A/N- Sorry it's taken me so long to update. This chapter gave me a hard time for some reason- it takes place after Ziva is officially back. I hope you all like it.

Also, thank you so much for your kind reviews. I appreciate comments of any sort, truly. Thank you.

Tony sits down at his kitchen table and carefully removes a picture frame from several layers of bubble wrap. He searched everywhere for a frame identical to the one he (or Rivkin) broke, but he couldn't find anything even close.

Most of the picture frames he found, even after searching several stores, were too decorative. Either they looked as if they belonged in the bedroom of a teenage girl, or they looked like they should be someone's wedding present. None of them suited Ziva.

Eventually, he decided that a simple frame would be best. The frame in his hands is a perfect black square, nothing like the beautiful wooden frame she'd previously kept the picture in. A piece of white paper is mounted on two stripes of green paper. He'll never admit it out loud, and he definitely won't admit it to her, but he liked that there was green paper in it because it reminded him of the dress she wore undercover, which is one of his favorite memories of her. Not because she was naked and on top of him (although, really, the memory of naked Ziva is never really a bad one…) but because it was the first time she felt like his partner. When they were bound in chairs back to back and scheming for a way to get out alive, he could hear the concern in her voice. And when the assassin told his thug "If I'm not back in five minutes, shoot him", Tony recognized the fear in Ziva's eyes. That was the first time she was afraid for him, and he couldn't ever forget it.

Carefully, he removes the back of the frame and slides out the white piece of paper. Really, the paper is the placeholder for where the photograph should be, and she'll replace it with the picture of her, Tali, and Ari. But in the meantime, he'll use it to write her a note. He'd considered buying her a card too, but that proved to be a different challenge. Even Hallmark doesn't make cards that say "Hi, I'm sorry I killed your boyfriend/I'm glad you're still alive/Thank you for being my partner."

He takes out a black ballpoint pen and gnaws on the cap as he tries to think of what he wants to say to her. The sheet of paper is small—the size of a standard photo—so he can't write a novel. Not that he's sure what to say, anyway.

The thing with Ziva is that these kinds of things always go unsaid between them. And writing anything down is even more intimidating, because then it's on paper and permanent and out in the open, and that's just something they don't do. But then again, they also don't usually sleep together.

He realizes that the pen cap has teeth marks in it at this point and he still hasn't written a single word. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temple. He knows what he wants to say, but not how he wants to say it.

…Maybe he does know how to say it, but is afraid of what her reaction will be.

He places the pen down on the page and draws two parallel lines, then a line perpendicular to both of them to form a letter "I". He stops and rolls the pen between his pointer finger and thumb, hesitating.

Then, he remembers the way it felt to wake up in her arms; he remembers her smiling a small but genuine smile at him when she realized he was awake. Their bodies were intertwined—one of his hands was at the small of her back and the other was on the back of her neck. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively.

He'd feigned confusion, looking around her bedroom with narrowed eyes. "Did you kidnap me, David?" he'd asked her, keeping his tone playful so that she knew he was only trying to make light of the situation.

She huffed indignantly, pretending to be offended, but she didn't loosen her grip on him and remained still in his arms. He was relieved to see that she still had a sense of humor. "From how I remember it, you were the one who showed up on my doorstep at an ungodly hour in the night," she retorted, pinching his back. He yelped.

Her alarm began to blare while he'd been trying to come up with a witty response. She groaned and reached an arm back, blindly searching for the snooze button until the clock fell silent again. She placed her hand on his hip, waiting to see what would happen next. He met her gaze and reminded her softly, "You don't have to face this alone. We're all here for you, Ziva." She searched his face, then, deciding she believed him, reached a hand up to his cheek. "Thank you," she said, her voice quiet.

Remembering all of that now, Tony knows the words to write. He finishes the sentence he began, then signs "D N Jr."

xXxXx

"Dead sailor on the train. Grab your gear!" Gibbs barks as he breezes through the bullpen, steaming cup of coffee in hand. The team responds immediately, instinctively reaching down to snatch their backpacks off the floor. Then, Tony pauses.

"Ah, shoot. Boss, I left the camera down in Abby's lab when I was downloading pictures from the last case," he says. McGee's face is frozen in an expression of horror as he looks back and forth between Gibbs and Tony, fearing that his boss will end Tony's life on the spot. Ziva looks on with a smirk. But, as always, their boss does the unexpected.

