Mishpokhe

by madame.alexandra

Jenny Shepard thought a 'Dear John' letter in Paris would put a clean cut end to their affair; however, neither she nor Leroy Jethro Gibbs could sever their ties in the wake of this unexpected, and unplanned, circumstances. AU. Incorporates Kate & Ziva.

10. Assarah

A/N: I apologize for the wait; I'm writing this chapter by chapter now. I did warn that might happen if I posted before it was finished. I hope the content is pleasing enough to make up for my abysmal lack of ability to use my free time to write, like I should, instead of sitting on the internet mesmerized by nonsense.

This chapter is very heavy on character development; welcome guest appearances from Emily & Diane Fornell, Maddie Tyler, and Jackson Gibbs.

I'm not remarkably satisfied with this chapter, but I am very pleased with the ending. Enjoy!

---

Ten

Late April 2004

Gibbs blinked tiredly as he carried Madeleine down his stairs and into the kitchen. He flipped on the lights and both of them made faces in the bright light. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, laying her head timidly on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and pulled Kelly's old booster seat out from the table, sitting to settle Madeleine down in it for breakfast.

"Where's the sun?" Madeleine asked curiously, pointing towards the windows.

"The sun is still sleeping," Gibbs answered gruffly, making sure the seat was strapped to the chair. He felt a twinge of nostalgia as his hand brushed over the messy, rudimentary pictures Kelly had once carved into the booster when Shannon wasn't looking.

"Oh," Madeleine said. She frowned. "I wake up too early," she said sadly. "I'm sorry," she said, her lip trembling. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently, shaking his head.

"Don't apologize," he soothed sincerely. "Daddy has to go to work this morning," he told her.

Madeleine fell silent and leaned back, watching him. He waited to see if she would say anything and stood up, heading to the refrigerator.

"Aba, is Ima at work?" she asked in a small voice.

He sighed.

"No, Emmy," he answered quietly. "I work in a place like her, though," he said, being helpful with conversation. "There are friendly people there," he added, pouring milk into a sippy cup and putting the lid on. He handed it to her. "My friend Abby, and my friend Ducky," he explained. "You remember Mama mentioning Ducky?

"Quack," Madeleine said, smirking and putting the cup to her lips. Gibbs grinned and nodded, ruffling her sleep-knotted hair.

"Quack," he agreed. "What do you want to eat?"

"Bananas," she answered seriously. "O-meal."

Gibbs opened one of his cabinets, momentarily caught off guard by all of the food he had in his kitchen. It was taking some getting used to, the sudden fullness of his house. He had gone grocery shopping on Saturday and stocked up. He had gotten things for Madeleine through a mix of using the items he hadn't been able to get rid of after Kelly's death and of purchasing new things.

He had set up a lot of her toys and clothes in the guest room, but she had been so nervous and scared of the new place the past three nights that he had ended up either reading to her, sitting with her by the TV and letting her watch whatever was on in the middle of the night, and—finally—letting her sleep in his bed with her stuffed rabbit.

He was tired and stressed; he had not spoken to Jenny since they left Israel. Madeleine was confused, probably as tired as he was, and cranky. He was walking on eggshells around her. He had decided, with almost no hesitation, to take her to work with him for the first week or so; he still needed to look into good day care options, and she didn't know Noemi well enough for him to be comfortable leaving her.

"Aba," Madeleine piped up, as he set a plate of cut up bananas in front of her. "Becca will sit on me?" she asked.

"Becca is in Israel, too, Madeleine," he said. "You're going to come to work with me," he promised her. Madeleine's eyes widened, though he couldn't tell if she looked excited or scared.

"I will be good," she assured him, reaching for the bananas. She fell into silence while she was eating and Gibbs smirked, turning to brew a pot of coffee. He thought about returning to work with a pre-schooler in tow and didn't know if he found the idea amusing or daunting. It would be interesting to see the reactions of his team—particularly the theories DiNozzo would start spinning—but he was apprehensive that this was all too much change for Madeleine too fast, particularly after someone she'd known and loved very much had just died.

There were things he had to adjust to as well; he needed to get used to having a child in the house at all times. He had to re-orient himself in to the role of father in a completely different way and, on top of that, he acknowledged grimly—surprising himself—that he needed to give his father a call and let him know about Madeleine.

Gibbs scowled to himself and pulled Madeleine's oatmeal from the microwave, pouring himself a cup of coffee before he took it over to her. He stirred up the breakfast with a child's spoon and sat down across from her, setting the bowl in front of her next to the bananas.

"It's a little hot," he warned. "Blow on it so you don't hurt your tongue."

Madeleine did as he asked obediently, and breakfast was a peaceful affair. By the time she had finished, the sun was up, and he carried her into his bedroom so she could play with her toys on his bed while he got dressed. He shaved, washed up, brushed his teeth—and did all of it relatively quickly, since he had no one to supervise her while he was in the bathroom.

Still, as fast as he was getting ready, she was snuggled on the pillows asleep when he came out, and he shook his head good-naturedly. He let her sleep, gathering things into her bag so he would be prepared at work. He deliberated on whether or not he should wake her to get her dressed or do it at work, and decided on the former.

"Emmy," he whispered, sitting down with her clothes in his hands. "Emmy Jane, wake up and get dressed. You can go back to sleep in the car."

She was easy to wake up, but she was sluggish, and he did more of the dressing than she did. He brushed her hair, careful of the knots, and shrugged, deciding that was probably as good as it was going to get for the time being.

He didn't drive to work in his usual careless, impatient manner; he drove cautiously and kept one eye on his silent daughter as she dozed in the back seat.

---

It was an uncommon thing for all three members of Team Gibbs to arrive at work at precisely the same time, and the fact that it happened—and they all stepped on the same elevator to get to the squad room—should have been an indication that the day was only going to get more bizarre.

"You think Gibbs is back yet?" whined DiNozzo, shifting his weight back and forth as he stared thoughtfully at the elevator doors.

Kate shrugged, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. She frowned.

"Maybe he's never coming back," McGee piped up.

"Oh, you don't want that, Probie," Tony retorted smugly. "You think mean old Gibbs in charge is bad? What if you had to answer to me?"

Kate rolled her eyes.

"Don't listen to him, McGee, I'd keep him off your back," she said.

"I can take care of myself," McGee protested seriously.

DiNozzo and Kate turned to look at him pointedly; McGee scowled at them, pushing through them both to get off the elevator first. There was an annoyed air to his walk as he rounded to corner of the bullpen—and promptly stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.

Kate walked into his back, and DiNozzo stumbled right into hers, leaping away in fear at what she might do in reaction to his proximity.

"DiNozzo!" snapped Kate.

"Hey," DiNozzo hissed back. He pointed accusingly. "Yell at McTrafficJam up there," he said rudely. "Probie, what are you—"

Kate elbowed DiNozzo and drew her hand across her throat to shut him up. Having noticed the thing that had stopped McGee dead in his tracks, Kate nodded her head slightly at Gibbs' desk, the same arched-eyebrow, surprised look taking up residence on her face. DiNozzo's mouth hung open; his eyes widened.

There was Gibbs, sitting at his desk the same straight-backed, silent way he was every morning he was present at NCIS. The difference on this particular Tuesday was the presence of an unknown, semi-redheaded little girl sitting on his desk. Her small hand was resting on his shoulder as he worked.

"What's going on?" hissed DiNozzo. "Are we in the right place?"

Kate nodded. McGee walked forward slowly, leaving Kate and DiNozzo to stand uncertainly, very close together, right outside of the bullpen. Gibbs ignored them all, though none of them were naïve enough to think he hadn't noticed them.

Kate lowered her voice and turned her head towards Tony slightly, her brow furrowed.

"Gibbs doesn't usually come back from his trips with souvenirs," she remarked.

DiNozzo shook his head in disbelief.

"The mystery that is Leroy Jethro Gibbs just got a lot more intriguing," he muttered.

Kate frowned and slowly entered the bullpen, letting her backpack slide off of her shoulder. DiNozzo did the same, their eyes both still glued to the young stranger at Gibbs' desk. The child looked around and met Kate's eyes; Kate smiled amiably and straightened up a little. The girl turned her back on Kate and shook Gibbs' shoulder insistently.

Gibbs reached up and put his hand over hers.

He looked up after a moment, fixing a pointed glare on each of his team members.

"You three need somethin'?" he asked gruffly.

A chorus of denials answered him and they hastily settled at their desks, shooting him—and each other—furtive, burning, curious looks. Kate pulled out her paperwork from the last case they had closed, McGee got to work on tracing e-mails for another they were working on, and DiNozzo pretended to be busy while he blatantly spied on Gibbs from behind his computer.

The little girl looked Kate's way again and Kate smiled brightly, lifting her hand and waving.

The child turned away and grabbed Gibbs insistently. She made a sign to him with her fingers and Gibbs looked up, his gaze going straight to Kate. The female agent looked surprised and stopped smiling, stunned. She didn't know sign language; she didn't know what had been said—and she didn't think she'd ever seen a girl so young use that form of communication.

Gibbs cleared his throat and nodded. He pointed at Kate.

"Safe," he said gruffly.

Kate gave him a confused look; the little girl turned, folding one leg under her, and looked at Kate more closely. Gibbs watched her and grinned. Kate looked at Gibbs uncertainly and decided she might benefit from asking what was going on—but DiNozzo beat her to it.

"Who's the kid, boss?" he blurted out, straightening up at his desk and peering insistently across the bullpen.

Gibbs turned a silent glare on the senior agent and DiNozzo hunkered down a little, looking apologetic. The phone on Gibbs' desk rang and he picked it up nonchalantly; the little girl turned to look at DiNozzo, her attention caught by his voice.

"Gibbs."

"Autopsy is immaculate," Ducky said brightly, after Gibbs' customary curt greeting. "There are no bodies in sight. Will you bring the little one down now?"

Gibbs answered in the affirmative and hung up. He stood and pushed his chair in, but the movement immediately panicked his daughter and she started to whine, giving him a terrified look as if he might leave her alone in the strange new place with these people she didn't know who stared at her.

She reached up her hands to him and he picked her up easily. He ignored the stares he was getting from his team, crouched behind his desk, and handed Madeleine her fluffy stuffed duck and her no-spill sippy cup.

She held onto both and hugged his neck with them, hiding her face from the people who were still looking at her.

"Quit staring," Gibbs ordered in a firm tone. "You're scaring her," he growled.

Immediately, the team averted their eyes, and Gibbs marched out of the bullpen, the fluffy yellow duck toy bouncing against his back as he headed for the elevator. When he was out of sight and earshot, DiNozzo looked around at his colleagues in wide-eyed consternation.

"That was the weirdest thing that's ever happened at NCIS," he announced solemnly.

From the looks on McGee's and Kate's faces, it was evident that they agreed.

---

Madeleine looked at Gibbs seriously as he took her in the elevator down to Ducky's domain. She frowned, simply staring at him pointedly—very like how Jenny used to do when she was attempting for force him to speak first. Gibbs raised his eyebrows at her and smiled a little. Madeleine pouted her lips.

"Too many people, Daddy," she said.

He looked apologetic.

"It won't be so bad after a few days," he comforted. "You got used to Mom's people," he reminded her. "Ziva, and Eli, and Haswari," he listed. He left out Tali because he didn't want to trigger any sadness or fear. "You got to know Becca, and your teachers at school."

She just looked unconvinced.

"Ima say they safe," she said stubbornly.

Gibbs pointed to himself as he stepped off the elevator.

"I say my team is safe," he said firmly. "I would trust your life to them," he added, lowering his voice playfully. "But don't tell them I said that."

He tilted his head at her, stopping outside of autopsy to try and perk her up—reassure her.

"Emmy, if I say they're safe, they're safe," he said gently. "You can still be shy, but no one here will hurt you. You just trust me, okay?"

"Aba," she whined petulantly. "I don't know you," she snapped at him. He blinked stoically and adjusted her weight, pressing a kiss to the side of her forehead. He mumbled a quiet soothing word and walked into autopsy, hoping that maybe a meeting with the doctor would help him out.

Ducky stood up from his desk almost immediately, a wide, welcoming smile on his face. Gibbs waited for the automatic doors to swing shut tightly behind him before he walked over to one of the metal slabs, eyeing it suspiciously.

"I have sterilized them, Jethro, there is no cause for concern," Ducky said lightly. "She will not understand what's been on them, anyhow."

"She doesn't need anymore trauma, Duck," Gibbs said dryly, tilting his head at his daughter. He put his hand on the metal table and patted it gently. "You want to stand up here?" he asked quietly. Her eyes followed his hand and she complied after a moment, letting him set her down on the table.

She used both arms to wrap herself around the stuffed animal and stood staring at Ducky. Ducky beamed at her and held his hands out.

"You, my dear, have Jennifer written all over you," he said. "My god, Jethro, she's exquisite!" Ducky complimented.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Jen thinks she looks like me," he said.

Ducky narrowed his eyes. He pointed vaguely at Madeleine's nose and her mouth.

"Yes, that I can see—here," he gestured at features on her face. "Here, too—and I suppose when she gets angry those brows mimic yours," he murmured. Ducky opened his palm and held it to Madeleine calmly. "May I shake your hand, little one?" he asked.

Gibbs rested his hand on Madeleine's shoulder and reached out to tap Ducky's hand. He made the sign that indicated Ducky was safe, and then said the word gruffly in her ear. She unfolded her arms a little, and then paused, looking at her sippy cup and stuffed animal with a frown.

Gibbs took the cup and set it by her feet so her hand was free.

Madeleine placed her hand in Ducky's, and he pressed it between his gently, smiling at her warmly.

"Hello," Ducky greeted. "My name is Ducky. I know your mother and father quite well," he said earnestly.

Madeleine looked at him uncertainly for a minute.

"Quack," she said suddenly. She held up her stuffed animal and squeezed it; it imitated the noise she had just made. "Quack, quack," she informed Ducky seriously. He chuckled, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

"Quack indeed," he agreed. "Though you know," he said conspiratorially, releasing her hand and leaning forward on his elbows, "ducks are most often freckled brown, with bright splashes of green."

Madeleine just looked at him with mild curiosity and handed him the fluffy yellow duck.

She made it quack at him and then said something simply in Hebrew.

"Ah, Jethro?" Ducky asked, inquiring for a translation. Gibbs looked wary. He tilted his head around and arched an eyebrow at Madeleine. He asked her to repeat what she'd said in English, but she just shrugged and pointed to the toy.

"Colour," she said after a moment.

"She must've said 'yellow'," Gibbs muttered.

"Speaking of colours," Ducky said fondly. He turned and bustled to his desk. Madeleine sat down primly on the autopsy table and picked up her cup. Gibbs leaned down on his elbows next to her and she looked at him in a way that might be called exasperated. He grinned at her, and Ducky came back holding goodies in his hands.

"I thought," Ducky said, speaking directly to Madeleine. "I thought you might get very bored watching your father work all day, Mademoiselle," he said gallantly. "I took the liberty of purchasing you some things to entertain yourself with."

Gibbs widened his eyes and opened his mouth, pointing at the colouring books and the brand new box of sharp crayons in Ducky's hands.

"What do you think about that, Emmy?" he asked seriously. "Look at all of those pages," he said, running his finger over the edge of the book.

Madeleine quietly reached out to imitate his movements, looking at Ducky timidly. She pushed aside her stuffed animal and sippy cup and hesitantly reached to take the colouring books and crayons from him.

"May I have them?" she asked quietly.

"Yes you may, my dear, they are just for you," Ducky replied kindly. She beamed at him shyly and reached out to pull the items into her lap. She blushed and then reached forward to pat his hand.

"Toda," she said sincerely. She put her hand against her chest. "Hashem sheli Maddah-lynn," she told him carefully.

"Ah," Ducky said, nodding with encouragement. "Would that be… 'My name is Madeleine'?" he asked.

She looked confused, and pointed at him.

"No, Aba said you Ducky," she retorted. She narrowed her eyes, and then pointed back to herself. "I am Maddah-lynn."

Ducky chuckled, amused by her misunderstanding of his translation.

"It is very nice to meet you, Madeleine," he said, patting her gently on the head. She reached up to smooth the spot, looking a little more comfortable.

"Toda is 'thank you'," Gibbs said gruffly, not wanting Ducky to think his daughter was ungrateful. Ducky nodded and helped Madeleine open a colouring book to the first page. She chose a green crayon and began silently shading some of the drawings. Gibbs smiled at her and looked up at Ducky.

"How are things going?" Ducky asked over Madeleine's head, lowering his voice.

Gibbs shrugged, choosing his words carefully.

"She reverts to Hebrew," he said. "I think it's how she comforts herself. She hasn't slept well. She misses Jen like hell," he paused, swallowing. "She's been through a lot."

"There was a death in Israel?" Ducky asked, trying to remember the details. "Someone close to her?"

"A girl who'd been a babysitter a lot," Gibbs answered. "Tali David," he murmured. "Her name was one of Emmy's first words."

"Oh, my," Ducky sighed, shaking his head in regret. "She seems timid," he remarked. "Not entirely uncommon for young children, but it seems you had to allow her to interact with me?"

"Jenny trained her to be pretty paranoid about strangers," Gibbs responded. "She needs to be given a sign and a word that tells her someone is safe, and she's still cautious."

"I imagine all of these unknown people are frightening her something awful."

"I'm trying to take it slow," Gibbs grumbled. He rubbed his jaw, watching Madeleine colour for a minute. "She's taking it in stride," he decided hesitantly.

"Will you be bringing her around often?" Ducky inquired.

"Have to," Gibbs said bluntly. "I want her comfortable with me before I try to ease her into pre-school," he said firmly. "I've got to take her to Stillwater," he added grimly.

Ducky's brows went up.

"That is a big step," he noted. "Stillwater? Where your father lives?"

Gibbs nodded curtly.

"He'd tan my hide if he found out she was here and he didn't know about her, Duck," Gibbs said, rolling his eyes. "I've got to have somewhere to take her if her safety's threatened," he added. Ducky just nodded with understanding, tilting his head to look at Madeleine again.

Madeleine traded in her green crayon for a purple one and sighed, frowning as she tried to decide what to start colouring next.

Ducky, after a moment, smirked wryly and lifted an eyebrow at Gibbs.

"Has she met Miss Sciuto yet?" he asked.

Gibbs glared.

"Abby knows I have her," he answered carefully. "I don't want her scaring Emmy," he added bluntly.

"Oh, Jethro, I'm sure she can control herself," Ducky said flippantly.

Gibbs started to blow him off, but the ringing of his cell phone cut him off. He squeezed Madeleine's arm gently and walked away a few steps to answer, turning his back on Ducky and his daughter.

"Uh, Boss, we have a case," DiNozzo said uncertainly.

"Where?" Gibbs asked shortly.

"Columbia Heights," Tony answered immediately.

Gibbs turned and glanced at Madeleine. He couldn't leave her with Ducky—it was too soon, and he didn't think she'd trust her father again if he left her with people she didn't know. It was absolutely impossible to take a pre-schooler to a crime scene, particularly one in a neighborhood as dangerous as Columbia Heights.

He swore silently and grit his teeth.

"Get on it, DiNozzo," he said. "Go without me."

"Um."

"That's an order."

"Um, okay," DiNozzo said.

Gibbs hung up before he could hear any more argument and turned back, holding his phone against his head in annoyance. Ducky gave him an apologetic look, but lifted his shoulders as if to say look on the bright side.

"With the team in the field, Jethro, it might be the best time to introduce Abby to the little one," he said pragmatically.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, considering the thought cautiously. He decided Ducky was probably right; with no one to interrupt and probably a few hours for her to adjust, now was the best time for Madeleine to get closely acquainted with Ducky and Abby.

Gibbs flipped his cell phone open, and punched in the extension number for Abby's lab.

---

"Abby," Gibbs greeted cautiously, standing directly in front of her and blocking her access to autopsy. She clasped her hands, bounced, and tried to dart past him; Gibbs grabbed her shoulders gently and stopped her, giving her a serious look. "Take it easy, Abs."

"Gibbs, I've been waiting for this moment since before I knew I was waiting for this moment!" she squealed in a hushed, pained voice. She tried to swat him away, but he held fast, giving her a withering look. He waited for her to calm down just a little, and loosened his grip.

"She's skittish, Abs," Gibbs warned. "She's overwhelmed and scared. Keep your voice down and be calm."

Abby nodded eagerly, her two pigtails swinging perkily just over her ears. Gibbs frowned, unconvinced of her ability to remain docile, but let her creep past him anyway, reaching up to rub his temples tiredly. He turned around, listening to her platforms scuffle along the floor, and followed her.

"My dear, you have a visitor," he heard Ducky say pleasantly.

Gibbs took his place behind Madeleine at the metal slab and watched critically as his daughter looked up and followed Ducky's kind pointing until her little green eyes fell on Abby. Her eyes widened to emerald saucers and she stared at the unfamiliar lab tech, her mouth a curious, small O shape and her colouring hand frozen in astonishment.

Madeleine had never seen a creature the likes of Abby Sciuto, and Gibbs grinned, amused by her befuddled reaction.

"This, little Madeleine, is Abby Sciuto," Ducky introduced whimsically.

Abby waved, beaming, and clearly trying to contain her bubbly, overzealous personality. She inched a little closer and some chains on her jingled; Madeleine's eyes fell to the fashionable dog collar and then the heavy, studded black leather skirt Abby had dressed herself in today. The little girl dropped her crayon and turned to look at Gibbs earnestly.

She whined at him quietly in Hebrew and Gibbs lifted his hand, making the sign for safe and then repeating the word in Hebrew and in English. Madeleine swallowed and hesitantly turned around, still looking uncertainly at Abby. In a stroke of genius, Abby smiled sweetly, lifted her hands, and spoke to Madeleine with a few short, simple words.

