It's comin' on Christmas.

They're cutting down trees.

They're putting up reindeer

and singing songs of joy and peace.

-"River," Joni Mitchell

"Dad."

Dad. Gibbs had been Daddy until Sara had plopped her skinny little behind in that sleek, purple wheelchair and declared like Goldilocks that it was just right. He played possum.

"Dad," Sara whispered again. "Are you awake?"

"Nope."

She climbed up on the bed, nearly kneeing him in the groin. "You said we could see the poppins today."

"They're still sleeping, too."

"We can meet them for breakfast."

He made room for her beneath the blankets and squinted at the clock. Oh-four-fifty. "Not even five, Sar."

She poked his lips. "What happens then?"

"The birds wake up."

"Oh. Even poppins?"

"Nope, they sleep 'til nine. Sometimes later."

She rubbed her eyes. "Zeeba says that's wasting time."

"Ziver's hanging on to everything she's got, kiddo."

Sara went silent. He could hear her eyelashes on the pillowcase. "She's getting ready," she said quietly.

"For what?"

She hummed and threw an arm across his chest. "When are we getting up?"

"When it's time for coffee."

She sighed. Her thumb found her mouth. All was quiet for nearly an hour, until the wind rattled the trees against the house and Sara jumped. "What was that?"

"Wind."

"Oh. It's cold outside."

"Yep." Frigid, actually, but Sara was not content to stay at home now that she had new wheels.

"Are the poppins ok?"

"Fine, Sar."

"What about Zeeba? Should we call her? She hates cold."

"Not at five am," he replied, but she was probably up.

"What time, then?"

"After it's light out."

She sighed again and drifted off to sleep. Gibbs lounged got up, stretched, and hit the head before thumping down the stairs for coffee and the newspaper.

The circular was full of last-minute Christmas specials. He'd cleared a corner for the tree but left the stand up there with everything else.

"Daddy?"

Oh-six thirty. He hadn't even gotten an hour. "Morning, Sar."

She slid down the steps on her belly, feet-first. "When is it time to go see the poppins?"

"When they wake up."

She got up in her purple-on-purple-on-purple wheelchair and snapped the safety belt. "But what time is that?"

"I told ya—nine or ten. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Tuna fish."

She followed him into the kitchen. There were lights in her front wheels and they threw shadows on the walls as she rolled. He probably had an afternoon of untangling twinkle lights in his future.

"Thinking about getting a Christmas tree," he said, mixing tuna with mayo and relish.

Silence. He turned, curious, to find Sara's little face red and furious. "Santa isn't real," she snapped. "It's a lie. I hate lies."

Too many holidays in a foxhole. "Want to talk about what happened?"

She gave him a withering look. "No."

"Ok. So no tree, then?"

"No Santa," she countered. Her fists were tight on her tires.

"Then no Santa, yes tree. Want to pick it out? Help decorate?"

Sara climbed into her dining chair and stared halfheartedly at her plate of tuna and crackers. "I don't know."

"Think about it. If you say yes then we'll get one today."

She side-eyed him. "After poppins."

"Yep. Sit tight while I take a shower, kiddo. Put cartoons on when you're done." She nodded, mouth full. He rubbed her hair. "You ok, sweet pea?"

She nodded again. "I don't like Santa."

He leaned closer. "I'm sorry you have bad memories."

She shrugged one shoulder. "What time are we leaving?"

"Soon as I'm clean. I bet those penguins are awake by now." He'd kill a few minutes in a coffee shop. Or she'd get into a cartoon and forget for half an hour.

Sara scraped the last bite of tuna onto a cracker. "I bet, too. And we should call Zeeba. She likes the aquarium."

She really needed friends her own age. "How about Sophie?"

Crumbs clung to Sara's lips and cheek. "No, Zeeba wants to come. I know it."

. . . .

Ziva met them in the atrium, cozy in a down coat and shapeless sweater, hair a tumble of dark curls. Her cheeks were ruddy from the cold and she broke out in a grin when Sara punched the panel for the automatic door and rolled at her full-speed ahead.

"Zeeba!" she shrilled.

Ziva crouched and swept her into a hug. "Hello, sweet shaifeleh. It has been many weeks."

Sara disengaged and spun. "Like it?"

She meant the chair. Ziva nodded her approval. "Did Daddy help you choose the color, Saraleh?"

