Thanks so much for the positive responses so far! (And shout-out to Mechabeira, whose fic I have loved for years, for being far better at Hebrew than I!). Sorry this took so long; I was out for work. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. I envision about 2-3 more chapters to wrap us up, hopefully up within the next week or so. Let me know what you think!


iii.) if he could be a part of his daughter's life

Tali had clearly inherited Ziva's ninja senses; within twenty minutes of her mother leaving he could hear babbling in Hebglish. He slid the door open, saw her sitting up and chatting with kelev. Ziva had removed her bike shorts and folded them carefully before she had put her to sleep.

"Hey, Tali," he said, approaching the bed slowly and from a sideways angle, like he would a suspect. "Your ima said you'd totally be down for a lot longer."

She turned to him with a smile and babbled some more, finally landing on "Ima!"

"Nah, she's out with Grandpa Gibbs," he said, the nickname coming to him easily. "Only Abba's here."

"Abba," she said confidently, pointing to him.

His heart broke open. "Yup, Abba," he said, picking her up from under the armpits and swinging her down. "Let's get your shorts back on, huh, and then we'll have some fun. I think your mom is gonna make dinner tonight."

"Raev," she said as he was helping her into her shorts.

"Uh, kelev?" he tried, holding out the dog.

"Raev," she repeated, voice whinier. "Raev!"

"Diaper?" he questioned, sniffing her. He'd really prefer Ziva take those.

She started to cry. "Abba raev. Raev!" She started rubbing her stomach.

"Hungry," he deduced. "Well, come on, Tali. Let's get you a snack."

"Ack. Ack," she repeated, recognizing the word, and it drew a smile out of him.

His fridge, though, quickly wiped the fridge off his face. He had wine, some beers, a few pieces of fruit, and several days' worth of takeout. He scrounged through a cabinet until he came up with some goldfish crackers, too. Tali looked skeptical. "Yeah, I know, not the greatest selection," he said. "But they're tasty." He popped one in his mouth. "Mmmmmm," he said, with an exaggerated, pantomimed belly rub. She took one, cautiously, and burst out into a smile.

Well, good. He found some Tupperware, tipped the fishes inside it, looked around for a place to sit. Ziva's remark about the need for baby-proofing rung in his ears, so he carefully perched her on a stool, hand close at her back. As she began to eat, he used the other hand to call his dad.

"Junior!" The new grandfather answered jovially. "You wouldn't believe the new types of toys there are these days. How was Ziva? Did you two talk? I ask because, do you think she would mind if I got her a pink kitchen? I don't want to cross her in case you two have some issues —"

"Ziva and I are fine, Dad, but that sounds like it'll take up a lot of room in a one-bedroom apartment. Maybe just a tea set or something. Because listen, does the store you're in have, like, stuff too? Tali's gonna need a high chair, and Ziva said something about a PlayPak so she can sleep —"

"Pak'n'Play," Senior corrected.

"Right," he said, choosing not to dwell on the fact that his dad knew what that was and he did not. "Can you pick one up? Ziva took my car to NCIS." Tali made a move to grab something on the counter and he grabbed her before she fell completely off the chair and hit the ground. Eating on the floor it should be. "That sound good?"

"Yeah. Do you two need anything else?"

"Um," he stalled. "I don't know."

"Well, chances are she only has a couple of days worth of diapers and clothes. How old is she?"

"Uh … Twenty-two months."

"She looks big for her age. I'll pick up some diapers and some toddler food. If I know her lovely mother, Tali probably mostly eats organics. I'll see what they have." Senior was probably right about that; he hoped she wouldn't kill him over the goldfish.

"How do you know all this?"

"It's been a while, son, but I did live with a toddler once upon a time," Senior replied. "I'll get what you two need." The line clicked off.

He managed to get Tali situated on a Frozen blanket to finish her snack; once she had devoured them she threw the container up with an "All done!"

Well, hell. He had no idea what to do with her next. He chased her to the couch and made up some game that she seemed into — exploding hands and pretending confetti was falling — and then stared at her when she flipped sideways and looked at him balefully. "What else do you want to do, Tali?" He asked, running out of ideas. Kids didn't scare him exactly, not anymore — he just had no idea what to do with her.

She seemed to get his question though and stood on the couch. Pointing at his TV, she yelled "Lelmo!" excitedly.