Madeleine smiled shyly and lifted her own hands. She answered; they exchanged greetings, and then Madeleine laughed softly, turning and looking at Gibbs again. He nodded encouragingly and pointed to Abby.

"Shake hands with Abby, Maddie," he said gently.

Madeleine stood up—with Ducky's gallant hand steadying her—and walked towards Abby a little bashfully, still obviously fascinated by and unsure of the Goth's vivid attire. Madeleine murmured something in Hebrew and Gibbs cleared his throat.

"English, Madeleine," he reminded her, a little exasperated. "You have to speak English."

Madeleine reached out and tapped Abby's hand tentatively.

"I shake hands with you?" she asked politely.

"Yes, you may," Abby answered crinkling her nose and extending her hand. Madeleine squeezed her fingers, smiling a little wider, and giggled. Abby giggled back, imitating the child almost perfectly—and she squealed, clapping her hand over her mouth apologetically and then crouching down a little to Madeleine's level. "I have been waiting to meet you for so long!"

Madeleine looked at Abby placidly and drew her hand back, cocking her head. She reached out and curiously grasped one of Abby's pigtails, running her fingers through the silky black hair. Madeleine pursed her lips and studied the style, intrigued.

"Do you like my dog ears?" Abby asked amiably.

"Doggy ears?" Madeleine repeated, caught off guard. "Piggy tails," she corrected seriously, tugging lightly on Abby's hair.

Abby reached up and grabbed her own hair, twirling each ponytail playfully and pouting her lips out dramatically.

"But pigs only have one tail, and puppies have two ears!" she said sweetly. "I like to call them dog ears. I like dogs!" she said, bouncing a little. "Woof," she barked playfully, making a growly face at Madeleine.

Madeleine laughed, clapping her hands together.

"I like dogs," she said earnestly. "Aba will get me one," she informed Abby seriously, flashing an innocent, toothy grin at Gibbs. He smiled back; ignoring the look he was getting from Ducky. He was going to have to get a puppy now; there was no way out of it.

Abby nodded sincerely.

"I bet he will," she agreed. "I bet your Daddy gives you everything you want, doesn't he?"

Madeleine seemed to think about it.

"Daddy tries," she answered smugly, and then reached out, oblivious to Abby's gleeful smirk. Madeleine touched a heavy, elaborate cross necklace around Abby's throat and cooed at it in Hebrew, looking up at Abby curiously. "Not Jewish?" she asked.

Abby looked down and touched the cross.

"Oh, I just think it's pretty!" she exclaimed. "It's from New Orleans, a magical, beautiful place in the land of Louisiana," she told Madeleine seriously. "Would you like to wear it for today?"

Madeleine shook her head.

"No, thank you, I have colours," she said politely, pointing at the gifts Ducky had given her. She patted Abby's cross fondly and smiled, tapping her heart. "I'm Jewish," she informed Abby.

"Really?" Abby asked conversationally, leaning forward on the slab.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. Ducky smiled, mildly surprised, and looked over at Gibbs, lowering his voice and turning away from Abby and Madeleine's slowly strengthening conversation.

"Are you and Jennifer raising her Jewish?" he asked, amused.

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"She's three, she'll think she's a kitten tomorrow," he mumbled, shaking his head. Madeleine probably thought she was Jewish because Tali David would have swayed her a little in that direction, and the schools and classes she attended adhered to Jewish culture and kosher. He hadn't thought about instilling a religion in Madeleine since Jenny had decided against baptizing her.

They only thing indicative of a religion that they did with her was celebrate Easter and Christmas.

Gibbs felt a pang of guilt as he watched his daughter—his daughter who spoke Hebrew better than English, and apparently thought she was Jewish, probably Israeli—interact with Abby, feeling once again like he and Jenny had been unbelievably selfish in the way they'd tried to work her into their lives without disrupting their precious jobs.

"I forgot your name," Madeleine said suddenly, frowning. "Oops."

"It's Abby," Abby said pleasantly. "It's easy to remember, just four letters! A-B-B-Y," she spelled out, showing Madeleine with sign language as well.

"Abby," repeated Madeleine, beaming. She pointed to herself. "Maddah-lynn Jenny Gibbs," she introduced proudly. Gibbs snorted, grinned and came around to sweep her off the table, picking her up and raising an eyebrow at her.

"Madeleine Jane," he said pointedly.

"Jane," she mimicked.

"Jane," he agreed, nodding his head. "Jenny is Mom's name," he added, speaking more to Abby to clear up the confusion.

"I know!" Abby said brightly. "I've spoken to her." She didn't remind Gibbs that she had snooped into Jenny's files and found out about their prior partnership; there was no need to bring up that little bit of sleuthing. Abby beamed at Madeleine, tip-toing closer. She looked the child in the eye hopefully.

"Can I give you a hug, Madeleine Jane?" she asked politely. "I love hugs, and I want you to like me!"

Madeleine seemed to think about it, shrinking closer to Gibbs a little uncertainly.

"Daddy are stranger hugs okay?" she murmured carefully.

He smiled.

"Abby is not a stranger," he told her firmly. "Hugs are okay."

Madeleine held her arms out, and Abby hugged her tightly, wrinkling her nose and kissing Madeleine's with it in a nose-to-nose cuddle. Madeleine giggled, and when Abby released her, she looked much more comfortable and at ease. Gibbs relaxed; it was a relief to know that she could warm up to at least some of the people here. He almost dreaded taking her back to the squad room when the team came back; they didn't seem to understand how to act around a shy kid.

"Gibbs," Abby squealed quietly. "I love her!"

Madeleine turned and looked at him.

"Gibbs," she said, testing it out. He blinked, surprised. "Gibbs," she said again, and laughed at his reaction.

He turned to pick up her colouring book and crayons, tucking them under his arm to take up to the interview room where they could have some alone time for her to continue getting used to her surroundings.

"You don't call me that," he said, giving her look and shaking his head playfully.

"Ken," she insisted impishly, switching to Hebrew. "Ken, like Mama does," she informed him, poking him in the shoulder.

"Mama does what?" he asked absently, saying a quick goodbye to Ducky and only half listening to Madeleine speak. He turned towards the door, stepping past Abby, when Madeleine answered his half-hearted question.

"Mama does, 'Gibbs, don't do that'!" Madeleine trilled, mimicking Jenny almost perfectly.

Her vice didn't have that irritating, arrogant tone to it—but she sounded like her mother. Gibbs stopped in his tracks and stared at her. Abby snickered, and stifled it hastily with a cough. Gibbs shot her a glare, and let Madeleine say a shy farewell to her before he carried his daughter out of autopsy.

He called for the elevator and looked down at her, mock stern, giving her a silly glare until she snickered and hid her face with her hands. She peeked at him through her fingers and lowered her hands, sighing. She put a hand on her hip and tossed her head.

"Okay, we go home now," she said impatiently.

Gibbs swallowed as the elevator doors opened, because he knew she was talking about Israel and Jenny. She hadn't been here long enough to even think of considering his house her home. He bit back a groan of frustration and distress, and pushed the button for the main floor.

There was nothing to change the cold hard fact that it was going to be hard couple of months before Madeleine adjusted.

---

Tony DiNozzo covertly peered around Gibbs' shoulder at the mysterious kid sitting on the Boss's desk, zoning out of the case conversation and narrowing his eyes curiously at her. Gibbs had cleared a space and she was sitting there with her legs crossed and her hair tucked behind her ears, quietly colouring in her book. She had been doing that shyly since he, Kate, and McGee returned from the crime scene.

Gibbs hadn't made any reference to the little girl other than when he'd earlier told them to stop staring at her. They didn't know her name, and they didn't know who she was. Tony scrutinized her bowed head closely, glancing slyly at the back of Gibbs' head. The kid's hair was an auburn reddish-brown colour. Maybe that had been Gibbs' hair colour before he went grey. Or maybe Gibbs had always been grey.

Regardless, Tony DiNozzo was desperate to find out who the little girl was. Niece? Stray orphan? Love child he just found out about?

The choices were endless and intriguing.

Gibbs' hand collided with the back of his head and Tony squawked, jumping and straightening up immediately. He had the good grace to look abashed as Gibbs fixed him with a warning, vicious glare. McGee had stopped talking, and Kate was holding the clicker, evidently finished reading Gibbs in on the details of the case.

"Start with interviews," Gibbs said gruffly. "Commanding officer, friends, sister, wife," he listed. He didn't really need to be telling them this, but at the same time, he didn't need the current chaos his life had just come into to result in them thinking he wasn't in charge anymore.

There was a tearing sound, and the four of them looked over to the desk.

"Gibbs," the little girl said in a small voice, a smile that she'd been wearing fading when she noticed they were all looking at her. She shrank back a little, closing her mouth. Gibbs turned towards her without a word and blocked them from her view.

Madeleine presented him with the page she'd been colouring and grinned shyly. He accepted the gift and returned to his place near the team, holding it out and admiring the myriad of colours making up the elephant. He shot Madeleine a small smile and nodded, giving her the sign for 'thank you'.

"Go on, DiNozzo," Gibbs said shortly.

"Uh, right, well," DiNozzo stammered. "Ducky started the autopsy right away, he'll probably have a cause of death by tonight, he's not that busy," DiNozzo kept talking, still half-focused on the kid on Gibbs' desk.

Within about five minutes, the tearing sound happened again.

"Gibbs," Madeleine said again, wriggling the paper at him. He took it from her, made the same sign—though this time he looked slightly annoyed. McGee cleared his throat, and Kate just smiled in amusement, her eyes flicking from the child to Gibbs.

"Get to work," Gibbs ordered gruffly; nodding once DiNozzo had finally finished. He looked down at the two colouring book pages in his hand and jerked his head at his desk. "I'll go over your open cases," he muttered, surprising them a little.

It was almost nice of Gibbs to take the brunt of frustration, open casework—but then again, he needed to catch up. He was in the dark when it came to most of the work they'd done while he was in Israel.

The team started to disperse, but McGee stood still. He swallowed bravely, and cleared his throat again.

"Uh, Boss?" He asked.

Gibbs glared at him. McGee pointed at Madeleine.

"What's her name?"

DiNozzo stared at the back of McProbie's head in disbelief. Prying into the Boss's private affairs like that? Who did he think he was? They had already been glared into hell this morning for just asking who the kid was.

Gibbs gave McGee an intent look and then turned, catching the little girl's attention. He made a sign at her, probably her name, since it was a lot of sign language letters. She answered, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want to tell him your name?" he asked seriously.

She looked up apprehensively and then shook her head.

"Lo, toda," she answered in soft Hebrew.

Gibbs looked back at McGee pointedly.

"Um," McGee said, flushing. "What did she say?"

"No," Gibbs answered bluntly.

McGee nodded uncertainly and turned for his desk.

"Is she speaking…some other language?" DiNozzo asked. He started off confident, but then lowered his voice; Gibbs wasn't sure if he was asking, or just timidly thinking out loud. Gibbs sat down at his desk, laying Madeleine's drawings on his keyboard. He intended to ignore DiNozzo, but Kate, surprisingly, answered.

"It's Hebrew, Tony," she said in her usual snippy tone.

"How was I supposed to know that?"

Kate ignored him and looked at Gibbs for confirmation.

"Right?" she asked.

He just nodded, interested to know how she'd known that.

"Gibbs," Madeleine hissed again, and he turned towards her, lowering his voice. He picked her up and placed her on his lap.

"Stop calling me that," he said gruffly in her ear. She smiled and curled up, laughing quietly as his breath tickled her skin. She handed him another page of the colouring book and pointed to the large, fluffy cat she had coloured and given vibrant orange fur.

"Meow, meow," she whispered quietly.

He nodded in agreement and spread the three pages out in front of him, making a show of admiring them. The team was diligent about looking directly at their work, but he knew they were itching with curiosity about Madeleine.

It wasn't that he didn't want them to know she was his daughter; he just didn't know how to introduce that without having to field off a bunch of undesirable questions about Jenny. He was more concerned about Madeleine's comfort than his team's curiosity—that, and it was slightly entertaining to watch them flail around in utter confusion.

"Are you hungry?" Gibbs asked, checking the time.

She shrugged, looking around curiously and then back at him when she caught the eye of DiNozzo. She frowned.

"Lunch means nap," she said suspiciously.

He grinned.

"You don't have to nap unless you're sleepy," he murmured. "Abby has a nice futon, though," he bribed slightly.

"I don't know," Madeleine answered, sighing. She splayed her hand over the pictures she'd drawn and then looked back, pointing to the corkboard behind his desk. "Hang 'em up."

"I will," he answered seriously. His phone rang and he answered it, gently stopping her from twirling the cord.

"Agent Gibbs?" asked Morrow's secretary pleasantly. "The Director can meet with you now," she said.

"Be right up," he answered gruffly, hanging up.

Gibbs stood up, hitching Madeleine on his hip securely, and pushed his chair in. He turned and decided to grab her something from the vending machines to hold her over while he was meeting with Morrow. He had to let the director know he was going to have Madeleine here frequently.

"Aba," Madeleine said conversationally, her eyes on Kate. "Aba, where we go?"

"To see the director," he answered.

Madeleine gasped.

"ELI!" she shrieked happily, stunning the team. Gibbs gave her an apologetic look and shook his head, trying to explain to her—again—that Eli was another person who was miles and miles away; someone she would probably never see again.

---

DiNozzo nearly flew out of his chair the moment the elevator doors closed. He thrust his finger out accusingly and glared demandingly at his teammates, baffled once again by Gibbs' behavior—the boss had just left for the day, at six o'clock.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked loudly, throwing his hands up.

"You can't expect him to work as late as usual, Tony, he has a child with him," Kate pointed out blandly.

DiNozzo glared and prowled around his desk, sitting on the edge of it and holding his arms out. He beckoned with his fingers greedily and gave McGee and Kate pointed looks.

"Theories, guesses, opinions, go," he said. Both of them looked uncertain and thoughtful; McGee was the first to pipe up.

"Maybe it's his daughter," he suggested, shrugging cautiously.

"Aw, come on McGee," scoffed Tony. "The little tyke called him 'Gibbs', she speaks a different language, she's not his," he said confidently. DiNozzo shook his head. "You really think Gibbs could get a daughter by us?"

"Possibly," Kate said, though she looked skeptical. Tony glared at her, and she raised an eyebrow. "He periodically takes vacations, usually around family-oriented holidays," she pointed out logically. "That little girl could very well be his daughter."

Tony whipped his head around to look at McGee and raised his eyebrows hesitantly.

"You think, McGee?" he asked curiously.

"I dunno, maybe," McGee said slowly. "She looks like him a little."

Tony shook his head, resisting the notion.

"Where's she been all these years, then? Who's her Mom—where's her mom all of a sudden? Why does Gibbs have her?"

"Gibbs has made it clear it isn't our business."

DiNozzo glared at Kate, and grumbled. He folded his arms, looking at Gibbs' desk moodily and mulling over the days events in his head. He had been on Gibbs' team, by his side, for three and a half years. There was no way Gibbs had been hiding a kid for that long—and if he had, it bothered Tony a little to find out about it like this. He had always thought Gibbs trusted him.

"Aw, Tony," Kate crooned, puckering her lips. "Poor thing, Gibbs didn't let you in on his secret."

"Hey," snapped DiNozzo. "We don't know it's his kid. It could be—" but honestly, when Tony tried to think of another explanation, he came up short. Gibbs had said before that he was an only child; she couldn't be a niece. The idea that Gibbs was babysitting for a friend was laughable, and he was too traditional to have decided to adopt a kid.

McGee snapped his fingers suddenly, grabbing Tony's attention.

"Abby knows," he said. "She has to, she knew where he used to disappear to," he reminded them eagerly. "Abby knows."

"McGee, use your Goth-wooing skills to drag it out of her!" Tony insisted, turning on McGee like the cat that had spotted a particularly vulnerable, tasty mouse. McGee looked nervous at the very idea of trying to get Abby to tell him a secret, and Kate rolled her eyes.

"Tony, it isn't our business," she snapped primly. "Let it go."

DiNozzo glared at her over his shoulder.

"For your information, Katie," he snapped back, just to annoy her, "It is our business. At least, I consider it mine. Gibbs has been my partner for three years now. If he's got a daughter all of a sudden, I've got to learn to have her back same as his."

---

Jenny sank down to the floor of her hollow apartment, holding her wrist shakily to her forehead. It was a miserably hot night, she was tired, she felt ill, and she felt alone. Her things were in boxes. What was worse, Madeleine's things were in boxes—boxes that were sealed and ready to be sent to Jethro—because Madeleine lived with Jethro now, thousands of miles away, in the United States.

She had tried to pack all of Madeleine's things at one time, enabling her to move on to her things as a way to take her mind off of it—but it was useless. Her daughter's toys, shoes, clothing, drawings—her daughters things—were jumping out at her from in every drawer and under every piece of furniture and it was silently killing her.

She asked herself, was this how Jethro felt, all these years? All these years he'd barely been able to see Madeleine, and had always been forced to leave her—was this how he had felt? Empty, bitter, hurt, frustrated—and if this is how it felt to lose Madeleine in a temporary way, how had Jethro ever been able to bear the pain of losing Kelly for a lifetime?

She wiped sweat off of her forehead, stretching out one leg and kicking a half-packed box of her own shoes away from her. She dreaded moving to Cairo. Mossad was a volatile environment, but it was one she knew and had come to fiercely admire, if not love. She was attached to Ziva, she even had a fondness for Eli, and to leave now—so soon after Tali David's death—seemed cold; it was undesirable.

She felt she had a responsibility to Ziva. She and Ziva trusted each other; they shared a close, unspoken bond of strong friendship, and Jenny knew Ziva had only ever had something like that with her sister. Her sweet, lively, innocent, compassionate, eighteen-year-old, dead sister. Tali dead, and Madeleine whisked a continent away in a matter of two weeks; it was more than traumatic, it was devastating.

For so long, Jenny had bemoaned the struggles and inconveniences of motherhood; she'd silently berated herself for being so damn irresponsible in getting pregnant in the first place. She had loved and nurtured Madeleine, yet there had always been that nagging feeling that her life would be different, easier, if she didn't have a child—and now that Madeleine was gone, there was an unmistakable, gaping hole in her world, and she couldn't imagine her life without her daughter making it hectic.

Madeleine Jane, that accident baby, the most beautiful disaster to ever happen to Jenny Shepard.

She hadn't spoken to Madeleine or Jethro since they had left; he had called when he landed in the States, but she had been unable to answer the phone—she had been unable to face the raw reality of the situation. She hated herself for being such a coward, but she couldn't trust herself to speak to her daughter, she was afraid she'd break down at the sound of Madeleine's voice, she was afraid she'd cry—and crying would only scare Madeleine. It would distress Jethro.

She couldn't do it, not yet. She didn't have the strength.

She missed her so much. She had never considered how integrated into every moment of her life Madeleine was until Madeleine was gone. Jenny felt like she'd had the breath knocked out of her, and she didn't feel like she'd be getting rid of that feeling any time soon. She had to force herself to face this turn of events—this choice that she had made solely for Madeleine's safety—and accept it. She had to force herself through her Cairo assignment. As dark a thought as it was to know she'd likely have no opportunity to see Madeleine again until she was finished with Cairo, it was also the only ray of light that would push her to excel at her job and secure the promotion that would put her in the states permanently.

Jenny rubbed her cheeks and sighed, blowing hair off of her forehead. She should eat something; she was half-starved. She'd be settling into her apartment in Cairo in a week. It was so much change in so little time—and here she'd never though anything could be as tumultuous as those few weeks when she'd first found out she was pregnant.

She rubbed her knee, comforting herself, and then leaned forward, pressing her cheek to her bare skin and closing her eyes. She bit her lip and thought about Madeleine. She wondered if she was frightened in her new home, or if Jethro was distracting her and keeping her happy. She wondered if Madeleine had seen the boat yet, or met Noemi—or Ducky. In a moment of radical regret, she wondered if perhaps she should resign from NCIS, marry Jethro, and spend the rest of her life curled up on a couch watching cartoons with him and Madeleine.

But wondering was getting her nowhere, and it was only making the void worse.

She needed to get up, get back to packing—get to work. She was sick of it, though, right now she just didn't feel like doing it. She felt like losing it. She was alone, it was night, she was free of responsibilities for the moment.

She was justified in losing it, she tried to convince herself.

Jenny swallowed and wiped her cheek on her knee, lifting her head a little; she jumped, startled, her heart slamming into her ribcage, when she found Ziva standing in the doorway, silhouetted in moonlight and dim lamps. Ziva stood there silently, her eyes unreadable and fixed on Jenny. It was impossible for the redhead to hide the breakdown she was having, and she just looked up at this woman she'd come to know as partner and friend with weakened, sad green eyes—as if begging Ziva to understand a moment of tears.

Ziva swept forward gracefully, almost at a run, and deftly went down on her knees close to Jenny's bent leg. The younger woman leaned forward, her thick, curly hair falling over her shoulder messily, and she took Jenny's shoulders and pulled her forward into a tight, unpredictable, uncharacteristic hug. Jenny hardly hesitated; she hugged Ziva back earnestly, crying softly into the Israeli warrior's shoulder, and drawing strength from the Hebrew prayer that Ziva whispered in her ear.

---

Gibbs held his cell phone to his ear in frustration, warily checking the hall again to make sure Noemi and Madeleine had not returned from their tour of Jenny's townhouse. He was attempting, again, to get ahold of Jenny so Madeleine could hear her voice, but he didn't want to tell Madeleine just in case he couldn't get her on the phone.

It was a damn good thing he hadn't mentioned it, considering he had tried calling her three times today and was getting nowhere.

She wouldn't be travelling to Cairo and settling in until next week, and she wasn't involved in any Mossad operations currently—he didn't understand why she wasn't answering her cell phone or the apartment phone. He would have thought she'd been calling him nonstop since he'd landed, just to check in, but he'd thought wrong—she hadn't even been available when he'd called after the flight.

