Tony & Ziva: Season 2 (Wishlist Scenes)
🤞 12th July is the International Day of Hope 🤞
FYI: I wrote this post in May, before Michael’s NCIS return in S24.
If Paramount, CBS, or anyone else announced that Season 2 was happening, what would you like to see in it? Especially given that modern TV seasons are much shorter, with around 10 episodes instead of the 24-episode seasons we used to get a few years ago.
I am sorry, writing is not my strong suit, while for others it is a gift.
And yes, I know, too much focus on a potential second pregnancy.
I do not want the current pregnancy to echo or repeat the theme of guilt and secrecy that surrounded Tali’s hidden pregnancy. I want this storyline to remain grounded in a more stable and mature relationship.
The scenes below are not connected in chronological order and are not intended to outline a complete Season 2. Rather, they are a collection of moments I imagine taking place over the course of a season, reflecting the relationship I would love to see Tony and Ziva have.
After Tali fell asleep, Ziva asked Tony to join her in their bedroom.
The tone of her voice told him immediately that this was not an invitation for a romantic moment. When he closed the door behind him, she gently asked him to sit down beside her on the bed.
Without a word, he sat down beside her. She had barely spoken all evening, and the silence between them made him uneasy.
- Our time on the run lasted longer than it should have… and somewhere along the way, we found our way back to each other.
- We were not really thinking about birth control …
She drew a quiet breath before speaking.
- I have been feeling something familiar for days now.
The same way I did when I found out I was pregnant with Tali.
- I took a pregnancy test this morning. It is positive.
She slowly let go of him, opened the bedside table drawer, and took out the test, which she handed to him. Stunned, he looked at her. She gave a small smile. His gaze shifted to the test in his hand.
- A baby? We are actually going to have a baby?
- Yes, she replied, a little nervously.
Without taking his eyes off her, Tony gently placed the test on the bed and studied her for a long moment, as if trying to make sure it was real.
She did not answer immediately. It was not a simple question.
She paused, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the bed.
- I … I do not know, she finally admitted softly.
He gave a slight nod, accepting the answer without really knowing what to do with it. Slowly, he ran a hand over his face, trying to process it.
- Is this a good idea at our age? What about Tali?
- Tali will be happy … if we are, he replied quietly.
- I am excited … and terrified at the same time. And you?
He let out a small breath.
- Me? he said gently. We should definitely invest in a defibrillator.
Tony’s gaze drifted down to her stomach, almost unconsciously. The movement was so slight that Ziva nearly missed it. Hesitantly, he lifted a hand toward her — then stopped halfway. Her expression softened. Without a word, she took his hand and guided it the rest of the way.
Ziva watched him, searching his face for every emotion he was trying not to reveal. She saw the disbelief first, then the fear she expected. What she had not expected was the tenderness settling over his features, quiet and unguarded, softening something deep in her chest.
Tony exhaled softly, his thumb brushing absently against her through the fabric of her shirt. He leaned in and kissed her softly.
- Hope the baby gets my sense of humor and your stubbornness.
- My stubbornness? she echoed, one eyebrow lifting, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
- One of your most charming traits.
- Hang in there, Big daddy.
Tony shook his head, unable to hide his smile.
A few days later, when he came home, the apartment was silent. Tali was at a friend’s house; he had just hung up with her.
At first, he told himself it was only a delay. Then the minutes passed.
He called her. Voicemail. He tried calling her at her workplace, the 'School for International Languages'. No answer. He forced himself to slow down. He tried her mobile again. Voicemail.
He hung up quickly, afraid he might leave a message he would regret later. For a moment, he considered calling Boris to trace her phone.
His imagination filled the silence.
Every scenario became darker than the last — the same instinct that had once told him she was gone, without him even knowing why.
After a few seconds of hesitation, he moved through the apartment, checking rooms on instinct. The closet. The bathroom. Nothing was missing. And yet, the absence still felt absolute.
He stood there for a moment longer, keys already in hand, as if his body had decided before his mind could catch up. The front door opened.
The faint smile she had been carrying disappeared the moment she saw his face. Something in it told her everything. She saw the fear before anything else. A storm had already passed in her absence. She knew this version of him: the one who had been alone too long with his thoughts.
