He watches the little girl, as she sits at the table, eating cheerios. She sits in a booster seat, that Ziva had dragged out of the closet, before she left. The little girl looks at him, and smiles. She holds up a cheerio, and offers it to him.
"No, thank you."
She puts it in her mouth. He doesn't take his eyes off her, for a second. She was cute. Obviously, she was aware of it, too. One thing still bothered him. Two things, actually. More than two, but in reference to her appearance, two things bothered him. Her eyes, were dark. Too dark. Darker than Ziva's. And her complexion. He expected her to have an olive tone, like Ziva. Instead, the chubby finger that points at him, reminds him more of coffee, with cream.
"Are you done?" he asks the toddler.
"Mommy?" she responds.
"Mommy will be back soon," the sentence feels strange, as it tumbles from his lips.
He had never pictured this. Ziva, as a mother. As someone, who someone else referred to as mommy. Especially not under these circumstances. It all made sense now. Why she was so quick to accept Ray's empty promise. Why she couldn't let anyone get too close. She had too much to lose. She had too many secrets to protect. It all made since now. Everything that she had done. To protect just one secret. The only secret that mattered.
He unfastens the belt on the booster seat. He lifts the little girl out of the seat.
"Mommy!"
"She'll be home soon," he repeats.
"Mommy!" she squirms.
He looks at her. He notices she's looking over his shoulder.
"What are you looking at?"
"Mommy, mommy, mommy."
"Is that the only word you know?" He questions.
"No."
He feels his heart skip a beat. He turns around, and finds Ziva behind him, in her running attire. He shoots her a look. The baby reaches for her. Ziva slides her onto her hip.
"How many times have I told you not to do that?"
"How many times have I told you to be more aware of your surroundings?"
"I was distracted."
"It is no excuse."
"How long were you standing there?"
"Just a few seconds."
"I'm beginning to think that you're the next Gibbs."
"I wouldn't want that job," she admits.
"Mommy?" The little girl squishes Ziva's cheeks with the palms of her hands.
"Huh?"
"Bink."
"No."
"Bink? What does that mean?"
"She wants her binky."
"Her what?"
"Her pacifier. Her nanny calls it a binky."
"So she calls it bink?"
"Yes."
"And you understand what she means?"
"Yes."
"But you told her no."
"I am trying to get rid of it."
"Get rid of it? How?"
"I only let her have it when she's sleeping. Soon it will be going in the trash."
"Ziva can I ask you something?"
"Can you hold on?" she questions, moving towards the closet. He nods. She pulls out a playpen, and pops it open. She places the baby inside. She returns to the closet, and pulls out a bin. She takes a couple toys out, and puts them in the playpen with Hope. She closes the closet door. Her partner looks at her, waiting patiently.
"Can it wait?" she wonders.
"I suppose, why?"
"I'd like to take a quick shower."
"That was a quick run," he comments.
"Will you watch her?"
"Sure," he nods, moving towards the couch. She leaves the room. He sinks onto the couch. He stares at the playpen.
"Hi," the little girl waves.
"Do you do any tricks?"
"She's not a dog," Ziva calls from the other room.
"Do you have supersonic hearing, too?" he asks the little one.
"Bink?"
"Zi... your mommy said no."
"Bink," she huffs.
He gets off the couch. He peers inside the playpen. He picks up a toy.
"How about a puppy?"
"Cat," she answers.
"Cat? No, it's a dog."
"Cat!" she replies.
"It's in the closet," Ziva calls out.
He hears the shower turn on. He backs away from the playpen, and moves towards the closet. He opens the door, and steps inside. A stroller. A car seat. Shelves with bins. He pulls out a bin. It's labeled shoes. Inside are half a dozen pairs of little shoes. He moves on to the next bin, labeled books. Full of books. Two more book bins. He moves down a shelf. Finally he finds one that contains toys. Foam letters, and a see and say. He moves to the next bin; labeled stuffed toys. He pulls it out. He finds a bear, a puppy, a doll, a giraffe, another bear, at the bottom he finds a stuffed grey cat. He lifts it out, and puts the bin back. He leaves the closet and returns to the playpen. he offers it to the Hope.
"Here you go."
"Cat," she smiles, hugging the stuffed cat.
By the time Ziva has gotten out of the bathroom, Hope has fallen back to sleep. Tony sits on the couch, waiting for her. She comes into the living room.
"Should I take her to her room?"
"No. You can leave her. She's a sound sleeper. She can sleep through just about anything."
"You should have told me."
"I couldn't."
"Ziva I have to ask..."
