This story is about uncertainty, family, and forgiveness. About endings becoming beginnings. About discovery and truth and, most importantly, about love.
Paris had been a dream. For eight perfect days, Tony, Ziva and Tali existed contentedly within the bubble of their Hollywood-worthy ending. Tony constantly waited for violins to underscore his waking hours, but as each one passed, he found himself increasingly unable to ignore the fact that he knew very well: endings are far more temporary than people like to think. Sooner or later, they become something else.
For eight days, this ending had been theirs, and it had been wonderful. Eight days of getting to know his daughter, of doing touristy things and seeing them through the fresh eyes of an almost-two-year-old, of trying brand new things like strange French delicacies and seeing what would happen if he held Ziva's hand. Eight evenings spent with her body only inches away, his hands roaming freely across her golden skin, her soft laughter and sighs like music in his ears, and her chestnut curls tickling his face from above, as tangled as their bedsheets. Eight mornings awoken by the pitter-patter of tiny feet into their room, usually followed by Tali crawling into bed between them. This morning was one such morning, with Tali arriving right on schedule, her stuffed doggy tucked under her arm.
Ziva was curled up on her side, messy hair splayed out behind her on the pillow and Tony's arm loosely draped around her waist. Of course, her acute ninja senses were attuned to rouse at the slightest of noises, but of late those noises were more likely to be toddlers than any real threats, so she no longer slept with a gun. Nevertheless, she did hear Tali coming, and sat up expectantly to greet her.
"Boker tov, Tali," she said sleepily, but with a smile, and Tali took that as a welcome pass into the warm queen-sized bed. She kneed Tony in the back accidentally on her long trek across the mattress, and he groaned and rolled over to face the already bright morning sun peeking through the blinds and the smiling faces of his two favourite girls.
"Wow," he remarked to Tali. "Somebody's up…" he looked over at the digital clock on his bedside, "…even earlier than normal!" Tali seemed to think his sleep deprivation was hilarious and responded with a giggle. He had never been a morning person, but that laugh made it a lot easier to get out of bed at this time. "You get that from your mother. Did you know on her first day at work she got there at five in the morning? What the heck is that about?" He wasn't sure whether he was directing this at Tali or at Ziva, though he often talked to Tali, about all kinds of things, even though she didn't understand most of it. Ziva usually just went along with it, but this time, she tensed visibly, and he couldn't help but think he'd hit a nerve.
"We have to go back sometime, you know," he said. Ziva avoided his glance, instead focussing on untangling Tali's curly locks, so similar to her own, to distract herself. He lay on his back, his head turned to the side, facing her.
"I know," she replied. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were too intense for her to be able to seem at ease. He could tell she wasn't, and he thought that she was probably well aware of that.
"Then why won't you look at me?" he pressed. She stopped fiddling with Tali's hair and blinked a few times while trying to look for the right words.
"I am…apprehensive," she answered.
"You're coming back from the dead – I'd be pretty nervous too."
"It is not that," she cut him off, ignoring his joke. "There is only so much capacity inside a person for forgiveness."
"Ziva, listen." He brushed her cheek gently with his fingers. "These people are your family. They'll come around."
She smiled just a little, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I am sure you are right. We cannot hide away in Paris forever."
"No, we can't." He held her gaze for a long moment, and he could tell there was more she wasn't saying, but she broke away and turned her attention to Tali.
"Are you hungry, Tali?" she asked in a much cheerier tone, tickling the little girl's belly before scooping her up and carrying her to the kitchen.
Their ending was rapidly becoming a beginning, an event that was largely inescapable. It is next to impossible to stop stories from happening. He got on the phone to the airline while Ziva and Tali ate, and just like that, their future had been paved.
…
He remembered his last Paris-D.C. flight vividly, and he had to say that this was a vast improvement, even with the fidgety toddler on board. There was no dead guy, no protection detail, and no lingering leftover sexual tension to deal with on the side. That last one was probably the most relieving.
There was, however, a rather tense and antsy Ziva. She was doing her best to hide it for Tali's sake – when he had mentioned Jimmy's child-mirror-parent-behaviour theory she had absolutely agreed – but he could read her better than just about anybody, and he was pretty sure that right now her insides were a great big knotty mess.
For a while, he thought it best just to leave her be. When she was anxious she could be vicious, and he didn't want to fight with her. But five hours into the eight-hour flight, their bodies had both given up on sleep and functional silence. Tali's had not just yet, though, and most of the other passengers on the late afternoon flight were at the heavy stage of the effects of their sleeping pills, so they had the closest thing to what any airline passenger could call privacy. And, well, cards on the table and all, he loved her – that meant not sitting idly by as she so obviously suffered. Relationships, as he understood them, meant communication. So he communicated.
"How do you think we should do it?" he asked her.
"Do what?" She rolled up the in-flight magazine and twisted it absent-mindedly.
"Tell the team."
She stopped twisting the magazine, and her knuckles turned white.
"Ziva, talk to me," he pressed, reaching for her hand. Upon contact, she twitched out of reflex but did not pull away. She's trying, he thought. And she was – she was fighting every instinct for that one touch.
He thought back to moments like this when he bravely tried to touch her and she retaliated. After her father died and she stayed at his place, and he awoke her from her nightmare, a gentle hand on her forearm had resulted in the rapid restraint of his wrists. Worse, when she'd been undercover to catch a serial killer and nearly been shot, she had been a wreck. He had tried to tousle her hair and ended up with his hand pinned flat against her desk.
Ziva fought feelings like people – with kicks and punches and adrenaline. He couldn't imagine how she must be feeling now, all cooped up in this airplane headed towards a complicated and probably messy destination. But still, she didn't move her hand away. And slowly, she began to form the words he was asking to hear.
"You have to understand," she began, "how hard this feels. For two and a half years I cut myself off from the world, from my family, from everything. Because I believed there were no more blows that I could take, because I believed that I had become something that I never wanted to be. I threw away everything I had, Tony." Her voice trembled with the threat of tears. "Including you. Including my home in D.C., because I felt that there was something so drastically wrong with me that I had to rebuild myself from the ground up. So you have to understand that it is hard for me to expect the team's forgiveness when I would not give it to myself for such a long time. And now, looking back on it, I…if I was in their position, I am not sure I would be so willing to open my arms again."
"They've done it before," he said, but only because he had very little else at his disposal after that.
"That was different," she snapped. "You all worked and risked your lives to save me from a situation that I was not able to get out of."
"But both times you chose to go," he replied, as gently as he could, as he knew that could be entering dangerous territory. "You tell 'em that you…you needed time. You didn't know how to fix it. You're sorry if anyone's feelings were hurt. But you're back now, you're home."
He stopped there. Not knowing where to go next. Feeling the pain of her leaving rise in his chest. He forgave her everything, he understood as much as he could understand – but those long lonely nights and those days wondering if he would ever fill her void, those were still clear in his memory. The more the thoughts circled his mind, the more he understood why she might be worried. But like him, he was sure, their feelings of anger or sadness or betrayal would be eclipsed by their joy that she was alive and that she was back. That their family was whole again. That's what family does. And maybe it was because he was so blindingly in love with her, but he couldn't imagine a universe where he wouldn't have opened his arms for her in the end. He was sure the team would feel the same.