It took a minute for him to decipher that one. "You like Elmo, huh?" He asked, an idea coming to him. Wrapping an arm around her waist he grabbed the remote and toggled to Amazon Prime, quickly renting one of the damn Minion movies. She recognized the cartoon immediately and shouted "Gru! Gru!" with a laugh, before doing a twirl and collapsing next to him.

Alright then. The first Tony-and-Tali DiNozzo movie was going to be Despicable Me.

Tali stayed relatively engaged, babbling with her in the same fluid mix of Hebrew and English she'd used from the start. He responded in English as much as he could and she laughed at his overly expressive faces. But eventually the time-zone shenanigans she'd been subjected to over the past twenty-four hours caught up with her again and she passed out, basically leaning her entire body against Tony's torso while standing on the couch. It amused him; like Ziva, she could apparently sleep anywhere, in any position.

Now that she was still for the first time since he'd met her, he got a minute to study her, commit this version of her — she was a toddler; she would grow and change nearly every day, he knew that much — to memory. Her breath was still somehow more infant than child; hot and sweet and heavy and fast against his neck. Her entire body was somehow vaguely sticky — whether that was an everyday kid-thing, or a consequence of travel and no bath, he wasn't sure. He could feel her heart fluttering through her chest; even though she was totally zonked out she still wasn't still: She shifted and sighed and rolled and sometimes even giggled in her sleep. Her curls were honey-gold and matted against her neck, her fingernails were the size of a pen base and painted a sparkly, pale pink (he couldn't imagine Ziva willingly painting her child's fingernails that color. Hell, he couldn't imagine Tali sitting still long enough for said manicure).

He'd known, instinctively, that she was genetically half him, half Ziva, as soon as he saw her. But it was extraordinary to be able to map their features, in miniature, onto Tali: She had the barest hint of Ziva's widow's peak; eyes shaped like the Paddington side of her family. Eli's nose; Senior's longer eyelashes. Ziva's ears; his tawnier, tanner complexion. Ziva's curls and lips; his square fingernails and chin. From some angles she looked exactly like baby photos of him; on the other side, she looked just like 6-year-old Ziva in that old photo with her siblings. It was extraordinary. Ninth-grade biology lessons finally clicked.

It was definitely the fastest he had ever fallen in love with a girl.

He drifted off at some point, only to be wakened by a key turning in the lock. He was expecting Senior, so the dark curls surprised him. "Hey," he croaked out in a whisper. "That was fast. Tali is still sleeping."

Ziva stood in the door, arms crossed, to take in the scene. A smile warned her face. "I see that," she said. "And her abba took a nap too."

"We were watching Despicable Me and she dozed off at some point," he explained. Ziva reached for the remote and clicked off the home screen, still with a funny, soft smile on her face. She seemed to … glow … in a way that he had never really seen from her. "What?" He asked, slightly indignant. "I didn't get a ton of sleep last night."

"No, it's just — the two of you sleeping after a movie. It is a … nice sight," she said, crossing into the kitchen.

"Get used to it. She's going to be the DiNozzo School of Cinema's star student."

"I do not know if I want to," she countered. When his eyebrows creased, poised for a fight, she quickly clarified, "I mean, I do not want to take it for granted." His features relaxed into a smile, and they stared dopily at each other. "Anyways. Gibbs says that the investigation is under control, and it sounds like Tali and I are quite safe. You do not have to come in this afternoon. That may change tomorrow, though, so he said to keep your phone near you. I stopped at the Harris Teeter and got groceries. And I invited the team over for dinner. Abby and McGee and Bishop and Ducky and Palmer said yes. But I think Gibbs is going to see Fornell." A shadow crossed her face.

"He's pretty worried about him," Tony said, trying to alleviate her hurt at his snub. "When all of this is done, you should take Tali to the basement for a chat. He's probably thinking of all the toys he can make her, you know that." He had no doubt that at some point, an overly intricate dollhouse would land on their doorstep, no card necessary.

"Yes, yes," she shook the conversation, though he could see it was still bothering her a little. "Speaking of toys — where is your father?"

He looked around, unsure. He should have showed up by now. "Still at the store I guess."

"Tony, I know that he is excited but he cannot buy her all sorts of toys. I do not want her to get spoiled."

"Yeah, well, he's a grandpa, so good luck with that one. But I also called him and asked him to grab a high chair and the stuff you mentioned. So he probably is getting that."

"Oh, in that case," she said, "I should give him a call and have him pick up a few more things. Can I use your phone?"

He fished it out from under his body and tossed it at her. "How do I … With this," he nodded at Tali.