"Nope."

"I love that you chose light-up wheels. Did Daddy help you with that?"

She frowned. "No, this is mine."

Ziva pulled back. "I understand. Well, you did a beautiful job. What are we seeing first?"

"Starfish."

Gibbs gave Ziva a peck on the cheek. "Good to see ya. Been a while."

"You, too. How is she doing?"

He watched Sara show her admission card and duck under the turnstile. "Good. Her therapists wanna reevaluate after the holiday break. Set new goals, get her ready for school, that sort of thing."

She slung her coat over her arm. "She will go to school in the fall, yes?"

"Yeah. We got some work to do first." Sara studied a tank full of starfish and traced one with her finger. She'd never been able to get so close before. "Talking about an Individual Education Plan."

She cocked her head. "She will not catch up?"

"Probably got some learning disabilities."

"They think she is...slow?"

It was hot in the Amazon River Room. Gibbs shed his coat while an arapaima swam by, scales as big as quarters. "Learning disabled. We'll see when the test results come back."

Tetras schooled around the Giant River Turtles. Ziva read a lighted placard about dwarf caimans and hugged her coat tight to her chest. "I did poorly in school. My father was always disappointed in my grades. I am applying now to universities and..."

"Don't," he warned. "He's gone, Ziver."

"In many ways, yes, but..."

He nudged her shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

She leaned into him and gave a short, scoffing laugh. "Thank you, but it is hard not to feel—" She stiffened, dark eyes darting. "Where is Sara?" she asked lowly.

He swept the room, gut churning. They were alone except for fish and turtles. "Not here."

They dashed into the main hallway and split to cover ground. He grabbed a staff member by the elbow. "My kid disappeared. Shut this place down."

The stunned, polo-shirt staffer radioed the front desk. Code Adam. Lockdown. No one in or out.

Gibbs dashed up the escalator, lapped the second floor. Sara wasn't watching the dories in the Atlantic Reef Room, nor was she parked with the other preschoolers in front of the shark tank.

He tamped down his panic and dialed Ziva. "Anything?"

"I have people checking the restrooms and accessible off-limits areas. Nothing yet."

He hung up and climbed to the third floor. She wasn't watching the seals in the kelp forest or the giant octopus or the puffins. She wasn't watching the exotic frogs. She wasn't in front of the penguins, either, and then he panicked. He dialed Ziva again. "Whaddya got, David?"

"Still nothing. I sent one of the security guards out to the parking lot."

"I'm parked in a handicap space. She might've gone back for her toys."

"Which ones?"

"A wooden penguin, wooden horse, stuffed chicken. She has her backpack on her chair, but she was playing with those in the car."

"On it," she clipped, and hung up.

He skirted a woman pushing a triple stroller and a toddler having a meltdown. The jellyfish drifted alone and the doors to the IMAX were too heavy for her to open. He stuck his head in anyway, but it was empty except for a maintenance man repairing the visibility tape on the edge of the stairs.

There were no purple wheelchairs in the children's play area and no purple wheelchairs in the underwater photo gallery. He reached for his phone again, but turned the corner and there she was, sitting alone in Marine Mammal Discovery. She was watching a single bottlenose dolphin play with a floating ring.

He snatched her out of her chair. "Where were you?" he demanded.

Sara sucked in a breath, wide-eyed. "Here! I was here!"

He gave her a small shake. "Don't you ever run off like that again, Sara Elise. What if you'd gotten hurt and I couldn't find you? Do you know what could have happened?" She stared at him, stunned, and he shook her again. "Do you?"

"I—" she started, and looked around, but there was no one to save her. "I'm sorry!" she wailed. "I thought you were behind me."

He hugged her tightly. "You gotta make sure, Sar."

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok."

She sighed. "Am I bad?"

He ground his molars. "Bad decisions don't make a bad kid. Get back in your chair. We need to go tell everyone you're ok."

She buckled and spun for the elevator. "I can reach the buttons myself."

He gave her a wry smile. "I noticed."

Downstairs, Ziva was ordering aquarium staff into a search committee, pointing out the penguin exhibit, the dolphins, the play area on the building map. Gibbs put a hand on her shoulder. "I got her," he said gently. "Call it off."

The staffers scattered.