Carefully, he turned her hand over and interlocked their fingers. A promise. "I've got a plan."
…
They landed at 7pm D.C. time, which baffled Tony, because the early rise that morning plus the eight-hour flight had meant that today had been one of the longest days in recent memory, and it was still not over. At least this time, he had Ziva, who from experience alone was more adept at judging Tali's needs or coaxing her into sleep.
Their responsible decision was to head back to Tony's place for the night and get some well-needed rest. In the morning things would be clearer and simpler, or so he hoped. Ziva seemed a little more at ease than she had been, though maybe that was just the relief of getting off the plane and onto solid ground. Tali's body clock was all out of whack, and she seemed to have a fair dose of energy after her nap on the plane. She traipsed in her clumsy toddler way along the travelators, falling in and out of line with her parents. A few people gave them looks as if to demand that they wrangle their vicious offspring, but the airport wasn't busy, and Tony and Ziva were former federal agents—their girl was being watched by two pairs of very careful eyes; she wasn't going to get far. They figured it was best to let her tire herself out before they got home.
Ziva eventually did call out to her, once they had collected their baggage and Tali's stroller from the carousel. The little girl clambered in and Tony secured the straps.
"No running off this time, okay?" he said softly to her, thinking back to when she had broken out in Paris, at the sight of her mom. Tali smiled and Tony gently tapped her on the nose with his finger.
It was only a short walk to the taxi rank and a few gestures at the passing cabs before they were en route to the closest thing to home – Tony's apartment.
"By the way," he said as they zoomed along the highway, passing streetlights periodically lighting up Ziva's face and casting it back into shadow. "We really need to go mattress shopping."
"You are not still sleeping in that twin bed?" she asked, her exhaustion lacing her words with venom.
"Well not tonight at least. You, bed. Me, couch."
"And Tali?"
"Tali's crib's in the study. Senior bought her a mobile and everything. I told him she was too old for it, but—"
"That is very sweet," Ziva said with a fond smile at the thought of DiNozzo Sr. "You should call him."
"Well, he'll wanna see the mother of his granddaughter. He took quite a shine to her, you know."
"I am not surprised." Her smile slowly faded as she thought about what else she might have missed, not just of Tali's life, but of her own.
It was after eight when the cab driver pulled up on the street outside Tony's building.
"My, uh, wallet's in the go-bag," he said when told the fare, referring to the ginormous satchel at Ziva's feet and out of his reach.
"I will find it," she said, heaving the bag onto her lap. "Take the bags and I will meet you up there."
"You got it." He slid out of the car and the driver popped the trunk for him and he winced as he lifted the two suitcases out. He pulled up the retractable handles and headed for the lobby and then for the elevator. He'd had enough forethought, thankfully, to put his apartment keys in his jacket pocket, so when he reached his floor, he did not have to go searching for them.
He swung the door open and stepped over the threshold, feeling the instant atmospheric embrace of home. Then, he placed the suitcases out of the way, against the wall, and headed for the bathroom. His hand reached for the knob to the bathroom door when he heard a sound that made him freeze and reach for the SIG that was no longer at his hip: a flush.
He had come to terms with the reality that he would have to fight this bathroom-using intruder with just his fists and had been ready to break down the door when it opened and Jimmy Palmer stood, screaming, in the open doorway. If not for what Jimmy had just been doing, he probably would have wet his pants.
"Oh my God," Jimmy said, bent over double trying to catch his breath. "Tony, you nearly scared me to death."
"Jesus Christ Palmer!" Tony exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing here?!"
Jimmy straightened. "Feeding the fish," he said, confused that Tony didn't remember asking him. "And using the bathroom, sorry. It's a long drive back to my place. I'll just feed them before I go, saves you the trouble." He started making his way down the hall, having regained his composure. Tony followed him anxiously, knowing what was about to walk through the open door any second.
"Sorry that I'm here so late tonight – we're at the tail end of a case. How was your trip? Did you take Tali to the Eiffel Tower?" the younger man asked enthusiastically. "Say, where is she? Did your dad pick you guys up from the airport?" They reached the fish tank, right by the door. Jimmy picked up the container of fish food and sprinkled the little flakes into the water, waiting patiently for an answer to all of those questions.
"Uh, good, yes, and…um…" Tony had no idea what to say. Luckily, Ziva entered with Tali on her hip and the go-bag over her shoulder, looking gloriously domestic, perfectly on cue, and said it for him.
"Tony, can you believe your doorman remembered me? How sweet of him to—"
She did not get through more than that before she saw a gobsmacked Jimmy, standing by the door, the container of fish food falling from his hand and its contents scattered all over the floor, and Tony behind him, looking apologetic and nervous.
"Jimmy was feeding the fish," Tony explained, as Jimmy's mouth opened and closed much like a fish's – with no sound coming out.
Ziva paused before speaking. "Hello, Jimmy. How…how are you?" These actual words from the actual, living Ziva David seemed to kick his brain into gear.
"Ziva, you're…you're alive! You're here!" The autopsy gremlin was thrilled. More than thrilled. He was dumbfounded and ecstatic. "You're…you're not dead!"
"Yes. I am…" She looked over Jimmy's shoulder at Tony who was beaming. "I am back," she answered, matching him with a smile of her own.
Jimmy looked back and forth at his co-workers and friends, realising he was caught in the middle of one of their infamous staring matches, and he was delighted by it. He never thought it could happen again.
"This is wonderful news!" he exclaimed. "David and DiNozzo, back together!" Realising the weight of what he had said, he quickly added: "I mean…you are together, right?" He turned to Tony, who was still looking over at Ziva.
"Cards on the table," he said by way of explanation.
"Tali gets to have her mommy and daddy in her life!" He directed this at Tali, who remembered how much she liked the funny man who fed her and played with her sometimes. Jimmy looked up at Ziva for permission, and she obliged, handing the little girl over to Jimmy. She was amazed at how at ease he was with her, after all the years of his socially awkward antics.
"Jimmy's a dad now, Ziva," Tony informed her. Ziva's face lit up at the news.
"That's right," Jimmy said, bouncing Tali gently from side to side. "Victoria Elizabeth Palmer. She's fifteen months." With his free hand, he fished out his phone from his pocket and clicked the home button, lighting up the screen with a picture of the family together. He showed it to Ziva.
"Congratulations, Jimmy," Ziva said. "Maybe our girls can have a playdate some time."
Jimmy's grin grew impossibly wider. "Yeah, that'd be nice."
"Listen, Palmer," Tony said, interrupting the parent-talk. "We'd appreciate if you could keep this to yourself for a bit."
"To myself?" Jimmy asked, looking troubled by the concept.
"I get that you have to go into work tomorrow but this is a pretty delicate situation," he continued, moving over to stand beside Ziva.
"I would not want the team hearing about this from somebody else."
"And if they ask about you, Tony? If I say I saw you?" Jimmy was still uncertain.
"Don't say you saw me. Say you fed the fish and left."
The younger man put Tali down in front of him and covered her ears. "You want me to lie?"
Tony and Ziva looked at each other silently, then back at Jimmy.
"Yes," they answered in unison, casting aside the moral implications as well as Jimmy's general inability to lie and almost everyone else's ability to detect it.
