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. . . .
Gibbs shrugged into his USMC sweatshirt and a pair of slippers that had been a Marine Corps birthday gift from Abby. He rubbed his eyes, ran a comb over his wet hair. Cold sunlight poured through the windows.
He'd slept.
They'd all slept.
DiNozzo and the kid still slept.
Gibbs made coffee, snagged the paper off the porch, broomed a few leaves off the entry mat, stacked Tony's errant shoes. The folder on the bookshelf caught his eye.
He could skip the news this morning.
Poperny, Lyuda Darja. DOB: 12/12/86. 34wks1d gest. Chronic social disarray, no prenatal care, substance abuse. PosUA. Baby Girl Poperny pos13pan, amph, coc, heroin. NICU, CPS hold. Referrer: LICSW Bridget _. (305)_.
Mother self-reports drug use during pg but denies baby affected. Insists she will check out AMA with child but has no car seat, no transportation. Transf. to MH unit pending. Recs: Hands-On Parenting, Med. Management, housing support.
Baby Girl Poperny unable to maintain core temp. Tremors, high cry consist. w/opiod exposure. Feeding support, kangaroo care. Recs: morphine wean, fluids A/N.
And yet Liana had been released to her mother five weeks later, weaned from the drugs but needing prescription formula and reflux medication. Both scrips went unfilled.
Everyone wondered why she wouldn't eat.
Gibbs' coffee was cold. He didn't want it, anyway.
Referrer: Maria_, ANSWERS Women's Shelter and Maternal Support, Miami Shores. Mom frustrated with baby's (3mo) fussiness, inability to soothe. Rec: Hands-On Parenting, Med. Management, WIC. No findings of neglect or abuse.
Referrer: Maria_, ANSWERS Women's Shelter and Maternal Support, Miami Shores. Mother reports lack of attachment w/child (6mo), desire to place in out-of-home care. Baby has feeding difficulties, irritability, as per self-report. No indications of abuse or neglect. CPS hold expired 48hrs.
Referrer: Angela_, New Life Family Center. Mother denied bottle to baby in dining room, no formula, not BF. Recs: WIC, HOP, housing support. Obs: Mother dilated pupils, pallor, scabs on hand (poss. IV drug use), no appetite. Child pale, listless, crying. CPS hold expired 48hrs.
Referrer: Marcus _, Miami Gospel Mission. Documented physical abuse: mother struck child on face w/open hand. Did not enter night lottery for beds. Left 9pm w/child. Severe substance abuse/mental hlth issues.
Nothing for a year while they wandered back and forth across the Tuttle Causeway. Lyuda had made one appearance at Miami-Dade Housing Authority but hadn't entered the lottery for a subsidized apartment. Office workers noted that Liana was sunburned and had a rash.
I got sick from the bugs once, she'd said. DiNozzo thought it was malaria.
The final intake report: Referrer: Driver Engineer Marcel _, Collier County Rescue 106. Child found tied to doorway at 1100. Name: Liana. DOB: unknown, Age: 4, self-report. Disclosed abandonment. Dehydrated, signs of malnutrition. Fluids admin. 1110. Transported to Nicklaus Children's Hospital. Assigned intake worker: Bruce Hartwell.
Six months later her case had been transferred to dependency, then to permanent planning. Two families had come forward as adoptive resources; both had backed out within days. Efforts to reach Lyuda or her family were futile. He checked the date on the last juvenile court summons: she'd been dead 3 months.
Placement Pending: ICPC. Bethesda, MD. Ziva David, Anthony DiNozzo. Home study approved 7/25. Receiving SW assigned: Montgomery County DSS.
She'd arrived soon after and slowly, slowly it had all unraveled. Gibbs' gut pinched, his spine ached.
How much of this could have been avoided?
And did that mean she wouldn't have come to them?
DiNozzo stood across the table, smiling, showered. "Morning." He raised a mug. "Thanks."
Gibbs shoved the folder at him. "You'll wanna look at this."
