A/N: For those of you who fainted at the brevity of the last chapter (still need smelling salts, AA? ;p), have no fear - this one more than makes up for that. It's a bit of a marathon, but there was nowhere I wanted to break it so perhaps you won't mind.

Here's a special birthday shout to mibel, NotYetLostFaith and mollygibbs101 (which I should have done with the last chap - sorry!), who had their July bdays while I was away with very little time and internet access. Happy belated wishes, my friends! :o)

Another hug must go to molly2012 and one to gosgirl, as well ... after she reads this, perhaps she'll remember why. =)

Season 11 SPOILER ALERT! In case you were wondering, yes, I am positively gutted that Cote is not returning next season. :( I do, however, plan to continue writing Zibbs. After all, that part is all in my imagination, anyway, hmmm? Plus, I already have all these ideas still waiting not-so-patiently for their turn. And, as a very dear wise woman pointed out to me, there may actually be even more freedom for my muse in a world where Rule 12 doesn't apply. Yeah ... Let's go with that. ^_^

Gibbs had taken a half day off on his anniversary and so by late afternoon on December 31st, he had his wife and their things bundled into her car. His truck wasn't practical for carting them and even just a couple of small bags in today's snowy weather that prevented him from securing the luggage in the back of the truck.

"You are still not going to tell me where we are going?" Ziva asked for the umpteenth time as they headed in the direction of D.C. She didn't want to blow her own surprise by suddenly stopping her pestering of him about their plans.

"Nope," he answered good-naturedly, glancing at her with a twinkle in those blue eyes that still made her weak in the knees after all this time.

She gave a little humph, but turned away with a grin tugging at her own lips.

"Ya know," he said, changing the subject, "think we need to look at getting you a new car."

"But I love my Mini," she protested, turning her face back toward him.

"I know," he returned with his characteristic half-smile. "But neither one of our cars is exactly built for carrying around a baby and all the stuff that comes with one."

"So why are we not talking about getting you a new vehicle, as well?" she asked mildly.

"Actually, thinking about that, too," he admitted.

Now that did surprise her.

"You would get rid of your truck?"

"It's paid off. Thought we'd keep it for hauling stuff," he shared.

"Like wood, perhaps?" she guessed knowingly with a warm grin.

His characteristic smile tugged at his own lips. She knew him well, his wife.

"Like to have you in something sturdier and I need something with a back seat," he revealed softly. "For the baby."

His reasoning remained unvoiced, but hung almost tangibly in the air between them.

Need to do everything I can to keep you safe. Both of you.

Knowing full well there would still be plenty he would have no control over.

Ziva's heart melted. How did he keep doing this to her? She would have bet any amount of money that she could not love him more, then he went and said or did something that proved her wrong.

She laid a hand on his thigh and squeezed it affectionately.

When she would have taken her hand back, he put his over hers and kept it there.

"Well, I suppose those are very good reasons for looking," she husked gently in agreement.

His smile broadened and he lifted her hand to his lips before returning it to his thigh, still cupped in his own hand.

Given the traffic that was a constant in D.C., it took about thirty minutes to reach their destination. As they got closer, Ziva grinned at him with bright eyes, sitting up straighter and practically humming with excitement.

And nerves.

She really, really hoped Jethro loved the gift that she had waiting for him in their room as much as she'd loved creating it. She had a second gift in her bag of a very different nature, but she was fairly confident they would both enjoy that one.

"Figured it out?" he asked when they were close. He could tell by her body language that she had.

"You are taking us back to the place where we got married," she answered softly, squeezing his hand that she was still holding.

He nodded with that half-smile of his that made her heart skip a beat every time.

"Okay with you?" he asked as he stopped for a red light, though he could read the answer on her face.

Her smile could have powered all of D.C. She leaned over and took advantage of their stop to bring his mouth to hers for a too-short kiss that still managed to rock him to his toes.