Code Adam was called off. Ziva turned her blazing eyes on him. "How dare you!" she spat. "Letting her run off like that is a crime, Gibbs. I am ashamed of you."

"I got her, Ziver. She didn't go far."

She looked ready to drop him. "She could have been stolen!"

He smirked. "They'd give her back when she started screaming."

Ziva was not amused. "You are a careless parent to let her do that. Why have you not taught her better?"

"Easy, Ziver."

She sidestepped him. "Do not patronize me. It is your job to teach her these things. You did not, and she put herself at risk."

Sara burst into tears. He settled her on his hip. "And she won't do it again. Lay off."

Ziva swallowed and studied his face, then Sara's. "When she was not there, Gibbs. When I did not...she was gone."

"She was upstairs looking at the dolphins. Thought we were behind her."

She pinched the skin between her brows. "I thought—"

"Me, too, but she's fine. Time to see the penguins."

He put Sara back in her chair. She turned and beckoned. "Come on this time," she instructed quietly. She reached for Ziva's hand. "Ok?"

"Ok," she sighed, and to Gibbs: "We are not used to her being so mobile."

They fell into step. "Nope."

The Antarctic Room was cool and blue. Sara put her face against the glass of the penguin enclosure and sighed happily. "Sorry I'm late, poppins," she said. "My dad thought I ran off but I didn't."

A crease appeared between Ziva's brows. "She has missed so much."

"She's getting it back."

She shook her head. "She cannot. That time is gone, Gibbs."

"We gave her a do-over."

Ziva opened her mouth, but her cell trilled and turned away to answer it. When she turned back, her face was blank and she was hugging her coat again. "Vance never got my statement," she said simply. "He wants it now."

There went her day. Hell, her week. "So give it to him and come over when you're done. We're getting a tree. You can help decorate."

She smiled and nodded. "That would be nice. Shall Tony and I bring dinner?"

Sara turned and looked hopeful. "Chinese? I like eggrolls."

Ziva put on her coat. "Then you shall have one. Enjoy your penguin friends, shaifeleh. I will see you later. And please do not run off again."

"I won't," she vowed seriously.

Ziva kissed her and left. Sara and Gibbs looked at each other for a moment, and then she headed for the elevator yet again. "I want to see the dolphins again."

His cell rang before she could press the button. "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Never got your statement, either," Vance said coolly.

He wasn't about to let his day go all to hell, too. "I'm with my kid, Leon."

"I am leaving for my in-laws in twenty-four hours. If I do not have this wrapped up and tied with a ribbon by then, my wife is going to fillet my ass and fly it like a flag."

Not even Gibbs would sic Jackie on Vance like that. "I'll be there in twenty," he grouched, and hung up. "We gotta go, kiddo. I have to take care of some business."

She gave him a look. "Dolphins, Dad."

"Another day."

She pouted, but made no fuss. "Were you mad when you couldn't find me?"

"Nope."

"Were you afraid I got taken away?"

He only had to buckle the car seat for her. "Yep."

"But we're forever."

He waited until she looked at him. "Sometimes kids get stolen, Sar. Bad guys take them and hurt them or kill them. You should never go with anyone you don't know, even if they say I sent them."

Sara regarded him with clear grey eyes. "You mean like what happened to Zeeba?"

"Yep."

She was quiet for a long time, but piped up when he pulled up to the gate at the Navy Yard. "Dad, why do people get taken away?"

He flashed his ID at the guard. "What do you mean?"

"Zeeba got taken away. Mama and Kelly got taken away. I got taken away."

He retrieved her chair from the trunk. "Those all happened for different reasons. Want to talk about it later?"

"No," she said easily, and they went together into the bullpen. She stopped before greeting anyone, though, and gave him a wide, seawater look. "No one else should be taken. Ok, Daddy?"

He smirked. "You got it, kiddo. I have to talk to Vance. We need to find someone to keep—"

"Purple People Eater!" Tony hollered, and vaulted over his desk to kiss both of Sara's cheeks. "Bug-On-Wheels! I missed you!"

She laughed and spun in a circle. "You like it?"

"Love it. What are we doing today?"

"Lunch," Gibbs ordered. "No pizza."

Tony gave Sara a shrug. "Burgers?"

She giggled her approval.

He put one hand out. "C'mon, Buglet. Let's take everyone's order like carhops."