His smile faded. "You had Abby—"
"Yep."
"Is this gonna piss me off?"
"Yep."
He shoved it back. "Want something to eat? I'm starved."
"Nope."
Tony shrugged. "Suit yourself."
That nugget of worry: "Where's the kid?"
"Sleeping."
"Didn't hear her last night."
"She wasn't up."
0730. "Said you'd be up at first light."
"Didn't get a call. Did you?"
Gibbs didn't like to leave Ziva alone.
"She's fine," Tony said.
Liana's bedroom door banged open. There were a few soft thuds and she wobbled out with bedhead and sleep creases. She looked blankly at Gibbs, then her father, and her face broke into a shy smile. She put her fingers in her mouth. "Hi, Abba."
Tony dropped an egg in a bowl and scooped her into a tight hug. He picked her up. "Hi, little love. Did you sleep good?"
"Yeah," she slurred, smiling still.
He held her tightly, smelled her hair, shifted her onto his hip. She was seven. She was not. "Want a smoothie?"
"No, thanks."
"Ok," Tony agreed. No pushing, no cajoling.
Attaboy, DiNozzo. Gibbs dumped his mug and put it in the dishwasher. "Gotta go see Ziver."
Liana opened her mouth, but Tony put his finger to her lips. He spoke slowly, lowly. "We're supposed to check in with Dr. Mennet this morning. Then I need to pick up some medicine for you. Then we'll see Ema, ok?"
She nodded and put her head down on his shoulder.
Gibbs shrugged into a coat, grabbed his keys and wallet, tugged on his boots. He felt impatient, irritated. Why didn't they call?
"Bye, Saba." He turned. Liana sat on her father's hip, arms looped around his neck. Her pajamas pink and patterned with moose wearing scarves.
"Bye, kid."
"I love you," she called.
"Me, too," DiNozzo sang out, smirking.
He meant it. So did Gibbs. "Copy," he grumbled, and swung out the door.
. . .
Ziva's eyes were open and clear, but tired. She offered a small smile when he kissed her head between the wires. The EEG registered normal activity. "How ya feeling?"
One shoulder moved. Her mouth turned down. Not all the pistons were firing.
"Anyone talk to you yet?"
A nod. She swallowed.
"And?" he prodded.
She swallowed again, wincing. Sore throat? "Xanax. She will send home with. Tomorrow. And something else. L'ana?"
Gibbs sighed. She'd be confused and uncoordinated for a week yet. He dragged over a chair, and sat. "Doin' ok. Got some sleep last night. Abby pulled a bunch of stuff for you. You'll want to look at it when you get home."
Ziva's brows rose. "Hack?"
"I don't know nothin'."
She put her hand on his. "Thank you."
"Not fair you didn't get it in the first place."
She looked away. Her lashes fluttered. He tensed—another seizure?—but relaxed when she looked back at him. "Tony ok?"
"Everyone got a good night's sleep."
She always knew when he was holding back. "And?"
"They went to therapy yesterday. Attachment stuff."
Liana in her moose pajamas. Tony cutting the dirty shoelace with his knife, scooping her off the hot firehouse steps.
Abba?
Abba!
He nodded. "DiNozzo did good. Lee-lee, too. They wanna see you."
She shook her head, wincing. Headache. She plucked the sleeve of her hospital gown. "No. Not…."
She wanted a shower, a comb, and the clothes from her go-bag. "Gonna be a bitch to wash out your hair," he griped.
Ziva plucked one of the sensors from her temple and scraped at the leftover adhesive. "Then get started."
Teresa, the EEG tech, retrieved everything and left them with a bottle of baby oil to help with the glue. Gibbs dragged her chair over. "Outta bed, David."
She transferred with some difficulty. He ran the shower to warm it up and laid out her clothes while she did was she could on her own.
"Abba?"
Hair-washing was a challenge on a good day. He shampooed, rinsed, used the baby oil, and shampooed again. Ziva hardly winced when he combed out the snarls, and held her arms out for a transfer once she was dressed.
