"Hey it's Ziva, sorry I can't get to the phone right now, leave a message!" It had been two and a half years since that day when Tony DiNozzo knew he couldn't leave another message. It had been two and a half years since Ziva had left him at the airport in Tel Aviv. "Merry Christmas Tony." It had been three years since she left when Tony DiNozzo received an unsigned Christmas card in that oh-so-familiar handwriting. Flash forward to three and a half years since that fated day: Tony Dinozzo sat, in a damp and dirty room, with his hand wrapped around that of a woman's . "Will you stay with me?" "Until my heart stops beating."