I wasn't over the moon about this chapter, but I needed to get some things out of the way before moving on with the plot. So it's really just a filler chapter. I hope it's alright, but I can't help but feel it's a bit to fluffy. And it's shorter than I would have liked, but if I filled it out anymore than I already have I think it would get dull.

! By the way, if anyone can figure out what the super secret thing (an in-joke, if you will) about this fic is, send me a private message with the answer but DON'T write about it in a review because you'll spoil it for everyone else. I'll put a shout out to the first person who gets it right in the last chapter *makes mental note to not forget that I said that*. I'm not giving any clues, but I'll be very impressed with anyone who spots it.

Now that Ziva had Lilly, however temporarily, she suddenly found that she had an endless list of things to do, none of which were made easier by her broken bones or a child who found every new thing so fascinating that she requested to stop and take it all in at every possibility. First, she needed to track down her car. Her move back to Israel had been so sudden that she hadn't had the opportunity to sell it. Once her apartment had been leased, the parking permit that went with it was revoked, and her car had been towed from its spot outside her building. Now it was stuck in an impound lot somewhere. She didn't have a cell phone anymore – that had been left in Israel before she'd even gone on the mission that had ended in her being taken prisoner, and so far she hadn't been able to bring herself to send a message asking for it, and her other personal things, to be returned to her. However, her American driver's licence was still valid, and that had been among the things that her landlord had put in storage for her. So her first errand after leaving the Navy Yard was to go back to her old building and call on her landlord.

He and his wife were an old fashioned, slightly aging couple called Henry and Marcy, who lived in the ground floor apartment of the building. When Henry opened the door – grumbling something about fixing leaky faucets – and was faced with Ziva, he was momentarily too stunned to speak. A split second later she was once again being crushed in endless delighted hugs, first from her giant, white-bearded landlord and then by the more delicate landlady. Their delight on seeing her was only trumped by Marcy's instant adoration of Lilly, who'd been hiding behind the doorframe throughout the entire raucous ordeal. She was naturally very shy at first, mostly hiding behind Ziva's legs and hiding her face when one of the elderly couple spoke directly to her. It wasn't hard to see why, when Henry, even in his golden years, stood at well over six foot tall and had shoulders broad enough to almost fill the doorway. The man had come from a farming family, had a pleasant, ruddy face, and had been known to physically throw out troublesome tenants. He'd also been known to play Santa for children at foster homes all over town, and it didn't take too long for him to win Lilly over with his warm smile and roaring laugh. Lilly took to Marcy quickly too, especially when Marcy said that she had an almond cake in the oven and they simply must stay for lunch. Lilly didn't know what cake was, or lunch for that matter, but she got the gist that they were being offered food, and that made Henry and Marcy good people in her book.

Marcy had cried when Ziva had, in a hushed voice when Lilly was distracted, told them about how Lilly came to be with her. She'd skimmed over some of the worse details of what had happened to her at the camp, but something in the greying couple's eyes told her that they somehow knew that she was hiding things. By the time she'd finished her story Henry had gone red and was gripping her good hand in both of his. His eyes were watery as he mumbled that he'd always known that daft young lad – Ziva assumed he meant Tony – had something tougher in him.

"Salt of the Earth, that team of yours," he'd said gruffly, "you oughtta stick with them. No more of this running off into the sunset and getting yourself in trouble, you understand?"

Ziva had nodded humbly and sniffled into his shoulder when he'd pulled her in for another of his bone-crushing hugs. Before they'd left, Lilly had marvelled at the amazing new taste that was cookies, and Marcy had insisted on taking Lilly into the grand-kids' room to pick a toy. Ziva had protested, but Marcy had told her sharply to hush.

"They have far more toys than they'll ever need, especially since they live two states away and are hardly ever here. But Henry will go on spoiling them, regardless. Honestly, half the stuff in there had never been touched, they'll never notice. Now, Lilly dear, what would you like?"

