Cote De pablo aka Ziva Widescreen

It’s Gibbs that forced him to go घर when he found him sleeping at his डेस्क 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 या 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 टैंगल्ड in his hands; her leg settled against his गाय का बच्चा, बछड़ा and her hands gently stroking his face.

She was at his piano. Her deadly but surprisingly delicate fingers tickling...

The bar is dark, and smoky, and from where they sit, huddled into the corner booth at the furthermost reach of the room, the rest of the world is blurred in a gray haze. Much like they cannot see the world, the world cannot see them.

That’s his logic, really, as he tips his head back and drinks the dregs of his beer- likely the final one of the night. Ziva still has half a glass to go but she’s alternating between little sips and quiet laughs that make her inch closer to him, curls tumbling down her shoulder as she turns. Her scent is invading his senses the nearer she gets, and soon he...