I said I might do a follow-up to 24 and here it is. It is just a one-shot because I really do not think I can expand on this anymore. Although, I have just had an idea, but I do not think it will work out. I have so many other things I should be working on, but I do not have the inspiration at the moment – this was just something quick I wrote whilst sat on the bus next to a father with a child on his lap.

You really do not need to have read 24 I do not think. It is just that Eva is from 24, but that is all. I cannot think of anything else you need to know. Of course, you could always go and read 24 anyway, or even reread it. No? Oh well, enjoy this one.

Bedtime

"Eva-Beaver, please go to bed." Eva-Beaver – a moniker he had given her when she was teething and she chewed on the wooden bars of her cot. Ziva hated it, but it would make the child laugh when he called her it. In normal circumstances, that was. But not this night. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded across her chest and a blanket clutched in one of her hands as she pouted stubbornly. There were tear stains down her red cheeks and her hair was a mess, the hair he had tried to tirelessly tame into a braid – he had no idea how her mother managed it, confining the short mane of curls into one plat that all tied together neatly with a hairband. He could not figure out whether he had gotten her pyjama top on back to front and he was certain that if he tried to sort it out she would start screaming again. How was it that a three-year-old was more difficult to get to sleep than a ten-month-old? "Please, Baby? For Daddy?"

"No! Want Ima!" And the wailing started again. Which only served to wake her brother. Which led to Tony sinking to the floor and crying into his hands. The first time he had been left alone to look after both children on his own for more than twenty-four hours and he was reaching the point of desperation. He was fine looking after them during the day, could even manage bedtime without Ziva, but when she was not there when the children woke up Evita had spent the entire day in tears, treating it as if it were Tony's fault that her Ima was not there.

It was the first time he had spent the night without her since before Eva was born, and he was struggling too. After a bad nights sleep, the last thing he needed was to be woken by a grumpy toddler, a screaming baby and an empty bed. But that was what he got for letting Ziva go on the stakeout with McGee in Arizona. They had drawn straws and when she had pulled the short straw he had tried to argue so that he could go instead, but she had touched his cheek, telling him that she needed to learn to trust being away from the children for longer than the average workday - else she would never let them go when they were older - and he needed to learn to cope with them on his own.

He had been so confident, how much harder could it be to look after them overnight than through the day, after all? He had done bedtimes with them when Ziva worked late, he had had his three days out of their six-day week of staying home whilst Ziva worked – he knew what he was doing. But then he realised neither of them had ever done breakfast alone. They always worked together in the morning, creating an efficient production line of dressing and feeding.

The neighbour banged on the wall. "Shut your kids up! I've got an early morning tomorrow!"

"Yeah, well so do I! You hitting the wall every ten minutes ain't gonna help anything!" He shouted back, reaching for the phone and dialling Gibbs number.

Within seconds of hearing the neighbour's constant abuse of the wall and the persistent screaming of the two children on the other end, there was a gruff chuckle. "I'll be over in ten, DiNozzo. Don't kill next door in that time."

The noise level dropped when the rhythmic thudding of a fist against the wall stopped and Tony looked up to stare at the point he knew his neighbour had been standing at in the apartment next to theirs. The guy was single and grumpy, a businessman who would complain at every little sound from their apartment, no matter what time it was. Their blessing came when they discovered that nobody else, including the landlord – liked him, and so his complaints were basically ignored. A key scratched in the lock and the bolt slid across, granting Gibbs access. "Next door won't be bothering you for the rest of the night."

"What did you do to him, Boss? After Ziva's threats, I don't think it will go down well if he turns up dead." Tony looked up from the sofa where he cradled the whimpering baby boy. Eva still stood in the kitchen doorway, screaming.

"I just told him to have some consideration for others." Gibbs shrugged, walking over to Evita and picking her up. "What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

"Want Ima!"

"Daddy not good enough, huh? Fair point." He brushed her tears away. "First things first, let's clean your face and get you a dry pyjama top, hey? And we'll put it on the correct way round this time."

"I'll, uh, I'll just settle him to sleep." Tony murmured quietly with a sniff, standing up and walking through to the baby blue room, flicking the little nightlight that cast stars on the walls on. He walked around the room in slow circles, wishing his son was not so big when he grew heavy in his arms. As the little boy's eyes drooped, finally falling shut, he smiled, placing him in the crib and tucking him in. "Ima will be back tomorrow and your sister will be in a better mood then, and everything will be back to normal. Night, little one. I love you."

He walked back through to the living room to see Eva sat on Gibbs' lap, her head on his chest as she played with his large hand, comparing it in size to her own tiny hand. She wore a new pyjama top, one that matched the bottoms she was wearing better, the correct way around, and her face was less red. Gibbs had also removed the hairband and brushed her wild curls out, letting them hang around her face. They were going to be so tangled in the morning, but he was too tired to care by this point. "Daddy." He smiled, walking over and holding his arms out.

"Tired, Eva-Beaver?"

"Mmhm." She gave a little yawn as he picked her up.

"Come on, little Munchkin. Let's get you to bed."

She looked up at him as he tucked her in. "Story?"

"Not tonight, Eva. Daddy's very tired."

"Please?"

He sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and laying down next to her, closing his eyes for a moment. He was shattered. A small, light tap to his cheek was enough to wake him up. "Ow. Unnecessary." He pouted and she chuckled. "You're just like your Ima, you are."

"Where Ima?"

"Working, Baby. I told you."

"Where?"

He sighed again and leant over her to flick the switch of the bedside lamp on. It illuminated a globe that sat on her bedside cabinet, something Ziva would use to get her to sleep, telling a story of each place she had visited, pointing them out on the spherical map. The child clambered up, ruining his neat tucking-in, and he shifted over so he was closer to the globe. "Can you find us for me?" She stood and turned the map around so her chubby finger was roughly on DC. "Good. Now Ima is over…" he walked her fingers across to Arizona, tapping the spot approximately where Ziva and McGee were, "here."

She looked to him, frowning, and stepped over the mounds of bedding so she could sit on his chest. "You miss Ima?" She touched her fingers to his lips, leaning forwards so her forehead rested on his.

"Very much. I think I miss her just as much as you do."

"I miss Ima lots."

"Me too. Me too." He did not want to cry. He did not want to make his daughter cry. "I love her lots and lots, you know. I love her just as much as I love you and your brother. You are all very special to me." He swallowed, staring up at her.

"When Ima home?"

"Tomorrow, hopefully. She'll be back before dinner, I promise." His eyes were getting heavy and he grit his teeth together to stifle a yawn. "I'm tired."

Evita smiled as Tony closed his eyes. "Night-night, Daddy." She kissed his nose before nestling her head under his chin, yawning and closing her eyes too.

Yeah, yeah, I could not be bothered to name their son – I am exhausted and I am in the wrong mood to be thinking of names for the fictional children of fictional people, so if you really want you can use your imagination to give him a name, but he is not really featured heavily, so I did not really see the point.

For my reference: 56th NCIS fiction.