A/N: Hi guys. Sorry I haven't updated this for so long, I kinda lost inspiration for a while and I needed to get something cleared up and didn't know how to explain it. Basically, I know how this story is going to end up now and it's just getting to certain points of it got a bit hair-pulling-despair for me. Especially being so busy over Christmas as well!

Anyway, I had a review from Ally about demonizing the country of Israel. I really wasn't trying to demonize the country at all, so I'm really sorry of this story has given anyone the impression of that. I actually think it is a really beautiful country. I know I have made a lot of references to Israel being a direct link to death for Ziva and the baby, but I didn't mean that in a disrespectful way at all. The danger in this isn't from the country, but from Ziva's father. In Israel, Ziva was kidnapped and held hostage for fourteen months by her father, and finding herself helpless because of her pregnancy was what changed her and made her weaker than she was before. It is only her own experiences with Mossad, being brought up into it, being trained personally by her father to be an assassin, that made her want to escape for the sake of her son, especially considering what her father did to influence Ari. She didn't want that life for her son. So, to summarise my rambling, I do apologize to anyone who thought I was bashing Israel, because I never intended for my writing to come across that way, I'm actually quite ashamed that even the one person thought that, so I really do apologize with my hand on my heart. No character in this story, or even myself, hates Israel, they simple hate Ziva's father and want him to be burned for all eternity for what he has done to their friend.

Sorry for the long authors note to kick start the chapter, but I really wanted to make that clear.

Chapter Seven:

Previously on Save Us:

"Ziva!" he snapped a little.

She jumped at his voice, nodding as she held the weapon on one hand, her infant son in the other arm. She stood further back in the room, ready to run into the bathroom as ordered as Tony walked down towards the front door. Both of them praying as he inched towards the door…please be Gibbs, please be Gibbs, please be Gibbs…

She wasn't aware of how tightly she was holding Shai until the baby started to stir in her arms. Instinctively, she loosened her grip, turning her tense muscles to the gun in her other hand instead. Every second that she held it reminded her of how her life used to be, and for a moment it scared her. She was actually afraid to realise that up until the moment she first gathered her newborn son in her arms, she would have felt more at home holding a weapon than a child…she certainly knew which of the two she'd have preferred to hold two years ago. Now, she wished that she could fling the weapon away, if only because her holding it had brought it within range of her child. Instead, however, she gripped it as hard as possible, knowing that in the unthinkable event of Tony's line of defence failing, it was all she had to protect her child.

Tony's took hold of the door handle, waiting for a moment before flinging it open quickly and aiming his weapon at the person on the other side of the door. Ziva stepped back the moment he moved, closer to the bedroom so that she was almost hidden from view. She waited, her eyes tightly shut as she waited on bated breath. However, she heard no gunshots, no sounds of pain…she didn't even hear the discreet sound of a silencer being used. No footsteps, no words, no movement. Nothing. Just silence. Until…

"Relax, DiNozzo, it's just me."

Her shoulders fell several inches in relief, allowing the weapon to drop to the ground at her feet once she had turned the safety back on. Gibbs' voice was a blessing to hear, but her heart was still hammering wildly in her chest as she brought her other arm up to cradle her son with two hands. She gently touched the back of Shai's head, willing her heartbeat to calm in time with his. She kept her eyes tightly closed, realising that her fear was unjustified now, but that the threat on the other side of the door could have been very real. Coming to Tony's she realised, had been possibly the most predictable thing she could have done. Her father may not have paid her much attention since locking her away from the world, but he had observed her. She knew he had. Eventually she had learned to ignore the feeling of being watched, but it was often there in the middle of the night when her son cried for her. Her father would know that she wouldn't have gone straight to her own apartment. Her father would know that she would have gone straight to NCIS instead, where she would have latched on to her child's father and refused to leave his side. Tony would protect her. She knew that her father would know that. She had no doubt that his surveillance would have allowed him to hear the reassuring words she spoke to her newborn son, telling him about his wonderful father who was sometimes a little hopeless but always a brilliant man who would love him and cherish him and be the best father a boy could ever wish for. Her father would have heard that, and would have no trouble tracing Tony's residence. They were probably already on their way…

"Ziva," a soft voice said, a hand coming down on her shoulder slowly. She was startled at the touch, her eyes flying open and her body tensing with a gasp. "Hey, it's just me," Tony assured her, keeping his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, it's just Gibbs." She nodded silently, and then followed him down the hall when he urged her.