She teetered on the edge of overexertion. Probably would for the next week. Her gaze wandered to the door, though. "They are coming?" she asked.
"Said so."
She drifted, eyes closing, but jolted and lifted her head. "Not yet?"
"That was ten seconds, Ziver."
"Oh."
She drifted again. Gibbs' phone buzzed—a text from DiNozzo. Running late. Let her sleep.
Ziva sighed. He nudged the blankets higher and texted back: Li ever see a GI?
Ten seconds and it rang. "What do you mean?" Tony demanded.
"Reflux."
"Copy. You know there's a whole thing called 'adoption medicine'? I'm taking Lee-lee at 1100 to a pediatrician over in Potomac that sees only adopted kids. You should see the website-"
Ziva opened her eyes and scowled. "Better get over here before that."
"What's your twenty?"
"Ten or less."
DiNozzo hung up. Gibbs replaced his phone in the holster. "They're coming. Lia's got a check-up in Potomac with a new doc." he told her.
She nodded. "Water?"
The pitcher, the cup, as always. He poured and she sipped, taking breaths between. It was so much work to bounce back after all this.
All this.
"When can you eat?"
A shrug.
She'd perk up if she could get a little sugar. "Want me to go—"
"Hold your horses," DiNozzo said. He had a drink carrier in one hand and Liana's hand in the other. "We come with offerings."
Liana did a wiggly, nervous dance, eyes on her mother. "Hi, Ema."
Ziva waved her over. "Come, motek."
Lia tiptoed over. "How do you feel?"
Ziva glanced at him. Gibbs gave her a stern look. Don't you lie to her. "Not great," she admitted. "Not yet. Soon, though."
Liana nodded, chewing her lip. "Abba said you can come home tomorrow."
Ziva's eyebrows rose. "Abba?"
Lia shrunk. "Um, yeah." She held out a smoothie with both hands. "Here."
Ziva drank, eyes closed in enjoyment. Color rose in her cheeks. "Favorite," she sighed.
Her daughter's peaked little face brightened. "I know. I told Abba which flavor to get because I always watch what you get so I remember."
Ziva cupped her cheek. "Good girl. Abba?"
Lia went red. "Um, I just realized that I call everyone else a Hebrew name but him and that's not fair."
Side-eye. Gibbs smirked. Moms always knew. "That is all?"
She looked at Tony. Tony let her arm fall across Liana's shoulders. "Lee-lee and I spent some good time together yesterday. It really helped us, huh?"
Liana leaned into him. "Yeah," she said timidly. "It was, um, nice."
Gibbs stifled a snort. Probably saved her life.
DiNozzo smoothed her hair, tied back with some bow-headband thing. Did Kelly wear those? "We'll go again on Friday morning. Ema can join us if she's up for it, right?"
Ziva's gaze drifted before focusing on Liana. "You needed me and I was not there. I am sorry."
"It's ok," Liana said quickly. She shifted from foot to foot. "I know you can't help it."
"But we can try," she interrupted. "New medication for now, and perhaps surgery in the spring."
Liana was trying not to look worried. "And then you'll be better, right?"
Ziva motioned to the room around her. "It can only help with this, yes?"
She nodded, wordless, smoothie cup sweating in her hand.
"I am sad when I cannot be with you. I am embarrassed," Ziva confessed. "This is not how I wanted things to be."
"Me, either," Liana agreed. Her eyes were down. Gibbs took the smoothie from her hand and put it on the table.
Tony lifted her onto the bed. She crawled up next to her mother and settled in. "What do you need, Lee-lee?" he asked.
"Nothing," she squeaked.
He cocked his head, thinking. "When you knew you were coming to us—that this was the real deal—what did you think about?"
"Nothing," she maintained. Her fingers twisted.
"Tell us, Lia," Ziva said softly.
She thought for a minute, eyes on Gibbs. He had half a mind to make himself scarce. Half a mind to stick around.