Jimmy bit the inside of his cheek in consideration, lifting his hands off Tali's ears. "Okay. My lips are sealed."
"Thank you, Jimmy," Ziva said.
She reached into the go-bag and produced Kelev, Tali's toy dog, handing it to her before she ran off to the centre of the living room where numerous other toys were still lying around. Ziva didn't recognise them, and figured Tony must have bought them for her, or the team had, or maybe Senior. The various possibilities warmed her heart.
"Anything for a friend," Jimmy replied, earnestly. "I better get going. Breena's cooking and I'm already late." He touched Ziva's shoulder. "I'm really glad you're okay, Ziva."
Ziva smiled warmly at him as he walked out the door. She crossed the living room as Tony stuck his head out the door to thank Jimmy for feeding his fish.
"See, I told you it'd be f—"
Ziva smacked him across the back with a couch cushion. "Why didn't you warn me?"
"Ow!" Tony turned around, looking pained. "Slipped my mind. Lots going on, y'know?" He raised his brows at her – after all, she was the one who had distracted his mind so much he had forgotten about the fish.
She shook her head and sighed. "It's been a long day."
"Longer week."
She reached up and gently fingered the hair at his temple. "Your hair is longer," she said, seemingly out of nowhere. Her voice had a certain quality to it, all dreamy and glassy, when she looked at him like that. There eyes met like magnets, and there was an intimacy about them in that moment, as yet and likely forever unspoken, but powerful.
"Yours is shorter," he quipped.
Her eyes searched his face, and her thumb brushed across his cheek. "Shut up," she muttered, before leaning in gently brushing her lips over his, sweet and soft. It was the slightest touch, but the unexpected show of affection caught him off guard and he found himself blinking blankly at her when she pulled away. Not that he had much to go on, but from what he had gathered, he was the affectionate one, which surprised him sometimes. He supposed that was reflective of all the years before she left, especially in the later years. He had always been the one pushing the boundaries of partnership, he had made the grand and ambiguously romantic gestures and found excuses to touch her or be near her, testing the waters, seeing how she might respond.
Except now, he had nothing. She looked pleased with herself as she moved her hand away from his hair to playfully pinch his chin between her thumb and forefinger. "I think is the longest you have ever gone without talking," she said. Before he could even respond, she turned around to address her daughter instead: "Tali, it is time for bed."
…
Before 2200 hours, both Tony and Ziva decided that sleep was in order. After insisting that she take the bed and that his back would be fine and he was seeing a new chiropractor thank you very much, she conceded defeat and collapsed in his twin mattress. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of her wrapped up in his sheets as he flicked off the light.
His hand curled around the doorknob as she said his name in the darkness.
"Yeah?" he replied.
When she didn't respond right away, he headed over to the bed and sat down on the edge, feeling her body shift under the covers to accommodate him. She sat up, leaned over to the bedside table and switched on the lamp, bathing the room in a dull, golden glow.
"Thank you," she finally said, reaching for his hand. "For…being you."
He seemed to remember her asking him to once apologise for that exact same thing.
"For being such a wonderful father to Tali and keeping her safe, and…" she continued, "for saving me." Her free hand gently stroked his chest. "Like you always have."
"Hey, I'm just the delivery guy, following orders," he joked, and he hated himself for doing it when she was being this beautifully tender.
"Do not undermine yourself. You had my back, Tony." Her eyes glittered in the lamplight, and he brushed away a stray curl from her face so he could see them better. He was aware she was no damsel, that she didn't need saving, but he saved her anyway. It was his privilege in life—to pull Ziva back from the edge she oftentimes didn't know she was standing on. To ease her back, further and further, till she was just inches away, in his arms, like now.
"And I promise to have it for as long as you'll let me," he assured her, hand still resting in her hair. "Maybe even a little longer than that. What are partners for?" He knew damn well, though, what else partners were for, he thought as he pressed his lips against hers and felt her arms snake around his neck almost automatically. God, he loved kissing Ziva. Sometimes, she tasted like spices and tea, and starved him of breath, and other times, she smelled like the fruity shampoo she used and knew how to make his heart flutter with the lightest touch. Now, his lips were roaming downwards, tasting and nipping at her neck, the shadow of facial hair on his cheeks scraping against her skin.
"Tony," she said, sounding a little breathless. Encouraged, he continued, until he felt a sharp pinch to his ear and winced and sat up straight. "Tony," she said again, this time clearly in protest. "Too…" she yawned. "Too tired."
"'Kay," he replied, seeming a lot more upset than he was because of how much that pinch had hurt his ear. She smiled mischievously and leaned in and kissed him softly, the kind of kiss that could end a conversation. "I'll make it up to you," she added in a low voice. He grinned, forgetting suddenly about his ear.
"I'll hold you to that," he said as he rose from the bed and headed for the door. He had no idea what making it up to him might entail, but he liked the sound of it. "Night."
He flicked off the light on his way out.
…
Ziva's body betrayed her at around 3:12am, when it decided that it was time to get up. She was no stranger to early starts, but the day ahead promised to be a particularly big one, for which she knew she would need rest. Once she thought about that, though, there was no hope of dozing back off. Her heart began to race and she felt butterflies flittering sickeningly about in her otherwise empty stomach, and she shook her head at herself. It used to take a whole lot more than this to make her feel this way. Guns and bombs and criminals didn't make her this scared, though, she supposed, the stakes were never so high and the odds never so stacked against her. She could defuse a bomb, she could shoot at a criminal, and she could dodge a bullet. She could not instinct her way out of this one.
In an attempt to distract herself, she fished her book from the plane out of her purse, but she couldn't keep focused. She kept thinking about Jimmy, and Breena, and their baby, and the way the awkward, nervous Jimmy had been so at ease with a child in his arms. She wondered about all the things that had happened while she was gone, cut off from the people she once thought of as family.
She headed into the kitchen at 3:46 to make herself a cup of tea. Or, at least, to attempt to locate all the ingredients necessary for one. In the dark.
Mugs, sugar, milk and a kettle were easy enough. It was the actual tea that was the most elusive. She tried rifling through the cupboards and drawers but to no avail. She opened a particularly squeaky cupboard, and the noise roused a sleeping Tony to sit up and peer at her over the back of the couch.
"Ziva," he mumbled sleepily. "What…what are you doing?"
"Looking for tea," she whispered. "Sorry, I was just…I could not sleep and I—"
She stopped when he let out a sound that was halfway between a groan and a yawn, and pulled himself upright before heading over to her. He was clad only in his boxers, his hair in a glorious, every-which-way mess.
"Can't sleep, huh?" he said, as he navigated his way steadily around the kitchen, eventually finding the cupboard he was looking for and opening it. She leaned against the countertop beside him. "What happened to 'too tired'?" He played at being hung up on her earlier rejection, but even in the low light she could see the smile on his face.
"Well," she answered, playing his game. "Obviously my body achieved the absolute minimum level of sleep it needed and woke me at quarter to four in the morning so I could find you."
"And have your dirty way with me?" he asked, comically arching a brow and squinting his eyes as he turned to face her, holding up a box of tea bags.