The relief was brutal, almost violent, immediately replaced by anger and fear, tangled together. His shoulders dropped slightly, but his eyes stayed on her, fixed, unblinking, as if she might vanish if he looked away.
He pulled her into his arms. Ziva did not resist.
Her hands found his back, steady and grounding. He closed his eyes.
- Why was your phone turned off?
Ziva stayed in his arms for a moment, then shifted back just enough to look up at him. He held her gaze as the tension in his shoulders slowly eased, knowing she understood the fear behind his words.
- I do not want to go through that again, he said more quietly.
It was not an accusation. It was a boundary.
- I am sorry, she whispered. My battery was dead. And if I came home later … it is because I had a craving for blueberry jam.
A brief silence stretched between them. Then, despite himself:
- I imagined ten different scenarios … and not a single one involved jam.
He looked away, slightly embarrassed, and put away the groceries on the kitchen island. Then he turned back to her.
- I am sorry. I was afraid that with this second pregnancy, you…
He stopped. The words stuck, as if he refused to give them form. Ziva did not interrupt. She simply stayed where she was, watching him struggle with something he did not often say out loud.
She placed a hand on his arm — steady, certain.
She lifted her hand to his cheek, gently forcing him to meet her eyes.
- I am not going anywhere, Tony.
Something in his expression shifted — not relief all at once, but the slow easing of a tension he had not fully realized he was holding.
His gaze stayed on her, as if testing the weight of her words, looking for any crack in them. There was none. He let out a quiet breath and nodded, almost imperceptibly.
Only then did his attention drift to the grocery bags.
Realizing he might have overreacted, Tony rubbed the back of his neck, a faint, self-conscious smile returning.
He opened one of the bags and peered inside.
- Three jars?
- They were on sale, she replied, taking off her coat.
- Of course they were. And tonight? What do you want to eat?
- Toast with jam and pineapple pizza.
Tony immediately grimaced.
- Pineapple pizza? I knew pregnancy would bring challenges …
I just did not expect a diplomatic crisis with Italy.
- You are overreacting.
- Somewhere in Italy, a grandmother just fainted.
Ziva smiled and added, deadpan:
- And honey pickles.
- Honey pickles?
She stared at him for a second, then a small smile broke through.
He stepped closer and pulled her into a hug.
- Ziva … Ziva … Ziva … What am I going to do with you?
He kissed her quickly. He picked up his phone and ordered two pizzas.
The tension had completely eased.
One morning, Tali entered the kitchen and stopped abruptly.
Ziva was eating toast with jam and pickles. Tony sat across from her with the expression of a man who had given up all hope of understanding anything. Tali studied them for several seconds.
Tony choked on his coffee.
Ziva looked up at her, momentarily caught off guard.
- What makes you think that?
The teenager shrugged and pointed at the table.
- You are tired. You eat strange things. And Aba let you have the last slice of pizza yesterday. So either you are pregnant or he is dying.
Ziva stifled a laugh. Tony slowly put his cup down.
- I did not know we were raising a little spy.
Tali crossed her arms proudly.
- I am your daughter. The probabilities were high.
Tony exchanged a look with Ziva. The kind that said: Do we tell her?
Ziva looked at Tali.
- Yes ... I am pregnant. We were going to tell you this weekend.
- Oh.
Tony immediately watched her face.
- Oh good… or is this bad?
Tali thought for a moment.
Tony let out a short laugh. Tali turned to Ziva.
That question softened something in Ziva immediately.
Tali studied her for a moment longer, then nodded.
Tony looked at her, then at Ziva, and smiled quietly.
Ziva placed a hand on her stomach without thinking, a small smile appearing before she caught herself.
Then she checked her watch and straightened.
- Tali, go get your backpack. We are late.
The teenager nodded and ran to her room.
Tony opened the door, then paused to check his watch.
- I need to change the battery …
He glanced back at Ziva, then leaned in and kissed her quickly.
- See you tonight, girls.
- See you tonight, Dad, Tali called out down the hallway.
Ziva watched him, a faint smile on her lips.
Tony opened the door for her with a deliberately exaggerated gesture.
Ziva’s gaze briefly dropped to his chest before rising back to his eyes, a familiar glint of amusement in her look — the kind that seemed to say: What are you planning now, DiNozzo?