Lilly looked like she'd just walked into heaven. 'A kid in a candy store' just didn't cut it. She was barely breathing, her eyes the size of saucers as she took in all the wonderful things. Some shiny and bright, some soft and fluffy. All colourful and child-friendly. Many had uses that were alien to Lilly, who hadn't had a toy since she was a baby, but she was nevertheless at a loss with what to pick. Then her eyes locked onto something, high on a shelf, and she raised both hands towards it as if she could make it float down to her using sheer will alone. Henry fetched it down for her, and Ziva rolled her eyes when she saw what it was. A bright green, velvety soft frog. Yes, a little frog no bigger than one of Gibbs' coffee cups, with huge shiny eyes and a wide smile, and curious floppy limbs, and bags of tiny plastic beads that rustled faintly inside like a bean-bag. Lilly was instantly enamoured, cradling it in her arms and stroking its head lovingly. She turned her huge brown eyes up to Marcy, who couldn't contain her grin.

"For me?" Lilly whispered.

"For you," Marcy agreed.

"Forever?" Lilly asked, still not quite believing.

"Yes, baby, forever. Are you going to give him a name?"

"Mr. Toad," Lilly said, dreamily. There was a pause, and Marcy's grin faltered.

"Mr. Toad? But he's a frog," she said in confusion.

"So? Ducky isn't a duck but he's still calleded Ducky," Lilly said, still gazing at the toy. Marcy and Henry looked to Ziva for help.

"Ducky is someone from NCIS. Mr. Toad is a character from Lilly's favourite story."

"Ah, The Wind in the Willows?" Marcy said. Ziva's jaw went slack.

"Just how famous is this book?" she said incredulously.

"I have children and grandchildren, dear."

Then it was time to go, and after many more hugs and thank-yous and goodbyes, Ziva and Lilly were finally in a cab on their way to a storage locker in the east of town, now armed with keys, full bellies, and a frog.

The storage locker was significantly less fun than Henry and Marcy had been. It took over an hour to locate the lock-box containing Ziva's bank information, copies of her driver's licence and registration, and off duty weapon, despite Henry's thoughtful labelling system. Ziva took the papers she needed, reluctantly leaving the gun behind in the lock-box, and at last they were able to leave. While she had to leave most of her things behind until she could get a new apartment, Ziva had packed a bag with some of her own clothes, a heady relief. This was bundled into a new taxi, along with a weary looking Lilly. Lilly wasn't a complainer, having grown up far too scared to ever whine or nag anyone, but her movements were getting slow and her expression getting dull. Their next stop was the bank, and while Ziva was organising a new credit card and the cancellation of her old one, Lilly sat down on the floor by her feet and presently fell asleep against the wall, Mr. Toad clutched tightly in her arms. Ziva, though keeping an eye on her, didn't realise she'd fallen asleep until after she'd withdrawn enough cash to fund a shopping trip and had tried to get the child to stand up. It took a moment for Lilly to regain her senses, her eyes looking blearily around as Ziva grasped her hand and urged her on. The man in line behind them was huffing and puffing impatiently by the time they got out of the way, and Ziva shot him a piercing glare as she hefted her heavy bag onto her shoulder and lead Lilly away. A long and expensive taxi ride later – during which time Lilly dropped off again – they were finally at the impound lot where Ziva's car was supposed to be. The guy at the desk was dull-witted and irritable, and by the time Ziva had signed and re-signed the endless flow of forms and agreements, she too had developed a short temper. Lilly walked like a zombie out to the car and immediately dropped off as Ziva buckled her into the backseat. The original plan had been to go on a shopping trip to buy Lilly some more clothes, since she only had those that she currently wore, but Ziva didn't have the heart to drag the poor kid all around a mall in the state she was in. She still needed to get a new cell phone and go to the Administration for Child and Families office to sign yet more forms. Lilly slept through both of these tiresome errands, unconsciously clinging to Mr. Toad as Ziva carried her from one place to the next. At last, armed with a cheap disposable cell phone to tide her over until her old one could be shipped out to her, Ziva was able to take Lilly home.

