A new tradition for a new family.

Tony stretched as best as he could with Tali's sleeping form draped over his shoulder, his body aching after the trans-Atlantic flight, a feat he'd accomplished before with the toddler in tow that was now made easier by the advent of his former partner, current fiancée, and future wife.

"Can you get my passport out? I think it's in my back pocket," Tony asked quietly, doing everything he could to avoid waking the sleeping toddler. She'd slept fitfully on the plane, which had in turn kept both of her parents awake, and now they were hesitant to wake her unless absolutely necessary.

Ziva silently hoped that the customs inspectors would not require Tali to be awake for the proceedings.

"Bonjour," she greeted smoothly, handing over all three passports to the officer and answering the questions he posed to them. He seemed satisfied with her answers and pleased with her knowledge of French, and they passed without incident, wandering slowly to the baggage claim, Tony stepping cautiously onto the escalator, certain with every passing second that his next move would be the one to cause Tali to wake up and cause a scene.

The "terrible twos" were, in fact, a real thing, as both he and Ziva had learned over the past few months together. Tali learned the fine arts known as the tantrum, the meltdown, and – Tony's personal favorite – the resistance to naps. It had become a battlefield at the DiNozzo household, a loving and exhausting one, but a battlefield nonetheless.

Now, however, Tali seemed content to snore into Tony's neck, her arm draped loosely over his own as Ziva kept watch for their luggage. How much better it was to have someone to help out with these tasks, he marveled, not for the first time since he'd found her here all these months ago.

The trip had been a last-minute affair, something they'd chosen to do on a whim, only after a conversation they'd had on Christmas night.

Ziva had sat leaning against him, hot cocoa warming her hands through a Hanukkah mug Tony had bought her. Tali had been asleep in her room, snuggling a new stuffed animal – a cat, fittingly, to befriend her trusty companion Kalev – when Tony had asked her what she wanted to do for the new year.

Ziva had shrugged slightly, leaning forward to take a sip of the beverage in her hands. "Last year, Tali and I spent New Year's Eve in Paris. They light up the Eiffel Tower and set off fireworks, and it's truly spectacular." She had paused, taking another sip of her hot chocolate, shivering even as she embraced its warmth. "But we are all together now," she'd mused, speaking almost to herself. "So whatever we do to ring in the new year will be better than that."

Tony had scoffed. "Better than Paris?" Ziva narrowed her eyes at him as he leaned away from her, eyeing her skeptically. "You think that sitting here on this couch would be better than Paris because we're together as a family?"

"Yes?" She hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, but it had all the same, and she remembered now how she'd felt mocked for daring to showcase her newfound sentimentality.

He hadn't responded right away, so she'd continued, explaining herself. "We are a family, Tony. It is what I have wanted since the moment I learned I was pregnant. I know the new year is a metaphor, really, but the thought of spending a whole year together, all three of us," she drew in a breath, smiling slightly. "Well … you can see how sitting at home as a family and doing nothing sounds appealing to me."

Tony hadn't been able to argue with that logic, but within a minute he had sprung up and opened up his laptop, seemingly on a mission.

"Tony?" she had asked him quizzically, setting her mug of cocoa on the table and following him to the computer as he typed in the name of an airline search website.

"Why don't we do both?" he'd asked with a shrug.

"Spend New Year's Eve as a family, and in Paris?" She'd smiled wryly, rubbing his shoulder as he bent over the screen, looking for a suitable flight arrangement. "I rather like the way you think."

He'd booked it in less than five minutes, a last-minute trip to Paris for three, a flight that would land them at Charles de Gaule at twenty minutes past nine on New Year's Eve, and have them back home a week later, undoubtedly jet-lagged and exhausted but partied out and well-traveled.

Now, Ziva gathered their bags and set Tony up with the one piece of baggage he could manage with Tali asleep on his hip. He wheeled it carefully behind him as Ziva adjusted the straps on Tali's tote so that she could carry it across her body, messenger-style. She glanced at the clock nearby. "We have just enough time to drop these things off if we want to make it to the Eiffel Tower before midnight," she said, leading him toward ground transportation, where she hailed them a cab.

Keeping Tali asleep as Tony crouched enough to get into the cab was too much to hope for, and she began to fuss, but Ziva had sat down in the cab first and reached for her, allowing her to settle against her own shoulder so Tony could get in. Tali would undoubtedly wake up when they arrived at the massive New Year's Eve party, but for now, they could let her sleep as long as possible.

As luck would have it, Tali woke up in the hotel room, surprisingly cheerful as Ziva worked to get her diaper changed. "Ready to go see the fireworks, my little lamb?" she cooed, and Tali just stared at her wide-eyed, still sleepy and unwilling to answer.

"Do you think she remembers? Last year, I mean?" He hated the way he sounded, but he'd missed so much of her life already.

"I doubt it, Tony," Ziva said wistfully. They did not even have their picture – not even a selfie – taken at the festivities last year. Perhaps this year would be a time to start a new tradition.

They bundled up and headed outside, finding Paris surprisingly warm – if one could consider forty-five degrees warm – and made their way into the bustling crowds, looking around at all of the lights and the festive atmosphere. Tony and Ziva took turns pointing out bright attractions to Tali, and she clapped her gloved hands excitedly when she found something of her own to point at. "Boo!" she said, pointing toward a string of lights that was hanging around one of the vendor stalls.