The phone rang unanswered again, and Gibbs snapped it shut, glaring at the object venomously. He turned and looked around Jenny's study, taking in unchanged, eerily familiar set up of the room. He hadn't allowed Madeleine in here; he didn't know of it was child proof or if Jenny wanted anyone to have access to the study. Madeleine was upstairs with Noemi, being introduced to the Master bedroom and—

"Senor?" Noemi called from the hallway.

He tucked his phone in his pocket and left the study, heading towards her voice. She was standing on the stairs, bending over the banister, and smiled at him, tilting her head.

"She is asking for you, Senor," she said, gesturing towards one of the rooms.

Gibbs nodded and jogged up the stairs and turned right, away from Jenny's room, and walked towards the house's smaller bedroom. According to Noemi, it had once been Jenny's childhood bedroom—but Jenny slept in the Master, now, and some time ago, Gibbs had spent his free hours turning the small bedroom into a place for Madeleine, in the optimistic state of mind that she'd one day live here to appreciate it.

He walked into the room, where Madeleine was crouched by the closet looking through some old toys of Jenny's from the attic.

"Maddie," he said, approaching her.

"Aba," she answered, standing up and prancing towards him. She held a worn but well loved Raggedy Anne doll and looked at him curiously. "No-mee say this is my room," she said, placing her hand on her hip. "Is it?"

Gibbs crouched down in front of her and put his hands on her sides, smirking.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I painted it up the same colour as your nursery in Israel, just like I'm going to fix you up a room in my house," he told her.

She smiled bashfully and buried her nose and mouth in Raggedy Anne's hair.

"But Daddy, how did you know I come be with you?" she asked in wonder, her voicing going up in excitement.

He touched her cheek gently.

"I always wanted you with me, Madeleine," he said seriously. "It just didn't always work like that."

"I know," she said smugly, wagging her finger at him. "Work," she said firmly. "Work, work, work, like Mama, like Zee," she stopped and tilted her head. She didn't mention Tali, though Gibbs sensed she had been about to. He smiled apologetically and nodded, agreeing with her assessment. Madeleine wriggled away and looked about the room with a smile, and he was glad to see some contentment on her face.

She walked over to the bed, and leaned forward, laying her head on it.

"It's big," she said, blinking at him with wide eyes. "We sleep here tonight?"

"We can sleep here tonight," he answered. "Daddy has to go get some things from his house, first. Do you want to stay with Noemi and help her cook some dinner?"

Madeleine frowned. She jumped away from the bed and darted over to him, grabbing his hand.

"No," she said, raising her voice insistently. "No, I want to go with you," she said. She stomped her foot. "Don't leave me."

He picked her up, Raggedy Anne doll and all, and nodded solemnly, looking her in the eye.

"I'm not going to leave you, Emmy," he said seriously. He turned towards the door, turned the light off, and kissed her temple, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Emmy, you understand Mama didn't leave you?" he asked hesitantly. She shrugged and laid her head on his shoulder, looking a little confused. "She wants you to be safe, and you're safe here."

"I not want to leave," Madeleine whispered. "She made me."

Gibbs frowned, unsure what to say—unsure how to handle the situation. He didn't know if Madeleine was mad at Jenny, or if she missed her and didn't know how to phrase it, or if it was a bit of both. He thought it was a little precocious for her to start blaming Jenny for sending her to America, and he didn't want Jen to find out about it.

"It's not her fault, M," Gibbs soothed, stopping in the hall to get his keys and wallet. "I wanted you here with me," he admitted. It had been as much his decision as hers, after all. He could have easily refused to take custody of Madeleine. Madeleine just buried her head on his shoulder again, clutching the doll closer.

"Make her come here," she muttered.

Gibbs grinned.

"Been tryin' to get her here for years, honey," he said lightly, peering into the kitchen to tell Noemi he was leaving.

"You be back, Senor Gibbs?"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to keep her here until I can get her room fixed up at my house," he answered gruffly. "I'm just going to pick up some things. It'll take half an hour."

"Si, okay, Senor," Noemi answered brightly. "I be finished with dinner then—you like enchiladas, Senorita?" she asked Madeleine, smiling kindly. "I make them not spicy."

Madeleine peeked at Noemi uncertainly.

"Like latkes," Gibbs said, tilting his head. "With cheese and sauce and beef."

"No pork, no kosher," Madeleine said quietly.

Gibbs rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"She'll eat it, Noemi," he said confidently, waving.

He carried Madeleine out to the car for some more shuffling and moving around.

---

Though Jenny knew he would be at her house often-acclimating Madeleine to the place as well as introducing her to Noemi and helping her to get comfortable with safe, familiar spaces-Gibbs was unsure if Jenny had considered the fact that they would be sleeping overnight, and thus that Gibbs would be sleeping in her bed. He didn't think she'd give a damn—he'd slept there before—but it still felt distinctly odd.

He sat on the edge of the bed stiffly, tired, but not tired enough to go to attempt to sleep. His hands were restless; he wanted to work on the boat and work through the chaos in his head, but there was no basement or boat in Jenny's posh townhouse. He was trying to bring himself to crawl into her bed, alone, and not dwell on the still unsatisfactory state of their family.

There was so much he needed to do. He was overwhelmed. He had never really felt this out of a control of a situation before—not since Shannon and Kelly had died, and he'd been a helpless figure in the investigation.

It had been difficult to get Madeleine to sleep. She was afraid of falling out of the bed, she was afraid of the new house, she demanded he access Jenny for her, she resorted to asking for Ziva, and then she begged for the rocking horse that was still in Israel. He just did his best to diffuse the stressful situations and calm her down. At the expense of getting her to fall asleep, he had sacrificed any chance he might have at rest.

It wasn't even a comfort to sleep in Jenny's bed because, after nearly four years of her absence, it didn't really smell like her anymore.

Gibbs rubbed his forehead and got up, strolling into the bathroom to turn off the lights. He yanked back her expensive bedclothes and lay down stiffly, staring up at the ceiling uncomfortably. He was used to sleeping on his couch or on the basement floor, though he'd sometimes taken to his bed since he'd cleaned up his house after Madeleine's birth.

He didn't look forward to work tomorrow. Morrow was not thrilled at the prospect of having a three-year-old present at NCIS all days of the week, but Gibbs had no other choice at the moment. He had to let Madeleine accept the idea of living here and of Gibbs as a primary, trusted caregiver before he could think of packing her off to daycare or even Noemi. Morrow understood that, though grudgingly.

Gibbs turned to his side and jammed his eyes closed, intent on forcing himself to go to sleep.

As it turned out, that was going to be impossible—he had barely been laying there in darkness ten minutes when he heard Madeleine in the hallway.

"Daddy?" her voice was muffled. "Daddy!" she shouted, panic creeping into her tone. He was out of bed in seconds, violently turning the lights on and wrenching Jenny's door open. "ABA!" she screamed, and he stepped out of the room just in time to see her sit down heavily on the top stair and put her head in her knees, covering her neck with her hands in distress.

He picked her up immediately and coaxed her to look at him, soothing her gently with murmured words.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "What's wrong, Emmy?" he pushed her tangled hair out of her eyes and wiped some tears away with his thumb, looking at her earnestly. "I'm right here."

She rubbed her eyes roughly and mumbled incoherently, managing to answer him through tearful hiccups.

"I woke up and I'm scared and I not know where I am and I not find you," she whimpered. "I want Mama," she moaned. "It's cold!" she added, throwing herself against him limply and dissolving into pitiful sobbing, the likes of which he hadn't heard since the explosion that had taken Tali's life.

He frowned, holding her tightly. She probably wasn't used to the heavy air conditioning here; the Israelis preferred fans and open windows—a balmy sort of dry heat saturation. Her pajamas were thin and made for hot summers. Gibbs continued to shush her quietly and started back towards her room.

She lifted her head to see where they were going and hit him in the shoulder.

"Madeleine," he snapped gently. "Do not hit," he admonished.

"I not want to sleep in there!" she protested forcefully, her eyes wide with fear. "No, no, Dada, I want stay with you," she whined, her lip trembling. She broke out into a stream of unintelligibly Hebrew and dug her nails and heels into him insistently.

He stopped in his tracks, looking at her tiredly, indecisive. Jenny didn't like letting Madeleine sleep with her, ever. She claimed it would result in her being skittish and not independent. But Jenny had never had to deal with a Madeleine who was this scared and confused by her surroundings.

Gibbs made the executive decision that some of Jenny's rules didn't matter so much anymore; he had custody of Madeleine now—he made the rules.

He brought her into Jenny's room, tucked her in, and sat up watching her calm down, intent on staying awake until she felt safe, and was fast asleep again.

---

An exhausted, reticent three-year-old turned out not to be the worst thing that could have happened when it became apparent that Madeleine had allergies to about every kind of pollen drifting through DC in spring. It hadn't even occurred to Gibbs that the change in climate would mess with Madeleine's health but it had; she came down with the sniffles, itchy eyes, minor coughing—it was pitiful, and there wasn't much he could do but keep her subdued with mild children's allergy medicine.

He knew she didn't feel good, and he knew she still missed her mother and spent the days under the impression that she was going home soon. He hated that he had to make her sit at work with him for hours with only a few things to entertain her, but he just had to get to the weekend before he could get to work on making this home a reality for her.

For now, it was towards the end of her fourth day at NCIS, and for the past two hours she had been eerily calm and silent, playing with toy ponies on the floor. Occasionally she sniffled or sneezed and asked politely for a tissue. The team had been glued to their desks and their paperwork for half the day; several cases had just been closed. Madeleine had spent some time in the lab with Abby, and had seen Ducky for a look into her allergies.

"Hey, Aba," Madeleine said quietly. She was suddenly standing at his knee, rubbing one eye tiredly. "I want to sit here," she said, patting is knee.

"Okay," he said, sliding his chair back and helping her climb up on his lap. She snuggled up unhappily to his chest and grabbed his shirt, clutching it in her fist and anchoring herself to him like she had when she was a baby. She sighed heavily and sniffled. "You feel okay?" he asked, pressing his hand to her forehead.

She nodded.

"Talk to Mama," she said in a small voice, letting her eyes drift half-closed. Gibbs frowned, annoyed at Jenny. He still hadn't been able to get her on the line, and Madeleine had at least come to accept that she'd only be interacting with her mother through the phone. Gibbs was a good hour or so away from ordering Abby to bring Ziva up on the videoconference so he could put a hit on Jenny.

Gibbs just stroked her hair back and let her rest, turning back to his computer with an irritated look on his face. DiNozzo turned in his paperwork and started to slink away. He turned back, bracing himself bravely.

"Uh, hey Boss?" he asked, continuing quickly just in case Gibbs shut him down. "I have a portable DVD player at home I can bring for her, and some kids' movies, if that would perk her up," he muttered flushing a little. "She gets bored."

"Portable DVD player?" Gibbs repeated skeptically.

DiNozzo grinned.

"Gibbs, it's like a VHS you can take everywhere," he explained smugly. Gibbs glared at him and Tony mitigated his smirk a little, but shrugged, waiting to see how the offer would be received. "Thought I'd offer."

Gibbs looked down at Madeleine and decided it might help. It would keep her occupied, at least. He nodded curtly at DiNozzo and held up his hand in warning.

"Rated G, DiNozzo," he growled seriously. "Unless it's Star Wars," he amended, remembering that Madeleine liked those and they weren't all rated so benignly. DiNozzo nodded eagerly, smiling proudly, and McGee came up behind him to hand in his paperwork, looking friendly and interested.

"She likes Star Wars, Boss?"

"Figures you'd hear that part, McNerdWars," DiNozzo teased.

Madeleine put her thumb near her lips and peeked at the men, hesitating slightly.

"Chewy," she said quietly, and then louder, she said a Hebrew word. McGee grinned, and Tony looked at her hesitantly, waiting for a translation.

"Hebrew for lightsaber," Gibbs announced. He'd watched Star Wars enough in Hebrew to recognize the word. He glared at McGee and DiNozzo. "You two gonna hang out here all night?"

They hastily answered in the negative and bolted to their desks to gather their things—and then they were gone, no doubt discussing their success in gleaning a little more information about Madeleine. They knew her name now, but he hadn't said a word about her being his daughter, and she was still speaking mostly Hebrew around them, anyway.

Madeleine shifted and covered her face, whimpering quietly. She mumbled something in Hebrew about wanting her mother, and then tilted her head up, looking at his chin and blinking rapidly.

"I'm sick," she whimpered. "Mama," she said sadly, pleading with him.

Gibbs looked away from his computer and pushed his chair away from the desk. He dragged Madeleine's bag out from under his desk and dug out her rabbit stuffed animal for comfort, intent on closing down his work and making good on his plan to hunt Jenny down. Before he could get up, though, Kate was standing in front of him with her paperwork. She laid it on his desk absently and walked around, looking sympathetically at Madeleine.

Kate tilted her head and glanced at Gibbs, gauging his level of protectiveness. She crouched down and reached out to gently touch Madeleine's hand, smiling a little.

"The sniffles aren't fun at all, are they?" she asked nicely. Her hair was pulled back austerely into a ponytail and her head was covered in an NCIS hat; Madeleine looked up at the unexpected touch and startled a little, peering more closely at Kate.

"Zee?" she asked uncertainly, reaching for Kate's face.

"No," Gibbs shook his head, though with her hair hidden and her face so clean, Kate did slightly resemble Ziva's cool, warrior look. He looked at Kate. "Take your hat off," he said. Kate did so, and pulled her ponytail down, combing her hands messily through her hair. Madeleine leaned back against Gibbs' chest, still whimpering mutedly.

Gibbs grimaced and checked her forehead again.

"Does she have a fever?" Kate asked, concerned.

"Nah," he shook his head. "Misses her mom," he admitted.

"Oh," Kate sighed, tilting her head at Madeleine again. "Where does your Mom live, Madeleine?" she asked.

Madeleine stared at Kate suspiciously. She glanced at Gibbs and asked if Kate was safe, in Hebrew. Once again, he answered her in the affirmative; Kate was safe. Everyone here was safe.

"Israel," Madeleine answered slowly after a moment. "Um," she added, her brow furrowing. She shook her head. "No, gypsy?" she corrected.

Gibbs snorted.

"Egypt," he told Kate, clarifying.

"Carrots," Madeleine added.

"Cairo," Gibbs translated, laughing slightly.

"Wow, that is far away," Kate said, raising her brows dramatically. "My mom lives far away," she added.

"Where?" Madeleine asked quietly.

"Indiana," Kate answered nicely. "I miss her a lot, but it gets better after a few days. My sister lives far away, too," Kate frowned, relating easily. "I know how you feel, sweetheart," she said, patting Madeleine's foot.

"My sister died," Madeleine muttered uncertainly.

Gibbs felt stricken, caught off guard and shocked by the statement. His first thought, of course, was Kelly—but there was no way Madeleine could possibly be talking about Kelly. And then he realized—

"Your sister, M?" he asked gently. "Who're you talking about?"

"Tali," Madeleine whispered, whimpering again. "Zee cried."

"M, Tali wasn't your sister," he said tiredly. He shook his head, looking back up at Kate and hesitating before he clarified. "Friends of her mother's," he said gruffly. "Suicide bombing in the Middle East."

Kate looked appalled.

"What have you been through, little one?" she murmured, looking more closely at Madeleine. She smiled, though, and then straightened up a little, scrutinizing Gibbs matter-of-factly. She had never quite been frightened of Gibbs; in awe, yes, but since their first case on Air Force One, Kate had known Gibbs respected her, and it gave her confidence around him that DiNozzo and McGee rarely showed.

Gibbs glared at her pointedly.

"Ask it, Kate," he ordered.

"Aba is the Hebrew word for father," she said bluntly. "Are you? Her father?"

"You speak Hebrew?" he asked skeptically.

"I've been to Jerusalem," she answered. "I'm Catholic, Gibbs, they beat Jesus' last words into us—'Aba, Aba, why have you forsaken me?'"

He smirked and narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah," he answered finally. He looked down at Madeleine and ruffled her hair. "She's mine."

Kate just grinned.

"Thought so," she said smugly. "She looks at us like you do."

"How's that?"

"Like she thinks we're up to something," Kate laughed.

Gibbs nodded. He began turning his computer off, and nodded at Kate's report.

"Go home, Kate," he said nicely.

He stood up and held Madeleine securely with one hand, gathering up her things. Kate stepped over to help and, as she was packing some things into Madeleine's bag, the three-year-old lifted her head, sniffled a little, and spoke softly:

"Ma shimka?"

"Pardon me, sweetie?" Kate asked.

"Ma shimka," Madeleine repeated shyly. She pointed to herself. "Maddah-lynn."

"You know the English, M," Gibbs reminded her, rolling his eyes. "You've got to use English."

Kate waved he hand as if it didn't matter.

She pointed to herself.

"My name is Caitlyn," she said brightly. "But everyone calls me Kate."

"Kate," Madeleine tried out softly. She smiled and laid her head back on Gibbs' shoulder. She waved at Kate timidly and tilted her head in a bit of a friendly way. "Shalom, Kate," she said, yawning weakly.

Gibbs smiled to himself, slightly relieved. It seemed Madeleine had made a friend on her own terms, and that was a step in a good direction.

---

Gibbs stopped in his tracks and glared at his daughter for what had to be the fourth time this afternoon.

"Madeleine, sit down," he ordered, refusing to move the shopping cart until she did as she was told. She glared back at him and whined dramatically. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the seat. "Butt. Seat. Now."

She jammed her legs back through the holes and sat, leaning forward on the front of the cart and looking at him as if he'd just taken away the most fun she'd ever had.

"You'll fall and bust your head open," he warned her seriously, moving forward down the aisle again. He shook his head slightly, muttering under his breath. He didn't understand how it had happened that Madeleine had never been in a shopping cart before, but he was sure it had something to do with Jenny's lack of ability to do something as menial as grocery shopping—she'd had Noemi there to do it her whole life.

"Let me out," Madeleine said loudly, tapping is arm. She pointed to the floor. "I can walk."

He shook his head.

"You'll get lost."

"You're mean."

"I know," he agreed solemnly. "But it's because I like ya."

Madeleine sighed and folded her arms, turning her eyes to the shelves stocked full of food, some she was familiar with, and some she had never seen before. Her eyes lit up and she pointed, glancing at him through her lashes.

"Cookies," she said sweetly, pointing to boxes of animal crackers.

He picked up a few and threw them in the back of the cart, giving her a playful look.

"Don't think you'll get whatever you ask for just 'cause you're cute," he warned.

She laughed, and he kept on down the aisle, mentally checking his list. He didn't have to stock Jenny's house; Noemi took care of that. He was doing grocery shopping for his place—he and Madeleine were spending most nights at Jenny's, as she had a room there, and he was busy getting her comfortable with Noemi, but on weekends, they were at his house. There she could play in the backyard or run around in an older, more child-friendly atmosphere while Gibbs was busy fixing up Kelly's old room.

"Emmy, did you decide what colour you want your room?"

"Israel," she responded smartly.

He arched an eyebrow and shook his head. It was her go-to response for questions about her room at his house lately. He was sorely tempted to just leave it how it was; painted pink, trimmed in white—the way Shannon had wanted it for Kelly. It was already more difficult than he'd anticipated to start changing the room for someone else.

"Want me to paint it orange?" he teased, turning down another aisle. "Like Daddy's work?"

"Ew," she said, shaking her head. She tilted her head back and kicked her legs thoughtfully. "Daddy, I want pink."

He laughed.

"Your mother tried so hard," he muttered, secretly delighted that Jenny's vehement attempts pass on her aversion to pink had failed.

"Pink, pink, pink," Madeleine sank. "Tali likes pink," she told him matter-of-factly. "Not Ziva," she added, giggling.

"It can be pink," he answered gruffly. "Light—"

A crash from the other aisle interrupted him and he paused, listening with interest. It sounded as if a display had fallen over.

"Emily Grace!" the voice rose, sharp and aggravated, from the other aisle. "Get over here right now!"

Gibbs recognized his ex-wife's angry, shrewish yell immediately and froze. His instinct was to disappear and hide but there really was nowhere to go—besides, if he just stayed put, there was a chance she wouldn't come around this way—

He should have known his luck was worse than that.

Emily Fornell darted around the corner and into the aisle, sheepishly attempting to get away from her angry mother. She skidded to a halt before she could run into Gibbs, looked up to apologize, and then brightened, straightening up. She grinned and waved happily, her blonde ponytail dancing.

"Hi, Agent Gibbs!" she greeted nicely, recognizing him immediately.

Madeleine whipped around and looked down at Emily, narrowing her eyes critically.

"Emily," Gibbs greeted warily. "Where's your mom?"

Emily looked nervous.

"Hide me?" she asked, darting over to him and jumping behind his legs.

Gibbs nearly had a panic attack. It was ridiculous for him to act so childish at the prospect of running into Diane—but then again, she was about to walk around the corner and not only discover that he had a child, when he'd once shouted at her that such a thing was never going to happen again, but also that he was hiding Emily from punishment.

"Emily!" Diane snapped behind him. "What on earth are you doing, get away from that man!" she hissed.

Gibbs figured he better turn around and let her know it was him before she panicked and thought he was some sort of creep threatening to hurt Emily.

"I didn't mean to knock it over, Mommy, I promise!" Emily said earnestly, hunkering closer to Gibbs.

"Stop touching Aba he's mine!" screeched Madeleine at the top of her lungs.

Gibbs took that as his cue to act.

He let go of his car and turned around, gently pushing Emily towards Diane. He crouched down and pointed to her.

"You're on your own, kiddo," he muttered secretively. "Go on," he said gruffly, letting Diane hear him. "Before you get in more trouble."