Home. It held little meaning to either of them. They were drifters, belonging to no one and nowhere. Like a fallen leaf floating in the middle of an endless sea. Ziva still struggled to believe it sometimes. In the quiet moments, between places. That last car journey, with Lilly sleeping and silent in the back, with the world rushing by outside the windows. It felt like a dream. Everything Ziva looked at slipped away far too quickly; disappearing in her wake until she found herself slowing the car to a crawl just so that she could take it all in. Places that she knew well seemed unfamiliar; alien. She could only imagine how lost Lilly must be feeling, suddenly tossed as she was into a whole new world where nothing was certain and anything could happen. Ziva barely realized they'd reached their destination until the guard at the entrance to the navy lodge asked for ID. They were expecting her, and she was directed to temporary lodgings deep in the complex. She was given key and a parking space and sent on her way. She found it through a haze of exhaustion, every movement done automatically and with little thought. She vaguely considered leaving her bag of clothes in the trunk, but her tired brain reminded her that she'd need it if Lilly was to sleep in different clothes. She took the little girl inside first, carrying her in her arms like a baby. She weighed almost nothing, putting much less strain on Ziva's bruised muscles and broken bones than the clothes bag had. The ex-Mossad officer left the child on the first bed she came to, locking the door behind her as she made the short journey back to the car to fetch her things. Lilly had dropped Mr. Toad on the backseat. Ziva retrieved it, smiling at its softness. Back inside, she re-dressed Lilly in an old t-shirt and tucked her into bed. She never woke, as if sensing Ziva's familiar, unthreatening touch. She was concerned to find a half eaten cookie and some crumbling sandwich crusts in the pockets of Lilly's dungarees, obviously stowed there during lunch at Henry and Marcy's when no one was looking. She turned the pockets inside out to brush away all the crumbs. Darkness was gathering outside the window and quite suddenly all Ziva wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. She felt wrung out, all her energy gone. Everything that had seemed so unreal before suddenly felt too real, and the weight of it all was crushing. Overwhelmed and tearful, Ziva could force herself to do nothing more than kick off her shoes and crawl in next to the sleeping child. Lilly whimpered at the disturbance until Ziva enclosed her in her arms and sang one of the same Hebrew songs she'd sung in Africa, her voice thick and wobbly with emotion that had been repressed for far too long. After a time, sleep crept up on her, and she cried no more.

It was dark, and there was pain. Unimaginable pain, like burning daggers over every inch of her skin. Each new stab of pain sent a new flash through her mind. Sometimes and image or a sound, sometimes just a vague feeling that she didn't fully understand. She could hear a sneering voice in the distance above her, but it was like her ears plugged with water and all she could really hear were the sounds inside her head. What were they? Something drove into her stomach, winding her, and in her tortured mind she saw . . . a spider web on pale skin. Even as she fought for breath the thing – a boot? – drove into her chest, and, as she felt her ribs crack, her nose was filled with the scent of overpowering coffee. She raised her arm in a feeble attempt to ward off the attack, but she couldn't see where it was coming from. Her eyes were swollen shut; she was blind. Her arm, now protecting her head, felt the force of the next blow, and it cracked. As white-hot pain lanced up the limb she heard a voice . . . just a snatch of a long and rambling story spoken in an English accent.

"Ducky . . . is that you?" She got no answer – the voice had already drifted away.

The arm that was protecting her head was snatched up, a hand gripping the fresh break hard enough to make her moan. Another flash in her mind, this time a face. McGee! But in a heartbeat he was gone. The hand gripping her wrist pinned her hand to the ground, and moments later a boot came down hard on her fingers. She screamed as they broke, and this time the flash in her mind blinded her completely. When it faded, Tony's face hovered above her.

"Don't go!" she cried, reaching for him, but he stayed just out of reach. His cheeky grin was gone.

"Time to wake up, Ziva. You can't hide anymore."

"I am not hiding," she gasped, pain pulsing through her whole body in waves.

"Yeah, you are. You're hiding from me. From what I did. From what you almost did."

He vanished, only to reappear a split second later right next to her. She thought she could almost feel his hand holding hers. "I killed Michael, and for that you almost killed me. It's all your fault that you're here." As he spoke another stab of pain hit her in the leg, and with it came the memory of the moment she saw Michael's body on her living room floor. It was quickly replaced by the sensation of her straddling a body and holding a gun to its chest.

"Shh," Tony soothed as she cried out in pain and grief. His hand ghosted over her cheek; a caress she could almost feel. "I forgive you, my ninja. It's time for you to forgive yourself. You need to come back. Come home."

"How?" she sobbed.

"Just . . . wake up."

The next thing Ziva was aware of was being hit with the feeling of sea-sickness. She groaned and rolled over, muttering something about 'five-more minutes, my little hairy butt'.