"I wished I'd brought a present for you, but since I didn't I decided I was going to be good," she started slowly, eyes roving. "Like perfect. Because everything was perfect. Like a story. Like a fairy tale." She pulled a face. "But I don't like fairy tales. And there were things no one told me about—"
"About me," Ziva interrupted.
She blinked. "But Saba told me and then I looked it up on the internet when Tim gave me a laptop and I learned that you could die from seizures and I just started getting so scared—"
"Lia," Tony jumped in, but Gibbs gave him a glare. Let her finish.
"And I was scared that if you knew I was scared I would get sent back." Her voice rose in volume and tempo. "And then it was just so bad all the time and sometimes I'm sure you're mad at me or you don't like me." She stopped to suck in a breath. "Sometimes I don't know where I am. It's like I forget, and then I'm mad that I forgot. That was when I hurt myself but it wasn't the first time I did it and I felt really ashamed. I didn't want to do it again. I don't." She paused, panting. Flyaways haloed her face. Her eyes were wild and golden. "My stomach hurts all the time. It hurts to eat. Sometimes it hurts to breathe."
Gibbs felt his breath leave in a rush. Tony and Ziva looked equally sucker-punched.
How had they let it get this bad?
Liana started sobbing. Ziva pulled her close. Tony stood with his hands in his pockets, head down. He was thinking, waiting. Planning.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs said quietly.
"Sh."
Ziva hummed a crackly tune and stroked her daughter's hair.
Eventually the crying stopped. Ziva wiped Liana's face. Tony stroked her wrist with the back of one finger. "I'm glad you told us. That was really brave."
Attaboy, Gibbs thought.
"We got five more minutes with Ema and then we have to go to your doctor's appointment."
"Ok," Liana agreed.
Ziva continued to stroke her hair. "Abba is going to tell the doctor everything you said. We need to make sure you are safe. I think you need a new medication for your anxiety."
"I already have it," Liana said. "We picked it up this morning. I never took it before."
New drugs for a new start. Gibbs would get Ziver's new scrips from the pharmacy downstairs. Gibbs closed his eyes, ran a hand over his hair. He needed to talk a walk. A hike. Out of town.
A beep. Tony: "Time's up, Lee-lee."
She kissed her mother and slid off the bed. "Bye," she said tearfully.
Ziva kissed her fingertips and touched them Liana's cheek. "Soon."
More kisses exchanged. Tony whispered something in Ziva's ear and she nodded, a tiny smile on her mouth. But it disappeared as soon as they were gone.
She looked at Gibbs. "Two days away from me and all this progress," she said morosely. "Like I needed…like I do not know this is my fault."
"Ziver," he warned.
"I need time," she said flatly. "I need…you should go."
He leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees. "Doc wants you to talk to someone."
"Not to you," she snapped.
Fair enough. "A professional, Ziver."
"How did it get like this?" she burst. Her voice was thin, her face colored with anger and shame. "How did I make her so afraid?"
Thought you weren't talking to me, he almost said. "You didn't, Ziver. All this—"
All this.
"—came from way before you, or me, or DiNozzo. Before Liana."
She side-eyed him. "What Abby gave you."
"Should be enough to keep you from beating yourself up."
"Bring it to me."
"You still throwing me out?"
"I am tired." A wry look, a twist of her wrist. "Thirteen hours of sleep and still—"
"Not real sleep."
She gave a half-smile. Quiet. Some soft footfalls in the hallway, then nothing. She looked at him with enormous, sad eyes. "Sometimes I do not like who I have become."
A burn started in his gut and worked up his esophagus into the back of his mouth. Yeah, she was different. But she, DiNozzo, hell, even the kid—
they'd become his home.
Gibbs got up, kissed her cheek, let their foreheads touch.
Abba?
Abba!
"I do," he whispered.
She nodded, eyes wet. "I would like to speak to someone."
He smiled. "Not me."
"Not you. I will ask for a referral."
"Want anything from home?"
"To go there."
"You will."