He heard the telltale derisive snort that indicated Diane had noticed who he was and he stood up, bracing himself and looking her right in the eye. He managed to look as if he wasn't bothered in the least by this awkward run in, but before he could say anything, Madeleine grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his wrist possessively, glaring at him with wet green eyes.

"Who is she?" Madeleine demanded, her lip trembling. Gibbs put his hand on her head and ruffled her hair gently. He placated her quietly, but in the time it took to let Madeleine know Emily was a safe stranger, Diane had come up next to him. She looked intently for a moment at Madeleine and then smiled tightly.

"Jealous little thing," she remarked lightly, obviously having overheard Madeleine's panic over Emily. "She sounds like I used to," Diane added wryly. Gibbs smirked a little uncertainly; taken aback that Diane would admit to her old paranoia. Diane ignored him and tilted her head at Madeleine, smiling curiously.

"Hey, Agent Gibbs, you seen my Dad lately?" Emily asked smartly, putting her hands on her hips. "He lives at work," she added. Diane smiled tightly and hushed Emily, giving the six-year-old a tired look. Gibbs didn't say anything; he hadn't seen Fornell more than once or twice since the Air Force One turf battles.

Diane nodded at Madeleine.

"I bet I could guess," she remarked.

"Diane," he said tightly.

"I am not being hostile, Leroy," she said, shrugging simply. "You can't have gone and married some other poor woman since me, Tobias never would have shut up about it," Diane told him. "Besides," she continued thoughtfully. "She has Shepard's eyes. I wouldn't forget those eyes," she muttered.

"Know what they say about assumptions?" he asked, shooting her a glare.

Diane smiled genuinely.

"I'll take that to mean I'm right," she said slyly. "What's her name?"

Gibbs looked at his daughter. She was glaring at Diane. He grinned.

"Madeleine," he answered.

"That's very pretty," Diane said. "I suppose she picked it out."

"You don't think I could pick a good name?" he asked, glaring at her skeptically.

"I wouldn't know, I guess," she answered. "I didn't have the chance to see."

He looked at her silently.

"I picked Kelly," he admitted gruffly. She looked at him softly, and smiled again.

"Well, Kelly is a pretty name, too," she said.

"Agent Gibbs, is she your little girl?" Emily asked, standing on tiptoes and waving at Madeleine.

Madeleine shrank back and grabbed for Gibbs again, hiding her face.

"Emily Grace, you're scaring her," Diane admonished.

"Sorry," muttered Emily. "I was just saying hi."

"She's shy," Gibbs told Emily.

Madeleine looked at Emily and said something to her in Hebrew and then buried her face in Gibbs chest again. Emily frowned and looked at her mother, expecting an explanation. Diane just raised her eyebrows.

"Hebrew," Gibbs explained gruffly. "I don't think it was very nice," he added under his breath, glaring at the top of Madeleine's head.

Diane shook her head.

"I won't even ask what the story is there," she said lightly. She reached out for Emily. "Come on, young lady, we're going to find an employee and you're going to help him clean up your mess," she snapped.

"Help, save me!" Emily cried playfully, beaming at Gibbs.

He gave her a solemn look. Madeleine looked at Emily again.

"Clean up messes," she said smartly. "It's polite."

Emily glared.

"Goody-two-shoes," she snapped, sticking her tongue out.

"Emily Grace, so help me god—when we get home-!" Diane's threat neutralized Emily instantly, and the little blonde girl folded her arms, sinking against Diane and petulantly ignoring everyone else. Diane shook her head and gave Gibbs an it-can't-be-helped look. "As if we could expect my daughter and Jenny's daughter to be friends," she said dryly.

Gibbs smirked and shrugged, resting his hand on Madeleine's head again.

"I'll give Ducky a call to get the scoop," Diane said bluntly, smirking. "In the meantime, if you see my husband around—let him know that it's in his best interests to come home."

Gibbs nodded, though he didn't move until he heard her moving back into the other aisle, sharply reprimanding Emily for her behavior. Her voice slowly faded away and he looked down at Madeleine, getting on eye-level with her.

Madeleine glared at him.

"Her hair is like Mama's," she told him pointedly.

He glared at Madeleine narrowly.

"Is not."

"Is too, Daddy."

He frowned. He still hadn't talked to Jenny, but now he was damn sure that when he did, the first thing out of Madeleine's mouth was going to be some smart-ass, innocent comment about daddy's redhead grocery friend.

---

"Daddy, there is no water in here," Madeleine pointed out matter-of-factly, holding onto a doll tightly with one hand and standing on a part of the wooden frame Gibbs had deemed safe for her. It was wide and sanded—giving minimal chance of her falling and no chance of splinters. Madeleine sat down and let her feet dangle, wiggling her toes in the open ends of her sandals.

"Really?" Gibbs asked, furrowing his brow and looking around. He pretended to be confused.

Madeleine giggled and threw her hands up.

"How will the boat sail?" she asked, making a motion with her hand. "Where will it go?"

"Well, I have to finish it first," he answered slowly. "And then I guess we'll figure it out."

"I can help?" she asked. "Make it sail?"

He nodded, coming over and sitting next to her. He handed her a piece of sand paper and patted the wood. She'd probably do more damage than good, but he didn't particularly care. They had officially gone more than twenty-four hours this weekend without Madeleine bursting into tears or expressing unhappiness at being here, and he was just glad she seemed to be slowly settling in.

"It's scratchy," she said. She thrust her hand out and rubbed the paper against his face gently. "Like your morning face!" she squealed smugly. Gibbs gently made her stop scratching his face with the sandpaper and tapped some of the wood, showing her where she could scratch it.

He watched her for a moment, and then kissed the crown of her head and went back to his workbench, sorting through his tools. It had been an oddly peaceful day; after their trip to the grocery store, he had brought Madeleine back to his house and let her play in the backyard. Noemi had come over to keep Madeleine out of the bedroom while Gibbs used some chemicals to fix up the walls.

They were down in the basement now, and though it was kind of late, he was waiting for Madeleine to get tired on her own instead of making her go to bed. She slept in his room when they stayed at his house, which meant he slept on his couch—still in the effort of getting her to sleep on her own.

"I want to plant daisies," she piped up seriously. "Mama said daisies in the backyard," she reminded him.

"Okay," he said, turning and nodding. "We can buy some seeds and plant them next weekend."

"You said puppy, too," she reminded him wickedly.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she blinked at him innocently, her eyes wide and sweet. Gibbs grinned and walked back over, watching her blithely sand his boat into rough, uneven patches that silently hurt him on the inside.

"You're right, I said we could have a puppy," he said seriously. "Let's make a deal, Emmy," he said.

She stopped sanding and glared at him.

"I do not like this game," she said, which induced him to think Jenny used this technique to enforce behavior Madeleine didn't like to comply with. He laughed and leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees and getting on eye level with her.

"It's a fair deal," he promised softly. "You do your best to be happy here with me, even though you miss Mom, and try to trust the people who help me take care of you, and we'll get a puppy as soon as we have time to take care of it, okay?"

She frowned, and bowed her head a little.

"Okay," she murmured after a moment. "Okay, Aba."

He smiled and leaned forward, ruffling her hair.

"I love you, princess," he muttered seriously, squeezing her toes playfully. She giggled and yanked her foot away, pouting at him adorably.

His phone rang, and he turned to go get it.

"I love you, Daddy," she shouted at him. "I love you-I love you…" she sang, obviously pleased that it made him happy to hear it. He glanced at the number, didn't recognize it, and swore under his breath—and prayed that he wasn't about to get called in on a case. He flipped open his phone and answered gruffly.

There was a brief, crackling silence.

"Jethro, it's me."

He didn't visibly react right away, mostly because he didn't want Madeleine to pick up on his emotions—the first of which was anger. He swallowed, and kept his voice low, watching Madeleine hum and sand and play with her doll.

"Hey," he said neutrally. "It's about damn time."

Her silence told him she knew good and well she had been in the wrong with her lack of communication.

"I know it's been more than a week," she began.

"Save it," he interrupted curtly. "Are you in a position to talk as long as she wants to?" he asked.

"Yes."

He pulled the phone from his hear and waved it, catching Madeleine's attention.

"Emmy, it's Mommy."

Madeleine shrieked, a smile lighting up her face, and jumped up, wobbling a little. He strode across the basement to sit next to her, pulled her down on his lap, and handed her his cell phone. She scrambled to put it to her ear, bouncing excitedly. She began speaking in jumbled Hebrew, and Gibbs smiled—even if he was angry with Jenny for delaying this call for so long.

"Ima, are you okay? I miss you. Aba's house is big…"

Madeleine's rambling was almost too much to keep up with, and he was sure Jenny was just silently taking it all in, unable to get a word in edgewise. When Madeleine finally did pause, she tilted her head and listened very intently.

"Yes," she said after a moment or two. "Yes, Ima, he takes good care," she said, looking up at Gibbs with a huge smile. "I get two rooms! Saw your house, I like it—Aba does not leave me alone, I go work with him!"

Silence again, and Madeleine just listening, and then she broke into Hebrew again—and her Hebrew sounded so much better than her English that he felt a stab of annoyance again. It seemed like forever that Madeleine was jabbering, and then all of a sudden she dropped the phone into his lap.

"Your turn," she said matter-of-factly.

Gibbs smiled and picked up the phone. She climbed out of his lap and stretched out next to him, curling up and hugging the doll and watching him calmly, a little smile on her face. He patted her foot and held the phone to his ear.

"Are you still alive, or did she talk you to death?" he asked smoothly.

She didn't say anything, and he frowned, standing up slowly. Madeleine watched him, a little uninterested, and when he heard Jenny taking a deep breath he realized she must be struggling with tears.

"I don't know how you did this," she said hoarsely, finally letting him hear her voice. "How did you focus on anything but talking to her or seeing her again?"

"That thought kept me going," he answered curtly. "Where have you been, Jenny?"

"I should have called," she began shakily. "I couldn't—this is harder than I anticipated and I didn't, I didn't want to scare her. I didn't want her to hear me cry, and I didn't think I could do it without crying until now—and," she paused to compose herself. "Well, I still couldn't do it without crying."

"Jen, she needed you," he said shortly. "This transition would have been a hell of a lot easier those first few days if she'd had you to reassure her. She thought you didn't want her anymore."

Jenny made a strangled noise.

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her that wasn't the case!" he snapped back. "But it fell on deaf ears, I think, considering she'd been crying for you for days and I wasn't even able to get Ziva on the phone."

"I'm sorry."

"She doesn't know anyone here, Jenny! I don't give a damn how you feel about this; this was your decision! You wanted this! You've got to learn to suck it up for her sake."

"Get off your high horse, Jethro," she snapped viciously, the catch still in her voice. "I know I let her down, but she's a child, she forgives instantly—she's resilient. You're on edge because you needed me to help soothe her. You don't know how to be a single parent."

He realized he'd gone to far and made her angry when she started attacking him—still, he let himself be sucked into the argument.

"I know how to be a father, Jen."

She scoffed icily.

"You knew how to be a father in the eighties, when your wife stayed home and did all the hard stuff and you fulfilled the traditional breadwinner role," she accused, scalding. "You don't know how to be a single parent," she repeated.

He set his jaw, falling silent. He didn't have anything to say—and he vaguely acknowledged that what she'd said had hurt him badly, probably more than anything she'd ever said to him in the past. The suggestion that he couldn't do this—that he wasn't capable or prepared—was unnerving and daunting, and it bothered him to know Jenny thought he was a step-down when it came to parenting.

When his silence lasted too long, she spoke.

"Jethro," she said tiredly. "I—I shouldn't," she paused. "I don't know what your life was like with Shannon, I shouldn't have—"

"No," he said coldly. "You shouldn't."

He said nothing else, and he heard her take a deep breath.

He glanced over at Madeleine, and noticed she had covered her ear with her hand and was looking at him with wide eyes. He must have been talking a little too loudly, and he berated himself mentally for letting her hear him fight with her mother.

"Do you want to say goodnight to her?" he asked Jenny tightly, lowering his voice. "I'll put you on speaker."

He did so without waiting for an answer and walked back over to Madeleine.

"Madeleine? Ahuva," Jenny said soothingly. "It's your bed time."

"Yes, Mama," Madeleine answered sweetly. "Daddy lets me sleep in his bed."

"He does? Well, I hope you don't kick him or steal his covers," Jenny said gently. "You be good for your father, okay? I'll call you tomorrow. I love you, baby."

"I love you," Madeleine answered, touching the phone. "Leila tov, Ima," she added.

"Goodnight," Jenny answered.

Gibbs took her off speaker and hesitantly pressed the phone back to his ear.

"Take care of yourself, Jen," he said neutrally.

"You are a good father, Jethro," she said in a small, apologetic voice.

"Yeah," he answered a little aggressively. "I am."

He hung up, because he didn't want to extend that painful conversation any longer. He looked down at Madeleine and pushed her hair back.

"You sleepy, sweetheart?" he asked.

She nodded, and rubbed her eye.

"Can you tell me a story?"

He nodded, and swept her up into his arms, deciding he wouldn't make her walk up those pesky basement stairs tonight.

---

Jenny was not particularly impressed with her new office in the NCIS Cairo field office. It was spacious, it was important; it screamed ambition and achievement, and—admittedly—she was pleased with herself for earning it, but first and foremost she missed her daughter, and this empty, clean office just reminded her that she'd essentially traded Madeleine for a promotion.

And yes, Jethro had encouraged her and supported her, and she did want the promotion, but it still didn't feel the way she thought it would.

She sat at her desk, leaning back in her chair, with one foot propped up on the edge, staring thoughtfully at her nameplate. She toyed with the idea of placing pictures of Madeleine on the desk, but she hadn't yet taken that step. It was still almost utterly unknown that she was a mother, and she wasn't sure she wanted to start that conversation.

The team she was in charge of here was all male. They didn't like her. They didn't trust her, and she was sure they had decided they weren't going to respect her and they weren't going to make her job easy. She knew they were whispering, asking whom she had slept with to get a position like this when she'd been an agent for less than six years.

She did her very best not to care, and she was sure she was successful at putting up that front, but when she was alone, she did care. It wasn't like this at Mossad; the women in Mossad were treated with equality. Not a single Mossad officer was cut any slack in training or evaluations—that was a risk the Israelis couldn't afford—and so no female was thought to have slept her way into a position.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the same in this American agency riddled with the stubborn marks of a sexist system.

She was having a frustrating, difficult time establishing control here, but she wasn't going to whine about it to the director. It was bad enough that she was trying to deal with having Madeleine suddenly removed from her life. She used that pain to her advantage, though—she had to excel here, or packing her daughter off to a country across the ocean would mean nothing.

Sometimes, she forgot that the country across the ocean was her home. She had been overseas for so long—she had fallen in love with Jethro in Europe; Madeleine, even though she held American citizenship, had only known a Middle Eastern home. It was odd to think of the States as her home. She felt removed from it. She wondered if Madeleine would begin to think of DC as home anytime soon.

There was a sharp knock at her office door, and she sat up, taking her leg off the desk for professionalism's sake. She raised her voice and granted whoever it was permission to enter.

"Hey, Madame—um, Agent Shepard," her next in command stood in the doorway, looking a little sheepish.

She narrowed her eyes and smirked a little, waiting for him to continue. She knew they had taken to sarcastically calling her Madame Shepard behind her back. She hated the connotation, but she ignored it. She was going to pick and choose her battles, and that was one that wasn't worth being chosen.

"Agent Holland?" she prompted. "Did you forget how to speak?"

He cleared his throat.

"Leon Vance is on satellite for you from Rota," Holland said.

Jenny made a face and stood up, pushing her chair in. She nodded and followed Holland to the control room distastefully. Vance, another agent she didn't want to deal with—an agent who had apparently been up for this position alongside her. They had equal qualifications, and probably the only thing that had secured her this job over him was that her mission to neutralize the threat in Chechnya had succeeded, while his had failed.

Hers, she reminded herself, had only succeeded because she'd had Gibbs to cover her ass.

And regardless of the logistics and intricacies, Leon Vance was always going to resent her for cinching this position, and therefore putting her a league ahead of him in the food chain.

---

Tony DiNozzo glanced surreptitiously at his boss' desk, checking to make sure all seemed well. Things looked to be in order, and so DiNozzo—after a brief glance at McGee—returned tensely to his work. This had been his manner of working for the past hour—since Gibbs and Kate had disappeared upstairs to handle something in MTAC that had connections to the Secret Service. Under normal circumstances, being Gibbs-free in the bullpen would be a cause for relaxation and celebration.

But these were not normal circumstances.

In a completely unpredictable and inexplicable gesture of confidence, Gibbs had left Madeleine in the bullpen with McGee and DiNozzo. She was fast asleep behind his desk, so it was safe to assume he didn't technically trust them with her, but DiNozzo was still baffled by it. Since the little girl had first come to work with Gibbs about a week ago, he'd rarely let her out of his sight—once he'd given her off to Abby while they worked a scene, and once he let Kate take her to the bathroom.

On that note, DiNozzo still wasn't sure how exactly Madeleine was connected to Gibbs.

He looked up thoughtfully, intent on squinting over at Gibbs desk and think about it obsessively, and nearly jumped out of his skin. He let out a squeak of surprise that grabbed McGee's attention.

There she was, the little girl, standing right at the corner of his desk, peering at him with shy, big green eyes, her thumb near her mouth, looking as if she was about to start crying. She blinked at him and lowered her head a little when he met her eyes.

DiNozzo shot a panicked look at McGee.

He didn't know what to do—didn't this kid understand that he was just as scared of her as she was of him?

He cleared his throat, trying to think of something warm and relatable to say. He opened his mouth and what came out was not at all what he had wanted.

"Hi," he said awkwardly, lifting his arm and wiggling his fingers.

He swore he felt McGee roll his eyes. He made a mental note to mock the Probie later. It wasn't as if McStutter would be any better at interacting with the kid than DiNozzo was!

"Excuse me," Madeleine said politely. "Where is Daddy?" she asked clearly, in a small but certain voice.

DiNozzo stared at her, his mind freezing up a little. Well, that answered a hell of a lot of his questions. He was now busy trying to process the information that Gibbs was her father while also trying to figure out how to handle her.

She blinked sleepily and yawned, still peering at him intently.

"Answer her," hissed McGee under his breath.

"Oh," DiNozzo muttered, clearing his throat. He raised his eyebrows. "He's, uh, Gibbs is in MTAC," he answered lamely.

Madeleine looked at him in confusion.

"Attack?" she asked. "He's attacked?" she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

DiNozzo blanched, nearly sent into cardiac arrest—if Gibbs came back and his daughter was crying Tony was dead.

"No, not attacked," McGee said, getting up and walking over. He crouched right next to Madeleine, smiling warmly. "MTAC," he said, stressing the letters. "Do you know your ABC's?"

Madeleine nodded.

"M-T-A-C," spelled McGee. "It's a special room full of lights and big televisions used to talk to people," he explained. "Gibbs is talking to an important, boring man up there. He'll be back soon."

DiNozzo glared at McGee, perturbed that the geek was miraculously good with children. After all, there was no reason for a suave, super special agent—a DiNozzo!—to be incompetent with a pre-schooler. Even if she was a mini-Gibbs pre-schooler.

"Big TVs?" Madeleine asked turning towards McGee hesitantly.

He nodded, smiling more broadly.

"As big as a wall!" he elaborated.

She hugged herself, smiling at him shyly.

"I see," she said thoughtfully, racking her brains. "I talk to Daddy on one."

"Oh, really?" McGee asked conversationally. "That is super cool," he said, pretending he was in awe. "You must be a smart kid, learning how to use a big satellite screen!"

Madeleine blushed.

"Mama helped me," she informed McGee quietly. She stopped hugging herself and stepped closer, perking up a little. "Your name is?" she asked sweetly.

He pointed to himself. He hesitated a moment, unsure if he should use his last name or his first name. He decided the latter would be probably be easier for a three-year-old, and answered her.

"My name is Tim," he said clearly, and then used his thumb to gesture to DiNozzo. "This is Tony."

"Tim," Madeleine repeated, humming cutely when she got to the 'm'. She cocked her head and looked up at DiNozzo. "Pony?" she asked, having misunderstood. McGee snickered, and Tony let out a squawk of surprise and protest.

"Tony," he said, patting his chest like Tarzan. "Toe-knee," he pronounced clearly.

McGee seized the opportunity to exert some teasing revenge.

"You can call him Pony if you want to," he said seriously, reaching out and patting Madeleine's shoulder. She giggled and scampered forward, sidling up to McGee's side and looking up at Tony with a bright smile on her face. Her green eyes sparkled, all trace of sleepy shyness gone from them.

Inwardly, DiNozzo cringed. McGee making fun of him was bad enough, but Kate and Gibbs were really going to give him hell if the kid was going to be calling him Pony for the rest of forever.

Madeleine hopped away from McGee and put her hand on Tony's knee, poking him in a way that was oddly polite. She put her hand on her own chest.

"Maddah-lynn," she said amiably. "I like the baby TV," she said, pointing to her corner. DiNozzo followed her gesture, confused for a moment before he realized she was referring to the portable DVD player he'd brought in for her. He smiled and nodded eagerly.

"Did you like the movie?" he asked eagerly.

Gibbs had said G-rated movies, or Star Wars, and DiNozzo was definitely not going to encourage any Probie-level geekery. Most of his old kiddie movies were on VHS, so he'd casually bought some children's classics and cartoons, partly because his collection needed them—and partly because he was sucking up to Gibbs, so he needed the kid on his good side.

He was pretty sure Kate had chosen Babe for her.

Madeleine smiled again.

"I like the piggy," she said. She frowned a little. "I fell asleep," she said apologetically.

"That's okay," Tony said seriously. "We all wish Gibbs would let us take naps."

She giggled, and McGee stood up, heading back to his desk to work. Madeleine hung around near Tony's knee for a moment, and then turned and followed McGee, her eyes drifting to Gibbs' desk uncertainly. She scampered closer to McGee and grabbed his hand as he sat down, pointing to her father's empty chair.

