It's Gibbs that forced him to go home when he found him sleeping at his desk three days later. He'd managed to sleep a few hours a night, but he wouldn't go as far as to say they were restful. Ziva still owned his thoughts every time he closed his eyes, awake or not.

She was everywhere.

She was in his bed. The last time he felt warmed sheets skimming over his body, he had woken up with her in Tel Aviv, her hair mussed and tangled in his hands; her leg settled against his calf and her hands gently stroking his face.

She was at his piano. Her deadly but surprisingly delicate fingers tickling the ivories of his often neglected but loved piano, playing sonatas from memory. Her hands would guide his over the keys, gentle urging touches encouraging him to do his very best.

She was in the bullpen. There was no corner of NCIS that he could go that didn't contain a memory of her. Whether it was being trapped in the elevator, conversations in the men's room, talks in Autopsy that were almost honest and too honest at the same time. Hell even McGee's desk was painful to look at with the memory of young, reckless Ziva teasing him from the probie's chair.

The memories of her bombarded him constantly. She was so thoroughly intertwined into his life, there was no separating her anymore.

The fact that he was seeing her everywhere wasn't helping. Every flash of something by his eye, a flick of long, dark hair, a glimpse of a long coat in the wind. She was everywhere. And nowhere. He knew she wasn't there. In his heart he knew she wasn't. It didn't stop it from speeding up, hope flooding through him, every single time.

He just wanted her. He wanted to see her, touch her, smell her hair, hear her voice. God, he just wanted to hear someone say her name. He wasn't sure if it would bring him relief or cause him to burst into tears, but the longing to hear even a mention of her was overwhelming.

The constant thought that he was hanging on to someone who didn't want to be held onto was drowning him. Was all the time they'd spent together just going to be painful memories? Was the connection they made just going to fade away? Was he misinterpreting their relationship all this time? The questions were constantly running through his mind and he knew he wasn't going to find the answers.

He walked into his apartment, his gear dropped clumsily by the door, coat discarded much the same way. He would get them later. He looked up, and she was there, standing in his kitchen. He shook his head in frustration, convinced that he was seeing things once again, and walked straight into his bedroom. A few seconds later a confused Ziva walked in after him.

"Tony?" she said, confused.

He ignored her.

"Tony," she said, a little louder this time.

"No," he said sternly.

"No?" She said, waiting for his reply. "You are not…happy to see me?"

"It doesn't matter whether or not I'm happy to see you because you're not here."

"Of course I am."

"No, you're not. You're never really there. I see you everywhere. In the bullpen, at crime scenes, at the coffee shop, the grocery store and you're not there. It's always the same thing. Now I've spiraled so far down I'm talking to you and you're not even here."

Her eyes widened in shock. He thought he was hallucinating. He truly believed she wasn't there. Tears welled in her eyes. She didn't think it had gotten so bad. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to take it so hard.

"Tony," she said softly.

He just shook his head.

She walked over and grabbed him, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes widened. She cupped his face in her hands, leaning up to kiss him, her lips soft against his. His hands stayed slack, still not quite believing she was there.

She pulled away and took his hand, placing it over her heart. He could feel the beat.

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his for the first time.

"Ziva," he said, disbelief clear in his tone, almost choking on the name he hadn't spoken in weeks.

She could only nod, her voice caught in her throat.

He swept her into a hug, burying his face in her neck. She stroked the back of his head soothingly, slowly feeling the tension that had built within him release.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, the movement of his lips soft against her neck.

—

She opened her voicemail with a frown. Though McGee had sent her several text messages asking her to call, she couldn't bring herself to contact the team yet. She was still too close, the ache for them nearly constant. Clearly he'd had enough of waiting for her.

"Ziva, it's McGee. I don't know if this is your number anymore, or if you're opening any of your messages, but I just…had to call. I know you're halfway across the world, and I know that you're trying to make yourself better. We all respect that. But…Tony's not doing so well. He's driving himself crazy without you here. He's…not himself. He hasn't been sleeping, acting…a little reckless. I'm worried about him, and there's nothing I can do to help him. Normally when he gets like this, you're here and I don't…I don't know if he can do this without you. Please, if you get this…just call him. Please."

—

"McGee called. He said he was worried about you, clearly with good reason." She said.

She could feel him tense up, the urge to defend himself rearing it's ugly head. She pulled away, eyes meeting his immediately, clearly telling him not to lie to her.

"I've been better," he conceded. "I missed you."

"And I you. Every single day."

