This takes place before and during Homecoming, the pervious one-shot, but from the perspective of everyone's favorite Senior Field Agent.

This is inspired by the song Temuna which is Hebrew for a picture.

Thanks again to my beta AliyahNCIS

Pictures and Memoires

A picture is engraved in my heart;/Moving between light and darkness:/A sort of silence envelopes your body,/And your hair falls upon your face just so.

He had looked at the picture so many times he didn't even need to look anymore. He had it imprinted in his mind. No, it was more than that. It was engraved on his heart. The picture held in his hands was worn around the edges from so many times of being taken out of his pocket to look at in quiet moments, what quiet moments there were to be had on a floating city of 5000.

Again, he was an Agent Afloat on the orders of the Director of NCIS. Again, he desperately wanted to go home and used pictures of the one woman who kept him sane to assuage the loneliness when he could. But this time was different in one major way. When his six months were over and his carrier returned to port, he would not have to wonder what the future held. His place on Gibbs' team was secure; there was no worry over that.

More importantly there was less worry over Ziva this time. Oh, he still worried. But he knew she would be watched over by his team and Abby. Ah yes, Abby would watch and worry over Ziva enough for both herself and Ziva's absent partner.

Tony glanced from the picture in his hands to the pile of letters wedged between his bed and the wall, letters sent from home, and the ones he was writing in reply. The letters were helping too. He slipped the picture back into his pocket and went to his bed, picking up the letters. Letters from Abby, McGee, Ducky, even one from Gibbs. He smiled as he looked at the letter from his boss. This one had come at the three month point, widely acknowledged as the hardest part of a deployment. The letter was brief, as suited the team leader, and encouraged him and gave him advice on how to handle the remaining time. Abby sent letters regularly, arriving at least once a week. Her letters were full of news from home, of office gossip, and interesting stories from the week's cases. McGee wrote now and again, telling the news the forensic scientist omitted; sports and politics news, and information that McGee thought Tony would find funny that Abby hadn't been privy too. Tony replied to all of McGee's letters, had replied to the one from Gibbs, and one in three of Abby's, simply because she sent so many.

Separate from the rest, tied together with a dark blue hairband were the letters he had received from Ziva. These letters, more than the rest, were wearing out from being read again and again. He replied to every one of her letters, so she would send another and he would get to hear her voice as he read the words she had written.

He took out the picture again, and was about to look over the familiar image when he was summoned. An agent's work was never done.

Here he was, yet again, in the closet he called his quarters, looking at her picture. He had gotten to talk to her on the phone for ten wonderful minuets, getting to hear her magnificent voice and her dark laughter. The deployment couldn't be over soon enough. True, there were those who liked the job of Agent Afloat and were sent out whenever the carrier went. In Tony's not so humble opinion; those agents were more than off their rockers. They should be locked up or on medication. Who wanted to spend more than a few days packed in like sardines in a can with sailors who didn't know the meaning of soap and pilots who were to busy risking their necks to bother with the rules. Granted, the agents who made carriers home clearly enjoyed the pace of carrier life, and most likely had very few ties stateside, so they had little to homesick about. Tony was not one of those men. He had a family back home (albeit a very unusual one), a job he enjoyed, and he was not too fond of the sea. He much preferred dry land.

Abby had screamed in his ear when she had picked up, and the only reason she had relinquished him was he asked for Ziva. Anyone else would have had to fight the woman Tony looked at like the sister he never had for the phone.

Now it would be some time until he could call again, and the letters had been delayed recently. How he hated military mail!

One week. Seven days. 168 hours. 10,068 minuets. 604,800 seconds. A veritable eternity of time. It would be the longest week of his life. The carrier was one week out of the port and the end of the deployment, and all over the ship, the Agent Afloat included, was counting down with more excitement then had been felt since leaving Norfolk. For Tony, it was one week until he could be home, with his family and with Ziva. Ziva. The fact that the end was in sight only made his missing of her sharper. Abby had something up her sleeve for his homecoming that much was clear, and it seemed everyone was in on it but his wife. He had been told (ordered) not to say word about how soon he was going to be home to her, and not to mention her birthday, which fell on the day the carrier returned. Arrangements were being made for both occasions, and he was not to wonder about what they were lest Ziva read his thoughts. He had chuckled when Abby had said that to him over the phone, until she had scolded him for it. She could make him feel bad even over the phone.