"Back soon?" she asked, lowering her voice again.

McGee hesitated.

"I think so," he said. "If you really need him, I can go get him for you."

She shook her head. It wasn't an emergency. She didn't know the words to tell Tim that, but she understood that she should let her dad work unless she was bleeding or sick or something. She scooted closer to Tim and patted his knee a little timidly.

"I may sit with you?"

He nodded, reaching down to help her up.

"Sure," he said, smiling and letting her settle in on his lap. He put his arms around her to be able to type. "You want to help me work?"

"I am too little," she said. "Silly."

DiNozzo snickered.

"Silly," he repeated, smirking at McGee.

Madeleine leaned forward and pointed at the computer, her finger touching the screen and making McGee wince at the print she left. She tapped a little, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"Make pictures," she requested firmly. "I want to see puppies."

"Okay," McGee muttered, pulling up a search engine and simply typing in a search for puppies. A screen filled with adorable little animals popped up and Madeleine squealed, clapping her hands and leaning back against him happily. She seemed amused for a total of ten seconds and then tilted her head up seriously.

"I would please like lunch," she said matter-of-factly.

"Uh," McGee answered, looking over at DiNozzo. DiNozzo looked uncertainly up at MTAC; Gibbs showed no sign of emerging. He looked back at the probie and shrugged a little, tilting his head. They shared a look and then McGee gave his own shrug and looked down at Madeleine, raising his eyebrows. "What do you want to eat?"

She sighed and put her hand to her mouth. She usually just ate what she was given to eat.

Tony snapped his fingers gleefully.

"Happy meal?" he asked. "I can run to McDonald's for her, get us somethin', too," he said eagerly, grinning. He stood up and walked closer. "Will you eat a Happy Meal?"

She stared at him in confusion. McGee raised his eyebrows.

"Have you ever had a Happy Meal?" he asked.

She put her finger near her lips and then pouted, shaking her head slightly. DiNozzo stared in disbelief.

"Are you American?" he asked flippantly.

"No," she answered, her brows going up.

The two agents looked at her curiously.

"No?" repeated McGee.

Madeleine smacked her lips.

"I live in Israel."

McGee looked up at DiNozzo, and they mutually decided to ferret out the secrets behind that later. DiNozzo pointed at Madeleine suavely and smiled.

"Okay, different question: do you eat chicken?"

The little girl nodded.

"And French fries?"

She looked uncertain.

"Unhealthy," she said.

DiNozzo shrugged.

"Eh, you'll be fine once," he muttered. He scrambled to his desk and grabbed his wallet and keys, ready to bound out of the agency in search of food. He paused briefly and pointed at Kate and Gibbs' empty desks. "Should I get them something?"

"It's cheap, just bring back a bunch of burgers," McGee answered, turning back to the computer.

Tony bolted off; eager to be gone before Gibbs could stop him, and McGee smirked, looking down at Madeleine secretively. He glanced around the bullpen, making sure he was in the clear, and then hunched over a little and pressed some buttons, cocking his eyebrow at the three-year-old.

"Let's play Tetris," he whispered conspiratorially, bringing up the game on his computer.

She giggled, mimicking is secretive stance, and leaned forward on her elbows to watch.

---

Their work in MTAC had taken longer than Gibbs anticipated, and he was anxious to get back to the bullpen. He took the stairs quickly, glaring around the area like a hawk. It was foolish to think Madeleine would still be asleep; she had already been out for half an hour when he'd left to go up with Kate.

He strode into the bullpen, noticing two things immediately: DiNozzo was nowhere to be seen, and Madeleine was sitting in McGee's lap with a bright smile on her face, her hand nestled under his on the computer mouse. Gibbs narrowed his eyes, coming to a stop slowly in the middle of the room, eyeing the two of them silently.

He heard Kate pull out her own chair behind him, and the noise attracted Madeleine's attention.

"Oh, hello, Daddy," she greeted blithely, looking up and waving at him. She grinned and sat back in McGee's lap, pointing at the computer screen with a proud look. "Game," she said promptly, explaining to him what they were doing.

McGee looked at Gibbs warily over the top of Madeleine's head, unsure if he was going to be in trouble for playing a game at work or for interacting with the boss' daughter or—well, McGee was unsure what was going to happen.

Gibbs tilted is head, his expression unreadable, and then looked at McGee sharply, gesturing at DiNozzo's desk.

"Where's DiNozzo?"

"McDonald's," answered McGee.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes in a glare.

"What?" he asked. "Why?" he demanded.

"Because I am hungry," Madeleine piped up, wriggling out of McGee's grip and climbing up on his desk. He winced and grabbed for her, helping her not to step on his keyboard or on anything valuable. She giggled, under the impression he was trying to snatch her up and tickle her, and Gibbs took the cue to sweep her off the desk. He placed her on the floor at his knee and looked down at her raising his eyebrow.

"You told DiNozzo he could leave and get you food?" he asked skeptically, still convinced DiNozzo had taken it upon himself to seek food while Gibbs wasn't around to deny it to him.

Madeleine looked up at him and put her hands on her hips.

"You went away," she snapped at him, furrowing her brows. "Leave me all alone!"

He grinned indulgently.

"He really did go to get her food," McGee said seriously.

Gibbs looked back down at Madeleine and she nodded.

"'Cause you left me," she informed him, pouting.

He put his hand on her head and scrunched up his nose, turning her gently towards his desk.

"You find anything before she distracted you?" he asked McGee, pulling out his chair and pointing Madeleine back to her little corner behind his desk. She looked at the set up distastefully and skipped back around to the front of his desk, looking at Kate curiously.

McGee pulled up some charts and started to answer; Kate waved at Madeleine.

"Did you have a good nap?" Kate asked, tilting her head.

"I do not know, I was asleep for it," Madeleine answered seriously.

Gibbs leaned over his desk and tapped her shoulder.

"Hey, get over here," he said neutrally. "Be good."

She shook her head and hopped away, scampering over to DiNozzo's desk and pulling his chair out. She scrambled up into the rolling chair carefully, turnin around and slouching down a little, sitting there and glaring at Gibbs quietly, her green eyes a little cool. He was suddenly very strongly reminded of her mother, and he braced himself for whatever was about to come out of her mouth.

"Madeleine, come here," he said.

"No," she said lightly. "I will sit in Pony's chair," she added matter-of-factly. "You left me," she reminded him again. He wasn't so much guilted by her apparent resentment of him leaving the room as he was interested that she had just—it sounded like, at least—called DiNozzo 'Pony'.

"Did she just say 'Pony'?" Kate asked, pointing at Madeleine with a pencil, her brows going up a little hopefully. McGee snorted.

"Oh, yeah, that's what she calls him," he answered, grinning.

Kate let out a cackle, leaning back in her chair.

Gibbs looked across the bullpen at his daughter, smirking slightly, and winked at her.

She giggled, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Pony," she murmured, sensing that it amused her father.

"Good girl," he praised, and her eyes lit up, and she looked happier than he'd seen her since she moved in with him.

---

Madeleine looked uncertainly at Gibbs' hand as he held it out persuasively. She had gotten very used to sleeping at the townhouse, and she had forgotten what it was like at his house—emptier, not as homey, still being fixed up. He had helped her brush her teeth, handed her a blanket and a stuffed animal, and was trying to coax her into the basement.

"It's dark," she murmured uncertainly.

"I'll turn a light on, honey," he said patiently. "It's the same basement as last time you were here," he reminded her. He smiled, still staying calm. She lifted her stuffed rabbit to her lips and cuddled it tightly, prancing forward and grabbing his hand.

"Why we not stay with Nomee?" she asked quietly, holding tight to him as he led her down the stairs carefully.

"Because Daddy lives here," he answered. "And this weekend, we're going to finish fixing up your room, and we're going to start making Daddy's house feel like home," he explained.

"I like that room at Nomee's," she informed him.

"I like it, too," he answered, picking her up and swinging her playfully over the landing and onto the floor. She giggled, and grabbed on to his leg when he set her back on the ground; Gibbs crouched down to her level and put his arm around her comfortingly. "But that is your Mom's house. We can stay there sometimes, but you live with me, and I live here."

She seemed to think about it for a moment, and then looked at him intently.

"No, Aba," she said slowly. "Ima's house in Carrot."

"Cairo," he corrected patiently. He nodded. "Yes, she lives there for right now. When she comes home, she lives in the townhouse."

"Mama's home is here?"

"It sure is, Emmy," he answered, smiling. "She just has to work over in the Middle East for a while."

Madeleine looked at him a little uncertainly. She shrugged and wriggled away, walking to the boat and inspecting it curiously. She put her hand on it and rose up on her tiptoes, looking around intently. She glanced back at him and raised her eyebrows, pointing to all of the pillows and blankets and towels he had piled on the framework.

"Oh no," she said. "Daddy made a mess."

He smirked and stood up, walking over to the wall and flipping on the lights. The basement was flooded in bright light, for once, as he'd taken it upon himself to change the bulb to something that would make it easier for a child to see. He had swept the floor, carefully inspected everything to make sure there were no loose nails or screws threatening little feet, and sprayed for bugs—the basement was as child-proof as a basement woodshop could get, and for the other dangers, he was here to protect her.

He pulled a cardboard box off a shelf and set it on the workbench, showing her two flashlights.

"It's not a mess," he said, crouching down and handing her a purple one. It was old and dusty, and small enough for her hands—another little girl's old flashlight from a backyard camping trip way back in nineteen-eighty-nine. He lowered his voice secretively. "It's supplies."

"For what?" she asked, lowering her voice, too.

He grinned.

"Since your room isn't ready yet, we're gonna build a fort," he said. "And camp out in it."

She looked at the boat and all of the 'supplies' and then she gave him a big smile and jumped up, hugging her blanket and stuffed animal closer and clutching the flashlight. She hit the button intuitively to turn it on, and it lit up her face.

"Ghost stories!" she exclaimed.

He laughed, lowering the bright light from her eyes a little.

"We'll see," he placated. He in no way intended to regale his three-year-old with horror stories, but maybe he could convince her Sleeping Beauty was scary if he played up the cartoon witch-turned-dragon spookily enough.

She beamed and ran over to the boat, jumping up next to it.

"How?" she asked.

He followed her and swung her up onto the frame with a gentle reminder to be careful not to fall.

"We have to unfold all the blankets," he said, grabbing some and showing her how to shake them out, "and then we drape them all over the boat, and crawl inside."

She mimicked his shaking out of the blankets, and watched as he began throwing them over the frame, shrouding the inside of the boat in darkness. She squealed as she was slowly surrounded by the darkness the blankets created as they made a fort around the boat.

"Aba!" she called.

He poked his head through the ribs of the boat and through the edges of two blankets and whistled for her attention. She turned around and gasped, covering her eyes. She peeked at him and laughed.

"Aba, come in, it's scary!"

"Let me finish it up, M," he answered. He grabbed her portable DVD player from the stairs and picked up a few of the extra pillows for them—and then he carefully got inside the boat-turned-fort with her and set up a little makeshift bed for her to snuggle up on. He laid out some of the DVDs DiNozzo had lent them and then sat next to her, pointing. "Your choice."

"But bedtime," she said.

"It's okay," he assured her. "We can stay up late. Daddy doesn't have to work tomorrow."

She climbed into his lap with her stuffed animal and curled up, almost catlike. She rested her head on his knee and then reached out, picking up a brightly coloured cartoon box and holding it up to him, waving it slightly.

"I want this," she decided.

He squinted his eyes to read the title.

She had handed him a copy of The Aristocats. It was a movie he was familiar with; Kelly had watched it a few times when she was little. He nodded and leaned forward, figuring out fairly quickly how to work DiNozzo's nuanced little DVD player thing. She tugged at his shirt while he fixed it up, and he grunted to indicate he was listening.

"Daddy," she said thoughtfully, "You say Mama is home here?"

He nodded absently.

"When she's not working in the Middle East," he repeated. "She lives in America."

"Not Israel?"

"No," he answered, leaning back and stroking her hair soothingly. "That's just where she was when she had you."

Madeleine looked at him intently and yawned, though she didn't let the yawn interfere with her staring at him as if she were trying to figure out some big secret.

"She will come here?" Madeleine asked softly.

"Someday," Gibbs answered vaguely.

Madeleine sat up, hugging the flashlight and her stuffed animal in her lap. She pursed her lips and looked around. She looked back at him, her mind working seriously behind her green eyes, and she straightened her shoulders a little.

"My home is here?" she asked slowly, as if figuring it out.

He nodded carefully.

"I know it doesn't feel like it right now, Emmy," he said quietly.

She leaned against him, looking at the small DVD screen silently for a moment. She put her thumb in her mouth, and he was about sure she'd simply decided to watch the movie when she pulled her thumb back out of her mouth and twisted to look at him.

"It can be home if Daddy says," she informed him, curling up in his lap again.

Gibbs let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. He leaned over her and kissed the top of her head, smiling a little. He rubbed her shoulders, and covered her with a blanket—it was summer, but nothing really changed how chilly it always it was in the basement. She giggled and pointed at the DVD screen.

"Daddy, the kitties talk!" she squealed happily.

He smiled, leaning back on his hands, and relaxed.

Jenny had been right when she said Madeleine was resilient; this arrangement was looking up—it was the second time in a week he'd experienced her being utterly content.

---

It was noon on a Saturday, and Gibbs' house was louder and more crowded than it had been in a long, long time.

He didn't mind the chaos, even though he wasn't use to it, though he was slightly confused as to how so many people had decided it was their duty to show up under the pretense of 'helping him'. He didn't need help. He had asked Noemi to come watch Madeleine while he worked, and he had mentioned to Abby that she could drop by and somehow, that had turned into Noemi happily complying, Abby, of course, showing up with all kinds of goodies—and out of the blue, Ducky appearing with two of his mother's Corgis, and Gibbs hadn't left the bedroom to check yet, but he was pretty sure he'd heard DiNozzo's loud mouth out in the kitchen.

He rolled his eyes and took a screwdriver out of his tool belt, attaching another cover for an electric socket to the wall near Madeleine's new bed. He had removed the old, yellowing white ones, painted them green, and was fastening them back on. Madeleine had asked for the room to be pink, so instead of completely changing Kelly's old room, he had decided simply to add to it and tweak it a little. He'd put another coat of the light pink on the walls to freshen things up, then he'd painted the floorboards green and used stencils to make it look like there was grass coming up from the floor. He'd painted the trim around the ceiling blue and then used an amateur technique to swirl yellow into the ceiling.

To surprise her—because he hadn't let her in here to see it yet—he'd chosen one wall to paint daisies on. He hadn't had a chance to plant some in the backyard yet, so daisies on the wall were going to have to do. He furniture was white, and he'd been busy getting her things from Israel in order and set up in the room; it had finally arrived, and he knew she was going to be most excited to see her rocking horse.

Gibbs cringed when he heard an excited shriek erupt from his living room, reluctant to go see what had his daughter so excited. He finished fixing up the walls and then stood up, putting the screwdriver back into his belt. He still had some things to clean up, but he was about done. He left her room and warily made his way into the living room.

He barely had a chance to look around and register his surroundings before Madeleine flew into his knees at full force and grabbed his hand, simultaneously attempting to hug him and drag him towards the middle of the living room.

"Aba! Aba!" she squealed dramatically, giving up on the dragging and just pointing insistently. "Look! Doggies!" she shouted, jumping up and down.

"I see them," he muttered, glaring at Ducky one more time. He'd already experienced this maniacal excitement from Madeleine when Ducky had first shown up—unannounced—with the dogs. He didn't quite know what had set her off again.

Madeleine gripped his hand again and looked up at him.

"I can keep one," she informed him primly.

"What?" he asked sharply, narrowing his eyes. Gibbs pried her gently away from his leg and glared around insistently. The two dogs in his living room wagged their tails blithely at him. Madeleine nodded proudly.

"Not to worry, Jethro," Ducky spoke up placidly. "I simply told young Madeleine she might have a puppy from the next litter mother breeds," he explained. "If that is okay with you, naturally."

Gibbs said a silent prayer of relief. They didn't have the time to take care of a puppy right now; it would be cruel to leave it alone all day at home, and there was no way he could have a puppy and a three-year-old at work with him. He looked down at Madeleine and raised an eyebrow half-heartedly.

"Don't you want a big dog like a lab or a golden retriever?" he asked half-heartedly, annoyed at the prospect of having to be seen caring for or walking a prissy little thing like a damn welsh corgi. Madeleine frowned at him and put a hand on her hip.

"No, Aba, look at the teeny tails!" she retorted, flouncing back over to the corgis on the floor and tumbling down onto her back to play with them. She let them lick her face and crawl all over her and Gibbs frowned. He rolled his eyes and gave Ducky a baleful look.

Abby poked her head out of the kitchen and whistled, wriggling her eyes at Gibbs playfully.

"Lookin' good in that tool belt, El Jefe," she said, snickering. "Do you want a sandwich?"

He shook his head, narrowing his eyes and squinting past Abby.

"DiNozzo," he barked. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

DiNozzo paused mid-bit of his sandwich and looked at Gibbs with wide eyes, swallowing slowly and choosing his words carefully.

"Helping," he answered bluntly.

Gibbs glared at him.

"Er, snooping," DiNozzo corrected sheepishly. "Abby made me come," he tried to explain quickly. "She said you might need help with…stuff."

Gibbs almost rolled his eyes. The idea that DiNozzo would be any help with handiwork was laughable, considering the state of his apartment. Instead of mocking the senior agent, though, Gibbs just ignored the comment and looked around for Noemi, making his way into the kitchen.

"Are any of these clowns in your way?" he asked her, when he found her making a pitcher of lemonade.

She beamed at him good-naturedly.

"No, no, not a bit, Senor Gibbs," she said amiably. "I remember Doctor Mallard," Noemi added, smiling at the doctor from far away. Gibbs raised his eyebrows, mildly surprised. He supposed Jenny must have had Ducky over for tea or something back before Europe.

God, Europe felt like centuries ago.

"Do you need any help, Gibbs?" Abby asked brightly. "I can take Madeleine shopping if you like."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Abby skeptically.

"She has plenty of clothes, Abs," he said hesitantly.

Abby giggled.

"Gibbs, I know how to dress a child!" she protested, rolling her eyes. "Besides, everyone knows that you don't wear skulls and dog collars until you're four years old," she teased. Gibbs wasn't sure if he should laugh and encourage her or just give her a glare that made it clear he didn't want his child dressed like Abby until she was quite a bit older. Abby clasped her hands together.

"Nah, Abby, she doesn't need to be spoiled," he said.

"Well, here's the thing," Abby said, raising her voice. "I kind of have Kate on call, because Kate and I kind of are planning to take her shopping and for ice cream and stuff, so that way she can get to know us and like us more and we cane steal her whenever we want," she explained in one long breath.

Gibbs stared at her, turned around, and flung his hand out at DiNozzo.

"What's he doing here again?" he demanded.

"Gibbs, you know Tony doesn't have anything else to do on weekends!" Abby answered.

"Hey!" DiNozzo protested. He pointed at the Goth with a glare. "I have a date tonight."

"Yeah, if her husband doesn't cancel it again," Abby fired back with a smug look.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. He backed up and looked into the living room. Madeleine looked perfectly content, playing happily with Ducky's Corgis. He wondered if it would be a good idea to let Abby and Kate take her out. Madeleine had, oddly enough, clung to McGee for the past two days at work, but she also liked Abby—and Gibbs was most comfortable with the women handling her anyway. Jenny would call it painstakingly old fashioned, but then again; Jenny hadn't met DiNozzo or McGee.

If he left Madeleine with the two of them, she would either end up tangled in some video game cord with no hope of extrication or she'd be in the arms of whatever brainless floozy DiNozzo set his sights on and used the three-year-old as a lure for.

"Please?" Abby asked, clasping her hands. "We've kept her out of your hair all day!"

Gibbs turned and walked into the living room. He sat down on his couch and waited for Madeleine to notice him and sit up. He raised his eyebrows and beckoned her forward with his finger. She walked up to him and hugged his knee, resting her cheek on his leg. He smiled at her and lifted her chin to look her in the eye.

"Abby wants to take you shopping," he said seriously. "Would you like to go with her?"

"Is the puppies coming?" Madeleine asked, just as seriously.

He shook his head.

"No, no puppies," he said apologetically. "But Abby offered to get you ice cream, and she says Kate wants to come, too. What do you think?"

She straightened up and climbed right up on his lap, standing on his legs and looking over his head at Abby. Abby waved at her happily, her pigtails bouncing. Madeleine reached up to her hair and then sat down heavily on Gibbs' lap, nearly destroying his knees with her lack of gentility. He winced and pulled her forward a little to make it more comfortable.

"Make my hair like this," Madeleine ordered, holding her hair in lopsided pigtails like Abby's.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows and picked her up, holding her under his arm sideways. She giggled, wrinkling her nose at him.

"I'm gonna let you do that," he said, presenting her to Abby.

Abby practically snatched Madeleine away, squealing and touching her nose to hers.

"You want to come play with Kate and I?" she asked hopefully.

"I like vanilla," Madeleine answered seriously.

Abby hugged her tightly and looked over her head at Gibbs.

"Hairbrush?" she asked.

Gibbs retreated to the bathroom to get some hair ribbons and a brush for Abby; he still didn't want Madeleine in the back room until everything was set up and finished perfectly.

"Are there any rules we have to follow?" Abby asked politely, sitting Madeleine on the countertop and beginning to deftly tie her hair up in mini pigtails.

Gibbs shrugged.

"She's not allergic to anything," he said. "Make her hold your hand in parking lots and in stores, make sure she's buckled in the car seat," he shrugged again. "Common sense things."