Her eyes brightened, and she lifted her chin just the slightest bit – her victory move. She used to do it when Gibbs favoured her over him, when she picked the right suspect or found the best lead, or when she was right about something. And now she had tea. She took it from him and added it to her cup, pouring the boiling liquid and the milk in and stirring.
"So," he started after a long silence, "what's up?"
"Nothing," she answered, discarding her used spoon in the sink and turning around to put the milk in the fridge. He was standing a lot closer to her than she had realised and she nearly collided with him. What's more, he was blocking the fridge. "Tony, I'm fine."
"It's 3:49 in the morning and we're making tea," he said.
"No, I am making tea. You are going back to sleep."
"Not until you talk to me," he insisted, grasping her forearms, though not too hard lest she spill the tea she worked so hard to make. His thumbs moved in slow circles on her skin. "Do you still have…trouble sleeping?"
"Tony, I've slept beside you for the last week."
"Okay, but…y'know, new place, lotta stuff goin' on…" he stammered uncertainly, dancing around the issue.
"It wasn't a nightmare," she said, answering the question he only had the guts to ask in his mind. "I still have them sometimes, but—this was not one."
He turned over that information in her mind. After Somalia, she'd come into work looking ragged every couple of days. More ragged than one looks from just working on Gibbs' hours. She told Ducky, who, out of concern he might get hurt in the field if she was sleep deprived, told Tony. When he asked why he didn't tell Gibbs, Ducky only said that Gibbs didn't, in his opinion, have the patience or delicateness to handle this properly while in the middle of a case. He'd kept an even closer eye on her after that, but didn't ask her about it until Paris. The fact that she was still having them worried him, but he knew it wasn't the problem at hand right now.
"So what is it?" Tony asked.
"Maybe you are right; it is a new place, there is a lot going on…and I…" She ran a hand through her untamed curls. "I cannot turn off my brain. I keep thinking about Jimmy."
Tony was confused, but he didn't say anything.
"It is just…" she began, breaking away from him and heading over to the sofa. He quickly followed. "When he held Tali today, he was so comfortable and confident. I have never seen that in him before. It made me realise how much he must have grown since I last saw him, and…what else I must have missed in everyone's lives."
Tony blinked. They'd stayed mostly away from talk of the team and of their time apart these past eight days in Paris. Maybe because they were still getting used to the idea of each other, maybe because they were constantly taking Tali out sightseeing or trying to get her to sleep or playing with her, maybe because in their spare moments he'd start kissing her and wouldn't be able to stop.
"What else have I missed, Tony?"
He frowned and pursed his lips in thought. "Well, let's see…" He cast his mind back. "Delilah, McGee's girlfriend, she was paralysed in an explosion. Docs think she'll probably stay that way. McGee was a mess…but they stayed together. They're living together, now." Ziva's shocked expression at the news of the explosion faded to a smile.
"That is wonderful for McGee. He deserves somebody who can make him happy."
"Yeah," Tony agreed. "He does. What else? Oh, well I dated someone, so there's that."
Ziva's eyebrows shot up over the rim of her mug as she sipped. "Really? How did that go?" she asked after swallowing her mouthful of tea.
"Well you'll be saddened to hear that it didn't work out." Ziva laughed at that. "Then there's Ellie – your, uh…replacement."
"What is she like?"
"Sweet," he answered genuinely. "Quirky, but smart. And she cares. Really good agent."
"I cannot wait to meet her," Ziva said. Her voice was small, but her smile was still there.
"Of course…there were losses," he went on, closing his eyes. He hated this part. "McGee lost his dad. The cancer, it…and Jackson Gibbs passed away. A stroke."
He could see her heartache all over her face. "How were…how were things between them? Before…" She couldn't get any more words out. She was asking for word of reconciliation. Something that had never been possible with Eli. Something that made her feel sick with guilt when she thought about how furious she had been with him when he had died. She did not regret the fury, only hoped that her friends had not had to feel it too.
"They were okay." He stroked her thigh gently, comfortingly. "Everyone's okay, Ziva. They've got each other and they're strong. And they're gonna be even more okay when they find out they've got you back."
To his surprise, she didn't bite back, she just nodded and sipped her tea. For a long while, they were quiet. Tony settled back against the couch and contained his yawns as best he could. She pulled the end of his blanket over her lap. In the dark, in those tiny hours of the morning, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. He used to get that feeling on stakeouts or elevator rides, when the rest of the world, for all they knew, ceased to exist outside the walls in which they were contained.
…
He wasn't sure what time it was when he put his arms around her, or when she dozed off against his shoulder, or when he dozed off right along with her. But the sun was up in the sky when Tali's cries woke them both from their tangled mess of blankets and limbs. Ziva's head rested on Tony's chest, and he couldn't feel his left arm from where she had been lying on it.
"I got her," Tony said with a groan.
"No, it is alright," Ziva replied sleepily. "I will get her. Go take a shower."
"Is this your idea of making it up to me, because I gotta tell ya, I had a totally different thing in mi—"
"No, it is because you smell like international travel," she answered, twitching her nose.
Accepting this as fair, Tony headed off to the shower, and let the hot water ease the aching muscles in his back and wake him up enough to forget the uneasy night of sleep. When he got out, Ziva was feeding Tali breakfast in her high-chair and the morning was a good one.
"It is strange," she remarked when he appeared in the kitchen, "sleeping in separate beds."
"But we didn't sleep in separate beds," he reminded her.
"At first, I mean," she clarified, and Tony chuckled lightly to himself. "What is so funny?" she asked.
"I just imagined you from ten years ago hearing yourself say that. I think past-you would probably slap present-you in the face." He had been going to say more but he was all caught up in his two-Zivas-scenario.
"I think past-me would probably be more shocked that we have a child together, Tony," Ziva quipped, cocking her head at Tali.
The mention of Tali brought him out of the fantasy. "Oh, yeah. Well, you're probably right." Tony circled the kitchen to grab a banana out of the fruit bowl and give Tali a kiss on the cheek. He came away with some kind of fruit puree on his face, since Tali was a long way off mastering the task of eating tidily. Ziva gestured on herself where the offending stain was, and instead of wiping it off, he kissed her on the cheek as well, spreading the mess.
"And what about past-you?" she continued, grimacing and wiping the baby food from her cheek forcefully. "What would a young Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo say when he found out he stopped chasing blondes in short skirts to raise a toddler with his partner?" She gestured to herself, with bedhead and in her pyjamas, as if that wasn't totally incredible.
"Or, more importantly," Tony added, actively avoiding the question about himself. "What would past-Gibbs have to say about it?"
Ziva laughed, the kind where she threw her head back and showed her teeth. "You know, he asked me once if we had gotten married and hadn't told him. It was a long time ago and he was joking, but I suspect he always knew."
"Always knew what? Ziva, I don't even think I knew."
"Neither did I," she admitted, "but Gibbs is always the first to know."
She was right, of course. He thought back on the past decade or so, and all the remarks, the comments about him and Ziva, when there hadn't really even been any 'him and Ziva' to consider. "He wasn't the only one." He leaned against the kitchen counter as Ziva kept feeding Tali spoonfuls of her breakfast. "You know, when I told McGee I loved you, he told me he knew." His voice was soft with memory, but Ziva just turned around with a frown.
"You told McGee you loved me before you told me?"