The restaurant was not very crowded yet.
A quiet atmosphere, low conversations in the background.
When they sat down, Tony pulled out her chair.
Ziva held his gaze a second longer than necessary before opening her menu. Tony took his seat across from her and reached for her hand.
She scanned the room once, then focused back on him.
Under the table, her foot brushed against his leg, almost absent-mindedly, while her thumb slowly traced the edge of his wedding band as she quietly considered the lunch specials.
- Finally, just us, Tony said.
Ziva looked at him with a faint, teasing expression.
- You could have had this a long time ago… if you had not wasted so much time pretending you did not know exactly what you wanted.
She almost smiled, but stopped herself.
- That explains why it took you so long.
Tony let out a small laugh, shaking his head slightly.
- I always figured you did not mind the wait.
Ziva held his gaze a fraction longer than necessary.
The look she gave him sent warmth up his neck.
Tony smiled, quietly pleased, his eyes on her.
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
For a few moments, they studied the menu in silence.
Tony glanced at his and lightly tapped his stomach.
- Everything looks delicious … but I should probably watch my figure.
- Fries.
- That was not the answer I was hoping for… I think I will have a salad.
She raised an eyebrow.
He leaned back slightly, a small satisfied smile forming.
- Or maybe a ribeye steak.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Ziva’s lips.
- That is what I thought.
- And you?
- Fries… fries and chicken.
He smiled into his menu, like the answer had been entirely predictable.
They had this ritual.
Once or twice a month, they met like this — just the two of them.
No urgency. No phone ringing. Just them.
The lunch stretched on without them noticing.
They shared a slice of chocolate cake and a crème brûlée, playfully arguing over who would pay the bill.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and turned to him.
- What film?
- Body Heat with William Hurt and Kathleen Turner.
She glanced at his watch.
- Don’t forget we have to pick up the kids.
- Easy, Mom. We have got time.
Then they headed for the exit.
This could be the final scene of season 2.
A few weeks later, Ziva was already asleep, lying on her side, one hand resting near her baby bump. The bedroom light was low, almost warm.
Tony paused in the doorway, checking she was truly asleep, then approached the bed and knelt down gently. He stayed there for a moment, silent. Just watching. Softly, he placed his hand on her bump.
- Hey kid … he whispered.
A faint smile crossed his face.
- Your mother is quite a force of nature. She is loving, caring… and yes, she can be stubborn. Very stubborn. I assume you have noticed that.
He paused slightly, remembering the argument from earlier that day.
- And yet … I love her. I do not want a life without her.
He lingered for a moment longer, then leaned down and kissed her bump. Then he stood up and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
He turned and walked toward the bathroom.
The sound of running water filled the room.
Ziva did not move. For a long moment, she simply lay there, eyes still closed, her hand resting on her stomach. Her breathing slowed, quieter now, as if something in her had just settled rather than broken.
- Your father … she whispered.
He is … the best man I know.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She quickly wiped it away, still lying in the dim light.
- In S6E01, I always found it regrettable that Tony was not there at that Moroccan bar to see Ziva, in that beguiling dress, singing Temptation. - In Season 2, I would like a similar moment during a mission, a callback in tone and visual style. Ziva in a dress of the same color, still functional for the situation, but more refined and elegant, with a polished look that subtly recalls that earlier moment Tony never witnessed.
In S1E01, the episode begins with Ziva in a wedding dress and Tony in a tuxedo, both placed in a mission context in Budapest, Hungary.
In S2E01, Ziva is undercover, wearing an elegant deep purple dress — a direct nod to her undercover appearance in S6E01 of NCIS but more like the dress in the GIF above (functional for field conditions).
The setting is an opera house during a high-profile gala. And in the background, we could hear O Mio Babbino Caro by Giacomo Puccini, a subtle nod to S10E07 and to Tali, Ziva’s sister. A sort of Easter Egg.
He is physically in the same space, but separated by necessity for a moment. From a distance, he tracks her through the elegant chaos as she blends into the crowd, both of them working the mission in parallel.
🎥 In S1E07, Ziva is alone in the field, on the rooftop of the opera during the mission. Tony is not physically present, they do not share the same immediate reality. Their relationship is never addressed directly.
