Grief is like the ocean, it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can learn to do is swim.

~Vicki Harrison

*****

She really did look good in that red jacket. He would've been blissfully happy to spend all of eternity just sitting there at that French café, listening to the traffic and fluttery cadence of the locals, staring at his beautiful partner.

That's all he wanted.

But she patiently reminded him that they had other things to do, a witness to pick up, a plane to catch.

His only consolation was all the pictures he had on his camera. He knew which one was his favorite, which one he'd be sure to print and hang up somewhere (in a noncreepy way). That would have to be enough.

They went over to the rented moped, Tony climbing on first, Ziva hesitating.

He gave her a devil-may-care grin, to which she responded with a familiar look of amused resignation.

An explosion of emotions went off inside him as she climbed onto the moped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Dear God, he was going to need to get up to at least 1,000,000 miles per hour to escape those crazy feelings.

He glanced back at her once more before they took off, and he really wanted to stay there in that moment with her. He wished with all his heart, with all the shooting stars he'd ever seen, all the dandelions he'd ever picked, all the four-leaf clovers he'd ever found, that maybe, just maybe, he could have one minute more.

Little did he know she was already slipping away from him.

He felt the absence of her touch even more than he'd felt the presence. It stung like a million bee stings, like a million papercuts to his heart. It burned like the hungry flames of the sun were eating away at his soul.

He couldn't go on without her.

He couldn't keep going. Not like this, not like this.

He felt the flames wash over him, consuming him, reducing him. He was nothing without her. Nothing.

A dark figure appearred then, reaching out to him, offering a hand to help him stand up.

He stared through the flames, trying to see the figure's face.

Of course.

Suddenly the heat was bearable, the fire nothing more than a tickle at his ankles.

Everything was okay so long as he could be in her presence.

He accepted her offer, carefully rising to his feet.

Hardened in the same way that fire hardens wood, he was invincible.

They both were.

Nothing could touch them now.

He felt her hand slipping away from him, and he walked faster, trying to keep up, to catch up, to get a glimpse of her.

But she was gone.

Again.

All that was left of her was a handful of ashes.

And, because fire also weakens wood, he too shattered.

***

Even before he opened his eyes, the first thing he was aware of was the cold, damp pillowcase beneath his cheek.

The memory of his dream crashed over him again, and he was hit with a fresh wave of grief, the kind that knocks the air out of you and leaves you shaking and limp.

It was like his lungs had forgotten how to work. He couldn't breathe, but there was also a small voice in the back of his mind that whispered, "Would it really be all that bad?"

He didn't know how to go on.

He didn't know if he could.

He opened his eyes only when he heard tiny footsteps pattering toward him, when a small person flopped onto the couch beside him and tucked a stuffed dog up in his face.

"Aba."

"Good morning, Tali." He did a quick swipe at his eyes, even though he was pretty sure she was too young to notice his tears, much less say anything about them.

"Kalev," she said, pushing the dog in his face again.

"Kalev," he agreed. "Are you hungry? Is Senior still asleep?" He lifted his head a little, peering over the arm of the couch to find Senior.

Just as he expected, his father was still fast asleep on the inflatable mattress (and don't get the wrong idea, Senior insisted that Tony take the couch, saying that he'd need all the sleep he could get now that he had Tali running around).

"Wanna help me make breakfast?" he asked her, sitting up.

She beamed at him, and eagerly raised her arms to be picked up.

Something like a memory flashed through his mind, an image of Ziva toting Tali on her hip. He wished with everything he had that he coud've seen that in real life, that he could've seen it and tucked it away in his memory for dark days like these.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and then picked up his daughter. "What do you think? Pancakes or eggs?"

She gave no answer, not that he was expecting one.

"We'll make pancakes."

He set her on the counter and then went about getting the ingredients he needed to make breakfast. Wasn't too many things, honestly. Some people make pancakes from scratch and some people, like Tony, make pancakes from a box mix and a bit of milk.

He mixed up the batter and moved Tali to the other counter. "The stove is hot, okay? Very hot. Don't touch."

She met his gaze, and for the briefest moment he had to wonder how much of the fire Tali remembered.

She gave no sign of remembering, but she was also too young to understand, too young to express much in words.

Maybe she did.

But he hoped she didn't.

"Watch this, Tali." He flipped a pancake, and she clapped her hands excitedly. "Some day I'll teach you how to do that. But for now, Aba will make you all the pancakes you can eat."

If Tali couldn't have her mother, she could at least have her father. He would have to be her everything, the best everything he could be.

He couldn't let Ziva down.

*****

Sorry if that bounced around a lot.

On the upside, this means I can probably manage two updates a week, so expect to see another chapter on Friday.

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Btw, Lie Again reached 3k views the other day, and that is super exciting!!!! Thanks for your reads!!!!