"Hey, I thought you were…y'know."
Ziva bit the inside of her cheek. "In confidence," she added.
"Huh," Tony said, frowning slightly. "I thought maybe she'd just said that to make me feel better…"
"Well, I suppose my secret is out." She smiled coyly at him. "You know Abby is a terrible liar."
"That's true," he said, solemnly remembering the weight of that day on his soul. How hearing that the woman he loved once loved him back made his heart both soar and shatter into pieces, knowing it was too late to ever make things right. Even though he knew they were okay now, impossibly okay, it hurt to think about a world where Ziva David was gone.
She said his name, trying to pull him outside of himself. He couldn't help it. Over the past few weeks, he had gone back over their story a thousand times in his head, examining perspectives and analysing details, something at which he was well-practiced. He had been searching for the tipping point: the point where infatuation or chemistry or sexual tension or even friendship turns into the entirely different and totally less manageable beast of love. After all these weeks, he still wasn't sure that he'd found it, only that it happened, at some point. Maybe there was no single point, maybe it came in waves – this theory stood up quite well in the face of their violently to-and-fro relationship. Maybe it was just a given constant, his love for Ziva. This is something he has forever to muse on, but he always felt that he needed her side of the story for it to all make sense, and that is something he had come to terms with lacking, until Abby went and blurted out that Ziva loved him, that she had even said the words. He needed this, this final puzzle piece for things to make sense. For it to be even conceivable that they two had finally figured out a way to fit together.
"When?" he asked, meeting her eyes intensely.
"When…?" She wasn't sure what he meant.
"When did you tell her?"
Ziva swallowed and held his gaze for a moment, before turning back to Tali, lifting her out of her high chair and setting her down on the living room floor with all her toys. She crossed the room back to him, standing close, just letting the proximity of their bodies ease them both.
"It was Tali's birthday," she said, looking downward, thinking, remembering. Then, for clarification, "Tali senior. We had that case and I could not go to the opera so…" She met his eyes. "So you brought it to me. That is one of the nicest things that anyone has done for me, Tony, and I…I was so touched." Her hand rested gently on his clean-shaven cheek. "I do not think it was even close to the first time that I felt something for you but I had never…I had never said it out loud. At least not in…those words."
In looks, she thought. In touches. In other, subtler but equally significant words.
"I stayed there in the squad room for…a long time," she went on, her hand sliding down to rest flat on his chest. "When I was finally ready to go home, Abby was the only one still there. She came up in the elevator as I was packing away my things. She asked what I was doing and I explained to her what you had done and I had this teary smile on my face. When I finished she just looked at me and said, 'Wow, you really love him, don't you?' I opened my mouth immediately to tell her she was being ridiculous and that of course I loved you but not in that way when…when I didn't. Instead, I just said, 'I really do, Abby. I love him very much.' And she told me, 'Tony is a really great guy. One of these days somebody is going to figure that out for themselves.' Then she said goodnight and left. I caught up with her at the elevator and told her to keep what I had said a secret. She agreed, and it stayed a secret. Until now."
"Wow," said Tony. "That's, uh…wow."
That long? God, he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he'd just said something, if she had just said something. If Eli David was still walking this earth, would she have stayed at NCIS? Would she have been reinstated with the rest of them? Would Tali still exist?
Or would they have just kept holding in their feelings, trying to salvage a friendship that they both knew could be something else? Working case-to-case, week-to-week, looking longingly over at the other's desk when they weren't there, and pretending they weren't jealous every time they were.
Tony had felt this whole time that he'd been robbed, that Working case-to-case, week-to-week, looking longingly over at the other's desk when they weren't there, and pretending they weren't jealous every time they were.
Tony had felt this whole time that he'd been robbed, that they'd been robbed, of those years in the middle. And maybe they had. Maybe in a different universe, things would have worked out okay without all the heartache. But for that universe there were dozens of others where they didn't, and Tony was just so thankful that he hadn't found himself in one of those that he pulled her in close, flush against his chest. Ziva let herself be held, revelling in the feeling of Tony's heartbeat beneath her cheek and his arms surrounding her.
God, they were damaged, but they were doing this.
…
The bad guy of the week was being escorted to interrogation when Tim's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, and was pleasantly surprised to see Tony's name lighting up the screen.
"Hey, Tony," he answered.
"McGee," Tony replied fondly. "Good to hear your voice."
Tim felt a pang in his chest for his former partner. It had only been a couple of weeks, and they'd been busy enough, but he couldn't help noticing a certain absence about the place. It happened every time someone left. He was only grateful that Tony hadn't left in the way so many of their other co-workers had.
"You too," McGee said. "What time is it in Paris?"
"No idea. I'm back on American soil."
"Hey, that's great! We should…we should catch up, man." He refrained from any concrete ideas, only because the full restrictions to socialising that toddler-wrangling placed on Tony were not quite known to him.
"Well, that's kinda why I'm calling. I got beers in my fridge and a pizza menu in my kitchen drawer. Invite the team. How's tonight? Unless you're at Gibbs' mid-case mercy."
"Actually, just wrapping it up over here. Tonight sounds great. What time does Tali usually go to sleep?"
"When she feels like it," Tony answered honestly. "Seven good for you?"
"Sounds great. I'll talk to the team and get back to you."
Tony hung up the phone and placed it on the counter that separated he and Ziva. "Phase one: complete."
"Well we have ten hours and some things to do," Ziva replied, noticeably putting on her game face.
…
By 1830 hours, the base was secure and everyone was nearly in position. That is, with half an hour until the team's scheduled arrival, pizza was ordered, Tali had been given dinner and a bath, the apartment had been tidied, and Tony and Ziva both listened for the door with almost frantic anticipation.
The day had entailed the purchase of a new mattress and bedframe – queen-sized, this time – new things for Tali that had not made it over from Israel and that Tony had not bought yet, and the emptying of Ziva's storage locker across town, which she had set up two and a half years ago before leaving. The big, dusty, box-filled space gave Tony a weird warm feeling inside when he saw it – it was a sign she had always intended to come back. Across the lot in a different area had been her Camaro, which they had loaded up with boxes of her stuff alongside Tony's car.
They had bickered over mattress qualities and sheet colours. They had bought their little girl new clothes and a car seat and furniture to turn the apartment's study that she had been sleeping in into the bedroom of an almost-two-year-old. Tony unabashedly revelled in the clothes part, gleefully picking out tiny socks and tiny dresses. It was him who slipped the princess costume that Tali was admiring into their shopping cart, after Ziva had said no. Daddy's little girl indeed, she had thought.
"Are you sure you are okay with this, Tony?" she asked, concerned that this was an awfully fast invasion of his life. She was stacking the last of the boxes in the corner of their room to be dealt with later.
"Are you kidding?" Tony replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, flicking through one of Ziva's old photo albums. "This is great." A few weeks ago he had nothing left of Ziva but a scarf. Now, he had the real thing and everything that came with her.
He grinned at a picture of a teenaged Ziva standing next to another girl, both smiling. The girl he didn't know was all dressed up in a deep purple gown and pearls, while Ziva was wearing cargo pants and combat boots. "Who's this with you? A friend?" He pointed to the girl in purple, shorter than Ziva and with more curves and lighter hair.