She fell back against the pillows. Exhaustion dulled her eyes. "Come back. Bring dinner."
He snorted. "What do you want, Princess?"
Too soon. She frowned. "She tried so hard."
Nope, he wasn't listening to that again. "So did you. What do you want to eat?"
"Pasta."
Carbs, of course. "Done."
"The appointment. Tell Tony—"
"Yeah, yeah."
Ziva yawned, waved him out. "Leave me alone. Goodbye."
She was out in seconds. He smirked, kissed her head again, closed the curtains. Outside was cold and bright. A few leaves still clung to the trees.
He'd have to rake again.
A little hard labor would feel good. He shrugged into his heavy work coat and scrawled do not disturb on the whiteboard outside the room.
. . . .
The smell of leaf-rot. The last gold in the sky. car cruised by slowly, pulled over two houses down to drop off three boys in lacrosse gear. He watched them go inside and picked up the rake again. Gibbs shook out another contractor bag. He could finish before it was fully dark.
DiNozzo came out in his slippers and without a coat. He had a mug in each hand and made his way across the grass to give one to Gibbs. "Hot cider," he said, knowing coffee was the expectation. "Lia made it. Thought you looked cold."
He took it. "She's a good kid, DiNozzo."
The mugs went on the edge of the steps. Tony went to the garage to set down his mug and fetch another rake. "Woulda come out sooner but I was following up on all the referrals we got today."
"GI?"
"GI, ENT, pulmonologist, PT, OT, and a speech-language pathologist."
"Lotta docs, DiNozzo."
"Dr. Kent spent more than an hour with us. He said Liana's developmental age is way lower than her actual age—that most adopted kids have some dysmaturity, but hers are severe because of trauma and her autism. She might be seven years old, but developmentally, emotionally, socially she's about four. That's how old she was when…it's like time stopped for her."
He stopped talking and raked, shoulders bunched under his sweatshirt. Raked and raked at a furious pace, then loaded armloads of leaves into the bag until he was panting.
Gibbs drank his cider and waited for Tony to tire out. Ten minutes ticked by, then five more, and he stopped and leaned on the rake so hard the tines bowed.
"Why you taking this so personally?"
Tony swallowed, caught his breath. "Why didn't I see it?"
Everything shifted. A light bulb flickered in Gibbs' dull old brain. "You're not your father, DiNozzo."
"How would you know?"
Gibbs held steady. DiNozzo needed to blow off steam.
"How the hell would you know, Father of the Year? You weren't exactly there when he locked me in a hotel room with Pay-Per-View and the room service menu while he spent two days bed-hopping with his colleagues' escorts. Or when he was dumping me at my third boarding school in six months. I was eleven, for the record."
t was fully dark and cold. Their breath made pale, icy clouds. "DiNozzo," Gibbs started lowly. "You're not him and you gotta stop the guilt. It's not helping your kid."
He nodded, looking around. "I asked for a transfer."
"To?"
"Intel."
"And?"
He shrugged. "Got offered a promotion instead." He trailed off again, there and not. "I gotta get out of the field."
Gibbs knew about that. "Salary bump."
"Yeah."
He'd need it. "So take it."
"I did."
"When you start?"
"When I get back. McGee cleaned out my desk. He's moving to Computer Crimes. I think the team is dissolving, Boss."
"Not my team anymore, DiNozzo."
"Yeah we are."
"You're my family."
They were both quiet, watching the night street from the middle of the yard, rakes in hand. The bag sagged at Tony's feet.
"Thanks," he said.
"Yep."
They packed up without another word. Left the bag and rakes in the garage, closed the door. The picnic table was finished.
Tony ran a hand over it, opened the door to the house. "I gotta check on Li."
Gibbs' heart tightened. "Be in in a bit."
Tony nodded and closed the door. Gibbs left the garage, passed the trash bins, followed the green lawn as it sloped around back. It was darker back there, away from the street lights. Maybe he'd run a concrete path down to the backyard, pour a cement pad for the table. A gazebo, painted white, for shade. Some hanging baskets of flowers.