"It is more than that," she shared in a voice husky with emotion after she'd released his mouth. "It is perfect."

Gibbs looked into her eyes, happiness brimming in his, as well. Only when the car behind them honked, did he realize traffic was moving again.

Shortly, they arrived at the Morrison-Clark Inn. Jethro parked and took their bags in one hand and her hand in the other. Side by side - the way they would always be – they approached the automatic doors and entered the building.

Hector had been on the lookout for them and came to the desk as he saw them arrive.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs," he enthused genuinely. "It is delightful to have you back at Morrison-Clark."

"It is wonderful to be here," Ziva offered, taking the hand the other man held out. She glanced up at her husband affectionately. "Jethro has always known exactly how to surprise me in the best possible ways."

That was true, even if she had figured this one out.

Both men smiled.

Hector eyed Ziva's growing tummy.

"I see congratulations are in order," he said, keeping Ziva's secret. Besides, he hadn't known to congratulate Gibbs when they'd spoken on the phone.

"Thank you," Ziva returned with a happy grin, resting her hand on her rounded tummy under her red cape.

Hector called a young staff member over and directed him to take their bags up to their room.

"Don't have to do that," Gibbs protested mildly as he signed them in.

"It is our pleasure," the dapper man assured him. "We have not forgotten how gracious both of you were to the staff last year in working with us. You even went out of your way to include us in your celebration. Most people would not have thought to do that. We cannot do much to return the favor, but we like to do what we can."

Both Ziva and Jethro were warmed, if a little embarrassed, by his words. It would never have occurred to them to do anything other than what they had done, so it didn't seem like something for which to be thanked.

Before long, they were standing at the door of the "bridal suite" they'd stayed in a year ago. Gibbs paused to look down at his wife. She turned her face up to his with a questioning smile. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then nuzzled his face against her cheek, her throat, relishing the nearly-silent gasp of pleasure she could not help.

"Last year, like to never got the door open 'cause you were driving me crazy," he murmured, his mind's eye flashing back to her hands and mouth roaming all over him as he'd attempted to get them inside their room. "Remember?"

She smiled provocatively.

"I remember," she husked, brushing her lips over his before swirling the tip of her tongue over his neck just as she had back then – and it still short-circuited his brain. "I remember everything about that night, including the fact that we hardly slept."

A full-blown grin crossed his face.

"Mmmm," he hummed, holding her to him affectionately. "Remember that, too."

Then her brown eyes twinkled with humor.

"Promise you will not be offended if I fall asleep at least a little this year," she directed. Resting her hand on their growing child, she added, "Trust me, that will not be about you."

He chuckled. While the second trimester had been very kind to Ziva and she was no longer hit with that bone-deep tiredness that could come out of nowhere, she still slept long and hard at night. Growing a baby was a lot of work.

"Deal," he promised, dropping another kiss to her mouth just because he couldn't resist.

With that, they entered their room. Ziva was pleased to see it looked much like last year … though the wrapped frame-like gift placed attractively on the couch in the sitting area was a new addition.

Her pulse kicked up as she waited for Jethro to spot it.

His attention was first on making sure the door was locked and that their bags had arrived safely, and then on helping his wife out of her coat. He hung it in the wardrobe and added his own, before turning to inspect the room. As his gaze landed on the couch, his brow furrowed a little in question.

As Ziva stayed where she was, he walked over to inspect the gift-wrapped surprise.

Happy 1st Anniversary, Jethro ~ With all my love always, Ziva

After reading the tag, he turned to look at her, his eyebrows now raised practically to his hairline.

"You knew?" he asked incredulously.

"I guessed," Ziva admitted fondly, walking to him. "And to his credit, Hector would neither confirm nor deny that we had a room here tonight … though he thought he could help me with a little dilemma I was having, as that would not fit in my overnight bag."

"Wanted to surprise you," he told her, wrapping his arms around her middle as best he could as her hands slid up his chest to clasp at the back of his neck.