She stepped away from the boxes to examine the picture he was holding up. "That is Tali," she said with a nostalgic smile. "She was singing that night, at a concert."
"And you decided to flout the dress code?"
"I was rebellious," she said, sitting beside him on the bed and resting her head on his shoulder. She took the photo from between his fingers and held it carefully. "I had forgotten about this picture."
The way her eyes softened at the sight of her younger sister made Tony's chest tighten. "What was she like?" he asked, wanting suddenly to know more about his daughter's mysterious namesake.
"Tali was…wild," Ziva said, her thumb tracing the outline of her sister's face in the picture. "She was always getting into trouble, and she would charm her way out of it every time. Every boy we knew thought she was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen, but she could take down a man twice her size without breaking a sweat. She was quick on her feet and clever, but never did what she was told. She had a big heart. Compassion."
"You told me that when I first met you." He recalled the evening—a rainy night, two cups of coffee and a slice of pizza.
Her eyes shifted from Tali's frozen face to Tony's real one. "That is because it was the most important thing about her. Tali was never hardened by the things she saw, never guarded or closed off, never afraid to have her heart broken by anybody if there was even a chance that it would not be. If she was here, she would say that there is no use keeping your feelings bottled up inside. That is a lesson I have learned over and over, and yet my sixteen-year-old sister never would have had to learn it at all."
"And that's why you named Tali after her?" Tony asked, wanting to learn as much as he could from this brief glimpse inside Ziva's soul.
"I named our Tali after her because I love my sister, and because I miss her, and because I want her spirit to live on, even after so many years," Ziva answered. "But, yes, that too. I hope she never shuts her heart off from anybody. I hope she never has cause to."
He got it right away. Ziva was trying to give Tali the life that she didn't have, without the bloodshed and heartache. She didn't want her daughter's heart to be inaccessible or hidden, especially given the fact that she had come from two people with hearts that were.
As he brought his lips to hers, and his fingers to her hair, he thought about Ziva's guarded heart. How it had always been guarded, in all the years he had known her. He thought about how he had believed she was just a private person, and maybe that was true, but there was way more to it, and to her, than that. And he thought about how, most of all, guarding his own heart had done nothing to stop it from being broken. Better to fight the fear and jump off the edge than to never know what it feels like to fly. And oh, what a feeling it was. Flying was kissing her, holding her, hearing her voice and touching her skin. They still may fall, he knew, but the view was so worth it.
…
The first time someone knocked at the door, Ziva's stomach twisted into knots. Realising quickly that it was just the pizza delivery, she ran her hands over her face and cursed herself for being so nervous.
Surely, she told herself, they would forgive her. She thought about last time. About the aftermath of Somalia and Michael Rivkin's death. Though she had left, though she had done so quite suddenly, they had forgiven her. They had saved her. It had been a test of loyalty for both her and the team, and they had all, eventually, passed. But this time, loyalty was not part of the equation. And here she was, stuck between thinking that what she did was selfish and harsh, and knowing that she felt she had little choice at the time. She would tell them that, and could only hope they would be satisfied. These people were her family. More than that, they had shown her a new definition of family.
The second time the doorbell rang, she knew it was time.
…
Tony felt Abby's arms being flung around him before he could even register her face. He staggered with the force of the impact but quickly reciprocated the hug.
"Hey, Abs," he said, wheezing a little from the force of the hug as he had done hundreds of times.
Over Abby's shoulder he met McGee's warm smile with a grin of his own, and when Abby stepped aside, he offered the other man an embrace too.
"Should I be expecting more company?" Tony asked, stepping aside to let them in.
"Ducky's parking," Abby said.
"Bishop got stuck with a load of paperwork," McGee explained. "But she'll call you later. Wants to have lunch."
"And Gibbs?" Tony questioned. McGee and Abby exchanged a look and Tony knew exactly what it meant. "Right. I get it."
"Tony, you know what he's like," Abby said, touching his forearm soothingly. "It's been a tough week, with the case and all. He misses you."
Tony frowned. "Really? He said that?"
"Well…no," Abby replied, "but I know he does. I can just tell."
Tony would have liked to agree with her, but he was…mad that Gibbs wasn't there. The guy had no way of knowing, of course, that this was more than just pizza and beers, except that he always knew these kinds of things. Tony had had this feeling from the start that Gibbs had known what he was going to Paris for more than just closure.
"Look, he was still at his desk when we left," McGee told him. "He might still be here."
"And you know his door's always open," Abby added.
Tony nodded, but then shook himself out of it. Maybe it was best for Ziva, anyway, to do this in stages. "Dig in," he said, dropping the pizza boxes on the coffee table. McGee took a seat and cracked open the pepperoni, hungry after a long day's work.
There was a final knock at the door, and Ducky appeared on the other side with a cheerful smile. "It is good to see you, Tony," he said, grasping Tony's hands firmly.
"You too, Ducky," Tony replied, making way for him to step inside with the others, whom he greeted warmly. He took a seat beside McGee on the couch, and though he declined the pizza, he graciously accepted Tony's offer of a glass of ice water. It was warm out tonight, the doctor remarked.
In the corner, Tali made a noise of delight at having placed all the shaped blocks in their correct slots. Abby's eyes lit up at the sight of the toddler and she rushed over to greet the little girl, scooping her up into her arms.
"Hi, Tali!" Abby said enthusiastically, tickling her cheek with a black-painted fingernail. Tali giggled, and Abby looked over at Tony with a proud smile. "She is so adorable, Tony."
"Yeah, well," Tony replied, sticking his hands in his jean pockets and sauntering over to them. He twisted a finger around one of Tali's curls. "Ziva and I make cute kids."
There was a noticeable shift in the room at the mention of her name. The shattering of a boundary that the other two had barely begun to test. The last time they had seen him, he was a teary and dishevelled mess. Not sleeping, angry, heartbroken, and thrust into the difficult role of fatherhood. They had all taken it hard, of course, but none so hard as him.
Now though, McGee noticed, and Abby's eyes told him that she did too, he looked rested, comfortable, okay. The dark circles under his eyes were decidedly lighter than they had been when they last saw him. His clothes were clean and pressed, and he regarded his girl with the comfort and strength of a father, not a stranger.
"So then, Tony, how was the trip?" Ducky asked uncertainly, after a time.
Tony noticed their eyes on him, of course. He'd been testing the waters. Still, he answered with a smile, "Trip was great. Tali saw the Eiffel Tower and everything, didn't you, Tali?" He directed the last part at Tali herself, who reached out for him. Abby handed her over with wonder as Tony embraced the little girl effortlessly. Tali snuggled against his chest comfortably.
"What are you staring at?" Tony asked, cutting through the silence.
"You," McGee said, swallowing a mouthful of pizza. "You look so…so…"
"So what?"
"So much like a dad," Abby finished with a smile.
"Oh. Well, that's 'cause I am, right, Tali?" He bounced Tali playfully and she laughed.
"I seem to recall a certain difficulty you had with children," Ducky added.
"I may have not been great with kids in the past, but it's different when it's your own. Believe me." Tony held Tali close, almost defensively.
"Clearly," said Ducky with a smile. "It is amazing what the love of a child can teach us."