"Tony, go put Madeleine's car seat in my car," Abby ordered, holding out her free hand for Gibbs' keys.

"I do that," Noemi piped up, washing her hands and taking Gibbs' keys from him. "It difficult to hook up," she explained, bustling past. DiNozzo didn't look offended, just relieved. Noemi went about switching the car seats, and Gibbs took Abby's place in front of Madeleine as soon as the Goth was done fixing her hair.

Madeleine reached up to pat her hair, grinning.

"Look, Daddy," she said, scrunching up her nose happily. "Pretty."

"Very pretty," he agreed gruffly, touching her nose lightly. She giggled. He raised his eyebrows at her and looked at her intently. "Emmy Jane, you behave for Abby and Kate," he told her. "Listen to what they say and use polite words—speak English," he added, just as a reminder.

"Yes sir," Madeleine said, saluting him unexpectedly.

He gave her a surprised look, but smirked. He leaned forward, kissed her forehead, and lifted her down to the ground. He pointed to the door and she went to put her shoes on. Abby pranced past to help her buckle on the black Mary Janes, and DiNozzo stood quietly next to Gibbs, slowly chewing his sandwich.

"Boss, that was adorable," he deadpanned.

Gibbs slapped him in the back of the head and jerked his head towards the backyard.

"Make yourself useful, DiNozzo," he growled. "Help me get her furniture in."

"Say 'bye' to your Dad," Abby said, picking up her purse from Gibbs' kitchen.

Madeleine looked over Abby's shoulder.

"Shalom, Aba," she said. She winked at him clumsily. "You be good."

He snorted in spite of himself and waved—and then before DiNozzo could call him adorable again, he head-slapped him just for good measure.

---

Gibbs held up an empty mason jar and waved it at Ducky, arching his eyebrow with an unspoken question. Ducky waved his hand and demurred in response; he wasn't particularly fond of Jethro's brand of hard whiskey. Gibbs shrugged and sloshed a small swallow of the alcohol into the jar, turning around to face his old friend.

Madeleine's room was finished. Noemi had gone home, DiNozzo had gone home, and Kate and Abby had yet to return with Madeleine—dinner, Abby insisted, they were getting her dinner and then they swore they'd give her back. In all honesty, Gibbs was relieved that he had a moment to regroup—he needed the break, and with any luck, Madeleine would be so tired out from the exciting day that she'd fall right to sleep.

Ducky looked with amusement at the leftover fort from the night before and leaned against the boat casually, tilting his head at Gibbs.

"How is Jennifer?" he asked cordially, and immediately realized that something must be off, because Gibbs' reaction to the question was less than amiable.

He looked into his whiskey coolly and narrowed his eyes, choosing his words carefully.

"Haven't spoken to her much," he answered, looking up. He lifted his index finger pointedly. "One time."

Ducky's brows went up.

"You've only spoken to her once?" he asked in disbelief. "Jethro, it's been nearly three weeks!"

Gibbs gave the medical examiner a look as if to indicate he was perfectly aware of how long it had been. He grit his teeth and shrugged, taking a drink of his bourbon before leaning back against the workbench, one hand gripping the counter behind him. He shook his head, swallowed, and looked back at Ducky.

"Yeah, well, that's how Jen deals with stuff," he answered curtly. "She runs."

Ducky laughed good-naturedly, shaking his head at Gibbs. He raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Well, Jethro, that the two of you have in common," he informed Gibbs bluntly, his eyes sparkling in a well-meaning manner.

Gibbs snorted derisively and glared at Ducky, a muscle in his temple throbbing.

"Marines don't run," he snapped defensively.

"Not in the technical sense," Ducky agreed. "Not in the sense you are accusing Jennifer of running," he added. "In a broader interpretation of the word, you run by refusing to engage."

"You sayin' I freeze up in combat?" Gibbs growled.

"I am pointing out that snipers are trained to keep their distance in battle," Ducky answered cryptically. His lips turned up in a smile and he kept his eyes on Gibbs.

The former Marine just shook his head. He looked into his mason jar again and then laughed shortly, his brow going up.

"She said the same thing," he admitted. Jenny hadn't exactly used such obnoxious metaphors, but it had been what she'd been getting at when she'd turned down his impromptu proposal. He grit his teeth again—so he hadn't always been the best at relationships. He was better now, and she knew it as well as he did.

He grunted and swallowed the rest of his bourbon, rubbing his forehead roughly.

"I'm worried about her, Duck," he admitted.

"Ah, so that's what's really bothering you," Ducky answered calmly. "You aren't really mad at her."

Gibbs didn't answer right away. He was irritated with Jenny for being all but unreachable, but he was mad on Madeleine's behalf. He knew Madeleine needed to hear from her mother. She wasn't getting that, and it irked him that Jenny would be so selfish as to deprive Madeleine of her comfort, but he also understood—from a different standpoint—that Jenny was trying to cope, and she was trying to cope by detaching herself from the situation.

He knew because he'd been there—the difference was that he had no hope of seeing Kelly ever again, but he understood the technique he was using, and he was worried.

Gibbs frowned and Ducky smiled apologetically.

"Call her, Jethro," he said. "I don't mean call her for Madeleine, I mean call her and reassure her," he explained, rolling his eyes a little. "The two of you are so very stubborn. It's as if you're in a constant fight to see who feels more strongly for the other, and whoever feels the most is the loser," Ducky paused and shook his head. "That isn't at all how it should be."

"If that were the fight, she'd win," he said callously, a little Paris-deep bitterness coming out.

He suddenly decided he didn't want to talk about this with Ducky.

"I think it would hurt Jennifer very much to hear you say that," Ducky mused gently.

Gibbs shrugged, already feeling guilty for suggesting Jenny didn't care for him when he knew good and well she did. He cleared his throat, forgoing another shot of whiskey, and compressed his lips thoughtfully.

"You think Madeleine's doin' okay?" he asked gruffly.

"She seems to be adjusting quite well," Ducky answered positively. "She is already much livelier than she was when you first brought here back," he went on. "She speaks English without you reminding her—though I must say, you should make an effort to keep her bilingual."

Gibbs nodded.

"Fornell gave me the information for the day care he and Diane kept Emily in," he said slowly. "You think she'd be ready to start there in the next week?"

"She has to at some point," Ducky said. "She knows that you can't keep her with you all the time, even her mother didn't do that. Is it a good day care?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"Not as fancy as the one Jen had her at in Israel, but it's pricey, so and it passed Diane's tests," he replied, rolling his eyes a little. "She'd only be there a couple days a week. Noemi wants to keep her a day or two," he paused. "I'm going to take her to NCIS once a week," he added.

Ducky raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he didn't question it.

Gibbs was glad he didn't. He wouldn't be able to explain. At this point, Ducky didn't know about Kelly, and so it was simply a conversation Gibbs didn't want to have. He didn't want Madeleine to resent him for working. He wanted to socialize her and for her to make friends and have her own experiences, but he didn't want to miss anything either. She liked NCIS, and he liked to have here there—and until she started grade school, he would let her hang around.

"She is your child, Jethro, you know her best," Ducky said. "But children are resilient, and I think little Madeleine will adjust spectacularly. She seems remarkably in tune with what makes you happy."

"I want her to be happy," Gibbs muttered, turning towards his workbench.

He fell into silence, thinking about Jenny again, and Ducky cleared his throat after a long moment of quiet, shuffling towards the stairs.

"I must be on my way, I'm afraid," he said, lifting his hand. "Mother will be anxious to see her dogs," he added with a wink. The corgis were currently asleep in spacious kennels in Gibbs' back yard.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and nodded to Ducky.

"Appreciate the help, Duck," he said, gesturing to the ceiling and thus, vaguely towards Madeleine's newly furnished bedroom.

"Jethro," Ducky said in answer, "Call Jennifer."

Ducky beamed and gave a small, polite salute as he made his way up the stairs, comfortable enough to let himself out.

Gibbs turned around and leaned forward on the counter, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. He flipped it open and looked at the weak service his basement gave him, tilting his head critically. His thumb rested over Jenny's speed dial number, hesitant. He had no idea what her schedule was like—another result of them not speaking as much. She might be sleeping. She might be angry if he called and didn't have Madeleine ready to speak to her.

He was about to apply pressure to the number when he heard his door open upstairs. Abby called his name brightly through the house, and the next thing he heard was the energetic, optimistic fluttering of childish footsteps across the floor.

He snapped the phone shut and grinned, turning is head towards the stairs, momentarily struck by the nostalgic sound. It had been a long, painful, lonely thirteen years since he had heard little footsteps on the floor above him, and hearing it now was an unexpected, powerful mixture of bittersweet and healing.

He'd forgotten what it was like to have little feet in the house—he'd been too busy suffocating in the emptiness the lack of Kelly's had left—and he had forgotten that listening to the scampering little feet was one of the best feelings in the world.

---

Gibbs walked down the hallway slowly, holding Madeleine's hands above her head and taking carefully, labored steps with her balanced on his feet. She giggled, content to let him pretend he couldn't shake her off of him. She was bathed and clean, her teeth were brushed and her pajamas were on, and she was eager to get tucked in and be read one of the brand new books Abby and Kate had bought for her.

"Let go," Madeleine said wriggling her hands.

He did so, and she hopped off of his feet and darted towards her bed, jumping into the middle of the new quilt and crawling towards her pillows and stuffed animals. He followed her indulgently, crawling up next to her playfully and going in to tickle her sides until she was giggling madly again and begging him for mercy.

"What did you say?" he asked, pausing and listening to her, his ear pressed to her chest.

She squealed and tried to squirm away, burrowing into her pillows.

"Stop the tickles!" she demanded.

"I can't hear you," he drawled, giving her a gentle poke in the side. She squealed again and lifted her head, pushing his hand away with a smile and wrinkling up her nose cutely in assertive resolve. She knew this game. She and Mama used to play it.

He made like he was going to attack her with his fearsome fingers again and she scrambled up onto her knees and glared at him with all the ferocity she could muster.

"Daddy I love you so stop the tickles," she demanded, putting a hand on her hip.

He reached up and ruffled her hair, obediently ceasing his tickling and pulling her into a tight, calm hug. She beamed, and when he let her go, she scooted back towards her pillows, looking around her happily.

"You excited to sleep in your new room, Emmy?" Gibbs asked.

She nodded, picking up her old, well-loved rabbit and hugging it tightly.

He pointed towards the stack of new books by her rocking horse.

"Go pick out a book, and I'll turn down the covers for you," he said.

She nodded and got up, carrying the rabbit with her to inspect the new books Abby and Kate had bought for her. Gibbs adjusted her pillows and pulled back her quilt and sheets, making a nice little space for her to snuggle up with pillows and stuffed animals and sleep comfortably. She finally selected a brightly coloured book and climbed back into the bed, carefully to avoid the small raised guards he'd installed in the sides to keep her from tumbling out.

He patted the pillows for her and she laid down, placing the book in his lap and hugging the rabbit to her. She looked up at him patiently, and yawned. He picked up the story book and squinted, reading the title to himself.

If You Give a Moose a Muffin.

"Hmmm," Gibbs muttered seriously. "I wonder what happens," he said, raising an eyebrow at Madeleine. She covered her mouth and raised her eyebrows, shrugging excitedly. Her eyes sparkled, and he decided that now was as good a time as any to broach a few sensitive subjects with her. "Hey, princess," he said, poking her legs a little. "Scooch over."

"Can I sit in your lap?" She asked, sitting up more and making room.

He nodded and pulled her into his lap, pulling her head back against his chest and looking down at her.

"Starting to feel more like home?" he asked gruffly.

She smiled uncertainly.

"I like my room," she answered shyly.

"Good," he said, crinkling his nose at her. He tilted his head a little. "Emmy, did you like going to school in Israel?" he asked.

She nodded.

"You think you might like going to school here?"

She frowned.

"Strangers," she whispered.

He nodded sympathetically.

"I know, honey," he said. "But Abby was a stranger until you got to know her," he reminded Madeleine. "And Kate, and Noemi, and McGee—"

"Timmy!" interrupted Madeleine happily.

"Timmy," repeated Gibbs, with a bit of a grimace. It felt odd calling his probationary agent by such a childish, familiar moniker. Gibbs nodded again and ploughed on. "I can't always take you to work with me, just like Mom couldn't take you with her," he explained.

She looked down at her book and sighed, leaning closer to him hesitantly.

"I like be with you," she said uncertainly.

"Yeah?" he asked, smirking down at her. "I like you there, too," he assured her. "But it can be scary at work, and you'll have more fun playing with other little girls your age."

"And boys," Madeleine reminded him.

"Nope, just girls," Gibbs said, glaring at her playfully. She laughed and buried her face in her rabbit. After a moment, she lifted her head and looked up at him, frowning a little.

"How much at school?" she asked warily.

"A few days, like in Israel," he replied. "You get to spend three days at school, and one day with Noemi, and I'll let you come with me to work one day a week," he said. He smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Then we get all weekend together."

Madeleine looked at him uncertainly for a long time, her eyes green and thoughtful. She yawned again, and then looked back at the book in his lap and tapped it matter-of-factly.

"Okay," she said shortly.

"Okay?" he asked, surprised.

She nodded, mumbled something to herself in Hebrew, and then yawned again, letting him open the book and laying her head on his heart.

"I come with you on Monday," she said, a weird Hebrew inflection on her words. "Maddah-lynn Monday."

Gibbs laughed, turning to the first worded page of the book. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and laid his cheek there for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her so he could hold the book out for both of them to see and, narrowing his eyes, began to read.

---

Jenny leaned over the pages of intelligence she'd been presented with just moments ago and narrowed her eyes, swearing silently at the strain she had to put on her eyes to read. Before her pregnancy, she'd had flawless vision—after Madeleine, things had started to go downhill, and yet she was too proud and too stubborn to admit that she probably needed glasses.

She pursed her lips, perplexed by the scratchy, unclear, photocopied Arabic writing.

"Is this all we have?" she asked abruptly.

"Agent Holland was able to get anything else," Fitzgerald informed her gravely. "He had to get out of there before he was compromised."

She nodded curtly, impressed with what they'd gotten all the same. She straightened up and looked at Agent Fitzgerald, known as 'Fitz' around Cairo, and smiled a little.

"I heard Holland had a run-in with Mossad," she remarked.

Fitz groaned.

"He tried to stay out of their way, but your instructions failed him," Fitz told her. "They ended up executing a different method than you said they would."

"Hmm," murmured Jenny. She thought for a moment, remembering how impossibly insightful and knowledgeable Mossad's intelligence had always been. Perhaps they had known she would inform her team, and had switched at the last moment? Jenny shook her head and laughed sarcastically, shrugging. "That's Mossad for you, Fitzgerald," she said coolly.

Jenny folded up the intelligence and handed it back to him.

"Get it to a translator," she ordered. "I'll get some of my contacts on the line, and we'll see if we can figure out what the buzz is about London, maybe prevent something big," she continued, nodding as Fitzgerald obediently took the pages of script from her. Then, before Fitzgerald could leave, she stopped him with a casual question: "How's your son?"

He looked surprised.

"He's good," Fitzgerald answered carefully. "Just made the baseball team, and he's a freshman," Fitzgerald bragged proudly.

Jenny gave him a ghost of a smile.

"Glad to hear it," she said. "I'll speak with the Director, and there will be a briefing at some point later this week."

He gave her a silly sort of salute and left the control room; Jenny left through another door, giving a greener, diligently working agent a nod and making her way to her office. Once there, she collapsed into her chair, exhausted, and leaned back, pressing her palm to her forehead.

Counterterrorism was harder than anything she'd ever done before, and she'd been a Mossad liaison. The difference was, she was in charge here—at least to a certain extent, but her job wasn't an office job per se. She was a fully active, weapon-carrying team leader as well as an administrative director in certain senses; she was required to be in the field as well as communicating and strategizing with other agencies that NCIS might come across in operations.

It was stressful, at the very least, and a daunting, terrible responsibility in others. There were many whose very lives she was accountable for. She hadn't been in the job very long, and she was beginning to wonder if she really did want that Director's Chair she'd originally left Gibbs for so long ago.

Her violent obsession with La Grenouille had cooled, but her ambition for a career was still there—she was utterly unsure if she'd have been happy if she'd chosen to take a safe position in the states, or if Gibbs pushing her to take this promotion was a blessing, a balm for their relationship that ensured there'd be no resentment in the future.

Jenny sat forward and opened her desk drawer, taking a framed photo of Madeleine out and holding it up in front of her. She smiled sadly and touched the glass, her fingers gently running over the curve of Madeleine's smiling lips, and her chubby cheeks, and her thin, auburn hair. She was still having trouble calling. She was better at running away from pain; she had always been better at running.

She checked her watch, and with nothing to do for the next four hours, she reached into her pocket and picked up her cell phone, placing the photo of her daughter in her lap. She punched in Jethro's number and waited. It would be nearing bedtime in the states, and it was as good a time as any to call.

The dial tone stopped and she caught her breath.

"Ima?" Madeleine's curious voice burst through the speakers. "Ima? Mama? Daddy tells me it's you!" she cried, before Jenny could get in a word in edgewise.

An ear-splitting grin spread across the redhead's lips, and she bit her cheek a little in a weak attempt to control it.

"It's me, ahuva," she said brightly, a warm rush of relief and good feeling igniting in her veins. "Madeleine, I miss you! I really miss you, how are you?"

Jenny sat back, settling in, and bit her lip, ready to listen to Madeleine chatter away.

---

"I want to sit up there with you, Aba," Madeleine said.

Gibbs glanced in his rear view mirror and smiled to himself. She was sitting in her car seat, her arms folded pertly across her chest, glaring out the window. He shook his head, turning his eye back to the road diligently and making a turn.

"It's not safe for little girls up here, Emmy," he answered placidly.

"Big girl," she reminded him sassily.

"Okay," he answered, amending his statement. "It's not safe for big girls, either."

He smirked smugly.

"Come sit by me."

"Daddy has to drive the car."

She made a thoughtful noise and then sighed, and reached over to the window, tapping her fingers against it.

"Aba, we make Pony drive the car," she decided firmly.

Gibbs laughed, nodding in agreement with her statement. He parked the car, killed the engine, and got out, walking around to the back to help Madeleine out of her car seat. She had unbuckled the belt and straps and patiently waited for him to pick her up. She held out her arms to him and he grinned at her and swung her onto his hip, shutting the door tightly and taking the familiar, usually dreadful walk up to the gates of Arlington cemetery.

He stopped right outside of the entrance and crouched, setting Madeleine on her feet. She squealed in protest and kept her arms around his neck.

"Carry me," she said.

"Emmy, it's hot," he said practically. "You're a big girl, you can walk."

"Aba!" she whined, stomping a foot. "I do not know this place. Carry me," she insisted.

He tilted his head and reached up, gently prying her hands off of his neck. He held them in his and squeezed, standing up. She planted her feet and made as if she were going to refuse to walk. He let go of her hand and glanced down, raising an eyebrow.

"Madeleine, I'll leave you right here," he said calmly. "Come on, hold my hand," he said, presenting it to her again. She glared at it, as if calling his bluff. He squared his shoulders and turned, taking a few steps away. It worked beautifully; she darted forward and the next thing he knew she was holding tight to his fingers.

She frowned.

He grinned at her.

"That is tricky," she informed him cutely, narrowing her eyes. She walked close to his leg, looking all around them. Curiously, her eyes widened as she took in the repetitive, well-kept landscape. Her fingers wriggled in his and she hummed quietly, occasionally murmuring the Hebrew words to a children's song.

Gibbs made sure he kept a firm hold on her hand, but his mind drifted a little as he led her towards the place where Shannon and Kelly were buried. He had told her that he where he was taking her today, but he didn't think she'd understood. He didn't really expect her to. He hadn't told Jenny he was doing this; he wasn't sure he was prepared for it himself. It was something he needed to do.

Madeleine had been in his sole custody for three weeks or so, and he had been stoically ignoring how unbelievably difficult it was to take care of her. He had no qualms about his ability; he was just coming to the realization that being a father was infinitely more difficult than he remembered.

He realized that the first time around, Shannon has been the primary caregiver. Shannon had been the involved, ever-present, stable figure in Kelly's life, and he had been the typical breadwinner with the added strain of being deployed for many important parts in Kelly's short childhood.

He was tired. He found it easy to get frustrated with Madeleine for things that weren't her fault. He kept feeling the irritating need to call Jenny and ask questions or get advice, and that made him feel incompetent. He worried he was being too hard on her, and then he worried he was being too soft on her.

The worst thing that happened, though, was when she did something particularly obnoxious or cute—either of the two—that reminded him of Kelly. It struck him heavily in the stomach and made him lose his breath for a moment.

And last night, last night has confirmed his shaky feeling that he needed to introduce Madeleine to the idea of Shannon and Kelly, because last night Madeleine had come into his room, unable to sleep and missing Jenny, and she'd woken him up—startled him—and he had looked at her, taken aback and groggy, and called her Kelly.

He knew he had to clear his head. He had to find some way to face his demons that was healthy, because with Madeleine in the house, he wasn't at liberty to drink himself into a numb stupor.

"Hey, Maddie," he said, turning and tugging her in his direction. "This way, honey," he coaxed.

She skipped along next to him, her singing ceasing.

"Where are we going?" she asked brightly.

He didn't answer for a minute, and then he pointed a little ahead of them.

"Right there, under those trees," he said.

"Wait!" Madeleine cried, yanking her hand out of his suddenly. She crouched by the path and pointed, looking up at him and squinting in the sun. "May I pick the flower?" she asked hopefully, pointing to a lone dandelion growing amongst the grass.

Gibbs nodded, and Madeleine carefully plucked the flower from its bed, gently enough so she wouldn't harm any of the bright yellow petals. She straightened up, beamed, and tucked the flower behind her ear. He brushed her hair off her forehead and smiled.

"Not much further," he coaxed, taking her hand again.