Gibbs instantly noticed the gentle touch Tony had placed to the small of her back as he brought her into the room. He was also no stranger to the burning need to protect Ziva and the child in her arms that his agent's eyes screamed when he looked at her. He was aware that it was ridiculously early in the morning, but he doubted that was anything to do with the fatigue in their eyes. It was obvious that Tony had spent the entire night keeping watch over them, as he had instructed the younger man to do, and that Ziva had found herself adjusting to the change in surroundings still, and was afraid to fall asleep in fear of awaking and discovering her escape was just a dream. Still, while the placement of Tony's hand sent the Rule Twelve alarm bells ringing a warning in his head, he was pleased that the contact seemed to lessen the look of abandoned hope that the Israeli had plastered on her face when she arrived yesterday.

Tony lead Ziva to the couch, and she sat down, adjusting her sleeping son so that his head was cradled against her shoulder as he slept on, oblivious to the previous excitements of the morning so far. Tony then looked to Gibbs. "Boss-"

"Coffee first," he said simply, cutting of his agent. He went into the kitchen, obviously having no intention of letting Tony make his coffee for him. No, he knew his requirements and he knew that no one other than himself and the miracle worker at his favourite coffee branch would meet these standards.

When he had disappeared into the kitchen, Tony crouched down before Ziva. "You want anything?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Could you make Shai some juice?" she asked him. "He will wake soon."

"Yeah, sure," he told her. "Anything for you?"

"Water, please," she told him.

"I'll be back in a minute," he told her, going into the kitchen with Gibbs. The team leader was silent as the kettle boiled, preparing his coffee without making any eye contact or giving any clues towards the nature of his visit. That didn't stop Tony trying to catch his eye or spot any telltale signs emanating from his boss while he mimicked his silence, diluting some of the apple juice from the fridge into one of the feeding bottles Ziva had now put in the kitchen and then pouring her a glass of water.

When they went back into the living room, Tony sat beside Ziva on the couch. He handed her the glass of water, which she drank in one sitting before he put it, and the bottle, onto the coffee table. Gibbs occupied the other side of the coffee table, sitting down on the edge so that he was directly before Ziva, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. "What's going on, boss?" Tony asked, when it had been silent for some time.

"Ziva," Gibbs said, focusing his attention on grabbing her own. She raised her eyes to him, away from where they had been watching Shai before. "Ziva, at four-thirty this morning, your father arrived at the airport," he told her. Instantly, she sucked in her breath, her entire body stiffening in fear. It was strange to see her usual Mossad-like behaviour come back to her, not in her own defence, but in that of her son. Her free arm flew to rest on the side of the child's head, her arm shielding him from the presence of a man that was not even in the room with them. "He was alone. There were no other Mossad agents with him. We had the airport under surveillance just in case, so he was followed from the moment he left. He came straight to NCIS where he was escorted straight to the Director's office. He's been in there ever since with Director Vance."

"He's here?" Tony asked.

"Tony," Ziva said softly, her eyes moving to him.

It was only with his next movements that she realised how close Tony had been to her to begin with. He only had to put his arm around her shoulders and place a hand over her other arm to be embracing her completely. "It's all right," he told her. "I'm not letting him take you back."

"He is here," she repeated simply. "He has come for us."

"Well, he's not going to get you," Tony said stubbornly.

"DiNozzo's right," Gibbs assured her. "At the moment he's being co-operative. He knows that you would have come to us, and is requesting information from us, rather than your location. What's important is that we act before that co-operation changes."

Unfortunately for them, Eli David's co-operation could have ended the moment Gibbs had arrived on the doorstep, if not before. "He cannot find us," Ziva insisted, sounding as if she were on the verge of hyperventilating.

"He won't," Tony assured her. "What do we do, boss?"