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Ziva pulled a pillow over her head and tried to ignore the sickening bucking of the mattress as Lilly took pleasure in her new discovery: beds made fun trampolines.

"Wake up, Ziva!" Lilly crowed, getting her feet caught in the sheets and tumbling into a giggling heap.

"Alright, alright! I am awake! What is the matter?" Ziva grumbled, fishing the little girl out from the tangled bedcovers and heaving her onto her lap.

"I hearded birds outside!" the child said breathlessly, pointing at the window, "open it for me?"

"You woke me up to see the birds?" Ziva moaned.

"Mr. Toad waked me up first," Lilly replied, waving the toy in Ziva's face.

"Did he now?" she replied, catching hold of the green blur and fixing it with a glare, "Well, Mr. Toad, maybe next time you should let Lilly sleep so that I may get some sleep, yes?"

Lilly fell into hysterical giggles and hid her face in Ziva's stomach. Ziva couldn't keep the delighted grin from her face. It was like watching an entirely different child, one without the traumatic memories of being locked up and beaten. Ziva wished she could ignore the memories as easily.

"Very well then!" she sighed dramatically, sitting up at last and forcing herself out of bed, "since I am awake now, I will open the window for you."

Window open and birdsong flooding in, Lilly stood on tiptoe and gripped the sill in an attempt to see out. Ziva bent and hoisted the tiny girl up so that she could see, supporting her with her good arm and pointing out the birds in the trees. Lilly stared out the window for ages, her gaze eventually wandering from the birds to the rest of the view. She took in, with wide and wonder-filled eyes, the houses, the trees, the lawns and the grass. And the sky. Lilly seemed to forget time and space when she lost herself in the sky. Eventually Ziva's arms got tired, and she had to put the child down. She left the window open, and Lilly continued to stare out at the sky as Ziva dressed her back in yesterday's clothes.

"Today we are going to buy you lots of nice, new things to wear. You can wear something different every day. Something clean. That will be nice, yes? And we must get your hair cut, it is much too long," she said, manipulating Lilly's arms into the sleeves of her shirt, "Then we can go to the park. Would you like that? A park is a nice place, with lots of grass and trees and flowers, and you can stare at the sky until you go cross-eyed."

Ziva knew Lilly wasn't listening to a word she said. The child was too enchanted by the sight outside the window. It was the sight of freedom. Ziva didn't mind though, and kept on chattering away to fill the silence. It was deliriously pleasant – just being with Lilly without having to worry about being cripplingly hungry or thirsty, or about when the next beating would come, or how much longer before he caught Lilly in Ziva's cell and punished her. Ziva, for a moment, was able to put all those horrors out of her mind, forget the previous night's peculiar dream, and focus on keeping that bright little smile on Lilly's face for as long as possible. Ziva left Lilly to play with the frog while she washed at the sink with a washcloth – she wasn't allowed to get many of her injuries wet yet, so no shower for now – and gingerly brushed her hair and cleaned her teeth. She hunted out some clean clothes from her bag, then, after much cajoling, she convinced Lilly to take her medicine and stand still long enough to have her face washed, teeth brushed, and the tangles combed out of her hair.

They spent the day doing everything Ziva had promised, and more. They ate breakfast at a diner where the waitress cooed over Lilly. They shopped until Ziva's good arm was weighed down by bags and bags of child's clothes. Lilly, who'd never been shopping before, was so fascinated by all the new things to see and smell and touch that Ziva never had to worry about the little girl getting bored. They bought some snacks and went to the nearest park for a picnic lunch – Lilly announced that bananas were her favourite food in the whole wide world. She ran her weak, stumbling little run all around the park, shrieking with laughter and smiling like mad.

It was like a dream.

And this was how Ziva knew it couldn't last.

She felt it, again, that prickling on the back of her neck.

Someone was watching.

A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed after my last post. There were some really wonderful things said, and I'm really appreciative. On the whole, you've all done much better review-wise, but I'm afraid I'm still not satisfied. I know that there are still lots and lots of people who are reading and subscribing and what-have-you, but not reviewing. You know who you are! I want feedback; I want to hear your thoughts about my story. The more reviews I get the faster I'll update. Come on, help spark my imagination!

Thanks for reading.