"Oh, good," she said, breathing out. "It is hot," she informed him calmly, walking out beside him and stretching his arm a little. He led her just off the path and over to one of the shady, full-grown trees that peppered Arlington, stopping right at his late family's immaculate white headstones and standing in front of the fallen log that had been there since they'd been interred.

He let go of Madeleine's hand and sat down on the log heavily, pulling her close to his knees and smiling softly. He looked at her green eyes, her slightly tangled auburn hair, and the flower she'd just tucked into her hair. There were days she looked just like Jenny, and then there were days she looked so much like Kelly that it frightened him.

Thankfully, today, she looked like Jenny.

She raised her eyebrows at him and reached out and touched his nose, crinkling hers and puckering her lips up.

"Hi, Daddy," she whispered playfully.

"Hi," he said back, shaking his head a little. Her finger fell and he kissed it, turning her a little and pointing to the gravestones. She looked at them tilting her head a little.

"Madeleine," he said quietly. "I want you to know about Shannon and Kelly."

Madeleine snapped her head back to him with interest, her eyes searching his. She furrowed her brow. She waited patiently for him to continue, sensing that there was more to be said. Gibbs swallowed and then smiled at her half-heartedly.

"Kelly is my other little girl," he said hoarsely. "She's your sister."

Madeleine smiled. She looked back at the stones, and wriggled away from him a little, stepping forward. She turned back to him, somewhat confused.

"Where?" she asked.

Gibbs leaned forward on his knees, his brow furrowing.

"Kelly isn't here anymore, Madeleine," he said tensely. "She was taken away from me a long time ago."

Madeleine looked at him uncertainly.

"Daddy, go get other little girl back," she said earnestly.

"I can't," he said, forcing the words out of his constricted throat. "I want to—"

"But why not?" Madeleine demanded, eyes widening.

"I can't have Kelly back, Emmy. She had an accident and she didn't get better," he said, struggling to be able to explain it. He leaned forward, connecting it suddenly. "She had an accident like Tali did. You and Kelly are like Tali and Ziva."

Madeleine stared at him, a glint of understanding sparking in her green eyes.

She went towards the stones and crouched, running her fingers over the neat lettering. She touched Shannon's, tilting her head.

"Sandy?" she asked. "Sandy is another girl?"

"Shannon," Gibbs corrected patiently. "Shannon is Kelly's mommy," he told her. "She didn't get better, either," he paused. "She was my wife."

Madeleine turned, still crouched like a curious little monkey, and her mouth opened while she searched for a question.

"What is wife?" she asked.

He lifted his eyebrows; momentarily distracted from the emotional strain this was dragging him through. It had never occurred to him that Madeleine might have no concept of wives or husbands or marriage—but now that she asked, he realized she had never been in a setting in which it had come up. He and Jenny weren't married, and none of her immediate circle at Mossad had been.

"Wife," he said gruffly, searching for something appropriate to say. He shrugged, deciding to put it in terms she could understand right now, and then discuss it a little later, when she was older. "She was a woman I loved, so we promised to stay in love forever," he said, cringing a little.

"Oh," Madeleine said softly. She sat down, rubbing her hands in the dirt in front of her, a consternated look overtaking her small face. She bit her lip and stared at him again, her mind working intently to understand. "But she died," Madeleine said. "Tali died," she added forlornly.

Gibbs nodded, gritting his teeth for the sake of exerting some control over himself.

Madeleine squinted in the sun.

"Kelly is my sister?" she asked, pointing to herself. "Kelly is my Tali?"

"Yes," Gibbs answered.

Madeleine looked at Kelly's headstone. She sucked in her breath and got up, clumsily brushing dirt off of her. She darted forward and threw herself into Gibbs' knees, hugging him and resting her chin on him.

"It is sad, Aba," she said solemnly, her lip trembling.

"It is very sad," he agreed solemnly. He reached out and ruffled her hair, letting his hand rest on the crown of her head lightly. She reached up and played with the flower in her hair, and then stood, skipping away from him. She plucked it from her ear, placed it on the top of Kelly's stone, and then walked back to him, smirking proudly.

"I gave Kelly the flower," she said.

He smiled at her.

"She would like that," he answered her, helping her when she suddenly decided to climb onto his lap.

"Aba, you want a hug?" she asked.

He smirked and nodded, and she spread her arms wide and squeezed his shoulders, laughing when he buried his face playfully in her shoulder and nipped at her with his gums, growling teasingly.

"Aba," she said, leaning back thoughtfully. "Aba, is Mama your wife?" he asked.

"No," he answered honestly, shaking his head.

Madeleine looked uncertain.

"You love my Mama?" she asked hesitantly.

He tilted his head at her, stroking her cheek with his finger lightly. He smiled a little and nodded, shrugging his shoulders a bit in defeat. It wasn't what Jenny wanted, but it was a step. She was thousands of miles away and couldn't hear it, but here he was admitting it again.

"Yes. I do," he answered bluntly.

She smiled, relief flickering in her green eyes.

"Okay," she said sweetly. She slipped off of his knees. "I shall go talk to Kelly," she informed him, one hand on her hip.

Taken aback, he let her go. He watched her, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. He reached up and rubbed his jaw, eventually covering his mouth. He watched Madeleine scamper around looking for more flowery things in the grass, chattering in Hebrew without a care in the world, and then his eyes fell to Shannon's headstone and he flicked his eyes up, handling the tightening in his chest and throat surprisingly well.

He swallowed, pushed his palm up to his hair, and then glanced up, squinting in the sun—and he felt a little more at peace because somehow, he knew, that she was okay with this; Shannon would want him to be happy, and Madeleine and Jenny made him happy—and he understood that he had to stop feeling guilty about that.

---

Jenny could have thrown her cell phone against the wall as she furiously paced the floor of her Cairo apartment, her jaw set in tense frustration. She licked her lips and took a breath before regaining her calm and pausing in her erratic movements.

"Ziva, I am just asking this one, small—"

"You are no longer privy to that kind of information, Jenny, I cannot help you," Ziva interrupted, abrupt and cool. "There are bits of information I can provide you with; that is not one of them."

"I need to know, Ziva!" Jenny lashed out in violent Hebrew. "It could mean the life or death of my team, in this case!"

"Tough tangerines."

Jenny paused.

"The phrase is 'tough cookies'," she growled tightly. "Where the hell did you get tangerines?"

"I like tangerines."

"You can't just change American colloquialisms to fit your liking—and you can't leave me in the dark with Intel this important! My team is counting on me to come through with my contacts!"

"This is not as important as you think it is, Jenny," Ziva replied cryptically. "I can say no more on this matter. I will, however, talk with you about tangerines, if you wish."

Jenny could have screamed. She pulled the phone away, pressed her hand to her mouth, and then held the device back to her ear, taking a moment to calm herself again.

"You're going to need an informant one day, Officer David," she snapped at her former partner. "I won't be so inclined to help you out."

"You will," Ziva said sharply. "You are indebted to me," she reminded Jenny. "I divulged information to you on September eleventh."

The redhead swore to herself, but she calmed somewhat. She took a deep breath, fluttered her lashes, and licked her lips again.

"Shalom, Ziva," she said, ending the conversation. She knew Ziva would hang up without saying a goodbye, so she snapped her phone shut—and chucked it across the room at the wall. Her team was going to be irked that she hadn't been able to get any insider information, for all her high and mighty connections to Mossad.

She just needed to know where Haswari was—it was that simple! Mossad was being particularly cagey and unreasonable involving him, and it was beginning to set off alarm bells in her head—in that part of her head that Gibbs had rooted himself into.

Jenny sat down on her sofa and fumed half-heartedly in her dark, clean apartment. She hated how clean her damn apartment was. She was personally incapable of making messes, but Madeleine had been more than glad to do it for her. There should be little girl's shoes and toys and blankets scattered all over, but there was nothing but empty coffee cups.

Her cell phone rang, and after glaring balefully for a moment, she forced herself to get up and answer it.

"You change your mind?" she barked in Hebrew, assuming it was Ziva.

"Hell no, I'm keeping her forever," Gibbs answered, without missing a beat. He paused, waiting for her reaction, and then snorted lightly, while she relaxed and smiled tiredly, glad to hear his voice. "I think I'm past changing my mind, Jen."

She let out her breath and laughed.

"I take it she's forgotten all about me, then?" she asked.

"Not quite," Gibbs retorted. "But don't worry, I'll have erased you from her memory within the month."

Jenny rolled her eyes at him. She sat down on her couch, stretched out, and rolled onto her side, checking her watch for the time. She yawned, giving in to a bit of exhaustion.

"Madeleine better be in bed, Jethro," she warned.

"She is," he assured her. "Safe and sound, and she didn't ask me to stay tonight," he added smugly, clearly quite pleased with the accomplishment.

"She's content with the room you gave her?"

"Think so."

"I want to see pictures," Jenny requested longingly. "She sounded so excited on the phone, right after you finished it? And who was it who took her shopping?"

"Abby Sciuto and Kate Todd," Gibbs answered warily. "They spoiled her," he grumbled.

"She needs some people in her life to spoil her," Jenny murmured earnestly. "You know, Jethro, she doesn't have any family besides you and me."

Gibbs didn't answer her immediately, and she could almost hear him reluctantly deciding how to respond.

"She has a grandfather," he said finally, annoyance in his voice.

Jenny's brows went up in a little surprise, and she pursed her lips.

"Your dad?"

"Well, sure ain't yours, Jen," he reminded her sarcastically. "Yeah. He lives up in Pennsylvania."

Jenny bit her lip, siting up a little. She curled against the arm of the couch, pushing her hair behind her ears and rubbing her knees.

"Does he know about her?" she asked uncertainly.

Gibbs made a noise that she translated, with some amusement, as an audible cringe.

"Define know."

"Jethro," she snapped softly.

"No," Gibbs answered gruffly. He was silent a little longer, and then seemed to relent. "I'm takin' her up to meet him in a few weeks," he admitted. "Figured I'd wait until Israel's a somewhat distant memory and she gets comfortable here. It's only fair to tell him."

"Fair is an understatement," Jenny murmured, cocking an eyebrow. Still, she bit her lip, touched that he'd volunteered such personal information, and heartened by the fact that he was willing to connect Madeleine to a part of his life he'd kept hidden from her. It was the kind of moving on she was looking for from him, in order to feel wholly secure in their relationship.

She yawned again.

"You miss me, Jethro?" she asked, smiling a little. "Is that why you're calling while Madeleine's asleep?"

"I miss you," he allowed flippantly, agreeing with her. "Not why I called. Don't mind hearin' your voice, though," he added, almost as an afterthought.

She pursed her lips, flattered.

"Why are you calling so late?" she coaxed gently.

"Took Madeleine to Arlington today," he said abruptly, in a steeled tone.

"What's in Arlington?" Jenny asked through a yawn. She sucked in her breath and winced, trying to hurry the yawn along enough to backtrack and fix her error—she knew what was in Arlington—but he was already gruffly answering:

"Shannon and Kelly."

"Oh, Jethro," she sighed, biting her lip.

She suddenly wished she could just curl up next to him—even if he didn't want to talk, or even look at her. She wished she could just be there.

"Did she understand?" Jenny asked softly.

"Yeah," Gibbs answered slowly. "Yeah, in her own way. Told her Kelly was her sister, like Tali is Ziva's."

"That's a good way to put it into a perspective she can comprehend," Jenny murmured. "You didn't have to do this, Jethro."

"Yes, I did," he said coolly, and fell silent. "It's a start," he said after a minute, his words laced with the pain she sometimes saw in his eyes. "Jen, Madeleine means the world to me," he said suddenly; earnestly.

She bit her lip and her eyes stung.

"I know," she said intensely—because she did know, she knew exactly how he felt. Madeleine meant the world to her, too.

The silence that fell after their charged exchange was tangible, and she didn't feel it was her place to say anything.

"Madeleine asked if we were married," he said bluntly, breaking the fragile moment.

Jenny laughed, tilting her head back, a genuine smile spreading across her lips.

"Jethro!" she admonished, her words punctured with laughter. "What sort of technique is that?"

"Technique?" he scoffed innocently.

"I told you I wouldn't marry you, so you employ subtle manipulation in the form of our three-year-old ball of adorable?"

"Jen, she seriously asked me that."

"This is emotional terrorism!"

Gibbs snorted, pleased with her laughter.

"Fine, Jenny, laugh," he said in mock rudeness. "Next time she asks, you get to explain your hang-ups."

"Yeah, Jethro, right after you tell her why Daddy's already had three wives," she bit back cleverly.

The next thing she knew, he was laughing in her ear, apparently infinitely entertained by her jibe.

He sucked it up, though, and lowered his voice seriously.

"Jen," he said gravely, though she was positive he had his signature smirk on her face. "Madeleine doesn't have a chance in hell."

Jenny grinned, biting her index finger lightly and crinkling her nose.

"Don't be such a pessimist, Agent Gibbs, we'll put the fun in dysfunctional," she drawled, rolling her own eyes at the cheesiness of the joke—but lame quip or not, his phone call was a bright spot in her stressful day, and she meant to milk it for what it was worth.

---

Kate glared across the bullpen at her colleague, tapping a pen in irritation against her lips as she sorted through piles and piles of information on their latest body. She narrowed her eyes finally, shooting an annoyed look at Gibbs' empty desk, and then leaned forward.

"You two can't just ignore your work," she hissed petulantly. "I'm not doing all of this by myself!"

"Yes, you are," DiNozzo pointed out blithely, craning his neck and peering at her from behind his desk. Kate had, in fact, been doing all of the work for about thirty minutes now—since she had Gibbs had come back from interviewing a family member, and Gibbs had disappeared down to autopsy.

"Kate, it isn't our fault Madeleine likes us better," McGee piped up, his head barely visible from behind DiNozzo's desk.

She grit her teeth and pursed her lips, still glaring daggers at DiNozzo's desk. When she and Gibbs had come back, Madeleine had been sitting by McGee's desk with a colouring book, and DiNozzo and McGee had been working. Gibbs' return had riled her up, though, and when he'd disappeared again she decided she needed attention to assuage the loss, and was demanding it of both of the men.

Kate tried to pretend she was simply miffed because she was doing all of the work, but secretly she was a little bit jealous that Madeleine wanted to play with them and seemed to show no interest in her.

Kate got up and prowled over, looking over DiNozzo's desk into the little nook behind it. She tried to maintain a fearsome look, but it was a hard thing to do when McGee was sitting there with a stuffed bunny in his lap dutifully helping Madeleine colour some ponies, and DiNozzo was gallantly handing crayons to the child with a butterfly clip in his hair—which Madeleine had transferred from her hair to his.

Madeleine looked up and beamed her pretty smile.

"Shalom, Kate," she said brightly.

"Emmy," DiNozzo said seriously, "Tell Kate to get back to work, or your Dad will be mad at her."

Madeleine looked at him with wide eyes, holding her crayon tightly. She got up on her knees and pointed back to Kate's desk.

"Back to work, Kate!" she said earnestly.

"Does Gibbs ever get mad at you?" McGee asked Madeleine conversationally, colouring in a pony's mane. He held out his palm and Madeleine traded his green crayon in for a purple one, demanding silently that he continue colouring.

"No, no, no," Madeleine answered happily, shaking her head back and forth. "Aba never mad at Maddie," she paused and giggled, amused by the word's similarity to her own name. She lowered her voice and peaked at Tony secretively.

"Teach me your ways, young one," DiNozzo said seriously.

Kate rolled her eyes and paced back to her desk, standing behind it with her palms flat on the surface. Madeleine giggled amiably and Kate was just starting to sit back down with the elevator pinged! and Gibbs came storming around the corner. Kate scrambled back into a sitting position and opened her mouth to rat out the boys.

Gibbs didn't need her to tattletale, though; he was already slowing to a stop right at DiNozzo's desk, the autopsy file in one of his hands. He peered over the desk, arched an eyebrow, and took in the scene. DiNozzo squeaked and elbowed McGee, not as confident that they were allowed to forgo work and play with the kid now that the boss was staring at them with his steely no-nonsense glare.

Madeleine looked up and then scrambled up.

"Daddy, you're back!" she announced brightly. She stepped onto DiNozzo's knees and roughly used his head and shoulders to climb onto his desk and irreverently launch herself at Gibbs over the keyboard, stapler, and other office supplies.

"Hey, hey, hey," Gibbs admonished gruffly, throwing the file on DiNozzo's desk so he could have both free hands to grab up his daughter before she fell. "Be careful, don't just step all over DiNozzo's desk."

"Pony not care, he likes me!" Madeleine insisted, blowing air out of her lips to get hair out of her face.

"Pony has work to do," Gibbs growled, giving DiNozzo a pointed look. McGee and Tony stood up as well, looking uncertain. McGee still had a crayon behind his ear. Tony did not look pleased that Gibbs had chosen to adopt Madeleine's nickname for him.

Gibbs glared at them for a moment longer, and then reached over and snapped Madeleine's clip out of DiNozzo's hair and handed it back to his daughter.

"No," Madeleine whined, pushing it back towards DiNozzo. "I made Pony pretty."

DiNozzo winced.

Gibbs smirked at him and carried Madeleine over to his desk, opening a drawer and replacing his weapon and badge in it. He shut it and straightened up, giving Madeleine a pointed look.

"You tried," he said. "He can't be helped," he added wryly. Kate snorted; McGee grinned. Gibbs pointed at the two men and gave them a look. "You two, help Kate," he ordered, walking back towards the elevator.

"Abby wants to see you, missy," he said to Madeleine, as he slowed and pressed the button to call for the elevator.

"Daddy, that's not my name," Madeleine informed him seriously.

Gibbs just grinned, and stepped onto the elevator with her.

---

Abby snatched Madeleine from Gibbs before he was even through the door and pranced into her office with the little girl, where she promptly began to hand Madeleine a mini caf-pow!—which Gibbs intercepted immediately.

"I don't think so," he admonished seriously, holding the dangerously caffeinated concoction away from his three-year-old.

"Gibbs, relax!" Abby said brightly, snatching the drink back. "What kind of Abby do you think I am? It's only a slushy," she said proudly. "A caffeine free slushy."

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow skeptically, but allowed the Goth to hand Madeleine her little treat with a watchful eye.

"I'm just waiting for your tests to finish up, Gibbs," Abby said dutifully, sitting down in her desk chair and holding Madeleine on her lap. She moved her feet excitedly and swayed back and forth in the chair, grinning mischievously.

"How long?"

"About three hours," Abby answered apologetically. She looked down at Madeleine and raised her eyebrows happily. "I have a surprise for you while we wait for your Dad's forensics!"

The lab rat looked up at Gibbs with wide, business-like green eyes and waved her hand at him.

"Your presence isn't needed anymore, el jefe," she said matter-of-factly. "Shoo."

"What are you going to do with her?" Gibbs asked suspiciously.

"Nothing that would interest you," Abby retorted, getting up and pushing Gibbs out the door with the hand that wasn't holding Madeleine. He looked reluctant, but her trusted Abby—and he needed to get some work done. Even when she was being good or napping, it was difficult to get work done when Madeleine was at work with him. "Don't worry, Gibbs, no harm will come to her. Just knowledge."

Gibbs looked at Abby intently and then leaned forward and kissed the top of Madeleine's head.

"You be good," he said sternly, touching her gently under the chin and arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," she said sweetly, blowing him a kiss. He waved at her, nodded at Abby, and retreated back to the bullpen.

Abby squealed and darted back into her lab with Madeleine, letting the little girl down to stand on her own. Abby pulled out a cardboard box of supplies and sat down on the floor, cross-legged, with Madeleine, spreading out a few old newspapers on the floor.

"Sit down with me, little Gibbs!" Abby said encouragingly, patting the floor next to her.

Madeleine did so, her eyes big and curious. She touched the newspaper, made it crinkle, and then looked up at the bouncy forensic scientist seriously.

"Abby, you know I go to school tomorrow," she said soberly.

"I know," Abby sighed. She ruffled Madeleine's hair. "That's why I'm making the most of your last day here," she added.

"Maddie Mondays!" Madeleine reminded her.

"That is right, sweetie, you still get to visit once a week! You'll have to tell me all about your new fancy day school. I bet your Dad scouted out the best one for you," Abby went on brightly, taking some more supplies out of the box. "What's your favorite colour?"

"Green," Madeleine responded.

"Cool, keep it interesting," Abby said. "Yesterday it was blue!"

Madeleine picked up a plastic spoon from the newspaper-covered floor and looked up at Abby, holding it against her nose and giggling. She tilted her head and puckered her lips, pulling the spoon away for a moment.

"What are we playing, Abby?" she asked politely.

"Madeleine, we're going to play with science!" Abby answered brightly. "I'm going to teach a little about matter so you'll be smarter than all the other kids. We're going to make goo!"

---

Gibbs had been confident Madeleine was ready to start at the day care center Diane and Fornell had recommended, but after the morning they had, he wasn't so sure anymore. It wasn't that it had been a bad morning, but Madeleine had been very quiet, and when she did speak, it was mostly in Hebrew—something she had stopped doing since she got more comfortable. He'd spend the whole morning coaxing her to eat, coaxing her to get dressed, coaxing her to speak English, etc. He was going to be late for work at this point, but he didn't care.

He parked his car in a garage right across from the day care. He'd been up to Fairfax over the weekend to register Madeleine and let her get a feel for the place, but there hadn't been many children around then. Jenny had pulled some strings to get Madeleine a place at the day care, as it was a sought-after childcare option for parents in the area. There was a promising playground right at the entrance.

Gibbs pointed it out as he shut Madeleine's door and took her hand. She looked at it listlessly and then turned to him, hugging his knee.

He frowned and picked her up, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he carried her towards the building. He was wary of traffic crossing the road, and went right in to find the teacher for Madeleine's assigned group—penguins. There were quite a few other parents around dropping off their kids, though most of them were clearly used to the place already.

