A/N: Hey guys, Autumn here with another oneshot.

I was listening to I'll Be Home for Christmas by Bing Crosby, dreaming of snow (I live in a southern California desert. Where I live, dreaming is as close as I'll ever get.) And all of a sudden, it hit me—this song would be perfect inspiration for a Tiva oneshot.

So, go listen to I'll be Home for Christmas (a slow, soft version—anyone will do) while you read this fic. It'll give it a fabulously awesome effect, I promise.

Merry Christmas—after all, now that Thanksgiving is done, it is officially Christmastime! My favorite time of year. :D


It was Christmas Eve. The team had finished a horrific case only hours ago—a young girl had been abducted, the latest of the ten the serial killer had abducted, raped, and killed. They had saved her just in time, and she had gone home that night with her parents.

The team was now finishing paperwork, trying to impossibly drown out the scenes from the past several days with coffee as they sighed beneath the soft lights of their desk lamps. All others in the agency were home with their families.

Tony and Ziva were the only ones remaining now, having taken the rest of McGee's paperwork so he could go home to his family for Christmas, and Gibbs had disappeared to a memorial now covered beneath the snow, no doubt. Abby had clocked out not long ago.

And so now, it was just them.

Ziva sighed and set down her pen, walking over to the window, a Christmas tree beside it. Tony watched her do so, her mind clearly occupied as she pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands to warm herself. Her eyes moved over the tree, sparkling with its lights and dazzle. Soft Christmas music tumbled around—Abby had left the radio on hours before, and it sang quietly now, just loud enough for the two of them.

He moved over to her and leaned up against the window silently, folding his arms as her searched her face for a moment. "You okay?"

Ziva looked at him. "I am fine," she replied softly.

But your eyes won't shut up.

"You sure?" she looked out the window. "What's on your mind, Zi?"

She hesitated before speaking. "It is Christmas eve,"

Tony gave her a half smile. "Yes, it is,"

"Christmas is about family, yes?"

"That's right," he replied, remembering their conversation so similar to this one, 365 days ago. So much was different then. So much had changed. And for once, it was for the better.

"I do not know… Everyone seems to be talking about going home for the holidays and having such a wonderful time with their families and--"

"You wouldn't want to spend the holidays with yours," he finished.

She smiled at him. "That is correct,"

"You know, there's more than one kind of family," he said quietly to her, looking her in the eyes, lit by the city below. "And there's more than one kind of home,"

"There is?" she asked skeptically, but her eyes wanted it to be true.

Tony nodded. "I dunno… I guess a home is a place where your family is. Where you know you'll be loved, no matter how stupid or ridiculous you are,"

"Are you saying I am stupid, Tony?" Ziva asked lightly.

He grinned, but his tone was sincere. "Far from it," he touched her hair gently, a curl falling over her face.

"Home is where you know you can go when the rest of the world doesn't want you," Ziva said.

"That's right,"

"When I was in Somalia… I knew that Mossad did not want me. Eli…" Ziva sighed for a quick moment. "I did not have anywhere else to go. I did expect to die. But sometimes, when I was just about to fall asleep, I would think of home. And it was here," she said.

"You're home," he said quietly.

"That, I am," she replied, looking up at him.

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