He needed to figure out how to get something to Ziva on her birthday before she got home without letting the cat out of the bag. But what could he get that would let he know he was thinking of her and wishing her a happy birthday without getting her guard up. What wouldn't she expect?

He took one of the pictures from his bulletin board without really seeing it. He was still staring at it when one of the sailors whom he had befriended came in. He was Petty Officer Ben Gregory, and Tony had met him at one of the movie nights. Tony had been sitting by himself, trying to unwind. The man had come over, and had quoted the movie in introducing himself. The two men had become friends, especially because Ben stayed well out of trouble. Ben also had pictures he kept with him and the two shared stories of past deployments, one in Tony's case, three in Ben's.

Tony looked up at the tall man, and asked if he had knocked with a wry grin.

"No, I just decided to kick down the door," the sailor replied, and then noticed the picture and asked, "That's a new one. When was that taken?"

Tony looked down at the photo, seeing which one it was. "It's from my going-away party…"

Tony was slightly dazed at all of the people who had shown up to wish him a good six months at sea. It made him all the more aware he really was leaving in two days. Last time he had been on the ship almost before he had known what hit him. This time there had been time to adjust to how long he was going to be gone, almost too much. Abby had thrown this party and Gibbs had allowed them to use his house, mostly since he was the only person on the team with a grill. Tony had been on the main floor where the party was for the last few hours, and now he had managed to escape to the basement for a moment to himself.

The steps creaked as Ziva descended them. She looked beautiful as always. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a green shirt that set off her olive skin tone very well. Her face was sad, she was just as unhappy as he was if not more about his looming departure. He watched her as she reached the bottom step and walked across the concrete floor. He patted the bench beside him and she sat down heavily. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he kissed her forehead.

"Why do you have to leave?" she whispered, even though she knew the answer.

"Because I can't lose my job, we need the money."

"I know." She sighed. "But I want you to stay here with me. The apartment will be too quiet with you gone. Who else will I nag not to leave his socks on the floor and not drink straight out of the milk jug?"

"But other than those things, there is no other reason you want me to stay." He was teasing her, he couldn't help himself.

"Plus I will miss you." Her face was turned up towards his. He lowered his face to meet hers and whispered quietly that he would miss her too. He had just been about to kiss her when Abby had thundered down the poor stairs, her boots clunking on each step. She shouted at them the guest of honor could not disappear and that if they didn't come up soon all the hot dogs would be gone. Ziva made a face as Tony shouted at her they would be up in a moment. Abby just raised an eyebrow, and then turned and ran up the stairs, oblivious to the groans the boards made.

"She is right, we should go back up," Ziva said, sounding none too pleased.

"One moment," he said, turning and retrieved something he had hidden down here. He had planned to give the flowers to her later, but he decided now was good. He turned his head and told her to cover her eyes, he had a surprise for her. She complained, but complied. When she was ready, he brought the flowers forward and set them in her lap.

She opened her eyes and gasped, "Oh, Tony, these are my favorite!" The lilies glowed even in the murky light coming in from dirty windows.

"You'll notice in a moment after you count them that there are only 11 lilies there."

"Why?" she asked, the puzzlement clear in her eyes.

"You get the last one when I come home."

Tears gathered in her dark eyes, but she smiled at him and threw her arms around his neck. "They are lovely. Thank you," she whispered.

He grinned at her as she pulled back. "You are very welcome."

Abby had taken the picture after they had left the basement, shortly after Tony had stuck one of the flowers in her hair. Ziva had protested, saying she didn't look good with flowers in her hair, but no one had listened. The picture had been in the gift Abby had shoved in his hands as she said good-bye before he boarded the ship.

Tony told the short version to his friend while he worked on the idea of what to get Ziva. He mentioned his conundrum to Ben, and had to laugh when Ben suggested flowers. He then realized that he could send Ziva flowers, and if she really had forgot he was coming home, as Abby and Gibbs seemed to think she had, it would confuse her to no end and distract her from other things that didn't add up. He thanked his friend, and then the sailor left, and Tony was left to figure out how to tell Abby his idea.