"Go to Ducky's," he instructed. Tony frowned, so Gibbs continued. "It's Christmas day," he reminded them. "This is not a regular case, there is no lab work that needs to be done. Abby's going over first thing, McGee's staying at headquarters with me until we know more. Mossad are aware of you two being partners from a previous surveillance set up on Ziva three years ago," he pointed out, taking them back to the time where Ziva had been framed by the Iranians. "It isn't safe here now that Ziva's father is in the country. Mine is no safer. By the time anything happens, Ducky's house will be filled with federal agents anyway, so it's safer if you go there. Pack things for a few days, we're leaving as soon as you're ready," Gibbs told them, reeling off the information so quickly that it was taking the two a few moments to catch up. When they both sat there, Gibbs spoke again. "Now," he told them.

Tony stood up, waiting as Ziva got to her feet. Both of them went down towards the bedroom, but once there, Ziva stood motionless, watching as Tony pulled out two hold-all bags from underneath his bed. She was still all the time, watching him unload a variety of shirts, undershirts and pants into the bag, toping it up with underwear before moving into the bathroom, taking his deodorant, toothbrush and some other toiletries. Essentials, she noticed. When he was finished, he looked to her, noticing how still she was. "Ziva," he said, as he zipped up the one bag and then opened the other. "Come on, if it's not safe we have to leave."

He started to take the clothes out of the bags that Abby had brought yesterday. It was only then that Ziva realised what Abby had brought. Various amounts of pants and denim jeans went flying into the hold-all, as did plain full-length t-shirts. Several sweaters accompanied them, as did the tiny outfits that Abby had picked for Shai, all blue or a chocolate brown in colour. He left our a pair of pants, a long sleeved shirt and a sweater, handing them to her along with the bag of underwear that Abby had given her from the store. "Here," he told her. "You can shower at Ducky's, but for now just put some clean clothes on."

She nodded numbly, taking the clothes from him. Tony then left the bedroom, going into the bathroom with his own pile of clothes and allowing her the privacy of his bedroom to change. She waited for a moment, until she heard him shuffling around behind the closed door, before placing her sleeping son on the bed and changing into the t-shirt and the new pants. They were a little loose, considering her almost worrying weight loss, but they fit well enough. She was pleased that Tony was alert enough to deal with the situation with the haste that Gibbs required of them. If he hadn't been there, she'd still be sitting on the couch, trying to catch her breath after learning that her father was close by. Yet Tony was there, taking charge, making sure that their things were packed and that they were going on to somewhere safe.

When Tony came back into the bedroom, he brought with him the last of the things they could need from the bathroom, throwing them into the top of his bag. He had changed into a clean pair of jeans and a clean sweater, the one he had put on just before they went to bed now flung over his arm. He was still moving quickly, with purpose, until he saw Ziva standing beside the bed and he stopped. "Ziva," he said simply. "Why aren't you wearing the sweater?"

She shrugged silently. She knew that it was cold outside, and that after being in Israel for so long in the heat she would easily suffer outside in the cold, even just through the quick trip from the apartment building to the car. However, standing in the new clothes felt odd compared to her previous comfort. Yesterday she had arrived in Tony's home, cleaned up in his shower, sat comfortably on his couch, ate in his kitchen, slept in his bed…she had also done most of this in a pair of his sweat pants and a sweater of his. The new clothes didn't have the familiarity of him with them. She reached out and took the sweater she had been wearing before, Tony's sweater rather than the one he had left out for her, and went to tug it over her head. He reached out, taking it from her. "Ziva, you wore that one all yesterday, you slept in it…"

"It is warmer," she justified, looking between the old sweater of Tony's and the brand new one of her own. There was nothing physically wrong with it, the stitching was perfect, the fabric was soft and most importantly, warm. The only fault there was with it was that it was brand new. It didn't feel lived in. It didn't feel warm. It didn't give her the feel of protection that she got from Tony's sweater.

He seemed to realise that this was the reason behind it. Even though he had taken the sweater from her, she still had her fingers clasped around the hem, almost begging him not take it from her. It was almost like a child with a safety blanket. He let go of the sweater, letting it surrender to her delicate grasp. She just looked at it, wondering whether he was actually going to stand there and let her put it back on. However, he didn't. He took of the sweater he had put on only moments ago, and handed it to her. "Here."

She looked at this sweater with a new strangeness in her eyes. In an argument to get her to wear her own clothes, he had ended up giving her more of his own? It was strange, but she wasn't going to fight it. She took the navy sweater, slipping it over her head and adjusting it around herself. It swamped her, just like the previous one had, and though Tony had only been wearing it for a moment it already had his warmth. "Thank you," she whispered to him, a tiny amount of shame in her voice.

