Disclaimer: Not mine.

Realization came as suddenly as the changing of deciduous trees; the casual observer sees hints of it, before there is an explosion of color. It came as a hazard of his position that he so often crossed paths with the King of Terrors, but never before had the facts become as lucid as they were now. Sure, he had confronted, fought, and even accepted hell's grim tyrant, but those distinguishable circumstances had always been overshadowed by some greater emotion.

The sheer darkness of that which identified her as a member of their agency only emphasized the bleak monsters wreaking havoc in his mind. He corrected her mistake with an inveterate response. She was worried about him, he could see. But he wasn't about to elaborate, not yet. Later, maybe, in a more secluded location.

Her hair was very long, he noticed as she rested. It had been shorter during their brief undercover operation together, if he recalled correctly. It mightn't have been this long either when she was left uncared for in Africa. And then he had to wonder, was her green sweater not making her hair feel rather static-y? His hair never even touched his shirt, and sweaters still made him all frizzy.

The source of these thoughts was from the list on his computer screen. A few of them concerned her; such as number twenty-four (Let friends get closer).

Short sleeves always looked nice on his favorite Israeli. Although, the feel of that soft, smooth, and tan skin on his was not as close to his foremost thoughts now as it was six years ago.

Another thing he observed (and liked) was the exotic accent that was slowly becoming more American. Such as the way she said "Fanniker" and "forest". Don't get him wrong, he did not in any way dislike the soft lilt; it was extremely appealing. Yet, she had slightly regressed in her knowledge of American expressions, like 'wheels turning' and 'bucket list'. But those were just some of the things that they loved about her.

As always, black was a color that looked good on her; it went with her ninja personality and caliginous eyes.

It probably matched the hilt of the now-ever-present Knife.

Ziva David was like an onion, he recognized while down in Abby's lab. Not that her scent made his eyes sting and water; she actually smelled like heaven on a regular basis.

But like an onion, she had many layers. There was the bad-ass Mossad layer, usually accompanied by cargo pants and combat boots. If he was lucky, he witnessed the super-sexy/flirty layer, emphasized with tight shirts or a dress. And so on.

Today was almost-normal Ziva, except…

"Number nine on the David language list, our very own Beauty of Berlitz?"

"I think of Pashtu more as number seven, actually."

Oh, their Ziva…full of surprises; some not as good as others, though.

A/N: I was not completely satisfied with this chapter, but…well, I got it in earlier than usual, so I am fairly happy anyway. Tony may seem a little (or a really) out-of-character, but I was trying to go by how he was acting. I also figured that you guys might want a little more Tiva in this chapter.

Did you all like Engaged, Part 1? I am looking forward to next Tuesday!