AN: Yay Tiva! I have a very extensive family tree in my head, but the only background you need is Tony and Ziva have three kids, and Penelope is the daughter of their oldest son.

If you went into the old attic you would find lots or things. Old journals, long forgotten sweaters, an NCIS cap with a few bullet holes. You would also find a box—simple, old. It would seem to be nothing of consequence, just another tattered remnant collected over two long-shared lives. But that box contains a thousand memories. The maybes, and the hopes, and the love collected over fifty long stretching years. It contains the story of two who eventually became five.

She would open the box and be instantly entranced by the smell, a strange combination of sandalwood, coffee, and something exotic that would always remind her of them.

Anyone else would call it trash, but Penelope DiNozzo loved all of it. She could see her grandparents through their own eyes. She tried to understand what each trinket had meant: a Star of David, a purple scarf, each had its own story she was sure. The pictures helped her to piece some things together.

They had pictures stretching all the way back to the year they'd met. Most of the older ones were higher quality than the later ones and starred people wearing NCIS garb: photos that had no doubt been taken on a crime scene and then stolen back. Pictures of her grandmother young and smiling, her grandfather laughing at a joke long since forgotten. The next pictures were from the wedding: simple and elegant. Her grandmother being walked down the isle by Gibbs, a man she had never met but had heard so much about it felt as if she had.

More pictures from the wedding: the wedding party all young and smiling. Tim and Abby, and Jenny and Gibbs all enjoying the lightened atmosphere. Next came her grandmother swollen with a child, sticking her tongue out at the camera. And then there was her grandfather holding a small pink child. The back of the photo claimed that it was Tony and Michael--her father.

The photos continued in progression: more children, first steps, birthdays, and parties. Each striking her through with happiness. All of them collected painstakingly through the years by one woman who never wanted to forget what she had found.

They had left a legacy that no one was ready to forget and, would be preserved forever in these perfect snapshots of their imperfect lives.

AN: I hope you liked it. As always drop me a line if you have the time. Also updates are coming for Alphabet Soup and *hopefully* Fandomized by Sunday. If they're not, you can start poking me.