Disclaimer: if i owned it, Ziva wouldn't have even left.

A/N: This started off as a short little drabble, but I think I'll expand it into a longer story if people want more.

Rated T for now, but that'll probably change to M later.

Inspired by "Details in the Fabric" by Jason Mraz.

Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Hearts will hold

It had been six days since he had left. Six days since she had made her peace with the remnants of whatever bits of her past that Israel held for her, and she was ready to leave it behind for good. She felt lighter and freer, like the invisible weights on her shoulders had been lifted, and she could now breathe on her own without the fear of her past sneaking up and snatching it away. Now it was time to do something for herself, to re-discover, to explore…to live. To experience the things that had been taken and warped into the mold Mossad and her own father had required her to fill. But she missed him terribly...she hadn't even bothered to make the bed after he had gone, and the sheets remained rumpled even a few days later when she left, still smelling of him and her and them and it made her a little teary-eyed just thinking of how long she now had to live without him.

Exhausted both physically and mentally, Ziva stumbled into the Parisian hotel room in the wee hours of the drizzly Saturday morning, tossed her duffel bag onto the bed, and flopped down next to it, glad that she had the next week to enjoy the city as a tourist, and not on an assignment, as it had been on her previous French escapades. Her most recent visit had been a little different, however, and as she searched through her bag for pajamas, she couldn't help but remember falling asleep tangled in her co-worker that one night, and letting him hold her through the nightmares of Somalia that had been so fresh in her dreams and on her body.

That was the night that Ziva was absolutely certain that she loved him.

An unknown piece of fabric grazed her hand just then, dragging her from her memory, and with curious eyes, Ziva searched the depths of her bag.

What she found caused her breath to hitch and a gasp to spill from her lips.

Folded neatly among her other articles of clothing was his favorite old t-shirt, and she closed her eyes and lifted it to her face, letting the smell that was oh-so-similar to those Israeli sheets in that house by the orange grove and to the covers on that twin bed in DC engulf her senses.

She could almost feel him, could almost imagine that he was right there with her, his strong arms around her, holding her, securing her from those nightmares that had once plagued her mind. She could almost hear his whispered words of comfort, could almost feel his delicate touches, those caresses that made her shiver and snuggle further into his warmth in the glow of the Eiffel Tower that had been right outside their window.

She remembered always borrowing this very shirt when they went out on assignment together, and always took pride in the fact that he remembered to pack it every time they traveled. Los Angeles. Paris. Colombia. Italy. Berlin.

Oh, Berlin.

And now, here it was. Like the necklace she had given him, the faded Ohio State lettering and impossibly soft cotton fabric bound their promise to each other, reminding her that she would see him again. It wasn't over for her, and now she knew that wouldn't be over for him any time soon. She would work through her demons and then run home and into his waiting arms so they could share the forever they had both wished for.

She slipped out of her clothes then, and pulled the shirt on over her bare body, her eyes closing at the familiar feel of the shirt against her skin, and the smile never left her face.

They would be okay.

The next chapter will be longer, I promise. I just wanted to kick this off and see if people liked it! Drop me a review and let me know what you think.

-Laura