She took it, but pulled back. "Is this ok, Daddy?"

"Yep. Tony is family. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"How many?"

"Thirty, tops. Have Tony help you keep track."

She nodded, eyes wide and uncertain, and threw her arms around her legs. "Ok. I love you. Don't get in trouble."

Vance beckoned from the hallway. Ziva eased past them without a glance and Gibbs' gut tumbled. "What was she doing in Interrogation?"

Leon held the door for him. "There were some inconsistencies in her story. I thought fewer distractions would help her straighten them out."

"He kicked her face in. Took months for her to even walk a straight line. What were you expecting?"

"Only the facts, Jethro. Have a seat."

"Not until I know she's ok."

Face off. Leon caved first. "Give her a call then."

He did. She answered on the first ring. "I am fine, Gibbs. Really. I have Sara and we are all going to have lunch with Abby."

He grunted his approval and hung up. Leon motioned toward the chair again. "I need your story."

Gibbs folded his arms. "Left around ten-hundred. Sara was sick. Ziva stayed with her when you called me in to discuss David's movements."

Leon nodded. "Then what happened?"

He rolled his eyes. "You were with me—we ran searches on his IDs, checked airline passenger lists. When nothing turned up in the first hour I went home. Like I said—my kid was sick."

"What did you find when you got there?"

"Front door was open. I could hear Sara screaming from the driveway. The stairs and hallway were covered in blood. The plaster was dented about six feet up and—"

"Meaning what?"

He glared. "Meaning he picked her up and slammed her against the wall, Leon."

"Where was Sara?"

"In her bed. She'd just had hip surgery and was still in the body cast."

"Had anyone hurt her?"

"No."

Vance scratched a note on his legal pad. None of it mattered—this was all being recorded. Who was watching on the other side of the glass? "What did you do?"

"Called CSU. Called DiNozzo. Called Fornell. Got Sara someplace safe."

"Where was that?"

"Morgue. Everyone there's already done in. Palmer took her."

"And it wasn't traumatic for your five-year-old to see a corpse?"

"She's fine."

"Where did you go?"

"Armory."

"For?"

He leaned back in his seat. "Signed out my rifle."

Leon kept his face neutral. "Why did you do that, Jethro?"

Gibbs let the silence grow and his hands fall to his knees. "You know damned well why, Leon," he said softly.

He gave a curt nod. "Where did you take that weapon?"

"Dulles."

"What did you find when you got there?"

"A damned mess."

"What did you find, Jethro?"

"A security officer had been killed. His body was by the ticket counter. A few of the glass panels had been shot out. Feebs and transit police had the place shut down. Evacuations were in place."

"And?"

He swallowed. "And Eli David had Ziva in a chokehold in the middle of it all."

"How'd she look?"

"Worked over." Leon stared again. Gibbs folded his hands on the tabletop. "Her hair was over her face, but I could see her eyes were swollen shut. There was blood down the front of her sweater and on Eli's shirt. On his hands. He was holding a gun to her head."

"What actions was NCIS taking?"

"DiNozzo tried to get him to go peacefully."

"And?"

He didn't hesitate. "I climbed up a bank of departure monitors and set up my sight."

"Was Eli David a threat to anyone else in that airport?"

Gibbs leaned forward. "Leon," he said softly. He waited for the blinking red light to flicker a dozen times, for Vance to look at him. He waited as he had with his sniper rifle atop those monitors. He didn't hesitate when it was time to speak again.

"He was going to kill her."

. . . .

Sara was asleep on the pallet in Abby's lab, thumb in her mouth, kid's meal toy in her hand. "She ate?"

"Every bite," Abby promised.

Fast food was better than no food. He half-expected Ziva to light into him about it, but she sat quietly at one of Abby's lab tables with a cup of tea. A salad sat in front of her. She hadn't touched it.

"Better eat," he prodded.

She smiled and sipped her tea. "I am fine, Gibbs."

DiNozzo stepped off the elevator. "Delivery complete. Where's mine?"

Ziva slid the salad at him. "Here, Tony."

His eyebrows rose. "Where's my burger, Zee-vah?"

She grinned. "You are the one who left it unattended, Tony."

"You ate it?" he cried. "You ate my burger?"

She shrugged. "I had a craving."

