There wasn't a day that had went by that Tony hadn't thought of Ziva.
Her smile, her laugh, her accent, her misuse of American idioms.
He would stare at the desk she once occupied, which now held a blond, petite woman.
Sometimes he was able to imagine her sitting there, looking over at him in the way that melted his heart.
Every day, he regretted leaving her alone in Israel, and sometimes, it was all he could do to restrain himself from walking out of the building, driving to the airport, and getting on a flight to Tel Aviv.
When she had been supposedly "killed", Tony hated himself for not going to Israel when he had been so tempted to.
He deserved to be Gibbs slapped until his brain exploded.
But then last night happened, and when he saw her for the first time in almost 4 years, he could have collapsed.
Oh, and when she hugged him.
There were no words to describe how he felt, holding the woman he loved more than anything, feeling her warmth, feeling her soft lips on his.
Relief didn't even cover the half of it.
He wanted to hold onto her forever, knowing she was safe and protected in his arms.
It all felt like a dream.
He was just waiting for the moment that he got slapped, and he'd wake up to find himself at his desk.
But he never did wake up.
Even though he was as happy as humanly possible, the past few days had been overwhelming, and sometimes, Tony would find himself crying at night.
But Ziva would turn to face him, take his hand, and would whisper, "It's all going to be okay."
He would stare into her beautiful eyes, and he believed what she said.
Everything was going to be alright.
And to top it all off, Tali usually heard his cries, and she's scramble down off the foldout couch, and she would come to stand by his bedside.
Looking up at him with a mix of concern, adoration, and puzzlement, she would simply say, "Abba?" and crawl under the covers with them.
Tony used to be afraid of small children, but Tali was different.
She was wise beyond her years, and calmer than most kids her age.
She did have Ziva David as her Ima, after all.
Tony had quickly learned that the little girl knew English, Hebrew, and even a mix of French, Portuguese, and Italian.
He could tell that she would be fluent soon enough, and his chest swelled with pride at the thought.