"That's right, Tali! Blue!" Ziva praised, clapping her hands and cheering along with her daughter, who had apparently caught on that tonight was supposed to be a celebration, and not cause for a tantrum.

It was getting later, and the crowd was growing more excited. Ziva recalled a similar energy last year, as she had wandered through the crowds with a younger Tali, hoping to celebrate something positive despite such an important part of their lives missing. "What time is it?" Tony asked, patting his pockets and realizing that he'd left his phone charging in the hotel room.

"Eight minutes til," she replied, surveying the crowd for a spot from which they could best observe the countdown. If Tony noticed how her eyes darted around the scene, assessing every possible angle and avenue of escape, he didn't mention it, but she suspected that he was well aware that her instincts would likely not leave her for a long time – if ever.

"Tali, look over there," Tony said, pointing at the Arc de Triomphe, which was lit up rather spectacularly in preparation for the celebration. He wondered if he'd have to count down the numbers in French or if he'd be able to get away with shouting them in English. Would it matter, after all, as long as he was enjoying himself?

"Ziva, I can't remember the numbers in French," he whined, rubbing his hands together absentmindedly before reaching to pat Tali's head affectionately.

"Then shout them in some other language," she instructed, answering the question he hadn't asked.

"Will you shout in English with me? And Tali?" he asked, becoming insecure. Suddenly, the crowd erupted, and he could see that the countdown was beginning. Why crowds always tried to count down the entire last minute of the year never made sense to him, as they ended up being far off the actual count by the time they got even halfway there – many of them celebrating the new year before it had officially begun.

He'd always laughed at those people. How hard was it to watch the clock and stay with it?

"Tali, it's almost time to count! Remember?" Tali stared at her blankly, evidently still sleepy from her earlier nap and abrupt change in schedule. Tony had practiced counting down with her on the plane, but Tali had been more interested in throwing her hands up in the air when he reached "one," wiggling her fingers and shouting "YAY!" much to the annoyance of the other passengers on the plane.

That might have been a contributor to her lack of sleep on the flight, now that he thought about it.

"It's almost time," Ziva whispered, nudging Tony to get his attention. He looked up and watched the numbers flash on the screen, keeping one eye trained on Tali so he could count with her.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven," he began leaning in closer, his eyes growing wider as he tried to get her to remember their game on the plane.

Ziva also leaned in closer, deciding to join in on their little game together. "Six, five, four…" she added her voice to the mix.

"Three, two..." they chimed in unison.

"ONE!" Tali shouted, raising her hands in the air and cheering loudly, as the rest of the crowd erupted into what could only be described a joyful type of mayhem.

Tony first delivered a light peck to Tali's forehead, then pulled Ziva by the waist and surged forward to kiss her, pulling her tightly against him as his way of ringing in the new year. He had barely opened his mouth to kiss her more thoroughly when Tali began to wriggle between them, interrupting their moment. They pulled apart breathlessly, their faces still close together as Tony breathed, "Happy New Year, Ziva," leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek before pulling away entirely.

"Happy New Year, Tony," she replied with a smile, her eyes alight with the glow of the fireworks – fireworks, she had learned, that were not officially sanctioned by the Parisian officials.

"Appa OO YEEER!" Tali screeched, mimicking her parents and throwing her arms in the air again, smiling with delight. Tony could only chuckle at her enthusiasm before replying.

"Happy New Year, Tali," he cooed, taking her from Ziva and giving her a tight hug.

Ziva leaned into him and wrapped her arms around her family, taking in the sights around her. The Eiffel Tower, sparkling and practically dancing in the night sky, the Arc de Triomphe festive and bright. The unofficial (yet still pretty spectacular) fireworks display, and the two people she loved most in the world.

Tony turned to look at her then, noting the serene expression on her face, feeling his own eyes welling up with a tear. "So how's this then," he said softly, leaning toward her, "Better than last year?"

"The best new year ever," she replied without hesitation, smiling widely as she realized that she meant it, that it hadn't been even a slight exaggeration.

"Then let's do this every year," he said, squeezing her gently.

Ziva could only smile. If she had been the type to make new year's resolutions, then last year she might have made one. She might have resolved to bring her family together in the coming year; to come clean with Tony and to do whatever it took to make their lives whole. It was a resolution she wouldn't have been sure she could have kept, not with the way everything in her life had been going, but she might have tried. She had wanted it, more than anything, and she was so grateful that it had come to pass.

Now? She couldn't think of a single thing that she could possibly want to change about her life. If she were the type to make resolutions, then she might just resolve to keep everything as perfect as it was right now.

"A DiNozzo family tradition," she said finally, and this time, it was Tony's turn to smile, his grin lighting up his face.

"Those are the best kind."

Ziva nodded, unable to keep herself from bubbling with laughter. "They really are."

"Appa OO YEEER!" Tali cried again, lifting her hands dramatically, and that was all it took for all three of them to erupt into giggles as they joined the revelry surrounding them and ushered in their first new year as a family under the sights and sounds of the Parisian sky.

I promised a Christmas fic and I didn't do it so here's a New Year's one instead. (Sorry about that. It's hard to write when you're out of town.)