He huffed. "You're still missing teeth, Zee-vah. How did you even get it down?"

Cat-canary. She grinned. "When there is a will, there is a way. Your fries are here and you can have my salad. Bitayavon."

He sat heavily on a rolling stool. "It had jalapeños on it."

"I saved you the heartburn."

He picked at radishes and grilled chicken. "You're giving me heartburn. Did it go okay with Vance?"

"He wanted my statement," she said. Her voice was quiet but firm. "So I gave it to him."

Gibbs nudged Sara awake and scooped her up. "Want to get that Christmas tree?"

She rubbed her eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go, Dad."

He took the push handle of her chair with his free hand. "Thanks, guys," he said to the crew. "Chinese at my place tonight." He bumped Ziva's shoulder and gave her a look. She turned her smug smile on him. "David's paying."

. . . .

Mr. Wolcott broke Sara's arm. He just picked it up like a twig and snapped it and then she went to the hospital and then to a shelter because it was Christmas and everyone was having a party and no one wanted an extra kid. She would go to another house in a few days, Miss Susan said, when the parties were all over and the trash had been collected and all the leftovers wrapped up and stored in the refrigerator.

There a girl was in the lobby when they went in and she did a lip-smacking, hip-banging dance and pointed at Sara and laughed.

Sara's stomach hurt because her arm hurt. Her cast wasn't even all the way hard yet.

"You ain't gonna get nothing!" the girl screeched. She danced and twirled. "Santa already came. You too late."

Sara knew it was late; it was nighttime. She didn't say anything while she waited for Miss Susan to sign the papers.

"I said you ain't gonna get nothing," the girl screeched again. She sang ooh-wah, ooh-wah but Sara didn't want anything except a place to lie down. Her head went bump-bump-bump in time with the dancing girl's hips.

She was taken up a set of green stairs, down a green hall, into a green room. There were mats on the floor. Sara was given one, too, and she threw it down by the window. She got one blanket and one pillow, too, and she put both on top of her once she got down. It was hard to do everything with one hand.

She slept even thought the ceiling was still bright with lights and the dancing girl still sang in the hallway ooh-wah, ooh-wah. She slept until that girl was suddenly her friend and shook her and said, "C'mon. Santa came. Maybe you weren't too late."

And Sara followed her down the steps, taking them one at a time like Mommy would tell her to do. Dancer led her to the big room where there was a Christmas tree all lit up and presents and presents and presents.

"Here," said Dancer, and put her on the sofa between two big kids. "Sit here. Don't sit with the little kids. They'll crayon all over your cast."

Sara figured Dancer was the boss, so she sat and waited while Dancer picked up boxes and read the tags. "Djani!" she called. "Sunita! Michael! Jonathan! Sergio!"

And kids took the boxes and opened them and got toys. Remote control cars. Dolls. Tea sets. LEGO. Wooden blocks and puzzles and books and art supplies.

She waited. Dancer called more and more names. David, Jacob, Kaliq, Shana, Elizabeth.

No Sara.

She knew her name was spelled S-A-R-A, so she picked up a few discarded tags and looked, because maybe someone got her gift by mistake. Maybe Dancer didn't even know S-A-R-A and thought it was somebody else.

But the pile was gone quick and Dancer never called out "Sara!" She didn't even look at her. Sara smashed down her tiny hope like a bad boy smashing down an ant. Take that. If Mommy were there she would say, this isn't our tradition, sweetie and that made Sara feel a little less bad.

Until one boy yelled, "Mama, I got a truck!" and a woman kissed his face and laughed and said don't drive that crazy thing over my foot, honey! and Sara felt like she had fallen down into a deep, dark hole.

She stood up. The floor was cold. She walked tippy-toes all the way up the green stairs to the green room, but all the mats were picked up and all the blankets folded on a shelf. She was freezing, so she pulled one down, but a lady said, those are only for nighttime, honey, and she put it back.

Dancer walked past. She had new snow boots on over her faded pink pajamas. She clucked and sucked her teeth. "Tolja you weren't getting nothin'," she sassed. "You gotta come early if you want stuff on Christmas because Santa comes early. You hungry?"

Sara's stomach hurt bad. She shook her head.

"Fine," Dancer sighed. "You're probably too late again, anyway." She danced away, but sang Frosty the Snowman instead of ooh-wah, ooh-wah.

