He hates missing her likes this.

That night, half way through his first beer, there's a single knock on his door followed by a tap, as if the person was going to knock again but faltered half way through the motion. He answers the door, planning to make a demeaning remark to whoever could be bothering him, but he stops short when he sees who it is.

"Ziva." Her name falls from his lips and he swallows hard, taking in her appearance. The first thing he sees is how scared she looks. The second is the carrier she's holding in her right hand.

A carrier with a baby inside it.

He looks back up at her and then back to the infant, trying to judge how old she may be and then doing the math in his head. His entire body freezes as his gaze travels back and forth, and the first thing she says is "I am sorry".

"Sorry?" The question shoots out of his mouth incredulously. "Ziva, is she..." He can't even find it in him to finish the sentence, but she closes her eyes and nods once. "You... I... She's..."

He moves backwards to sit down on the chair a few feet behind him, no longer trusting his legs to hold him up. Ziva takes a few hesitant steps into his apartment and shuts the door behind her, setting the carrier down gently.

"Before you left, when we..." She stops, shrugging and looking down at her feet.

His brain finally catches up and he interrupts her, his voice short and sharp. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She opens her mouth twice before finally uttering, "I was scared, Tony. I did not know what to do."

"But you didn't think letting me know that you were pregnant with my child was important?" he questions, his heart rate picking up significant speed. His voice has picked up an edge he didn't know he was capable of toward her.

"I was still hiding at the time, and by the time I found out that everything had been settled..." She swallows hard. "By then, it had been some time, and I did not want to burden you. I handled it."

"But she's my child, Ziva! You had no right to keep that from me!" He's definitely angry now, the realization of what she did setting in.

"I know!" She retorts, and it's then that he sees the tears in her eyes. One slips down her cheek and he resists the almost automatic urge to wipe it away. "Okay? I know. And nothing you can say will... make me feel any worse than I already do."

A cry comes from the carrier, and Ziva's attention is automatically transferred to the crying baby. "Shh, Rosabella." She picks up the baby, holding her close to her body and shushing her. "Bella, sweetie, it is okay."

Tony feels his heart tug. "Rosabella is Italian. That was my grandmother's name."

Ziva looks up, eyes softer. "I know, you told me once."

His heart tugs, and some of his anger dissipates as he stares at the infant in Ziva's arms, watching in amazement as her cries soften and then stop altogether. He takes a breath, trying to think through the confusion still lingering in his mind. "Okay, so you were scared. You didn't know what to do. You were hiding out from people who wanted to kill you. Did you ever consider-"

"No."

Her answer is so sharp that he's taken back, but part of him is relieved at her answer. One glance at her face is all it takes to know that the thought truly never crossed her mind. "You wanted her," he states, watching as Ziva looks down at Rosabella before nodding.

"She is half of you, too. I could not have done that even if I had wanted to." Ziva shrugs lightly, as if this explanation is enough.

Tony swallows past the knot forming in his throat. "C-can I hold her?"

Ziva smiles at him, nodding before carefully placing Rosabella in his arms. She opens her eyes slightly, looking up at him with a curious gaze. Tears prick his eyes as he looks at her. "She's beautiful," he says, awed.

"She has your eyes," Ziva comments, and when he looks up at her, all he sees is love and admiration.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell me," he starts, and Ziva's expression dims just the slightest. "But you're telling me now, and you're here?" She nods, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "And I guess I could understand you being scared. I... I just don't know how I'm supposed to act right now."

She gives him a sad smile. "Me either. I am sorry, though, Tony. I was... looking out my window a few days ago and I saw a couple with a baby of their own. I realized then that I had made a terrible mistake. I know that I should have told you, even under the circumstances, and I am sorry that I did not do so. If you are willing to give me your forgiveness, I hope I can make it up to you."

And as much as he wants to be angry at her for keeping this from him, all it takes is staring down into his daughter's face to remove any ounce of anger he had. He looks back up at Ziva, whose expression is guarded, and then he gives her a small smile. "Maybe we can work something out."

A smile of relief pulls up the corners of her mouth and her entire body relaxes. He thinks he sees a tear slip down her cheek, but he isn't sure.

His attention is focused all on the little girl safely tucked in his arms.

It isn't easy, but Ziva assures him that she's come back to stay, driven by the guilt of not letting him get to see his daughter be born. It doesn't take long for Rosabella to become a fool about her father, but it takes an even shorter amount of time for Tony to become completely wrapped around the infant's finger.

The first night, Tony offers to let Ziva stay with him, and she knows better than to object. So, for the time being, she sleeps in a bed that smells like him and he sleeps on the couch in his living room.

Any talking they should get done gets put on hold, and it's a week later before Ziva finally gets the nerves to approach him. She wakes up a little later than usual on a Saturday and heads into the living room, planning to find Tony sleeping on the couch. Instead, she finds him awake in the nursery, feeding a very happy looking Rosabella.

He smiles at her, and the situation suddenly feels much too domestic. She freezes where she stands in the doorway, her heart beating just a little faster. "Did you... did you make it like I showed you?"

"Exactly, promise," he says, watching as the last remnants of milk disappear from the bottle. "Okay, up you go." He gently transfers her to his shoulder and starts patting her on the back. Tears suddenly sting Ziva's eyes and she blinks them away, her stomach churning just the slightest.

She hates herself for making the mistake of not coming back sooner.

Tony seems to sense her distress and fixes her with a gaze that feels as if it bores into her innermost thoughts. "What's up, Ziva?"

"You are... so good with her," she says, her voice falters slightly, and Tony's features shift, his eyes softening. Anything she wants to tell him gets stuck somewhere between her brain and her lips, so she just stares at him helplessly, her heart tugging to the point that it's nearly painful.

He seems just as lost for words as he carefully lowers Rosabella into her crib, flipping a small switch on her mobile to make it begin slowly spinning. Once he sees that Rosabella is effectively distracted by the moving object, he looks at Ziva. Her breath catches in her throat as his eyes study her, and they stare at each other for what seems to be the longest time. He's only a few feet in front of her, but they're both frozen, the air heavy.

"What are we doing?" she finally says, and the question sounds strange to her.

He shrugs, looking down at Rosabella, who is watching her mobile spin with wide eyes. "What do you want to do?"

Guilt floods her, because he shouldn't be asking her. Not after what she'd done. "I... I want you here, with... her. With... with me."

His eyes meet hers, and he takes a few steps forward, reaching out and picking up her hand. He turns it over in his own, taking a moment to appreciate how it feels. "I like that idea."

She can't help but smile a little. "Me, too."

When he kisses her, it's gentle and much too brief, but it holds promise.

Promise that they'll figure out whatever they need to. Promise that neither of them is going to walk away. Promise that even though life had thrown them for a loop and made things hard for them, they were going to make it through.

Because he loved her. Because she loved him. Because a love like theirs is anything but temporary. A love like theirs survives no matter what trials may arise or what troubles may try to interfere. A love like theirs is forever.