Gibbs stepped off to the side with Madeleine.

"Hey," he said gently. "You okay, honey?" he asked.

"It's loud here," Madeleine said, laying her head on his shoulder. "No Pony, No Ziva, No Mama," she sighed unhappily.

Gibbs took it to mean she was tired of people taking her away from everyone she was used to.

He smiled sympathetically and stroked her hair back.

"It's just like when you started at the Montessori school in Israel," he soothed comfortingly. "It will get better, and you'll make friends."

"I miss Mimi," she informed him, burying her face in his shoulder.

He sighed and gently pried her off of him, couching down and setting her on the floor. She made an annoyed noise of protest, and he was about to soothe her when someone called his name.

Surprised, he looked up, his brow furrowed darkly—he had met with some of the staff, but someone calling him…had he heard right?

"Mr. Jethro!"

It turned out he had, because he heard it again.

Gibbs looked up in cautious confusion, distracted, and Madeleine walked straight between his knees into his chest and buried her face in his shoulder moodily. Absently, he patted her shoulder, squinting at the young woman who slowed to a stop just in front of him.

She wore khaki shorts and a crisp, emerald green George Mason Child Development Center collared shirt; her long, curly blonde hair was tucked behind her ears and she looked at him with earnest but hesitant blue eyes, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.

"Hi," she breathed, waving a little.

He straightened a little, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. He thought he recognized her; the memory was just escaping him, though, he was still so caught up in Madeleine's sudden reticence. He didn't say anything back for a moment, and then he nodded curtly and said:

"Hi."

It must have been clear from his tone that he was wary of her, because she tucked her hair behind her ears nervously—even though the motion wasn't necessary—and cleared her throat, clasping her hands again.

"Um, maybe you don't remember me," she began hesitantly. "I'm Maddie Tyler," she introduced, fidgeting with her hands again. He remembered her instantly, almost before she said it, and he didn't need the reminder but she gave it to him anyway: "I was Kelly's best friend."

He nodded his head, setting his jaw squarely, and just taking a moment to look at her. It was a surreal experience to be slapped with the reminder that Kelly should be as old as this girl in front of him was—nineteen, finishing up a freshman year of college, healthy, alive, happy. He cleared his throat, and Maddie's smile faded a little.

"At least, I like to think I was her best friend," she said quietly. "I think she thought of me that way," she added uncertainly.

Gibbs cleared his throat again.

"I remember you," he assured her, and her smile reappeared twice as bright. "You lived on base."

She nodded, beaming.

"My father was an officer," she added.

Gibbs nodded.

"Good man," he complimented, remembering Maddie's father well.

Gibbs stood up, and Madeleine transferred her hug to his knee again, burying her face there. Gibbs kept his hand on her head, but focused instead on blonde, grown-up Maddie, hoping that his attention to her would make his daughter jealous and draw her out of her shell.

"He died a few years ago," Maddie Tyler said nostalgically, smiling sadly. "He didn't get to see me graduate," she added, shrugging a little. Maddie Tyler tucked her hair behind her ears again, biting her lip in the silence that fell.

"You go to school here?" Gibbs asked gruffly.

She shook her head.

"No, I'm a student at Georgetown," she told him. "I work here in the summers."

He nodded, and gave her a small smile.

"Good to see you again, Maddie," he said sincerely.

She smiled, her eyes lighting up.

"It's kind of weird, that I'd see you here," she admitted. She tilted her head and looked down at Madeleine. She bit her lip again, obviously unsure about her next question. She looked at him uncertainly and wrinkled her nose a little. "I am trying really hard not to be offensive or insensitive," she admitted. "Is she your daughter?"

Gibbs nodded, and Maddie looked relieved.

"She's shy," Gibbs informed the blonde, stating the obvious.

He looked down, and found Madeleine was looking at Maddie Tyler with curiosity, though still holding close to Gibbs' leg. He pushed her hair out of her face and tilted his head, pointing at Maddie in a friendly way.

Maddie Tyler bent forward a little and smiled, waving at Madeleine.

"Hi there," she said. "I'm Maddie, I'll be one of your teachers today," she introduced gently.

Maddie Tyler held out her hand, and Madeleine looked at it, shooting a confused glance at Gibbs. He nodded at her encouragingly.

"Tell her your name," he said.

He made the sign for safe—though he hadn't used it in a while—and pointed toward Maddie Tyler again, and Madeleine released her grip on his leg a little, taking a deep breath. She pressed a hand to her chest.

"I am Maddah-lynn," she said.

Maddie Tyler raised her eyebrows.

"What a cool name, it's almost like mine!" Maddie said brightly. "Do people call you Maddie?"

Madeleine shook her head. She touched Gibbs' hand.

"Only Daddy," she insisted. "No nicknames," she informed Maddie, sounding just like Jenny when she said it. Jenny loathed the idea of nicknames, and really only tolerated Jethro's calling Madeleine by anything other than her full, given name. Jenny was going to be decidedly annoyed if and when she found out that his team was already calling her by her nicknames.

Maddie nodded, pursing her lips seriously.

"Okay, Madeleine it is," she said. "It might get confusing if we were both Maddie," she added, wriggling her fingers as she presented her palm again. Madeleine put her hand into it hesitantly, still holding onto Gibbs' pants leg.

Maddie looked up at Gibbs.

"You have to make it quick," she advised him quietly. "Like ripping off a Band-Aid."

"She won't be too clingy when she gets used to being here," Gibbs said gruffly, crouching down to his daughter's level again. "Emmy, Daddy has to go to work now. Maddie is a trustworthy person, so you just stay close to her until you feel safe, okay?" Madeleine nodded slowly, and Gibbs placed a kiss on her forehead, smirking a little. "Maddie was friends with your sister, you remember I told you about Kelly?"

Madeleine nodded again, looking a bit more comfortable.

Gibbs straightened up and lifted Madeleine's hand off of his pants, handing her off quickly to Maddie Tyler. The blonde put her arm around Madeleine's shoulders and hugged her a little, showing her warmth and support, while Gibbs handed over the knapsack he'd been instructed to pack and bring.

He lowered his voice.

"My card is in the front pocket," he informed Maddie. "You call me if you feel like I need to come get her," he paused and glance at his daughter, looking back at Maddie intently for a quiet moment. "She speaks in Hebrew sometimes; just remind her to speak English. She's been uprooted from her home recently, so she's shy and skittish sometimes," he let Maddie in on a little of Madeleine's background. "She loves The Velveteen Rabbit," he nodded at the knapsack. "Her stuffed rabbit is in that bag."

Maddie smiled, and nodded earnestly.

"I'll keep an eye on her especially," she assured him. She bit her lip, and took a deep breath, shaking her head a little. "You know when I found out, I couldn't stop crying," she said softly. "I thought I'd never be happy again. Then I figured Kelly wouldn't like that. But I still think about her a lot," she admitted, pausing. "I wonder what she'd be like."

Gibbs put his hands in his pockets and smiled. He remained silent for a moment, looking at Maddie Tyler, all grown up, and thinking about what she'd said—and noticing, after a moment, that her talking about Kelly hadn't resulted in the usual debilitating stab of pain and sadness that mentions of his late daughter usually did; instead there was a different feeling. A little pain, but a little more nostalgia, and good memories.

He shrugged.

"Like you," eh said, meaning it as a compliment.

Maddie smiled, biting her lip gratefully. The blonde looked down at Madeleine and grinned, glancing back at Gibbs with a small, friendly smile.

"I'm glad you stopped crying, Mr. Jethro," she said sincerely, squeezing Madeleine's hand. She laughed. "You know Kelly always wanted a brother," she said, amused.

Gibbs snorted.

He looked at his daughter, admiring her mother's green eyes in her, and smiled, waving goodbye to her with a wiggle of the fingers, and then a salute.

"You can't always get what you want," he said wryly, and Maddie laughed, crouching down to Madeleine's level to wave and watch Gibbs walk away.

He made it easy on everyone and didn't look back, but he had a smile on his face as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and walked back to his car. Before he entered the garage, something intangible prompted him to look up at the blue summer sky, and he squinted in the sun and wondered for a brief, irrational second if Kelly was looking back, because he thought it might be fate that his and Jenny's Madeleine had ended up meeting her namesake—because just maybe, that was Kelly's seal of approval.

---

"Hey," Gibbs said quietly, keeping his voice low.

"Hey," Jenny answered. "You sound funny," she remarked.

"Emmy's asleep," Gibbs answered, glancing at the child in his rear view mirror. "I get her in a car for longer than ten minutes, Jen, and she's out like a light," he added, amused.

"That would have been good to know when she was a baby," Jenny answered. "Pretty early on a Friday for you," she mused.

He nodded, eyes on the road again.

"Yeah, I'm on my way to Stillwater."

"Huh?" she asked, confused. "Where?"

"Pennsylvania," he amended with a wince. He'd forgotten Jenny knew nothing about where he'd come from. "Takin' her to see my dad for the weekend."

"I'm sure Morrow's thrilled to give you more vacation time," she snorted.

"He knows it's the last he'll have to give unless there's an emergency," Gibbs said seriously. "Cell service is bad up in Stillwater. Figured I'd let you know I might be hard to reach, just in cast."

"Where on earth is cell service not available in the US?" Jenny scoffed. He could almost hear her narrow her eyes skeptically.

"Small towns," he answered gruffly.

"How small?"

"Everyone knows everyone's business small," Gibbs retorted. "Cornfields and oil rigs, like Smallville."

"Smallville?"

"Come on, Jen, Superman's hometown," Gibbs whined, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I see," Jenny said, laughing in his ear. "You know, you reading too many comic books as a kid is probably what left you thinking you're invincible," she sniped at him mildly.

"I am invincible," Gibbs drawled.

She scoffed wryly.

"I know your kryptonite, Jethro," she said cryptically. It felt as if she were smirking softly in his ear. He glanced at their daughter in the rear view mirror again. "How is Madeleine settling in at day care?" Jenny asked.

"Good," Gibbs answered, able to give good news. "It was a rough first week, but she's more into the swing of things now. She likes it. Smarter then all the other punks," he added.

"Yes, Jethro, I'm sure the other parents think that of their punks," Jenny patronized with a snicker.

Gibbs grumbled to himself, glaring ahead as if he were glaring at her. Jenny was so practical sometimes.

"I'm glad she's happy," Jenny murmured earnestly. "It's one less thing for me to worry about," she muttered.

"You okay, Jen?"

She sighed heavily. She didn't answer right away, and for a moment, he wasn't sure she was going to.

"I'm fine," she decided finally. "I have a lot on my plate. Stress, difficult decisions, the works," she hesitated. "I am being jerked around by Mossad, and something tells me it's because they've lost control of Haswari again."

Gibbs made a noise that clearly conveyed his lack of surprise and his extreme contempt. She just sighed again, and he envisioned her pursing her lips in frustration and rubbing her temples, probably thinking about a soothing bath or a warm cup of tea.

"They lose control of that bastard a lot," Gibbs growled.

"Watch your language."

"She's asleep, Jen."

Jenny grunted in irritation.

"They give him a long rope, Jethro," she said tensely. "He's very good."

"Yeah?" Gibbs asked sarcastically. "One day he'll hang himself."

"Let's hope not," Jenny answered grimly. "He'd take everyone in the vicinity to the gallows with him."

The ominous prediction hit Gibbs square in the gut, and he swallowed uncertainly.

"You talk to Ziva lately?" he asked.

"No," Jenny muttered unhappily. "Only her minions—Jethro, you're breaking up," she added, her voice sounding faraway.

"I warned you," he said, shrugging.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "Have a good weekend. Tell Madeleine I love her," she ordered, and then hesitated. "Tell your father I say hello."

"It won't mean anything to him," Gibbs scoffed, rolling his eyes—Jackson had never even heard of Jenny.

"Okay," Jenny said slowly, "Then tell him I'm quite sorry he has such an infuriating ass for a son."

Gibbs grinned smugly.

"That'll mean somethin'," he drawled. "Take care of yourself, Jen," he said—and hung up the phone, thus signaling the start of a quiet, unplugged homecoming weekend.

---

For some inexplicable reason, it had occurred to Gibbs that it was necessary to introduce Madeleine to her grandfather but it had not occurred to him that this could be a potentially volatile situation.

He hadn't seen Jackson Gibbs since the funeral thirteen years ago. They hadn't spoken; they weren't even on Christmas card terms. His father was completely cut off from his life, and here he was about to walk in unannounced with a kid.

Gibbs killed the engine and looked around at Madeleine.

She looked back at him blithely, her eyes peeking over a picture book she'd been entertaining herself with.

"All done driving?" she asked cordially.

Gibbs nodded.

"You tired of being cramped in your booster?" he asked.

She nodded, reaching down to press the button that would unbuckle her. She wriggled a little, and then waited patiently for him to come and remove her from the seat. Gibbs steeled himself and got out of the car—and realized as he was turning to shut the driver's side door that he had made a mistake in sitting so long in the drive with the car running; when he up, he caught sight of Jackson standing at the bottom of the General Store steps.

They made eye contact, identical ice-blue eyes unreadable as they considered each other, and then the elder Gibbs came forward slowly, his hands clasped behind his back in his usual introspective manner.

Gibbs paused, his hand on his car door tightly, and waited until Jackson was right in front of him.

"Well, son," Jackson broke the silence in his kindly, gravelly voice. "It's been a while."

Gibbs tilted his head, squinting a little and then giving a ghost of a smile. He slammed his door shut.

"That's an understatement," he responded neutrally.

"What are you doing here, Leroy?" Jackson asked curiously.

Gibbs managed to look a bit sheepish. He took a few steps, opened Madeleine's car door, and reached in for her, pushing her door shut when he had her on his hip and then turning back to face the man who had always been his harshest critic. Immediately, he felt chastised and disobedient, like he'd just been caught sneaking that girl up to his room after prom.

"It's a long story," Gibbs deadpanned.

Jackson Gibbs took a breath and raised his eyebrows, blinking in calm, patient surprise. He looked at Madeleine for a moment, until she got nervous and hid her face in her father's neck, and then Jackson turned an unreadable look on Gibbs.

"It seems so," he muttered, narrowing his eyes a bit. Jackson lifted his hand and beckoned warmly, turning on his heel and gesturing with a thumb towards the General Store. "You better come inside."

Gibbs nodded, and decided it was best to unpack his and Madeleine's thinks later. He rubbed his jaw stiffly and, gritting his teeth in preparation, followed his estranged father into the store he'd grown up in.

---

An hour and a half later, the two Gibbs sat at an old wooden table in the general store, stoically sipping coffee and watching Madeleine slowly and happily eat the sweets Jackson had pulled off a shelf especially for her. She'd never had fudge before, and she was fascinated with the stuff—though Gibbs was careful not to let her put too much in her mouth at once lest she choke.

Madeleine popped another tiny square of peanut butter fudge into her mouth and hummed a little, murmuring to herself. The silence was evidently bothering her.

"How old is she?" Jackson asked finally.

The majority of time insofar had been spent letting Madeleine get comfortable and introducing her to Jackson. Gibbs had brought their things in, and briefly filled his dad in while the coffee brewed—but there were still many unanswered questions.

"Three," Gibbs answered gruffly. "She'll be four in August," he added, realizing with a start that August was a mere two months away.

Jackson took a drink of coffee and then tapped the table firmly with his index finger.

"You should have told me about her three years ago," he said sternly. It would be all he said on the matter before moving on; that was how Jackson usually worked, and it was an inherited trait. Gibbs nodded and took a slow sip of his own coffee.

"I see you didn't bring her mother with you," Jackson noted neutrally.

"She lives in Egypt," Gibbs answered just as neutrally. He paused for another sip of coffee and then set his mug down, holding his palm over the opening to catch the steam. "I got custody of Madeleine about a month ago. Her mother got a promotion, moved from Israel to Egypt," he explained gruffly. "We thought it best to raise her here."

Jackson nodded at the little girl.

"That's why she's speakin' that other language," he noted acutely.

Gibbs glanced at Madeleine and heard her singing that song in Hebrew she sang when she was left to entertain herself. He believed Tali had taught it to her. Gibbs nodded in answer, and Jackson made a noise under his breath.

"You're not married to this woman, then?" he asked, a bit disapprovingly.

"No," Gibbs answered bluntly, though with an air of warning. He smiled tightly. "Thought you might like to hear I didn't jump into another crapshoot marriage," he quoted, remembering something he had once heard Jackson say to Diane.

Jackson pointed at his son narrowly.

"I'd like to hear that you did right by that woman, Leroy," he reprimanded firmly, his old-fashioned, small town values glaringly obvious with the statement. "She deserves a ring on her finger."

Gibbs cocked an eyebrow, remaining cool.

"She didn't want a ring on her finger, Dad," he said, though the word sounded odd on his lips; like sandpaper. He wasn't used to calling Jackson Dad. But it was helpful for Madeleine to associate him as family if Gibbs treated him as such.

"Did you offer?"

Gibbs held out his hands, making a face.

"Yeah, I offered," he scoffed. "She turned me down."

Jackson looked suspicious, but fell silent, sipping on his coffee again.

Madeleine picked up another piece of fudge and looked at Jackson brightly, her eyes wide.

"What I call you by?" she asked politely.

Jackson glanced at Gibbs briefly and then looked back at Madeleine. He smiled gently.

"Pops," he said, giving the name Kelly had called him when she was little, and had seen him often. Madeleine looked at her father for confirmation, and Gibbs nodded, indicating it was okay.

"Thank you," Madeleine said, falling silent again.

She kicked her feet contently and began humming, munching on another chunk of fudge.

Jackson smiled lightly, leaning back. He went back to his coffee.

"You're a little old for accidents, son," Jackson reminded Gibbs.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, glaring at the ceiling. He was just going to have to bear a few reprimands while Jackson processed the idea. All in all, the elder Gibbs was being incredibly level-headed and accepting of the whole surprise-granddaughter situation.

"How did you and her mother meet?" Jackson asked.

"Her name is Jenny," Gibbs informed Jackson courteously. He hesitated, hiding his answer in his coffee as he took a sip and muffled the words: "She was my partner."

"Ha!" Jackson let out a laugh, shaking his head, eyes on the ceiling in amusement. "Must've been a redhead?" he asked, with a knowing look.

"Not a bad personality, either," muttered Gibbs lightly, arching an eyebrow. Jackson nodded good-naturedly, tapping the table with his fingertips.

The old small town shopkeeper leaned forward, both elbows on the table as he rested his arms around his coffee mug. He looked intently at Gibbs, his eyes bright and searching. He nodded after a long silence, his features softening.

"That look's gone again," he said cryptically.

Gibbs' brow furrowed a little. He grunted.

"What look?" he asked gruffly.

"That angry look," Jackson said simply. "The look you got after your mother died, the need for vengeance. The look that went away when you married Shannon, came back after she died. It's gone."

Gibbs squinted, keeping his muscles taut, his features schooled. He didn't know what look Jackson was talking about, but then he didn't spend much time staring his reflection down.

"You know I adored that wife of yours," Jackson said heavily. "And I adored that child, too. It broke my heart when they died. You had to have someone to take it out on, and I get that. I just wish it hadn't been me for the past fifteen years."

Fifteen," Gibbs corrected automatically, mechanically. He looked away. He looked at Madeleine. "You don't understand what it was like," he said gruffly.

Madeleine looked at him for a moment, waiting to see if he was going to talk to her. When he didn't, she handed him a piece of fudge—and he took it, smiling at her to show he approved of her generosity and sharing. She smiled back; she smiled Jenny's smile.

Gibbs looked back at Jackson. He took a hearty sip of his coffee, burned his throat, and said:

"It wasn't your fault."

Jackson nodded firmly.

"I know that, son," he said quietly. "Wasn't yours, either," he added sincerely.

Gibbs looked at his father. He set his mug down coffee, and smirked slightly, displaying a little gratitude.

"Daddy, I wand to pick some berries, please," Madeleine piped up, finished with her fudge, and looking at him a little bored. She reminded him he'd told her about the blackberries in his old backyard that always bloomed in the summer with more blackberries than could be eaten.

Gibbs popped the fudge she'd given him into his mouth and nodded, leaning over to kiss her on the crown of her head.

"Wait until the sun goes down a little. It'll be cooler," he said, standing up.

He finished his coffee and tilted his head, watching Madeleine glare at him in annoyance at having her fun postponed.

Jackson laughed and pointed at her little face.

"Oh yeah, I recognize that one," he mused, winking at the little girl. She giggled bashfully and crinkled her nose, reaching up to hide her face from her grandfather. Gibbs watched the exchange with relief—almost with a weight lifted off his shoulders. He went to dispose of his mug.

Jackson whistled sharply, demanding his attention before he left. Gibbs turned with a raised brow, and Jackson gestured at Madeleine, his blue eyes curious.

"What made you decided to include me this time 'round?" he asked guardedly.

Gibbs tightened his mouth, looking at Madeleine for a moment. For a brief second, a memory flashed before his eyes—Kelly, sitting across from Jackson, perched on Shannon's lap with a cherry Popsicle when she was just Madeleine's age. Just as quickly, the memory was gone, and he was looking at Madeleine, drumming her hands on the table as she peered at Jackson curiously.

Gibbs swallowed hard and shrugged.

"You get another chance," he said hoarsely. "You see things differently."

---

End: Early June, 2004

I borrowed a bit of dialogue from 'Heartland' (6x4).

*Alas, tonight is the finale of Season 9 of NCIS-as I'm sure you all know. Here's to hoping all goes well; that Jimmy and Breena get their something old, new, borrowed, and blue-as well as a happy ending-and let's keep our finger's crossed that the odds are always in our favorite team's favor. That being said, if this story is never updated again it's because the finale/cliffhanger ripped out my heart, shredded my soul, and ultimately killed me. Not to be dramatic.

-Alexandra