per meg’s request

She’s in the middle of stirring honey into her steaming mug of ginger mint tea when she hears the tell-tale sound of an incoming message resonate from where her laptop sits waiting. The sound never fails to stir the butterflies in her stomach, and she feels herself smile against her warm mug as she takes a quick sip to test the soothing liquid, finding it meets her standards. Satisfied, she then hurries in bare feet across her cool, wooden floor, setting aside her mug besides the chair she had only recently vacated, and settles the awaiting laptop atop her lap.

She breathes deeply; an exercise she’s developed through the months since he had left her on the tarmac.  It helps her quell the anixety and fear and sadness that constantly shadow every thought, making her doubt the decision she knows was necessary.  The scent of the wafting tea and fresh flowers envelope her, and it’s what calms her enough to eventually look at the screen, and allow herself to laugh aloud at his message.

DiNozzo, Tony: Finally finished the last granola bar in your desk. Want to bring me dinner? Looks like another all-nighter here.

Smiling wistfully at the screen, she types out her reply quickly, reaching for her mug behind her once she’s pressed sent.

David, Ziva: Dinner I cannot do, but I was just about to begin breakfast. 

Her hand brushes the flowers that sit atop the table as she goes to set her mug down, and she hastens to type another message.

David, Ziva: I got your flowers.

David, Ziva: How did you know…?

His typing bubble disappears, and she waits for several moments before it appears once more, and his reply comes slowly, as if he’s taking longer than usual to write out his thoughts.

DiNozzo, Tony: You would always have them in a vase this time of year. That one of your mother’s you kept on the piano. 

DiNozzo, Tony: And before you ask; I’m keeping yours well tuned, so don’t worry.

She snorts at her screen, drumming her fingers across the keys.

David, Ziva: I am just happy it has a home, though I am sorry yours was ruined.

David, Ziva: Are you guys still stuck on that case? We can reschedule tomorrow if you are going to be at NCIS all weekend.

His bubble immediately pops up to show he’s typing, and his reply comes in short, quick messages.

DiNozzo, Tony: Yes.

DiNozzo, Tony: I mean, no.

DiNozzo, Tony: Yes the Case. No, video tomorrow. You’re not blowing off our dinner date again.

She chuckles as they ding rapid fire, one after the other, and once the last message appears in his box, she glares affronted at her computer screen; quickly beginning to type her response before another ding causes her to look up.

DiNozzo, Tony: Don’t look at me like that - I can feel your glare all the way from over there.

She hits backspace; deleting the message entirely and starting once more.

David, Ziva: You mean lunch for you - and that was not my fault. You did not tell me you meant my time and not your time.

She feels a sharp pang as she’s reminded yet again just how much distance lies between them, but it’s a dull ache; one she’s learning to live with, if only because the reminder of him is everywhere these days. Banishing the pain to the back of her mind,  she allows the scent of the flowers and the warmth of Tony’s old sweatshirt she wears to relax her, and it’s like he’s in her presence once more. 

Another message dings, and her eyes fall to the screen again.

DiNozzo, Tony: Well, I set a reminder on my phone tomorrow so it shoaijklasd;

She frowns at the message, and when no explanation is immediate, she begins to type out a message back. Before she hits enter, however, his typing bubble appears again.

DiNozzo, Tony: So it seems Gibbs has taken to slapping hands instead of heads now. 

She laughs aloud at the image his message evokes, shaking her head as she responds back.

David, Ziva: What’s the fuse? 

His response lingers on typing for several moments.

DiNozzo, Tony: Charge.

DiNozzo, Tony: That took me a while.  You’re reverting.

DiNozzo, Tony: And grab-ass on the clock - gotta go, sweetcheeks. Tonight?

Ziva smiles warmly, confirming their video call in his time.

David, Ziva: Tomorrow. Laila Tov.

She settles the computer down on her comforter, stretching as she watches while his last reply is typed. 

DiNozzo, Tony: Buongiorno. Have a good day. See you soon.

DiNozzo, Tony: And wear that one dress; the short, black one I like.

He’s signed off before she can type a response, and she lingers before her computer for a little while longer, smiling at the screen as her tea cools and the sun slowly permeates the small apartment;

Her side of the world coming to life, just as his side of the world settles down.

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