"So, what else did you guys do in Paris?" Abby asked, sitting on McGee's other side and taking a slice of pizza for herself.
Tony bit the inside of his cheek. No sense hiding behind this false construction of reality any longer. Not when Ziva must be getting more and more nervous by the minute. He put Tali down, crouched beside her, and whispered something into her ear, and Tali toddled off as fast as she could past the others and through the door to the hall behind them.
"Well, let's see," Tony finally said, locking his fingers together. "We did the EuroDisney thing for a day, met Mickey Mouse and the princesses, y'know. Went for walks along the Seine in the sunshine. And…" A shadow appeared in the doorway behind McGee, Ducky and Abby, and Tony fixed his gaze on it as a smile spread across his face. "Well, I guess you could say we found what we were looking for."
His three friends turned their heads to see Tali come through the door, her small hand clasped in a bigger one, the body beside her sharing her heart-shaped face, olive skin and wild brown curls.
"Ziva," Abby whispered, eyes impossibly wide, body frozen in shock.
"Oh my God," McGee said, barely louder than Abby. Ducky was uncharacteristically silent.
"Ziva," Abby said again, getting to her feet and crossing the distance between them. She brushed the other woman's face, searching her eyes to make sure she was real, before enveloping her in her arms. Ziva held her friend tightly with her free arm, her eyes shut and her head reeling. And suddenly, suddenly it was five years ago and she was coming home from Somalia, like déjà vu.
"How?" McGee asked. That seemed to be all he could say.
"Did you know?" Abby asked, pulling away from Ziva and looking over at Tony. Her voice was gravelly and shaky and her eyes were full of tears as she suddenly recalled all the distance placed between them in the last two years, both physically and emotionally. "Did you know this whole time and not tell us?"
"No, Abs, of course not," he assured her. "I…all that stuff after Vance got that call, that was real." They all shared a look from which Ziva was excluded. This was damage that she had caused, albeit inadvertently, which they were referring to.
"But how is it possible?" Ducky asked, finally opening his mouth. "We saw the house go up in flames. There was only one survivor, and that was Tali."
"An orchestration by Mossad," Ziva explained. "And Tali's cover for safety. If she was to be sent to Tony, then it would have had to be known that she survived. If the wrong person discovered her when it was meant to be a secret then it would have led back to me, and we would have all been in danger."
"So you…faked your death?" McGee asked. "How did Tony even find you?"
"I left Tony a message on the back of an old photograph," Ziva explained.
"Led me right to her," Tony said. "At a café, in Paris."
"And you didn't tell us?" Abby folded her arms across her chest.
"We could have helped you, Tony," Tim added.
"Hey, for all I know," Tony interjected, "I was going off nothing. I was paranoid, I was sleep-deprived, I was deluded and in denial. I didn't know what I was gonna find in Paris. All I knew was that I had to try. And if I failed, I didn't wanna see you go through that too."
There was a heavy silence in the room; even Tali was quiet. It was Ducky, eventually, who had the guts to ask the question that everybody was thinking: "What now?" For the answer, each face in the room looked to Ziva.
"I want to stay," she said. "I want my family back. I want you all to be part of Tali's life."
Abby raised her eyebrows, shifting her demeanour rapidly. "Really? Because we weren't part of her life for the first two years. Not even Tony, her own father."
"Abby, please," Ziva interrupted. And it was an interruption, because Abby was not finished.
"It hurt us all when you left."
"I know."
"You know? How could you know?"
"Abs," Tony warned. The warning was ignored.
"Because it hurt me every bit as much as it hurt you, I promise," Ziva insisted.
"Then why didn't you come back?"
"Abby," Tony said again, louder and more sternly. He was ignored again. This time, by Ziva.
"Because," Ziva snapped. "I did not feel like I deserved it."
Abby opened her mouth to retaliate, but her breath caught in her throat. Her brows drew together as Ziva's words turned over and over in her head. Guilt flooded her for all the digs she had taken—she was a scientist, she was meant to make observations only when she understood the circumstances and all of the variables. She turned to McGee and Ducky, who were both standing, now, rigidly. McGee wore an expression of concern that forgot all the pain and hurt that Abby had been talking about, and Ducky wore one of worry but also intrigue. He loved to crack minds, though his success with Ziva's had been limited, by her own design. He wanted only to know what had possessed her to take such drastic action, and more, what had made her come home. Tony stood, helpless, in the corner, trying to hold Ziva up with just his eyes, but knowing full well that if this was to be a fight, this was to be her fight before it was theirs. Tali stood with her arms wrapped around her mother's leg worriedly, and at the centre of it all was Ziva—eyes shining, chest rising and falling, arms lifting little Tali up to rest on her hip.
And she explained it all, and they all listened, calmly and silently. She told them how her father's death and everything after had poisoned her mind and her heart, how she had fled powered by instinct and raw emotion, how Tali had been her singular spark of light in an endless darkness. How scared she had been, how imprisoned by her own thoughts and feelings. How, one day, she had hoped to be ready to be the person that she wanted to be, the person worthy of a family like the one in front of her now. All the things that up until now had only existed between her and Tony, and before that, only in the deepest recesses of her mind.
At the end of it all, she took a breath, and she put Tali down on her play mat, and she found Tony's eyes across the room. He gave her a miniscule nod; she'd done good.
The silence this time was thick and charged, as if a spark, a word, could set off something much bigger.
Ducky was first to step forward. They all watched as he crossed the distance between them and grasped her hand in his calloused one, the other brushing her cheek, catching the tear that fell from her watery brown eyes. "Oh, my dear," he said, softly, gently, "you don't have to ask for forgiveness. This is your home. You shall always find it here." Then, with care, he embraced her, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back. Ziva held on tight, and could not quite stifle the sob that escaped her lips.
Over Ducky's shoulder, she met Tim's eyes as he walked towards them. The doctor pulled back and brushed Ziva's chin with his thumb, meeting her eyes one last time before stepping aside just in time for Tim to pull her close in that brotherly way he had about him.
"I had no idea, Ziva," he said in her ear. "That you were in so much pain."
"Not anymore," she whispered back, and it was so wonderful to feel his warm, comforting presence. She had always, always felt at ease around McGee—safe. Never so much as right now.
Abby was as teary-eyed as she was. Probably more. She took a tentative step closer to Ziva, and McGee sensed it was time for him to clear the way. She wrung her hands on the hem of her skirt.
"I'm so sorry, Ziva," she finally said, voice barely there.
"Me too, Abby," Ziva replied, opening her arms for her friend.
"You'll stay, right? Forever. And we'll see each other all the time," Abby murmured, her voice slightly muffled by Ziva's shoulder.
She smiled tearily. "I would like that."
"And Tali—" Abby added. "I can babysit her. Or we can take her baby clothes shopping or…or to karate lessons or whatever."
Ziva laughed, then stood straight and let her arms fall to her side, and Abby did the same, looking more like her bright self already.
"And," she continued, looking over at McGee, confidence growing. "Aunt Abby and Uncle McGee can babysit when Mommy and Daddy want a date night." She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
Ziva's warm smile dissipated into wide eyes and open but unspeaking lips. She glanced at Tony uncertainly, but his face pretty much matched hers.
"Abs, uh…" Tony stammered, "she didn't say anything about that."