Sara sat down on the floor. She was stupid to hope for a present and stupid to think Santa would bring one. A draft blew down her neck and she pulled the blanket down and draped it over her head and didn't care if she got in trouble. The light went dim. Her stomach hurt less. "S-A-R-A," she whispered. "S-A-R-A."

She could hear kids racing up and down the hall. The kissed boy's truck zoomed between their feet. Djani! someone called. Sergio!

She twisted her tongue in her mouth, blew out a breath so the blanket puffed. "S-A-R-A. S-A-R-A."

. . . .

"Sar?"

She pulled her green blanket off her head. Static went crackle crackle. Daddy grinned. "Want to pick out that tree, Sleeping Beauty?"

It was dark and snowy. The ground was lumpy and bad for her. "I need to go on your shirt."

Daddy put on the pouch and they went into the trees. It smelled good and clean in there. She picked out a blue-something one and the man picked the whole thing up because the trees weren't planted in the ground; they were cut. He tied it to the roof of the car and then they went home, where Papa Jack was putting lights on the bushes even though it was dark.

He kissed Sara's cheek and his face was stubbly. "Hey, little bird. Merry Christmas."

She got in her chair and he stepped back. "Need help?"

"Just to go up the steps."

She turned around, and he bumped her up one-two-three into the house. "Nice place, Leroy," he said. "Sure got a lotta steps for a kid who can't climb 'em."

Daddy put the tree in a spidery-holder-thing and shook his head. "Getting her a stairlift, Dad, and I'll put ramps out when the ground thaws. Got any more lights untangled?"

Papa Jack brought out a big box. "Didn't realize you still had all the ornaments Shannon made, Leroy."

Daddy went quiet. Sara felt sad for him, but the box was full of decorations. Some were sewn and some were painted and some had pictures inside of Kelly with Santa and one with Daddy in his uniform with brown hair. Mama made all that stuff because Daddy was away fighting in a war and she was lonely. S-A-R-A, she thought, and put her hands in that big box. They would put them on the tree together.

"Here," Daddy said, and gave her a watering can. It was full and heavy. "It's your job to water the tree, sweet pea."

Papa Jack lifted the lowest branches and she rolled right under and poured the water in the long metal cup. The tree would drink up that water very fast. She promised to refill it every day.

She got a jump when Tony stuck his head in the branches and blew a raspberry on her cheek. "Ziva ate all your eggrolls, Wheelie-bug."

Ziva was eating everything because she was getting ready. Sara wasn't even mad. "Then I get her chicken."

"She ate that, too."

He probably wasn't fibbing. Ziva was getting chubby and everyone pretended they didn't notice. "Then Daddy can make me tuna. Poppins' favorite food is fish."

He picked her up and sat her at the table. Tim McGee already unpacked all the food and Ziva was putting rice and spicy-smelly green stuff on her plate. "I did not eat your eggrolls, shaifeleh. Tony was pulling your arm."

"Leg," Tim fixed for her. He put a white bag on a plate. "All yours, Sar. How are your new wheels?"

She looked at her chair. It was parked near the table and sparkly in the Christmas tree lights. "Perfect. It's fast. I'm tall in it, too. I can reach the elevator buttons by myself." She opened the bag and steam came out and it smelled so delicious.

Her eggrolls were too hot, though, so Daddy put them on her plate. "Give 'em five, Sar. McGee, I need you to run a line for me when you're done. I want to put up the train."

Tim McGee looked so happy. "What gauge, Boss?"

Papa Jack brought a box up from the basement. It was old, with yellow tape and scratchy writing. "O-gauge. Old Lionels. They were Leroy's when he was a boy."

"Gibbs was a kid?" Tony asked. His mouth was full and Ziva elbowed him. "What? You can't imagine it either."

Sara thought about Daddy being a little brown-haired boy, but no matter how she saw it he was always playing alone with his trains and that hurt her feelings. She finished her second eggroll because she always ate two and went to where Daddy was crouched by that box and gave him a hug. "You aren't by yourself anymore, Dad, "she whispered.

He snuggled her close and laughed. "I know, baby girl. I love you. Papa Jack and I will get some lights on the tree tonight and tomorrow we'll do ornaments, ok?"

"Ok."

"It's bedtime," he said, but he didn't get up so neither did she.