They were his home.
He went back around, through the garage, and into the house. Liana was in the kitchen in pajamas, hair wet. She twirled a straw in a glass of chocolate milk. "Hi."
"Hi," he echoed. The garage door closed with a thump. "You gonna drink that?"
She shrugged. "Why did you go to the backyard?"
"Thinking."
"Oh."
He put a pot of water on to boil. "Your mom wants pasta."
"You're going to see her?"
"Yep."
"Can I go?"
Why not? "Sure. Go get dressed."
She scampered off, calling, Abba!
Abba?
Abba!
Tony poked his head out of the bedroom. "You're taking her?"
"Yeah. Take a load off, DiNozzo."
He slumped, relief washing over him like a rogue wave. "Thanks, Boss."
"I'm not your boss."
"Thanks, old man."
That worked. Liana bunny-hopped in front of him, dressed again in soft pants and a long sweater. "What kind of pasta does Ema want?"
"You tell me."
"She likes mushrooms because they're good protein. And onions and garlic. And cheese." She gathered ingredients. He pulled a wide sauté pan from the low cabinet and put it on a flame. "Slice those mushrooms thin." He diced onion, opened a tin of tomatoes. Liana made serious work of her button mushrooms, tongue trapped in the corner of her mouth. A comfortable quiet fell between them.
Gibbs watched her pour rotini in the boiling water and set a timer. She was careful, precise.
Good company.
"Have time to draw today?"
"A little. I did a line drawing of a Tlingit raven. I want to fill it in with pens instead of pastel or pencil, but I don't have any." Her gaze flitted to his face and away.
"Any art stores open late?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe we can stop tomorrow."
She blew the foam from the pasta pot and stirred it with a wooden spoon. "That's ok."
The timer beeped. He drained the water, mixed the sauce and noodles, and poured it all in a plastic container. "Let's go."
Abby greeted them outside Ziva's room. "Hey! Hi! Lia! Gibbs!" She swept Liana off her feet. "How lucky am I to see you?"
The kid blushed. "You haven't come over in a long time."
"Bummer, huh?" Abby agreed. "Want to go on an adventure with me?"
Liana stammered. "I came to see Ema."
"So go see her and then we'll go on our special mission."
She looked at Gibbs. He nodded. Go on.
Liana dashed into the room. He watched her kiss her mother's cheek. She wanted further permission, and must have gotten it. "Ok," she said upon return. "Ema said I can go. Where are we going?"
"Secret," Abby promised.
"You don't have a car seat," she worried, suddenly hesitant.
"We're walking. C'mon."
Liana took her hand. "Will we be gone long? I don't want Saba to leave without—"
"I won't," he vowed.
"Ok," she said quickly and hopped a little. She wasn't all that nervous, he realized. Too soon for the meds to work. Probably just wanted something new to think about.
Maybe he'd sketch some plans for that gazebo.
The elevator swept them down to street level. Gibbs found Ziva listless on the mattress. Abby had brushed her hair and put on her wrist splints. He held up the Tupperware. "Brought dinner."
She gave a thin smile but made no motion to take it. "Thanks."
He put it on the bedside table. "What's up?"
"I do not want to wait to have the surgery. I had another small seizure this afternoon and I just…the new medication... I am tired of being tired."
He sat. "You talk to doc?"
"She thought I was rushing the decision. Why should I…why should I take so long? To spend more time here? To miss more of Liana's growing up?"
"Then let's do it."
That same relief—the one he'd seen on Tony's face—he saw on hers, too. She took her hand with both of hers. They were thin and cold. If the damned hospital made her sick-
"Thank you."
He squeezed, tried to warm her fingers. "Don't thank me, Ziver."
She drifted. Damn drugs were making her drowsy; this wasn't just the usual postictal fatigue. He'd talk to Monroe, maybe get her on something else. Or nothing. Maybe just the Xanax. They'd work on keeping the house quieter.