Tony had never been so glad to see his boss in his life. As he worked his way through the throng of sailors, pilots and their families toward Gibbs, he couldn't stop grinning. Abby's plan was coming off without a hitch. Abby had taken the task of distracting his wife while Gibbs came to Norfolk to meet the carrier and get the returning agent back to DC without Ziva realizing he had left. Gibbs shook his hand and asked him how the sea was and Tony just made a face. The two men turned and made their way to the car Gibbs had driven down to Norfolk. Tony threw his stuff in the trunk and then went around to the passenger side. He made sure to buckle in tight; there was no way Gibbs driving the speed limit to get back to the Navy Yard in time.

Boss and senior field agent talked on the highway back to DC, the former telling the news since the final letters had been sent, the latter telling about the six months at sea.

Now Tony was waiting, hiding in a service staircase off of the hallway near the forensic lab, waiting for his cue. He had been in DC again for less than a half-hour, just enough time to drop off his things at home and get a quick change of clothes. Abby and Ziva weren't back yet from Abby's distraction trip, and the final preparations were underway for the imminent party. He twirled the lily in his fingers, admiring the color. At least he was home.

The elevator dinged and he heard Abby and Ziva heading toward him. Tony risked a peek out of the small window to see Ziva go by, looking impatient. Oh, she was so beautiful, even with an exasperated expression on her face. He didn't recognize the outfit she wore, but it was perfect for her. He waited, cracking the door so he could hear. When he heard the shouts of "Happy Birthday", he counted fifteen more seconds, and then left the stairs and turned the corner. There, inside the lab Ziva stood, and he could tell be the way she stood she was defiantly surprised. He listened to the team telling her why they had thrown her a party, leaning against the door way, waiting for the right moment to alert her to his presence.

Now was the right time. "Because we love you Ziva," he said, and she turned, surprise anew in her face. She ran at him, and he straightened and caught her. It was so good to have her in his arms again.

The party was over at long last. Abby had thrown a good party, but Tony was longing for his soft bed and someone to share it with. As they trickled out, people welcomed home and said a last happy birthday to the beautiful woman beside him. She was tired too, he could tell. Abby came and stood before them, her hands on her hips. "What are you two still doing here?" she demanded, a semi-serious expression on her face. They took her cue and headed for the door.

In the elevator, he leaned against her, exhausted to the very core of his being, and then they walked into the car garage, holding hands. Ziva shoved him into the passenger seat before taking the wheel.

"We have the next few days off, right?" he said, as he buckled his seatbelt. As much as he loved his wife, he wanted to survive the trip home.

"What were you thinking about doing?" Ziva asked, one manicured eyebrow arched in question.

"How does everything I couldn't do at sea sound?" Tony suggested with a trademark grin.

He was in his bed, a real bed, for the first time in much too long. Ziva was getting ready for bed, and he was admiring the view, while trying not to fall asleep. He must have fallen asleep, for a few minutes later Ziva was shaking him awake and asking him about the picture that must have slipped out of his pocket. It was well worn now, and slightly bent from all the times he had held it.

"When was this taken?" she asked.

"Abby took it."

"Abby, of course. She would do something like this."

Tony grinned. "I'm glad she did. It helped keep me sane."

"You're sane?"

"Touché"

"Why this picture?" she asked, her voice quiet.

He looked at it for a moment. "Because it was the happiest day of my life."

The picture in her hand was taken on their wedding day. It showed Ziva sitting in her wedding dress in a window seat, bare feet peaking out from under the white satin. She was looking out the window, the light falling on her so her face was illuminated and her olive skin stood out against the white of the dress. Her hair was in his favorite style, rippling down and loose, spilling over her shoulders. There was a quietness in her in this photo, a reflectiveness present in her nature that did not show itself often. It was the most beautiful photo he had of her.

"I have this picture memorized by now," he whispered as she set the photo down on the bedside table and crawled in beside him.

"I have a picture of you just as worn," Ziva murmured against his lips. "It is engraved on my heart."

A picture is engraved in my heart;/Moving between light and darkness:/A sort of silence envelopes your body,/And your hair falls upon your face just so.

And so we come to the end of another one-shot. I personally think that if Tony ever becomes an Agent Afloat again, someone might just lose a limb.

Let me know what you think, feedback is very welcome.

Until next time,

-The Lady Grace