Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my laptop and my fangirl brain. NCIS, Tony, Ziva and EJ are not mine. Just borrowed them to pass time.

This is set somewhere in the second half of season 8, let's say between One Last Score and Two-Faced.

You are free to consider this story as the Ziva version of my other story "Sleepless Nights" since it kind of revolves around the same theme. But really, it's not.

This one was mostly inspired by one of my favorite Abba songs, "The Winner Takes It All" and also by Adele's "Rumour Has It".

But tell me does she kiss
Like I used to kiss you?
Does it feel the same
When she calls your name?

(Abba - The Winner Takes It All)

She, she ain't real
She ain't gon' be able to love you like I will
She is a stranger
You and I have history or don't you remember?

(Adele - Rumour Has It)

She watches silently as they make their way out of the elevator laughing together and standing a little bit too close to her liking.

She observes from afar, narrowing her dark eyes slightly when she sees Tony lean even closer to whisper something in EJ's ear that makes all of her face light up with amusement.

She stares gravely at the two of them caught in a conversation that she is sure is in no way appropriate for the workplace.

She remembers – and she suddenly feels a strange pain in her chest that she chooses not to give too much thought to – that there was a time when she was the one whose ear he would whisper into.

It feels like forever ago when she bitterly remembers that time when most of their conversations consisted of mischievous teasing and innuendos that were most certainly not appropriate for the workplace.

She lowers her head a little as she can feel a slight blush creep onto her cheeks at the memory of his words, his hushed voice and his hot breath brushing against her ear as he spoke.

She cannot help the pang of jealousy that hits her at the sight of her partner laughing with another. She has to admit she has always liked to think that she was the only one he wants to make laugh like this.

She wonders almost innocently if he feels the same way as he does with her when EJ laughs at one of his jokes. Does it feel the same when she says his name? Does his skin erupt in goose bumps when she touches him by accident? Can he help shivering when she stands so close to him?

Do her kisses leave him breathless?

Her mind wanders in places she has tried very hard to avoid ever since their little affair began, and she just cannot help but think of all the nights they've probably spent together in his apartment lately, watching his favorite movies, sharing a bottle of that French wine he loves so much, his arm casually thrown over her shoulders, her head resting on his chest. Does she even notice the passionate, almost childlike admiration on his face as his lips move in sync with the lines from the movies he knows by heart? Does she pretend to fall asleep before the end credits roll on the large flat screen so he does not dare to move for fear of awaking her? Does he kiss her goodnight, thinking she will not feel the way his lips linger on the top of her head a little bit longer than necessary or the way he softly buries his nose in her hair, breathing her in?

She misses these nights. She thinks back to that summer when Gibbs was gone and to all the nights they spent together doing the exact same thing she knows he's doing with EJ now. And it hurts her deep down. It hurts her to know that she is not his one and only. She wants to look away but she finds out that it hurts even more. It is like a car crash. Or is it a plane crash? Whatever. She knows she does not have the right idiom and she can almost hear the sigh of fake annoyance Tony would give her could he read her mind at the moment. But she does not care. She has other things to figure out for now.

She is so lost in her thoughts that she almost does not notice it when he stops in front of her desk with a curious spark in his eyes.

"A penny for your thoughts."

He smiles that smile she knows so well. It is one of these crooked smiles they have for each other, a gentle, soft smile, almost shy even. She is forced to admit that she loves this smile. It makes her feel that everything is good between them.

"If you really want to know, you will have to be a lot more generous than that." She says with a smug smile of her own.

He chuckles softly and walks back to his desk, waving a finger in her direction.

"Well, well well! Look at you! Probationary Agent Zee-vah Dah-veed understanding American idioms AND making up witty responses on top of that. Looks like I taught you something after all. I feel proud."

It is her turn to chuckle and suddenly everything is right in her world again. Casting a glance across the room, she notices that his half smile has not left his face yet as he pretends to be focused on work. And when he looks up and his eyes meet her amused gaze, she realizes that no matter the things he shares with others, they will always have that little something that will never belong to anyone else but them. She guesses that is what they call history.