The week had been insane. Ziva had been knocked to the ground by a beefy suspect, who had somehow passed her defenses and managed to kick her in the chest, making her spend 24 hours at the hospital in observation for a suspected mild heart bruising.
The doctors had ordered her to stay at home and rest for a week, leaving the team one short and therefore prolonging Tony's work hours considerably.
The fourth night after the accident, Tony came home late and found her standing in the doorway of their daughter's bedroom, staring at her sleeping form pensively. He walked to her and called her name softly, trying not to startle her, and only when she acknowledged his presence he encircled her waist in his arms, burying his face in her hair.

"Hey, why are you still up? Are you alright?"

She cocked her head in the direction of their bedroom, inviting him to go talk there, not wanting to wake Althea.
When they reached the bedroom, she finally greeted him putting her hands on his chest and kissing him softly.

"How was your day?"

"Long and uneventful. Ziva, is something wrong?" He asked again, worried. She had had troubles sleeping because of the various symptoms she was experiencing, but she seemed particularly tense and pale that night.

She shrugged and started undoing his tie.

"No. It's just… I'm a bit worried for Althea."

"Why? She sick?" The relief for Ziva being okay turned into a new wave of worry.

"No, don't worry, we are both fine. It's just that… something happened today, that made me realize something. I wasn't feeling very well –"

"What happened?"

"The usual, just a little worse, but it's already over. This is not the point. You know I don't show it when something's wrong – "

"Oh, I know that very well." He commented.

She glared at him.

"I meant around her. I was sitting on the couch and she was playing with Lego on the rug when the palpitations started. She wasn't even looking at me, and then suddenly she stopped playing and came to me to sit on my lap and curl up on my chest protectively, as if she knew what was going on."

"Well, she knows you've been sick and you've stayed at the hospital. Maybe it's just that."

"I've been home for three days, Tony, if it were as you say she would have done this as soon as I came back. But she did it today, when the symptoms were more uncomfortable than usual."

"Then maybe you didn't hide it as well as you think."

"Tony, how can you have known me for twelve years and think that?"

He puckered his lips. She had a point.

"It's not just today, it happened in the past, too. Every time I'm sad or I have had a bad day, she comes to me and hugs me, or gives me a kiss, or just wants to be held. Even if you doubt it, I'm sure I am still able to keep my face straight around her, and still she picks up everything. She has a sixth sense."

"I wouldn't expect any less, she's your daughter." He grinned.

"Yes, and I'm her mother, and still she acts like she has to protect me!"

"Okay, remind me why do you consider this a bad thing and you're worried about it."

"Because sometimes I feel like she's mothering me. I should be the one to take care of her and protect her, not the other way around!" She exclaimed, frustrated because he didn't seem to understand.

"You do take care of her, and I cannot think of a better protected child in the world."

"She never talks about what happens at the kindergarten." She continued, ignoring his observation. "I have never heard her complain about a mean classmate, about having a fight or… I don't know, having fallen during the break. Isn't this weird?"

"She's adorable and pacific, I honestly doubt she gets involved in fights or that she gives any child a reason to be mean to her."

"This things just happen, Tony. It is impossible that in five months she hasn't had a bad day yet. She does not open up, this is what worries me." She concluded, anguished.

"Well… she's your daughter." He reiterated, but this time his comment was devoid of humor.
"Listen, here's my two cents. I think she comes to you when you're not okay because no matter how pokerfaced you are, you two have a special connection. I think being so perceiving and sensitive is an amazing quality and I'm proud of her for it. I think you should accept it as a form of unconditional love and cherish it. You're not failing her just because sometimes she takes care of you. Besides, if you've learnt to open up and let others, and by others I mean yours truly, take care of you in your thirties, well… I think she can do it at the tender age of three and with all her life ahead."

She weighed his reasoning for a moment and nodded. Her eyes dampened a bit as she expressed her final doubt.

"What if I am being a bad example for her?"

"I don't see how. You're not the same person you were, let's say, five years ago."

"Then where did she take this shyness?" She insisted.

He considered the question carefully.

"She's not shy, she's just reserved. Maybe we could… talk to her more. We could stop pretending everything's fine around her when we're tense. Maybe she's deducing that that's the right way to deal with problems."

"What am I supposed to tell her, Tony?" She asked, shocked that he had made such a proposition. "Should I tell her about all the horrors of my past, tell her about my family and why she will never have the chance to meet them? Should I tell her that three days ago I feared for my life and panicked about making her go through what you and I went through? She's three years old, I cannot tell her such things!"

"No, of course not. I suggest we wait for her to be big enough for that." He shivered at the thought. Every parent fears some of the conversation that will need to be done in the future, but they certainly had a unique set of those.

"I meant that we can tell her when we're tired, or sick, or we've had a bad day, or a bad dream… you know, all the issues she can relate to, and see if she starts sharing her own."

In other words, they could use the same method he had used to make Ziva open up, a few years earlier. His girls were so incredibly similar.

Ziva nodded and whispered her okay. Then she closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. He stroke her back soothingly until he felt she was completely calm.
She finally looked up at him.

"You're a good man, and a good father."

He smiled and replied "And you're a good mother, and you should stop doubting that. You should also go to bed and get the rest the doctor prescribed you, especially if you've felt worse than usual today."

She had distracted him with the parenting issues, but all his worries about her health were back intact. She wasn't the only one who had feared for her life recently.

"Don't hate me if I ask you again, but are you sure you're alright?"

She cupped his cheeks and kissed him. "I am now."


A/N Althea is a greek name that means healer, wholesome. I thought it was appropriate.
Forgive me if something is linguistically off, as you know I'm not a native speaker and I wrote this in one go.
Your thoughts are always appreciated!