She smirked. "Has she been sleeping the whole time?"

"She woke up, had a snack — does raev mean hungry? — and then we started the movie. Altogether she was up for maybe an hour."

"She will not be an easy sleeper tonight," she sighed, unlocking his phone and dialing.

"How did you —"

"I guessed my birthday," she said, arching an eyebrow. "Here, if you do not want to wake her, just — ease her onto the couch. But either she screams now or she screams later."

"So … let her sleep, is what you're saying," he replied, easing her onto the couch and standing.

"I guess," she replied distractedly. "Her naps are usually two hours, and then she sleeps nine hours at night … Hello. Senior! Hi, yes, Tony said that you're at the store …"

As she paced he unloaded the cloth bags of groceries, then started googling Toddlers and Time Zones. Basically, they had done everything wrong. "Ziva, I really think we should wake her up," he called. "She's not going to sleep at all tonight." And he wasn't sure what Ziva's plans were tonight but his were definitely contingent on the kid being asleep.

"— and you got diapers? You know, she wears 24-month-old diapers — Oh. Okay," Ziva said, "Then wake her up, Tony. Just … gently. She will scream. I have warned you. It will be fine."

"It's now or later," he parrotted as she continued to talk to his father.

" — and then food should only be organic, low-sugar vegetables and lean proteins," she turned back to Tony, "— You're her father, Tony, you can wake her up. I agree with you, she's going to have a tantrum now or later; we might as well adjust her to the new time zone." Her head snapped back, "— Senior, sorry, and then finally can you get her some all-organic fruit purees? Not too many; they're actually very unhealthy. Too high in sugar." Her eyebrows raised. "Oh, you got those too? How many?"

He grabbed Kelev and headed back to Tali. He shook her slightly and she began to rouse. "Come on, Tali," he coached. "You gotta get up. I'm sorry, baby."

Predictably, she burst into tears as soon as her eyes opened. Ziva hung up with his father as he bounced her on his lap. "Well, your father swears that he got everything that we might need —"

"A little help here, Ziva?" he asked as he shook the dog in front of her.

"Why? You are doing great," she said, smiling but puzzled. "She is a toddler, Tony. She screams and cries sometimes. Most of the times."

"Like this?" he said, tilting his head toward where she was gulping and heaving tears.

"Yes, like this," she said, "Don't you, Tali? When you are tired? But playing with Kelev makes it better? Does it not? Does it not?" she smiled at Tali, and her features tricked Tali into calming down. "She is not even two. She has whatever emotion you tell her to have right now. If you are happy … she is happy. If you are anxious … she is crying."

"Oh, is that all there is to this parenting thing?" he said, making his voice expressive, and tickling Tali's stomach. "Is that all there is?" She started laughing, tears miraculously dried. Ziva sat next to them and started tickling her too, blew a raspberry against her cheek.

"Kids? I'm home. Got some stuff," Senior said, opening the door on the three-way tickle fight. "Ah. Don't you look all happy."

Ziva untangled herself and stood. "Thank you for picking everything up. I must say, grateful as I am, Tali does not need many, many things. She does not need to be spoiled. Tony and I are very much on the same page here." He raised his eyebrows a bit at that, but knew whose team he was on for this one.

"Just a few things to get her settled in the United States," he said. "Come on down to the car, help me get the things out." He sat two bags down. "That's the baby food."

"Come on, Tali, let's go see what Grandpa picked up," Tony scooped Tali up with another giggle.

"Now, you're going to say it is too much —"

"If it is more than two dolls and a crate of diapers, you are right," Ziva warned, crossing her arms.

"You're one of those strict moms, aren't you?" he surmised as he handed Tali to her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, and you don't just get to play fun cop, DiNozzo."

"Good cop," he corrected. "And I can be strict."

"See, it's just a little. The car is just … small," Senior announced as they came across his car.

"How did you drive home with the amount of stuff in there?" Tony asked. "You can't even see out the back window."

"Carefully," Senior said, with a hint of dignity. Then he amended, "Very carefully."

Ziva snorted, then said gently, "Thank you, but she does not need all of this, Senior. And as I told Tony, there are many things yet to be determined. Maybe we keep some of it at your apartment. Or wait until her birthday."

"Sweetheart, you used to fall prey to my charms much more easily," he faux-groused.

She laughed again. "Those same charms are now frequently used by a toddler to get me to ignore bedtimes and reasonable dietary guidelines. I have developed an immunity."