"The way you love me amazes me every day," she husked, "and I wanted to surprise you, too."

Her smile positively beamed with love and happiness.

"And do you know how much I adore the fact that you know me well enough to be sure that this is the perfect anniversary gift?"

"Looks like you know me, too," he observed, his lips twitching slightly.

She nodded delightedly.

"And I adore that fact, as well," she murmured, stretching up to kiss him softly, lingeringly, before pulling back to grin at him. "Do not feel badly. I once worked for a man who taught me to be an excellent investigator."

He practically snorted as she patted him comfortingly on the shoulder as she spoke, both enjoying their exchange.

"How come you don't work with him anymore?" he asked teasingly.

Ziva heaved a mock sigh of resignation.

"He got me pregnant."

Gibbs laughed out loud at that. God, he loved her … loved how they were with each other.

Running his hands over her back and around to his baby bump, he leaned down to press a kiss to that spot on her neck that never failed to send goosebumps zinging down her arms. And when his tongue came out to taste her, her thighs clenched and moisture pooled in her panties.

"Think you're forgetting a couple things," he murmured against her skin.

"Oh?" she wondered, slowly losing her grip on coherent thinking.

He leaned back far enough to look into her beautiful face with a loving smile that just made her melt even further. He nodded.

"Falling in love," he pointed out in a low voice that skittered along her nerve endings. He raised a hand to cup her jaw and smoothed a thumb gently over her cheek before dropping that hand to lift her left one to his lips, pressing a kiss to where his rings sat possessively on her finger. "Getting married."

How could a heart turn completely over in one's chest and still keep its life-sustaining beat? Ziva had no idea, but hers did that very thing. Her reaction was plain to read on her face, which pleased him to no end.

"Trust me," she husked, "I will never forget either of those two things."

She squeezed his hand that still held hers.

"Everything about you, even back from the very beginning, is the very best thing that has ever happened to me," she whispered emotionally, blinking back a few tears that prickled.

Those darn hormones again.

Now it was his turn to melt.

"Same here," he murmured with a tender smile.

Something he couldn't quite read chased quickly across her eyes.

"You do not have to say that, Jethro," she said quietly, not a hint of censure or disappointment in her voice or her expression. She understood that two other people had been the first best thing to happen to him, though he never made her feel second-best in any way.

His heart sighed. He'd danced around this for over three years, never knowing quite what to say that didn't feel like he was doing either Ziva or Shannon an injustice when she said things like she'd never loved anyone the way she loved him or he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. However, over time, he'd realized admitting the truth wasn't an injustice to either of them. This wasn't a competition. And while some things were different with Ziva because she was her own person and he'd changed over the years, their relationship wasn't … less.

Was maybe even more.

He just hoped he could find the right words to make clear to her how he felt.

"Don't really know how to explain it," he started slowly. "Just because Shannon and Kelly were the best thing that ever happened to me back then, doesn't mean you're not the best thing that's happened to me, too."

He paused, clearly searching for words.

"Doesn't seem …" He shrugged. "Logical, I guess. But somehow it's true."

Tears gathered in her big brown eyes. A thin trickle of moisture beaded down one cheek like a strand of tiny diamonds. Her heart grew so large, it blocked her throat, her voice.

"Used to think I wasn't being fair to Shannon somehow if I said that out loud," he revealed haltingly, forcing the words out because she deserved them. "But …" He brought his gaze back to her. "Finally figured out it's not like that."

He gave her a small smile and a tiny sob broke free from Ziva's throat even as a beautiful smile lit up her face as he gave her the words that matched the way he always treated her.

"That is the best gift you could possibly have given me today," she whispered emotionally. She buried her face in his chest. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

For a long moment, they simply stood together, cradling each other close, reveling in that connection between them that only seemed to strengthen with time.

Finally, Ziva raised her head and swiped at the moisture on her cheeks.

