I decided to update a day later than originally planned so everybody could spend Wednesday in their happy little Tiva bubble :P Oh, that episode. The entire thing was amazing, the plot, every character… but the Tiva. That, I have yet to recover from.
ANYWHO. This chapter really isn't that sad. No, really. I promise.
Enjoy!
The terrible twos come in like a lamb, but it isn't long before that gives way to the lion. At first, Tony congratulates himself on his parenting, mistakenly believing that he's avoided this dreaded stage of toddlerhood; then Angelina pitches a tantrum unlike anything he's seen before, and he knows it was only delayed.
She's been somewhat grumpy and weepy lately, but he figures she isn't getting enough sleep, starts putting her to bed earlier, and expects that to fix the problem. Then that first major tantrum erupts at Wal-Mart, apparently out of nowhere. Angelina has been walking beside Tony when she suddenly stops in the middle of the freezer aisle and refuses to go any further. He tries being nice and he tries ordering her to move, but she repeatedly yells, "No!" and presses her body against one of the cold glass doors. Abandoning his cart, he goes back and picks her up, prompting a loud scream. He rocks her and she cries louder and he is struck with fear- she's not a baby anymore; he's going to have to learn some new tactics.
In the end, he leaves his half-full shopping cart beside the Popsicles while he carries his screeching child out of the store. A security guard tails him, but seems to decide by the time Tony reaches his car that this is not a kidnapping.
If it was, he thinks, I would've given her back already.
After that, such incidents increase in frequency. Angelina starts throwing fits when she can't have a lollipop, at bedtime, when it's time to get up, and even when she's dropped off at daycare. She's never had a problem with daycare before, so Tony doesn't understand why she now winds her arms around his leg as he's walking out the door. A couple weeks of this leads him to worry that he has coddled her. He's pretty sure she never formed an emotional attachment to Ziva; maybe, in trying to make up for that, he's allowed her attachment to him to become unhealthy.
Now, he is slumps in his desk chair, recovering from another tiring morning. The probie, forced upon Gibbs by Vance, keeps sneaking glances at him, but he ignores her. Probationary Agent Juliet Richie isn't sure how to act around him; she knows who she is replacing. She has never made direct eye contact with the senior field agent, and he is in no hurry to change that. The massive amount of perfume she wears is hard enough on his nose; he doesn't need to observe the liberal use of eyeliner, too.
"Planning to do any work today, Tony?" McGee asks from behind his computer monitor.
"My two year old is kicking my ass."
"Rough morning?"
"The daycare lady had to pry her off of me. Again."
McGee pushes his chair back and turns toward Tony. "Maybe you should find a parenting class or something."
"I have a book."
"A book?"
"Yes, a book," Tony snaps. "You think I just magically know how to raise a kid?"
McGee holds up his hands.
"The book says it's a phase, but I'm not sure I'll be able to survive it. She used to be so sweet all the time, and now she's like…" He turns his finger in a circle next to his ear.
"Have you talked to Ducky about it?"
Tony squints. "No. Ducky's a psychologist; that doesn't make him an expert on little kids." Then he bites his bottom lip, remembers his concern about Angelina's attachment. The doctor probably would have something to say about that, but he isn't eager to share another way in which he has screwed up.
Gibbs chooses that moment to breeze into the room, hollering for them to grab their gear, and then they gather in the elevator, where Tony puts aside his fatherly problems in order to absorb the details of a dead petty officer. When they reach the parking garage, their boss surprises them by ordering McGee and Richie to take the crime scene van while Tony accompanies him in the Charger. The walk to the car bears much anxiety for Tony as he tries to think of what he's done wrong, but it turns out to be for nothing. Once they've pulled out of the parking space, Gibbs looks over and asks, "So what's going on with Angelina?"
Tony is so surprised and relieved that he doesn't respond for several seconds. "Ang… I dunno. She's gone off the deep end."
To his amazement, Gibbs cracks a smile. "Not the deep end, DiNozzo. Thought you said you have a book."
"I do." He clearly eavesdropped on that whole conversation, but Tony can't summon the energy to be irritated. "It says it's normal and everything, but… I'm kinda worried that she doesn't want to go to daycare anymore."
Brilliant. Tell Gibbs how you screwed up. Much better option than Ducky. What the hell are you doing?
Gibbs looks over at him. "Why?"
"Uh." No going back now. Those steely gray eyes are boring into the side of his face, and the ticking of the turn signal suddenly seems foreboding. "It's just… the book doesn't really say anything about this, but I've been thinking that she might be too dependent on me. Maybe I've been… overcompensating. You know. For Ziva being gone."
His boss starts laughing. Actually laughing. Tony is so terribly confused and borderline offended that it takes him a moment to form words. "What?"
"Don't give yourself so much credit. If it was an attachment problem, it would've shown up before now. She's being difficult. Testing the waters. Your kid is playing you."
"What?" Tony asks again, more incredulously. "She is not!"
"Trust me. I've been there. She is." Before Tony can think too much about that, Gibbs adds, "If you don't believe me, remember who her mother is."
And that is an excellent point.
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Perhaps because his guilt has been alleviated, Tony's patience with Angelina grows ever thinner. He is much more inclined to crouch beside her in public and hiss something along the lines of, "Straighten up right now or you're going to bed when we get home," than he is to ignore a tantrum. The parenting book, which he clings to these days, tells him not to make threats, but that's all he seems to do when people are staring. He feels like he has more control of his temper at home, away from judgmental tsks and where he is able to step back and take a deep breath if needed. Admittedly, Angelina does respond better to him there, but he's not perfect and he isn't always able to keep his temper in check elsewhere.