It is mediated through others:
- Ziva with Sophie (via earpiece),
- Tony with Archie.
They are co-parents, not a couple in practice.
🎥 In S2E01, the opera house was alive with movement.
Music, light, voices blending into elegance.
Tony spotted her almost immediately. Not because he was looking for the target, but because he would always find her first.
She was speaking with a guest, smiling, perfectly in character.
The dress caught the light as she moved, deep purple against the gold of the hall. Elegant, functional, and completely Ziva.
Their eyes met.
Neither of them moved.
She broke eye contact and returned to her role.
He knew he should focus on the mission, but for one second, he allowed himself to simply look at her before returning to work.
A crackle in his earpiece.
— Tony, we need you in the east corridor.
He allowed himself one last glance before moving through the crowd.
When he turned back at the top of the stairs, she was already in motion again, moving with the flow of guests as if she had never stopped.
Just before disappearing behind a group of guests, her fingers brushed her necklace — their silent signal — and she gave him a knowing look, brief, controlled, and unmistakably theirs, as always.
Around them, a subtle shift passed through the hall. Conversations slowed. Bodies turned. Guests began drifting toward the auditorium doors as ushers appeared along the edges of the space.
SOURCE GIFS: mycleverdetective
- In S7E01, Tony is under a truth serum.
- In Season 2, he could be again or something similar.
Tony was sitting under interrogation.
The room was closed. One-way glass. A guard at the door.
In the next room, Ziva was being held as well.
Her hands were restrained in front of her.
She had spent the last hour looking for an opportunity, a weakness, anything she could use.
She did not know Tony was here.
Not until she heard his voice.
- What are you afraid of?
He leaned back slightly. His breathing steady, unfocused.
He did not know she was behind the glass.
Tony’s eyes did not look at anything in particular.
The interrogation continued.
She could not afford to react.
She forced herself to keep her face impassive.
But hearing him say those words, hearing him give a voice to the fears he had carried within him for so long, shook her deeply.
Despite all these years, despite their reunion in Paris,
she discovered that he was still afraid of losing her.
And that realization hit her with full force.
She had always known he loved her.
She had never realized how much that fear had remained within him.
She remained perfectly still.
Only one thing had changed:
Somewhere deep inside her, something had finally begun to settle.
What affects her is not only the fear itself, but the way he expresses it — without irony, without defense, and without hesitation.
If the writing remains subtle, she never tells him she heard him.
Instead, this moment changes the way she responds to him. Ziva becomes more patient with his fears, finding ways over time to reassure him. She becomes more attentive to reminding him that she is here, that she is not going anywhere, even when they disagree.
Baby name ideas for baby number two?
- Eli → Tali
- Rivka → Ziva
4 letters, 2 syllables
- Tony → Tali
- Ziva → Dina or Ilsa / Noah or Adam
I like the idea of Adam, for the symbolism of what he did for them. It would be even more moving if the suggestion came from Tony.
I can totally imagine Tony saying:
- And honestly… I prefer Adam to Schmeil.
✔️ If it is a boy, it could end with Noah and Adam as his middle name.
✔️ What if we discovered that Tali’s full name is Tali Elisabeth? If Elisabeth were the name of Tony’s mother. Considering that he was unaware of Tali’s pregnancy and birth, this would have come from Ziva.
✔️ If it is a girl, I like the names Dina or Ilsa for Tiva. A middle name?
- Rivka? No, especially as Ziva never speaks about her mother.
- Abigail could work as an alternative, but I am not fully convinced.
- I am even less comfortable with Jennifer or Jenny.
- Caitlin would also be inappropriate, as she was killed by Ari.
- I briefly considered Sophie, but it is Ziva’s cover identity in S3E08 of NCIS and S1E08 of the spin-off. She was Sophia in S8E09, when she was on a mission with Senior, so it does not feel like a suitable option.
I am therefore leaning toward choosing a middle name for Dina or Ilsa with no specific reference at the moment for Tony and Ziva.
I would love more scenes like the S1E03 flashback after the restaurant 😁🙈😍, but set in the present, of course. It was so good to see them like this — happy, playful, affectionate, full of chemistry, deeply connected, and completely comfortable as a couple.