"She didn't have to," Abby replied with a smile. "Oh, come on. You two love each other, you have a baby together, and you got the second chance that almost nobody gets in real life. You're seriously asking me to believe for even a second that you weren't all loved up?"
Ziva bit her lip but couldn't hide her own smile when she spotted Tony's goofy grin. She crossed the room to stand by his side, and gingerly took his hand in hers. "You are right, Abby, we would never ask you to believe that."
…
It was almost midnight when the door to Gibbs' basement creaked open. The dim, golden-brown light and the overwhelming smell of wood were so incredibly familiar to Ziva, she swore that it had been only weeks since she was last down here, and not the years it had really been.
She supposed that was the thing about this room, and the man within its walls—it and he were constants in the lives of those around him. A person could come back after months or years or decades and still feel the old familiarity that it brought: the smell of wood, and the shadowy light cast by a single bulb overhead. The question for all was not whether the door would open for them, but whether Gibbs wanted them to open it. Right now, that question loomed over Ziva, dark as the shadows in the night outside.
Each step downward creaked underfoot. A protest, perhaps? Or a warning? She wasn't sure. Either way it was a relief to land on the solid concrete floor, only a few steps away from the man she had come to see. His silver hair had a strange glow in the low light, and his body moved back and forth as he sanded his latest construction expertly. He wasn't turning around. Had he been expecting somebody? Had he been expecting her?
She knew there was only one way to find out.
"Hello, Gibbs," she said, her voice coming out louder than expected in the still silence of the basement.
He placed aside his tools and leaned against the wood. "I was wondering," he said, "when you were gonna come see me."
She said nothing, utterly perplexed by his answer, and willing him to just look her in the eye. He did eventually turn around, his blue eyes icy but his face soft. He reached for a rag and wiped the sawdust from his hands as he asked, "How are you, Ziver?"
"How…how am I?" she echoed, frowning. Maybe this had been a bad idea. "I am alive. But apparently that is not news to you."
"Nope," he answered calmly. "Figured when DiNozzo said he was going to Paris, he was going to find you. Good investigator knows when things don't add up."
"Like you?" she questioned, quirking a brow. Like him, who had done nothing to find her, to help her. Not this time.
"Like DiNozzo," Gibbs said, circling his wooden construction to sand the other side. "And when a good investigator gets on a trail, he won't stop until he finds the end of it." He nodded towards the wooden barrier between them, this thing that Gibbs was building. It didn't look like much of anything just yet, but her name was painted on it in gold letters.
She studied it, then looked up at him, meeting those icy eyes. "What is this?"
"A back-up plan. In case the end of the trail didn't lead to you."
She sucked in a breath. So he did still love her. Only those he loved had things built for them.
"So," Gibbs said after a long pause, draping a tarp over the chunk of wood. "What happens next?"
"Next?"
"To Tony. To Tali. What happens?"
The question felt like some sort of bizarre personal test. She did her best to answer it. "We become a family. And you are a part of that family. I refuse to sit back and hold myself back from happiness any longer, Gibbs. Tony and Tali…and you and the team…you are that happiness."
He said nothing, just ran his hands tiredly over his face.
"Gibbs, you have to understand—"
"I don't have to understand anything, Ziva," he said, and though he spoke not loudly, it froze her with something akin to fear. "You weren't the one who had to pick up the pieces after you left."
"And you were?" she questioned, with a razor-sharp edge to her voice.
"I watched. DiNozzo barely made it through. He won't survive another round up against you."
"What makes you think he will have to?" she demanded, loudly.
"Because he will never stop trying to save you." His voice was as steady as he wished hers was.
She took two deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. "It will no longer be necessary," she said. This time, she was steady. "I left, Gibbs, because I did not know what else there was to do. With every day that passed after my father died I felt like he was consuming me, like I was destined to become more and more like him. Every instinct to run, to fight, to spill blood…that was the Eli in me. And every day, every action did more and more to remind me that I was Eli's daughter—" She looked in his eyes. "—and not yours." She crumpled, then, throat tightening and lip quivering and eyes shining. He took her in his arms, one hand cradling her head like he had done before. "I wanted to come back to be the person that you made of me. I like that person."
He shook his head, a miniscule motion, only barely visible. "Ziva, you were always that person. I didn't make you."
"But you showed me what I could be. And now that is what I am ready to be, forever." She placed her hands flat against his chest and brought herself upright. "For my daughter, and for my family, and for the man whose love I am so lucky to have. I know I cannot undo the damage I did, but I can fix it. I can make it better, like you made me better, Gibbs."
Leroy Jethro Gibbs smiled at her then, and the hand that still rested on the back of her head made the lightest of taps against her skull.
"What was that for?" she asked, though she did not sound angry.
"Letting me think you were dead," he answered, with just a glint of mischief in those icy blue eyes. "Go home, David, and kiss your little girl goodnight. And tomorrow, bring her over here, let us get properly acquainted."
Ziva's face lit up at his words, and she ascended the creaky stairs feeling at peace for the first time in a long while.
Gibbs burned the shell of the boat that evening. These boats that never sailed, he thought, were not for the living.
…
This must be what happiness feels like, Tony thought, as Tali crawled into he and Ziva's queen-sized mattress early one Sunday morning. It felt like the comforting mundanity of a toddler's clockwork schedule, like 7am wake-ups and movie nights on Fridays. It felt like working his way steadily through a new job after being so very used to the old one and, as it turned out, being pretty good at it. And, instead of imagining what it might feel like to have his partner in his arms at night, she felt like the real thing.
It was every bit as wonderful as he used to occasionally let himself imagine it might be – to no longer have to wonder if they had missed out on each other, if he had fought hard enough for her. It was even more wonderful to know that the fighting was over.
Well, not over-over. They still squabbled and bickered, just like they had. But mostly, that was a reminder that they were still them. And at the end of it all, he couldn't stay mad at her for long, not when 'bedroom eyes' was a weapon totally and utterly at her disposal (and, he suspected, also at his own, should he ever require it).
They were done hurting each other. Prone to heartbreak as they were, it was different this time, for any number of reasons, but the most important was Tali. Whatever sick, addictive game they had played all these years had been forfeited in favour of giving their little girl a happy and stable life.
There were things he missed, of course, and he knew from time to time she missed them as well. He felt it when they'd have drinks with the team, or playdates with Victoria Palmer, or even the occasional dinner with Vance and his kids. He missed the way their minds just seemed to click in times of perilous danger, how their instincts aligned and they handed over their lives to the other without question. How awesome it was when she did something totally ninja like beating up three people at once, or catching projectiles without the aid of peripheral vision. How she would look at him, sometimes, with her shields down, those loaded looks that he could never for the life of him decipher, and the unspoken pleasure he got from knowing that those looks might line up with the feelings that he suspected both of them had and that neither of them were meant to be having.
But what they had, a family, oh, it was so much better. He wondered all the time if all the love that he had had been at his disposal this whole time, or if it was just these particular circumstances, this alignment of planets or stars, this destiny, that had given it to them. And really, he didn't care. He was just glad to have it at all. And Ziva felt the same, he knew. She had found her something permanent, and she would not let it go. They charged forward into the unknown, as they had always done, but this time, they were no longer alone.