His heart clenched painfully. If she missed him, why had she forced him to go? And if he loved her like he thought, why had he allowed her to?

"I have…some things I have to ask you. Some things I need to talk about."

"Tomorrow," she said, nodding slightly.

"No, Ziva…it's really important,"

"I believe you, but we have time. I promise, we will talk about it tomorrow."

Tomorrow. He wasn't even sure if she would be there tomorrow. He wasn't sure of anything.

"You are tired. Let us get some sleep now, yes?"

He nodded slightly, too tired to argue, and too willing to hold her in his arms again.

They stripped down to their underwear, wanting only to feel his skin on hers. They climbed into bed facing one another, foreheads almost touching as they lay their heads down.

They stayed there for a while, just taking each other in. Tony studied her face, much the way he had their last night in Tel Aviv. She wasn't sure if he was trying to commit more of her to memory or determine whether or not she was really there. Her heart clenched knowing how thoroughly broken he was at her hand.

Soon though, his fatigue took over and his eyelids began to droop.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" He whispered.

"Yes." she said softly.

Tears welled up in his eyes "I don't believe you."

It was a stab to her heart, but she couldn't blame him. "I promise, I will be here when you wake up. Sleep now, my love."

He stroked her cheek a few more times, memorizing her face. He brought his hand down to her hip, pushing it lightly, prompting her to turn around. She turned, pressing her back into his front. His arm wrapped around her, thumb stroking the exposed skin at her hip as he buried his face in her neck, breathing her in.

Only when she felt his soft strokes fade away and his body relax did she let the tears come.

—

When he woke and his body was still wrapped around hers, he breathed a tearful sigh of relief. She was still there. Quiet sobs racked his body as he held her to him, her body fitting with his just as it had before. He felt Ziva twist in his arms to face him, her hands coming up to cup his face. Her lips lightly kissed away his tears. She scooted closer to him, settling her forehead against his, their noses brushing lightly.

"You're here."

"I promised I would be."

"But you're not staying."

The statement hung in the air for a moment, becoming heavier and heavier as each second passed.

"No, I'm not."

He nodded slightly, biting his lip.

"Well then, I have some things I have to say."

"As you said."

They lay in silence, not sure they wanted to breach the subject just yet, but for his own sanity, Tony had to jump in.

"These past few weeks have been…some of the most difficult of my life. Knowing that you left and may not come back…I just kept playing it over and over in my head, thinking that maybe if I did something different, or said something different, that you would have come home with me."

She wanted to refute, but remained silent, knowing he wasn't done.

"And then I started doubting…everything. If I had made the right choice by leaving you, if you would come back, if I had misinterpreted our time together, your feelings. I started seeing you everywhere. Living without you has been, unbearable."

There were tears streaking down her face. She couldn't believe she had let everything she held dear to get so out of hand.

"I am so sorry. I didn't know."

"What I need to know is if I'm holding on to something worth holding on to. That I'm not the only one that wants this." He reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing away her tears as he let his own fall.

"Tony, I love you so much. If I was not clear about that, I am so sorry."

"I love you too." She smiled. It was the first time she had heard those words.

"Letting you get on that plane was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. In many ways, I wish I had not."

"Then why did you?"

"Because I need to figure out who I am on my own. I need to be a whole person before I can give myself to you. You do not deserve someone so flawed and lost…"

"If you're lost, I can help find you," he said desperately.

"I know you can, and you would if I asked you to. But I cannot. I must venture out on my own. Study and live and discover new things. But through this, my love for you will not change. The only thing that has gotten me through these weeks without you was knowing that when I make myself better, I will be one step closer to being ready to be with you."

He breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't making it up. She loved him. They were in love. And in due time, they would be together again.

He leaned into her, capturing her lips with his, breaking away quickly.

"I can't keep going on like this," he said suddenly. Her eyes widened, traces of fear in them. He continued just as quickly, "I know you need time, but can you just check in every once in a while or something? I need to know that you're okay."

"Yes. If I have learned anything these past few weeks it is that you are worth holding on to. i am sorry I didn't before."

He kissed her once again, slower than before.

"Thank you." he whispered against her lips. She kissed him harder, pressing herself into him. He somewhat clumsily rolled them over in his tiny bed, trapping her under him. She had never felt so safe in her life.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear.

His heart soared hearing the words. She had said them, the world did not end. They had said the words, and they had a promise of a future. No matter what she did, that would not change. He knew part of what she was looking for lay with him, would always lay with him. She was a part of him, and he a part of her. He knew in that moment, he would never let her go.