She wouldn't mind if he sketched plans for a gazebo.
He bet Liana would want to help.
It was her house, too.
Her home.
And his.
"Saba?" She was back, a small paper package clutched in both hands. "Guess what I got?"
"A pony."
She laughed, glancing once at her sleeping mother. "No, pens! Abby knew which ones I needed! I didn't ask, either, she just picked them out. I didn't know Glick's was open this late, either. It's almost eight. My bedtime is eight-thirty."
"We'll go soon." He didn't get up, though. "Your mom wants to have surgery sooner than spring. You ok with that?"
Liana nodded. "I know it will be scary but I want her to feel better. Abby told me she feels really bad. She showed me pictures of what seizures do, like brain scans and stuff. On her phone, I mean. She said it's really hard to get better after. She said Dr. Monroe will put a magnet and some wires in her neck to interrupt the electrical activity that—" He must've been smiling, beause she stopped, shy. "You already know this, don't you?"
He smiled. "We started talking about VNS a few years ago. Wanted to run the gamut on meds first."
"Oh. Before me?"
"Yep. All of this started before you, kid."
She blinked, nodded. "Before me." Her golden eyes fell on Ziva's sleeping face. "It's not all my fault?"
It's not, Li."
"Dr. Kent told Abba today that my brain isn't normal and that's why I'm so weird. And autistic. He said that it was like that before I was even born." She looked at him, away, back at him. "I asked if that was why Lyuda didn't like me and he said she had her own problems that were too hard to overcome. We talked about drugs and how they changed her brain forever and that's probably why she was…I don't want to talk about her but I can't help it."
"You're allowed to talk about her whenever you want."
"That's what Abba said."
"He's right. Don't tell him, though. Don't want him gettin' a big head."
She giggled. "He's not like that."
"Known 'im a whole lot longer than you. Trust me on this one."
She smiled. She was beautiful. DiNozzo was right on that, too.
"I trust you, Saba."
Ziva stirred. Liana jumped. "Ema?" But Ziva was out again. "Oh."
"Let's let Mom rest. You need to get to bed, too."
She rose on tiptoe and kissed her mother's cheek. "Laila tov, Ema. I love you."
Gibbs kissed Ziva's brow. She stirred, gave a sigh, and slept again. Damn drugs. Damn brain damage. He held out his hand. Liana clung to it, trotted beside him all the way to the car, the package of pens wrinkled in her birdy hand.
He navigated back through the night, back to their street, their half-raked yard, their home. Their.
He glanced at Liana, asleep in the back seat. She still clutched the bag from Glick's. Then he picked her up, still out, and carried her into the house, into her room, tucked her beneath the blankets still in her clothes. Ziva would have something to say about that.
We do not get in bed in our street clothes, Abba. You could have woken her to put on pajamas. Now strip the sheets and put them in the washer.
Liana looked like her mother. Especially as she slept, face turned toward him, lashes fanned, mouth slightly pursed. He put the pens on her desk, turned off the lamp. She sighed in her sleep like her mother, too.
Gibbs paced the hall. In the master, DiNozzo snored and hugged his wife's pillow. In the kitchen, the pans were still on the stove. Newspaper on the dining table. Shoes littering the entry.
Ziva would have none of it. He tidied, washed, rinsed, ran the dishwasher. Stacked shoes on the rack. He folded the towel and hung it up. He tossed the paper in the recycling bin.
You live here, she would scold. Clean up after yourself.
You live here.
"Yeah, Ziver," he muttered. "I live here."
He sat on the sofa in the dark. The cushions were soft. Softer than his couch, in his house. His empty house.
Gibbs took of his boots, stretched out, rubbed his eyes.
Abba?
Abba!
You live here.
He yawned. Pulled down the afghan.
Laila tov, Abba.
Shout if you need me, Ziver.
I will not.
Want anything from home?
Her long gaze, her hand tight around his. To go there.
"Tomorrow, Ziver," he whispered, and closed his eyes against the dark.
. . . .