"No problem," he told her, rubbing her arms slightly before jumping back into 'action mode'. He looked down at Shai. "If you go through the rest of those bags there's blankets and stuff. Take out everything you need for Shai and I'll get the things from the kitchen," he instructed.

She nodded, checking that Shai was still safely away from the edges of the mattress and that he hadn't rolled closer to the edge in his sleep before going over to the rest of the bags. Tony left the room, something that she still felt nervous about him doing. She still had the nagging feeling that something terrible was going to happen, and the feeling that he would leave the room, promise to be back and never be seen again was something that terrified her, even more so now that she had landed the responsibility of being Shai's father onto his shoulders as well. But she shook this feeling off, trying to gain some of the confidence that she used to have so easily. She thought of her son, her sleeping child lying on the bed, defenceless at six months old. Everything she had done to come back to DC had been for him, so that they could be free of her father and that Shai could know his father. That could not end yet. They weren't free of her father until she knew that they wouldn't be leaving this city for her homeland.

So she took the blankets from the bag, placing on inside the hold-all on the bed and placing another beside Shai on the bed. She took out a few of the toys, not many because of space, making sure that she kept the thread-bare dog out with the blanket. He would not settle without that old toy, one that she had played with as a child. It seemed like an heirloom, which was miniscule in comparison to some, but it was all she had to offer her son, and he had been pleased to play with the toy animal for hours, so she was pleased to allow him. Once she was done with the packing Tony came back, without his bag that was no doubt with Gibbs. "Everything ready?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Yes, I believe so." She hovered over Shai for a moment, wrapping him inside the blanket she had left out so that he would be shielded from the winter cold. She tucked the toy dog into the blankets by his hands, ensuring herself that it would not fall and be lost, before picking her son up and holding him in her arms. She went to pick up the other bag, but Tony took it before her.

"Come on," he told her. "Gibbs is waiting down in the lobby for us."

-----

Despite the situation, Ziva felt guilty imposing on Ducky's doorstep when the sun had barely risen past the horizon on Christmas day. He was a traditional Scotsman, after all, and took tradition as seriously as any of the other team members when it came to Christmas. Tony had informed her on the way over that the were all heading over to the medical examiner's home for Christmas festivities because Ducky had lost his mother to illness earlier in the year, and had been uncomfortable about spending the holidays in the big house on his own. Even Gibbs had assured them that he would be there for dinner, but now that they had the Director of Mossad in the NCIS building, they doubted that Gibbs would show up at all. Shai slept against Ziva the entire journey until they arrived on the doorstep. She knew that her son was hungry, and he had already slept much longer than he usually did. However, she could hardly feed him outside in the cold or in the car, so she simply rocked him against her, reducing his cries until they were simply whimpers.

Tony frowned, looking at the angry red face of his son. His son. That still felt strangely amazing to him. "He okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "He is just hungry."

At that moment, Ducky opened the door, quickly ushering them into the warmth. Shutting the door behind them, he noticed the increase in volume from the baby. "Oh dear," he noted simply. "It seems he is not as pleased today as he was yesterday."

"He is just hungry," Ziva repeated. "He has not been awake long, so he is a little mouchy."

"Grouchy," Tony corrected softly.

"Well, I'll show you to the spare rooms and you can have some privacy to feed the little lad," Ducky offered. "Unfortunately, I can cater to us adults in terms of breakfast, but not the little one, I am afraid."

"Thank you," Ziva smiled, following just behind Tony when Ducky lead them upstairs.

He showed them into one of the spare rooms, and Ziva entered. Ducky looked at Tony, who remained in the doorway for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow at him. "Do I assume there will only be need for one spare room?" the Scotsman asked him, a hint of amusement in his tone despite the reason they were having to stay in the first place.

Tony just nodded, not rising to the teasing about his feelings for Ziva for once. "Yeah, one room's fine, Ducky, thanks."

"You're most welcome, Anthony," Ducky said, before speaking into the room and attracting Ziva's attention. "I will leave you two to your privacy and ensure Jethro is not destroying my kitchen in search of coffee."

