Tony stared out of his window, at the rain pouring outside. He felt empty.

He always had, since she had left with that bastard so many years ago.

Five years ago, she had left him.

Five years ago, she had broken his heart.

He remembered driving her to the airport.

"Here we are." Tony said, with fake brightness.

Ziva looked at him. "Thank you, Tony."

"Anytime." He replied. "Anything for my partner." His voice cracked.

Ziva cupped his face in her hands. "Tony, if you love something, let it go. If it loves you, it will come back to you."

Tony's eyes watered, and his throat closed at the thought of never seeing his partner again. "Okay."

Suddenly, Ziva kissed him. Sweetly, on his lips. It wasn't lustful, but light. Slightly longing. She broke the kiss, and stood up, grabbing her suitcase from the back.

"I will never forget you." Ziva said softly. "Bye, Tony!" She cried, running towards the gate, where a black-haired man stood, waiting for her. He scooped her up and kissed her mouth, right there.

It was a painful last memory to leave with.

Tony stared numbly back at his car, then stomped on the gas. He wouldn't let Ziva see him like this. She shouldn't be worried about how he felt.

This was her honeymoon, anyways.

He opened the door to his apartment, and sat on his couch. He felt something on his back, and he reached behind him. He immediately recognized her green vest, that she had thrown in his car one time when it got hot. It smelled like her- slightly of vanilla, and something else he could only describe as Ziva. He broke right then, sobbing like a baby.

A few hours later, Tony was on his seventh beer.

"You left me, Ziva." He slurred. "I thought we were something. But you left for that ass, C-I-fucking Ray." He stumbled to his couch, taking another swig.

"Why would you marry him, Ziva? Why?" He mumbled, looking to a photo on his counter, of him and Ziva in Paris.

Why, Ziva?

His last coherent thought before he slumped over, passed out cold, on his couch. The beer fell from limp fingers and spilled all over the floor.

Ton felt his throat closing up again, much like it had on that very looked out the window, back to the pouring rain. He had tried calling her, emailing her old email address, finding her home address, something. But nothing.

Like she had never existed.

Like she was just a wonderful dream that he had to wake up from at some point.

Not a single day went by without him thinking of her, wondering if she was really just a dream.

Suddenly, tears started streaming down his face, like the rain outside. His eyes stung and blurred with the saltiness of them.

"Why?" He asked the empty air. He looked over to his shelf, where his gun was, along with a bottle of beer. He remembered the painful nights where he had cocked his own gun, and held to his head, just wanting it to go away. Make this hopeless longing stop. But he could never go through with it. Never. He was too weak, he thought. Too weak then to end his life. He usually, then, turned to alcohol. It blurred his thinking and weakened the force of the wanting. Sometimes, he would drink until he'd pass out on the floor. Then, he's wake up, with none of the pain numbed and a massive hangover headache. Then, at work the next day, Gibbs would yell at him for not being on his guard. And Abby and McGee would just stare, knowing exactly how empty he felt and why. Some days, before they got her replacement, he would gaze at her empty desk and chair, its contents cleared.

"Hey, Tony." Gibbs said quietly. Tony jumped.

"I'm sorry, boss, I was, uh-"

"Missing her. I know." Gibbs said softly. "You aren't the only one, you know." Gibbs said, standing up and walking to his desk.

Even the bossman missed Ziva.

Tony popped open the top of a beer, and took a quick draw from it. It tasted bitter in his mouth, and he set it down. He gazed at the gun for a brief second, before walking past it.

"No, Tony." He said aloud, to no one. "No."

He sat down at his couch, and turned on the TV, absentmindedly flipping through the channels. Sci-Fi, rom-com, reality, news…..

Tony groaned. Nighttime TV has nothing good.

He turned off the TV, sick of trying to preoccupy himself.

He flipped to the radio, and turned it on. Some song was playing, but he couldn't make out the lyrics. He just pumped it louder, determined to blast his ears out.

If maybe he had turned it down, he would've heard the silent noise of a car pulling into the parking lot.

He checked his watch: 3:43 a.m. Eh, no biggie.

From down below, the noise of swift feet on metal steps could be heard, but it was almost four in the morning. Who would hear it?

The streetlamp outside flickered. The rain had lightened, and Tony could make out a silver car in the parking lot. He frowned. He didn't recognize it. Did it belong to someone here?

He sat back down at his couch and was about to turn it back on when he heard a few, light knocks on his door.

"Boss, I'm fine!" Tony grumbled. Sometimes, Gibbs would come by to check on him. Very rarely, anymore, but Gibbs was unpredictable.

"Tony, please." A voice said softly. Tony almost fell off the couch.

He never thought he would hear that voice again. I must be hearing things, he thought.

He walked up to the door. "Zi-Ziva?" He asked.

"Tony, help, please!" She begged. Tony paused for only a moment before wrenching open the door.

There she was. Her hair was soaking wet, and her jacket was dripping down on her pants. She had a cut on her lip and down her cheek, and her left eye was slightly darkened.

And she was holding a tiny child, who's eyes were closed. The kid also had a cut going down her cheek.

"Come in!" Tony said urgently, ushering the two inside his apartment.

Down, muses. BAD.

Ahh, well, the damage is done.

What do you guys think?

R&R!

Love you all!

-Vi