"Not that much of an immunity, I hope," Tony said, quietly enough that his father couldn't hear. She smirked.

"Tali got here somehow," she murmured back sotto voce as they watched Senior tug toys out and he fought the urge to hand the kid to his dad and drag Ziva inside. It was almost overwhelming, to remember how physical his reaction to her always was. Even when they weren't sleeping together, he had simply wanted to be in her orbit, to stand too close and look too long and touch just a touch too unprofessionally.

"This is the high chair — you said to get that," Senior said defensively. Rolling his eyes, Tony made a move to help his dad. "And clothes, and diapers. There's, uh, there's a Pak'n'Play in there, too, and one of those diaper genies. And I got those latches too, so she can't get into cabinets. And a cage so she can't go into other rooms."

"I'm guessing cages mean nothing for ninja babies," Tony remarked as he pulled out a set of blocks, a tea set, three cloth dolls, four child-sized chairs and a table, several puzzles and books, and the tiny kitchen set Tony thought he had nixed.

"Merely challenges to be overcome," Ziva agreed, staring balefully at the pile of toys now on the curb. "Come. Let us get everything inside." She swung a shopping bag of diapers and clothes onto her empty shoulder and headed to the door.

They got everything inside, quickly assembled the Pak'n'Play, stacked the rest of the things. With a look, Senior scuttled out with promises to return for dinner, and then it was the three of them again, Tali playing in the corner with some puzzles. He felt energized. "You know, there's a park on Columbia, with a pretty nice playground. We could take her there for the rest of the afternoon." And as she had mentioned, there was much to discuss.

"I should probably start dinner soon. Lasagna takes several hours," Ziva said with a yawn. "You could take her."

"You sure?" he checked. "You're not just trying to get rid of me? Regretting coming to D.C.?" He joked but … really.

"No, of course not," she said quickly, eyes dark and inscrutable. To punctuate her point, she gave him a hard kiss to the mouth. He gripped her waist loosely, held her against him, needing to feel her presence and like he had a modicum of sway over her decisions. "But I want you and Tali to get to know each other," she admitted."I want you both to be comfortable."

It was an uncomfortable confession. Even though he accepted her earlier apologies he had to, instinctively, bite back the easy, bitter response, and wondered how long the reflex would be to do so. Instead, he just kissed her lightly, taking her statement at face value. He wanted that, too, and he couldn't change the past. And what was the alternative — to not know Tali existed? To not have them in his life? To have a less-than relationship with Ziva? All were much worse.

So he wrapped Tali in her windbreaker and packed her in the stroller, took her the three blocks to the newly opened park. As soon as he released her she fled toward the swings with a surefooted agility that was absolutely unsurprising. "You wanna swing, huh?" He asked as she babbled in Hebrew, the consonants clanging unnaturally against his ear. She didn't seem to get particularly frustrated by the language barrier; mostly, she seemed to find him charming and silly (not unlike her mother.). Besides kelev, the only word he could really understand was abba.

It was a little disconcerting because, while Ziva was emphatic about having spoken about him, and he believed her, he wasn't sure if Tali knew what it meant (hell, he knew that she didn't, yet). So he decided to have his first daddy-daughter talk.

"So, Tali," he started, pushing her in the bucket swing, "we don't know each other very well, but we're gonna be spending a lot of time together, from here … Until, well hopefully forever. I would say you're gonna have to put me in the home one day, but your mother is significantly younger than I am and so she can probably handle it. I hope. I mean, she is really the one I want to do that. Though Gibbs will probably live forever so he's an option too, I guess." He sighed, feeling off track, and continue to push her. "My point is that I probably owe you an apology. For not being there from the get-go. I definitely would have been, I do want you to know that, though I also want you to know that when you ask one day, it wasn't anybody's fault …" She giggled at something in the distance, still babbling. "Anyways. Your mom and I — I want it to work. I love her. I'm going to do everything I can to convince her. But even if I don't — I'm here for you, OK? I want to make sure you get that."

He stopped the swing gently and made a face at her, making her burst out with laughter. "Abba Abba!" She exclaimed, and his heart broke at the words. No matter how complex and contradictory the situation was, the emotions also felt remarkably simple. He loved her; he didn't know her; he didn't know he wanted this; he already couldn't imagine anything else.

He remembered his mother telling him once that happy endings depended on where you stopped the story. Even after all these years as a cop he believed that.

Tali and Ziva would be a part of his.

And he would be a part of theirs.