A/N: Hi! Thanks for all the amazing reviews lately—it always puts a smile on my face to turn on my computer in the morning to find all these lovely words to read. Thank you thank you thank you!

Today's chapter is short, I know, but it's pretty big. Sort of. Well, you'll see.

Chapter 20! Can you believe it?

He approached the premises silently, shoes making no sound, not even breathing for fear of arousing suspicion. Picking the lock wasn't difficult, and judging from the small scrapes on the metal, it had been picked before.

He entered the apartment, carefully closing the door behind him. He looked around. Nothing had changed.

Tony had half-hoped to find Ziva there that night. It was a hope he had shut out since the day she went missing, finding her in her own apartment, waiting for him. He had even been tempted to call her. But each time he began to make an effort, his fear of not hearing her voice and the supposed truth of her death being confirmed took over. And so he never called.

He wasn't sure why it was he went to her apartment that night. Fingering the familiar black baby grand piano as he walked through her apartment, dark with the song of night, he remembered those days. He glanced at the small piano book on the piano. It was the same song they had learned all those years ago. He smiled and continued walking through.

Tony didn't understand why Eli had never ordered Ziva's personal belongings to be shipped back to Israel. Then again, he didn't understand Eli at all.

Tony looked around the apartment, lit by the bright light of the moon outside her large window. He breathed in the air—he swore it still smelled like her. All was neat, each item perfectly placed. A flat screen TV hung on one wall. He smiled to himself. He had convinced her to buy a TV and order cable. He liked to think of it as one of his few great achievements in life. A vase sat on the dining table, lilies long wilted and water green with mold. He glanced in the kitchen. The dishes were stowed behind the glass of the cabinets, the sink empty and sparkling. The counters were clean of dirt, grime, and junk mail. He checked the trash—it was emptied.

"You knew you weren't coming back," He whispered quietly, hoping some how she might hear him. The side tables and coffee tables were nearly bare, aside from an old photo of three children, likely Ziva, Ari, and Tali. Tony looked beside it. A second frame held a familiar photo of the team. The meshing of two lives. Two large bookcases stood against a wall, the shelves completely covered in books, ordered by subject, then author. So like her.

Tony walked down her hallway, glancing in the bathroom. His investigator instincts took over as he checked inside the cabinet, ignoring the feeling of invading her privacy. It was still full, much to his surprise, toothbrush sitting beside a bottle of toothpaste. It was still mostly full.

He walked into her bedroom. It was uncannily feminine, a modern four-poster bed leaning against the wall with a simple cream canopy, sheer and hinting of her exotic past. A dresser stood in the corner. Opening a drawer, he found it half-empty, a favorite shirt of his left behind. He didn't need to check the others.

A small writing desk sat in the corner, free of any papers. A small jar held a few pens, but nothing more than that occupied the desk. Tony turned around and looked about the room, finally finding what he had been looking for.

On her nightstand was a book. Knowing Ziva, that wouldn't have been unordinary—reading was her favorite hobby, one that occupied most of her time off-duty. The apartment, however, was inconsistent. The dishes were clean and the trash was empty, but half of her clothes and her toothbrush were still there. The entire apartment had been almost purified, nothing amiss or laying about.

Tony picked up the book and sat on the bed. He flipped through the pages, finally finding one that was almost blank, only a couple of lines at the top of the page. On the rest of the page, he found her.

Dear Tony,

I knew you would be the one to find this. If anyone would be so determined to find me, it would be you. My partner. My best friend.

I know everyone thinks I am dead. I am so sorry. But I did what I had to do. I cannot explain, not in here. I did not want to leave. I just could not stay.

You get orders, Tony. You may not like them, but you follow them. That is why they are called "orders."

I am safe for the time being. You do not need to be concerned about the amount of time that has passed since I left.

Do you remember the case we had so long ago, with that little boy—what was his name? I had only been with NCIS for a matter of months. I remember asking that morning if NCIS always responded to missing persons' cases so quickly. Carson. That was his name. Carson had called us, though. He called. His father worked for the Navy, and he disappeared at that amusement park, leaving his little boy all alone to find us. At first, I thought that his father had left of his own accord, have cleared out his bank account and accessed the Honor Code system. I was the only one who believed it, and it frustrated me. But then I learned that I was wrong. Carson's father had been framed and coerced into committing treason. It wasn't him. I know that now.

I know you will find me, Tony.

I'll be back, yes?

--Ziva

Tony set the book down and smiled.

At that moment, a loud Bang! sounded from the other room. It was the distinct sound of a door being broken down. Tony stood and unholstered his gun.

"NCIS! Federal agent!" He called out, slowly making his way to the door that led to the hallway. He listened for footsteps, but heard nothing. Suddenly, the shooter appeared at the end of the hallway, gun aimed.

Five shots rang out and only silence followed.