I will surround myself with those I love.

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Dawn has not yet arrived when Tony is awakened by the sound of footsteps. He reaches out blindly for Ziva, but encounters only sheets and covers, still warm from where she lay. Panicked, he sits up. "Ziva?"

"I am right here," comes her voice from elsewhere in the room.

Tony squints. Unable to see anything, he stretches toward the bedside table and turns on the lamp. "Hey," he says as light falls over them both. She is pacing beside the bed, clad only in pants and a bra, looking down. "What're you doing?"

"I cannot find my shirt."

"You know, I kind of prefer you without it."

Ziva sends him a teasing smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I am going to see Gibbs. I think he would appreciate it if I were fully clothed."

Confused, he looks over at the clock. "You're going to see Gibbs at five in the morning?"

"There it is," she says triumphantly, bending to retrieve her shirt. "I… I feel like I need to see him in private as soon as possible. I figured I would catch him before he goes into the office."

Tony took the day off so he could be with Ziva. He had been looking forward to sleeping in, maybe having a round of morning sex. All he wants to do is flop back against his pillows and convince her to return to his side. But he knows that he's not the only one who has missed her, so instead, he hauls himself out of bed and walks over to his dresser.

"You do not have to get up," she tells him. "I was planning to call a cab."

"I'll drive you and wait outside," he says, yanking on a pair of jeans. "Then we can go have breakfast somewhere. There's nothing to eat here."

Arms around his middle make him jump. Ziva laughs as she plants several light kisses in the space between his shoulder blades. "Sorry," she murmurs.

Not for the first time in the past twelve hours, emotion threatens to overcome him. Her physical presence, warm and solid, is almost too much. All last night, he kept having fleeting moments where he was sure this was all just a dream he never wanted to wake up from, and now it's happening again. Turning in her arms, he bows to kiss her. Get a grip, DiNozzo. She's here. It's real. "I guess you're forgiven."

Ziva pillows her head against his bare shoulder. He pulls her close to him, smoothing a hand over her wild hair. "Are you sure you don't want to sleep some more?" she asks. "We were up very late."

With a smirk, he squeezes her butt playfully. She reflexively presses her hips forward, into his, which only serves to make the memories of a few hours ago more vivid. "Nah, I'm good. I'd rather be with you. Better enjoy our alone time while we can- tonight we have your welcome back dinner at Ducky's, and I'm pretty sure you're gonna get whisked away from me as soon as we walk in."

Something in her expression shifts. She takes a step back. Tony grabs her waist, trying to figure out what he said wrong. "Ziva?"

"I am nervous about dinner," she admits, not meeting his eyes. "I fear that… that not everybody is as understanding as you. When I called Abby to tell her I was coming home, she yelled at me. Over the phone. She said that I had abandoned all of you… that you, in particular, were miserable for most of the autumn… and she was absolutely right."

"Zi-"

"I had my reasons. They were good reasons. I do not regret the time I spent finding peace for myself, Tony. I only regret how I handled it. It was not fair, the way I left things here. And with the way Abby acted, I have to wonder if the others feel the same way and were simply not as vocal about it."

Tony frowns. He never heard about anyone having a conflict with Ziva, and he definitely never would have guessed it of Abby. "You know, she didn't seem mad at you. Pretty much every conversation I've had with her since you told them has been about you. This dinner thing, she planned it all."

"By the time we hung up that night, her anger seemed to have dissipated, and we were perfectly friendly toward each other," she says. "But I know she's still harboring resentment for me. I cannot blame her. Just… tell me what to expect, Tony. Please."

Palming her cheeks gently but firmly, he forces her to look at him. Her chocolate orbs are pleading, desperate. Abby sometimes lets emotion gets the better of her. Ziva should know that by now. But she has been betrayed so many times by those who were supposed to love her unconditionally that there is a part of her, Tony suspects, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everyone to disappear and leave her lonely.

"I'm not going to take off again," she tells him. "I want to be here. With you. With them."