"I think now might be the perfect time for you to open your gift," she smiled at him, love beaming out of her big brown eyes. Then a teasing light made them twinkle. "Well, the one that would not fit into my bag, that is."

He cocked a curious eyebrow at that, his heart beating a little faster as he wondered what else she could have in store for him.

She took his hand and silently urged him to sit on the couch, lifting the package in her other hand. She handed him his gift, then settled in beside him.

"Didn't want to do this at home this morning?" he asked curiously.

Ziva shook her head.

"Exchanging cards and sharing wedding cake was a perfect start to our anniversary," she smiled, thinking back fondly to the way they'd begun their day. If a woman couldn't eat defrosted wedding cake for breakfast on her first anniversary when she was six months pregnant, when could she? She did make sure to have a big glass of milk with it, though.

Then her eyes shifted to reveal something more, something she wouldn't let him read quite yet.

"Besides, I did not want to rush this and you had work."

At that point, her nerves went into overdrive. The baby kicked and shifted in response to her rapid heartbeat, so she rubbed a hand soothingly over her belly – as much to calm herself as her son.

She laid her other hand on Jethro's forearm to halt him from opening the present until she said one more thing.

Okay, two more things.

"If you hate it …" Or if it hurts you … "we will fix it," she vowed, causing him to look down at her curiously. She looked up at him, now revealing the mix of love and vulnerability she was feeling. "And I want you to tell me the truth, if you do. Promise me."

She was so earnest in her request that he paused, wondering what on earth could have her so uncertain.

"Don't think you have to worry about it," he started.

"Please," she husked, interrupting softly. "Promise me."

"Okay," he said, brushing a kiss across her temple. "Promise."

She pressed her lips to his shoulder before resting her cheek there and returning her gaze to the package he held in his hands.

Gibbs slowly peeled away the paper, revealing what was underneath.

And his whole world shifted on its axis, forever changed.

In his hands was a large picture frame that featured not just one picture under the glass, but a collection of many.

Some of which he hadn't viewed in years.

Decades, even.

His heart pounded and he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, losing himself in the view in front of him. Even if he could have formed a coherent sentence in that moment, he couldn't have forced the words past the lump of emotion in his throat.

In the center of the collage was the word Family. It was flanked on the left by a baby picture of Kelly and on the right by a copy of the latest ultrasound picture of their son that Ziva carried. In the upper left-hand corner was a wedding picture of him with Shannon and in the upper right-hand corner was one of the wedding pictures that had been taken of him and Ziva one year ago tonight.

The lower left-hand corner held a picture of a happy, grinning Kelly somewhere around her first birthday. The opposite corner held a piece of paper that was blank except for the words Baby Boy Gibbs, waiting for a corresponding photo of their child.

The rest of the space was filled with various photos that had no rhyme or reason as to their placement. There were pictures of the two of them on their vacations … of every member of their team, their closest friends who felt like family … one of them from their wedding day that included both their fathers … and a few more from his first life all those years ago. They were all mixed together, the only common denominator that applied to them all being that they were of people he cared about.

People he loved.

People who loved him back.

Ziva's nerves got the best of her, and the butterflies in her stomach were fluttering so wildly she thought she might throw up for the first time in weeks.

"I promise I was very careful with your pictures," she husked quietly, just managing to stop herself as her fingertips unconsciously reached for the photographs of him and Shannon, of Kelly, of the three of them together. "And I marked the places in the books Shannon made so we can put them back there if you want. I would understand."

She paused to swallow hard.

His silence stretched out and was really beginning to unnerve her, so she plowed ahead after the space of a few more heart beats, unable to keep waiting for his response.

"In fact, that is what I will do. It is all right."

She reached for the frame to move it, not looking at his face.

"No."

His soft, but firm word, rich with meaning, froze her in mid-motion. He caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, and she began to hope that she had given him something he wanted, maybe even loved.

She had no idea.