One day, the dam breaks. She isn't even being terribly objectionable, just repeatedly shoving her lunch across the table; the third time he starts to give it back to her, though, he changes his mind and takes it away instead. As she stares at him in shock, he yells words he can't recall two seconds later, then commands her to go to her room. It's all a blur, all out of his mouth before he thinks any of it through. Angelina slips out of her chair and scurries down the hall, and he covers his face with his hand, all anger turning toward himself.
This must be how Ziva felt, that one time she nearly lost control.
He waits in the kitchen for his gut to unclench and her loud sobs to subside. Eventually, he goes to stand outside her door. She is lying on the relatively new "big girl bed", clutching a stuffed giraffe and sniffling. When she sees her father, she rolls over so she is facing away from him. Tony sighs and comes into the room, sits awkwardly on the edge of the tiny mattress like a giant, bumbling ogre. "Ang," he says.
Angelina stubbornly ignores him. He extends a hand to stroke the soft skin of her forehead, over and over, until she looks up. "Will you come sit with Daddy?"
She regards his lap suspiciously, but does crawl into it, that giraffe still tucked under one arm. Tony dabs at her runny nose with his sleeve- there are so many things that he doesn't find gross anymore- and bows his head to her level. "I'm sorry I raised my voice, baby."
"Daddy mad."
The expression on her face is about as meek as he's seen it these past few months. He smoothes back her hair. "Daddy isn't mad at you. Sometimes I get… frustrated when you don't do what I ask you to; that's all. Okay? Do you think you could work on that for me, and I'll try really hard to be patient?"
Even as she nods, tears form in Angelina's eyes. "No more crying," he says, tickling her tummy, and he feels victorious when she giggles. "That'll make Daddy sad."
"No be sad." She pats his cheek affectionately, much like her mother used to.
"Don't worry. I'm not sad. Listen, go wipe your nose, and then do you want your sandwich?"
Angelina hugs and kisses him, then slips down to the floor. "Uh-huh."
As she scuttles out of the room, he grins to himself.
He's learning.
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Three years have passed since Tony became a father, and he can't believe how quickly they have gone. The baby that Ziva held in her arms and declared "precious" now stands at thirty-four inches tall, knows her ABCs, and has transitioned from being consistently difficult to being just a bit of a troublemaker. In a way, she is like his little sidekick- or, as Abby once noted while watching him sip on a juice box, maybe he is hers. He made a face at the time, but it is true that he's consumed more apple juice than beer as of late; in all honesty, Angelina has unwittingly taken over his life.
And he wouldn't trade her for the world.
These days, he usually thinks about Ziva in the context of What would she say if she were here? If she were here and she were herself, she'd be amused at the way Angelina "helps" him as he prepares for her party. She would also notice the tension in his shoulders and reassure him… although, now that he gives it more thought, that scenario would never exist. If she were here, Tony wouldn't have lied to his father about where she was, and he wouldn't be stressed out by the fact that Senior will be visiting in a matter of hours.
How to tell a man who is trying to make up for past mistakes that he can't come to his granddaughter's third birthday party? Tony had found it impossible to do… and he also found it impossible to tell the truth during that phone call. So here goes nothing: if nobody on the team slips, as he has warned them against, maybe he'll be able to avoid the details this afternoon.
The team does their part in keeping up the charade. Nobody mentions Ziva, not even Abby, and the jovial mood isn't forced. Between Palmer and Breena's two month old son and the chocolate cake and Angelina's endeavors, everybody is entertained and having a good time. Tony keeps an eye on his father all afternoon, but no questions are asked and no answers are offered- until the planets align and the two of them end up alone in the kitchen.
"Hey, Dad," Tony says nonchalantly, opening a cabinet and rooting around inside. "What's up? Ang seems to like you."
"I'm glad," his dad says. "She's a sweet girl."
He locates the spare batteries. "Thanks."
"She's, ah… the perfect blend of you and Ziva. Half and half."
Desperately trying to keep his hands from shaking, he picks up Angelina's new toy and starts loading the batteries into it, one by one. "Yeah."
His dad is walking toward him. Not good. "Junior… where is she?"
"What do you mean? We aren't together anymore; she lives… by herself."
"I know that. But it's her daughter's birthday. I figured you two would be able to set aside your differences so she could be here."
Shit.
Tony puts the last battery in place and slowly sets the toy on the counter. He glances into the living room, establishes that nobody is paying attention, and then fixes his gaze on his father. "She left," he says quietly. "Early in the morning. It wasn't mutual."
"Junior, I'm sorry."
"It sounds like she abandoned us, but she didn't," Tony, for some reason, feels the need to point out. "There was some postpartum depression going on, made more severe by… other stuff she was dealing with. Not important now. When I told you she would visit sometimes… that was only about a month after she left, and I couldn't talk about it yet. She's out of the picture. I haven't seen or heard from her in over two years. Angelina has no idea who she is."
Getting it off of his chest brings an odd, unexpected sense of relief. Senior shakes his head sadly. "I suspected there was more to the story." He puts his hands on Tony's shoulders, which surprises his son. "You're doing a good job."
"How do you know?"
"I can just tell."
Before he can think of what to say, Angelina runs into the kitchen with something to show Tony.
"What is it?" he asks with the fascinated voice he's pretty much mastered, and catches his father smiling at the incessant rambling that follows.