"Good. You can tell Ducky and Palmer. Meet us there," he commands gruffly, then looks at Ziva and McGee expectantly. They hurry after him, a look of surprise painted on McGee's face. As the elevator doors open, Tony hears Gibbs say, "Something wrong, McGee?" McGee stammers, "N-no, boss. I'm fine." Tony looks up to see that Ziva's lips are twitching in her effort to contain a smile as the elevator doors close.

Tony surveys the bullpen to ensure that he isn't being watched. Then, he removes the frame from his bag, wrapped in navy blue wrapping paper (it's the only color gift wrap he owns). He tiptoes over to Ziva's desk as stealthily as possible, pretending he's searching for something. Quickly, he opens the top drawer and places the parcel in gently, so as not to break the glass. He closes the drawer and rushes back to his desk. He steals another glance around him and discovers that his actions had gone unobserved. He breathes a sigh of relief. As he makes his way toward the elevator to autopsy, he makes a mental note to himself to grab the extra camera out of Abby's lab. Thank God the team invested in a spare.

xXxXx

Ziva collapses at her desk chair after a long day in the field. She slouches a bit and closes her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts. Tony and McGee went home a while ago, and she would have, too, if she hadn't had to check in with Director Vance. She's really getting tired of all of these meetings with the director. But if that's part of the price she has to pay to be part of this team, she'll do it in a heartbeat.

She opens her eyes and begins to flip through the stack of forms and applications Vance gave her. Why does she have to file so much paperwork? It isn't like she hasn't worked with NCIS before…

She sighs and picks up a pen as Gibbs appears from Vance's office and comes down the stairs. He is about to head over to his desk and pack up for the day when he stops in his tracks takes several steps backward, landing himself in front of Ziva. She looks up at him with a gentle smile.

Ever since the talks they had in Gibbs's basement, their relationship has slowly been repairing itself. She can tell that he is regaining his trust in her, little by little, and she is eternally grateful for it, especially now that Eli is out of the picture. She cannot imagine what her life would be without Gibbs.

He motions to the paperwork on her desk. "More application forms?" he asks. She rolls her eyes and nods. "It seems to never end!" she moans, and Gibbs fights a smile.

She continues, "I am just going to fill this out now. If I do not, it may end up in a pile on my desk." Gibbs nods, and there is a moment of silence. She twirls the pen in her fingers. Eventually, he grunts, "Don't stay too late," and marches back to his desk to back up. She's genuinely touched by his words, and promises, "I won't, Gibbs."

He makes his way for the elevator and, without turning, calls out, "Goodnight, probie." She wants to wince at the nickname, because she is beginning to realize all of the hazing that comes with it, but she can't bring herself to be upset. Besides, when Gibbs says it, it almost comes out as a term of endearment. She calls back, "Goodnight!"

A half hour later, her paperwork is complete and she begins to gather her belongings to go home. She opens her desk drawer to grab her keys and instead, she finds a curious square item wrapped in dark blue paper. She furrows her brow as she pulls it out of her desk and searches inside the drawer. No card.

She turns the item over several times in her hands before she tears the wrapping paper off. It is a picture frame she realizes, surprised, and she begins to think that perhaps Abby got it for her. (Abby spent fifteen minutes yesterday insisting that they need to take more pictures of the team, because she apparently needs to "add more personality" to her lab. Tony had snorted incredulously. As if Abby's lab needs any more personality!)

Then, Ziva turns the frame to the front. A white piece of paper reads:

"I love you, Ziva.

D N Jr."

Her throat is tight and she feels tears prick her eyes as she reads the words over and over to herself.

She had come to the same realization when he was sitting before her in Somalia, and when he and McGee had helped her to stagger out of the camp. If he'd let her ramble in the men's room any more than he did that day, perhaps she would have said the words out loud. When he ran out to pursue a thought he had about the case, she'd thought to herself that it was better that she didn't. It wasn't something she and Tony had ever said to one another, and they needed to take baby steps to restore their friendship. She didn't want to scare him.

But apparently, the thought doesn't scare him.

She swallows and blinks, willing the tears to disappear. She didn't cry once in Somalia, or on the plane back to America. The closest she'd come to crying was in Gibbs's basement but even then, she'd held it together. And now, a few handwritten words in a picture frame make her choke up?

She runs her finger around the edge of the frame tenderly. He does not specify that he is not in love with her, and that doesn't matter. She understands it without clarification, because the same thought crossed her mind when she was lying in his arms.

She holds the frame close to her chest and breathes deeply. She's never been this grateful for the presence of a single human being in her entire life.