"I know that, Ziva," he whispers. They're forehead to forehead, nose to nose; when she releases a shaky breath, he breathes in her air. "Everyone else knows it, too. The only things you should expect tonight are good food and a bunch of people who are really, really excited to see you."

She nods the best she can with him holding her face, then leans forward to give him a brief kiss. There is no passion; only comfort and thanks.

"Let me find a shirt," he says when she pulls away. "Then we'll go."

0000000000

Half an hour later, she hesitantly nudges open Gibbs' front door and steps gingerly into the house. The sound of running water greets her- from upstairs, thankfully; she still has time to gather her wits.

She is wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans when she happens to glance into the living room and catch sight of a familiar object on the coffee table. Squinting at it, she realizes that it's the postcard she sent Gibbs from Munich. Months ago. And there it is still, out in the open, where he surely sees it every day.

This is what gives Ziva the strength and resolve to start up the stairs.

At the top, she does not pause; she turns right and keeps going until she arrives at the hall bathroom. The water has stopped running, yet there he is, already dressed for the day, with a toothbrush in his mouth.

He stares at her. She stares back.

Funny. In her mind, dental hygiene has always been one of those things too ordinary for Gibbs to bother with.

Ziva swallows hard. "Hello."

Gibbs turns back toward the mirror and resumes brushing his teeth. She does her best to ignore the twinge of hurt in her chest. The seconds stretch on and on as he spits and rinses. When he finally looks at her again, his expression unreadable, she all but loses her nerve.

"What're you doing here?" he asks gruffly.

"I wanted to see you," she manages, her voice small.

Gibbs watches her expectantly. She wills him to direct the conversation, but of course he is waiting for her. A functional mute, indeed.

"You said, when I called you last week," she begins, "that you were glad to hear that I was coming home. But here I am now, and you do not seem particularly thrilled."

His face softens, she thinks. Just a bit. "I've missed you, Ziver. I meant that."

Heart lifting at the familiar nickname, she rushes to return the sentiment. "I missed you, too." Having a conversation with him in the bathroom seems strange; they should be in the basement. It is silly, but she would probably feel more at ease if they were surrounded by sawdust and lumber. As it is now, she cannot focus, cannot choose one single thought to speak aloud.

He regards her with a strange mix of affection and wariness, something only he can so effortlessly manage. "How's DiNozzo?"

"What?" The sudden introduction of Tony to their conversation throws her off. "Oh, he is… he is good. Yes." Now is not the time to think about the love they made last night, but she can't help it. A tiny smirk curls the edge of her former boss's lip. Her cheeks heat.

Damn that man's intuition.

Soon enough, though, he turns serious once more. "You better be planning to stay for the long haul, Ziva. He's under the impression that you are. You know that, right?"

The implication that she would lead Tony on is not appreciated, but she ignores the stab of annoyance in favor of reassuring Gibbs. "Yes. And he is correct to think so."

Cocking a stern eyebrow, Gibbs asks, "That so?"

She takes a step closer. Only a foot stands between them now. "Tony loves me," she states like the fact it is. "I love him."

"Then why'd you break his heart?"

The truth catches in Ziva's throat, squeezes her lungs, threatens to pull her back under the ocean she's only recently managed to reach the surface of. The entirety of this past year flashes in front of her eyes: the things she did, that she didn't do. Her mistakes and sins and the fact that she refused her best friend, her soul mate, when he begged her to come back to D.C. with him. That he cried, more than once, and it was her fault.

"Because," she begins, and then chokes loudly on a sob, "I hated myself."

I killed Ari.

With this admission, just like the other one she made to him so long ago, Gibbs wraps her in his arms. She goes willingly into the embrace. Even as sorrow fills her, a greater part of her feels lighter. Gibbs, the only father she has left, has trouble using words. But even if he cannot tell, he can show, and it is forgiveness that he is demonstrating right now.

In her ear, he says, "Don't you ever believe for one second that you're not a good person."

Ziva nods vigorously into his shoulder, even though she won't be able to follow his instructions exactly. To herself, she vows to try.

"Now go on back to DiNozzo," he orders- but he doesn't let go of her.