Tony was surprised to notice that Ducky had naturally assumed that he would want to stay with Ziva. He looked over at the woman, who was now sat on the side of the bed with her son already feeding from her, which explained the . "You uh…you want me to step out for a sec?" he asked her, his voice distracted as he found himself both confused and amazed at what he was watching.

"No, it is fine," she said simply, not raising her eyes from her son. "He is your son, I do not mind."

Every confirmation that Shai was his son brought a little smile to his lips, but this time it wasn't as broad. He went over and sat beside Ziva on the bed, keeping a little space between them. He'd have thought watching something like this just might ruin every mental image he'd ever have of the particular part of Ziva's anatomy that was in use right now. Instead, he found it completely natural. A woman feeding her son. There was nothing creepy about that. After all, the boy had DiNozzo blood and he was bound to be interested in a woman's breasts, especially when he was so young and there was a connection between breasts and food. But Tony was particularly drawn to the eye contact being held between mother and son. Their eyes were locked, both of them watching each other and not looking away. Tony had noticed that Shai's eyes had darted with every little movement and new source of temporary entertainment yesterday, but right now his eyes were completely focused on his mother, still blinking slowly because he'd barely been awake for five minutes.

When she was done, she readjusted her shirt and reached into the bag beside her for a simple small cloth. She looked at it in her hand for a moment before turning to Tony. "Would you like to wind him?" she asked him, almost cautiously.

"Uh…yeah, sure," he said, taking the child that was offered to him. Ziva placed the cloth over his shoulder, before gesturing Tony to hold Shai so that the baby's head was on his shoulder. She showed him how to gently rub and pat at his back until he was winded. After a few moments, the movement seemed natural to him, and Ziva seemed content to watch Tony and her son. Once again, Shai's hand sought for a hold on him, this time taking hold of the fabric of his sleeve. She smiled a little, not a broad smile but more than she had smiled in the past days. When Shai turned his head on Tony's shoulder, looking at his mother for a moment, it seemed like his eyes were saying 'we're saying here, yes? We're staying here with daddy?' In response to his silent words, she gently stroked the dark hair that now covered his scalp.

"You scared?" Tony asked her quietly. "That your father's here?"

She saw no point in lying. "Yes," she said simply.

"Don't be," Tony told her, raising his eyes to meet hers. "Now he's here, Gibbs will kick his ass and sort this out for good. Then you'll never have to go back to Israel again." She looked away for a moment, and the look in her eyes just before she did terrified him for a moment. "That's the plan, right?" he urged. "You and Shai are staying here, right? With me?"

"Tony, it is not Israel that scares me," she told him. "I have no reason to fear Israel. It is my country. I was born there, I have family there, I have also lost family there. My memories, my childhood…they are all in Israel."

"But your father's also in Israel," he reminded her.

"Yes, and it is he that I am afraid of returning to, not my country. You have to understand, Tony, that my country is very important to me. Israel did not do this to me, Israel did not hurt me, my father did. This is not a fight against my country, this is a fight against my father. Shai's heritage is in Israel, partly. It is in his blood. Just because I do not wish him to become a part of Mossad does not mean I would not like for him to see the country I was born in." She looked at her son, tracing his hair again. "Israel has many beautiful places, Tony. There were times when I was younger that I would despair at what my country had turned into because of wars and disputes, but it is still a beautiful country, and I would happily return there were it not for my father. What has happened will not change my love for my country, only my love for my father." She raised her eyes to Tony's again. "I hope you can understand this."

Tony was quiet for a moment, but he was still nodding at her words, which filled her with more hope than his silence did. "So, uh…" he started, looking down at Shai. "If we're taking him to Israel at some point, you get that we have to take him to Italy too, right? Because my grandmother isn't getting any younger, and she would just love this little guy. Not as much as we do, of course, but in the whole 'finally some younger blood in the family it's about time he had a child' way."

Ziva smiled at his words, and he grinned, leaning his forehead against hers. "Thank you for understanding," she murmured.

"Of course I do," he assured her. "It's just…one time you went to Israel you didn't come back for four months, and the last time…let's just say that I've started to associate you going to Israel with me being without you for way too long."

"Then perhaps you should accompany Shai and myself when we go in the future?" she suggested.

He nodded. "Sounds good."

They were leaning into one another, about to kiss properly for the first time since she had arrived back, when the sound of soft knocking on the door interrupted them.