"Yeah."

"You need a bath. There's pine sap in your hair."

Getting anything in her hair was bad news. "Oh. Ziva can give me a bath."

Daddy still didn't get up. "Ziver?"

She was taking plates to the sink. "Yes?"

He finally stood and carried Sara over to her. "Here. Take Sar for a bath. There's oil for her hair on the shelf above her dresser."

"No," she said quietly. "I cannot. Ask Abby when she arrives."

"I want you," Sara said, and that was whining but she didn't care. "You didn't come over for a long time."

"I have been very busy with university applications."

"Ziver," Daddy said, and it was a warning.

"Gibbs."

"Let me get the lights up."

"Then Sara can play for ten minutes until Abby arrives."

Why was Ziva being so fussy? Sara held her arms out. "No bath. We can just read a book."

"No, shaifeleh."

Daddy had enough. "Ziver, either take her or go home to your paperwork."

"It is not that I do not want to," she said and her voice was a sharp knife. Daddy made her mad. "It is that I cannot. Why can you not understand that? Ask Abby to do it when she arrives."

"What's wrong?"

She turned her face away. "Nothing."

"Can't zoom a zoomer, Ziver."

Her face turned red. So did her neck. "I am pregnant, Gibbs. It is high risk. I cannot carry Sara because my doctor will not permit me to lift more than ten pounds."

Everything went quiet. McGee had his hands full of twinkly lights. Tony was holding a little locomotive. Papa Jack was half-underneath the tree, probably trying to make it straight and strong. Sara waited and watched, but no one moved.

Not until Abby pounded the snow from her tall boots and hung her coat by the door. "Hey, all. What's shaking?"

"Ziva," Sara reported. Was that tattling? "There's a baby in her belly."

"Oh," Abby said, and her eyebrows went up and her hands went all over. "Oh. So...so you told?"

Everyone was still-still and quiet. Ziva nodded. "Yes."

Abby gave her a side-hug. "Isn't it exciting? She's going to have a baby!"

A baby. Ziva was going to be a mommy. Would Ziva still call her shaifeleh and come over and take her swimming and help at school? Or would she forget all about her? Sara's eyes burned and she hid her face in Daddy's neck.

He gave Ziva a hug and all three of them were smushed together. "Happy for you, Ziver," he said soft-soft, and they both felt her smile.

"Thank you."

He shook Tony's hand. "You, too, DiNozzo."

Tony smiled and kissed Ziva and it wasn't so quiet anymore.

Tim McGee and Abby and Tony were hugging and Papa Jack just shook his head and held something out. It was for Sara. "Wish I'd known or I'd'a made two. Here, little bird."

It was an ornament just for her, made from wood like her animals. It was a sparrow with a red ribbon for hanging and S-A-R-A carved pretty on the wing. "Thanks, Papa Jack," she said and she was so happy when he kissed her cheeks.

"Welcome, sweetheart. Leroy, take her upstairs so Ziva can give her a bath. We need to get to work if this tree's gonna be lit by midnight."

"DiNozzo," Daddy said. "Get the lights on. Ziver, Abby—I'll need you when I'm done. McGee—the trains. C'mon, sweet pea. Bath time."

Tony looked sad. "Rudolph is on tonight. You're not going to let her watch it?"

"Too late. Bring me the DVD, DiNozzo."

He took her upstairs and ran a bath and washed her hair until all the sticky stuff came out and put oil in it and pajamas and then he sat in the rocker. Sara could hear voices from downstairs. Low talking and soft music and Papa Jack telling McGee how to do trains the right way because he used to set them up for Daddy a long time ago. Before Sara, before Kelly, even before Mama.

Ziva would be a mama to her baby. Sara got in her bed and pulled the blankets up and pressed her forehead against her pillow. She took some big breaths. "Daddy?"

He was still sitting in the rocking chair. Sometimes he stayed until after Sara went to sleep. "Huh, baby girl?"

"We can't let Ziva get taken away."

"Not gonna happen, Sar."

She moved to a cool spot in the sheets. Her feet got tangled, but it was too hard to get them loose so she gave up. "Promise, Daddy?"

He rocked. The chair squeaked on the floor. It sounded like her tires in the elevator at the aquarium. "Promise, sweet pea. I love you. Go to sleep now."