Then he tugged at her hand and commanded her in a whisper, "Look at me."

The staggering – and staggered - love and gratitude blazing in his eyes took her breath away … and breathed more life into that sense of hope.

"Jethro?" she whispered, allowing him to see her need for reassurance.

He smiled at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her even closer. He dipped his head and took her mouth in a soft, clinging kiss that was all about love … and thankfulness.

Ziva closed her eyes and gratefully sunk into him, into the kiss. A tear slipped out from under each eyelid to trail down her cheeks.

When at last he lifted his lips, she laid her head on his shoulder, her face tucked into his throat.

"You like it?" she asked hesitantly, in a voice he almost had to strain to hear.

He tilted his head to rest it on the top of her head, his gaze returning to the photos in front of him.

His family.

Past and present.

Both ever present in his soul for always.

And the heart of it all was the woman sitting beside him.

Though she wouldn't see it that way, not in a million years.

"Love it," he husked, squeezing her closer.

At last, Ziva released a sigh of relief.

"I am so glad," she breathed. "I was worried that I might have … overstepped my place."

He looked down at her, his shift causing her to lift her eyes to his.

"Your place is with me. Always. No boundaries." He favored her with a smile that could only be described as tender. "Thought you knew me."

"I … I do," she returned haltingly, "but this is … big."

He nodded once to the side in that way he had.

"In a good way," he shared, her responding smile brightening the room. "The best way."

Her heart melted, revealed in her big brown eyes.

"What made you think of this?"

She shrugged at his soft question.

"I think it started when we began painting the living room and moving the furniture around," she admitted softly, leaning her head against him once more, missing the surprise in his eyes. "Though you did not have any pictures of Shannon and Kelly up at the time, I did not want you to think your old life had to be erased to make room for our life."

"I make you feel like that?" he asked, his brow lowered slightly in concern. He sure hadn't meant to.

Ziva's lips curved gently as she shook her head.

"Never," she promised in a slightly husky voice. "But both you and I are masters at keeping some things buried – and you would never want to hurt me. So … perhaps I wondered …"

Her voice trailed off.

Then she gathered her strength and looked him in the eye.

"I did wonder," she admitted quietly. "But I did not know how to ask you about it."

"Stopped living in the past, Ziver, the day I fell in love with you."

Her heart stuttered and fell even further. Blinking back more tears, she whispered, "There you go again – saying the perfect thing to me."

He gave her that lopsided smile of his and dropped a soft kiss to her upturned lips. She lifted a hand to his cheek and kept him close, nuzzling against him.

"But after you started showing me pictures of Kelly – remember the first time? The night we came home from the hospital?"

He nodded and pressed his lips to her temple, willing the moisture in his own eyes to stay in check as he went back to that time in his mind.

"After that, this idea started forming until it would not leave me alone," she shared softly, running her hand lightly, lovingly over the glass.

She opened her mouth to say more, then closed it without another word.

"What?" he nudged her.

She shrugged and mumbled something like It will probably sound stupid.

"Ya know, every time you say that, you always ask or say something that's the complete opposite of stupid," he observed affectionately.

She glanced up at him to find his eyes twinkling at her. The tension in her shoulders relaxed a bit and she leaned back into him.

"Over the last few weeks, I looked in the attic for more of the photo albums Shannon had put together." She looked up at him anxiously, wondering if he'd feel she'd invaded his privacy. That had worried her some.

But the curve to his lips as he murmured Go on reassured her.

"I almost felt like she was … guiding me sometimes," Ziva shared in a low voice, "as I found exactly what I was looking for. And it all felt … peaceful and … happy, like she was glad to be part of it, too."

There had been moments when Ziva could almost feel a welcoming warmth, sense a smiling Shannon over her shoulder as they looked through the pictures. Those moments more than anything had pushed her far enough beyond her uncertainty about whether she was doing the right thing to actually do it.

Ziva ducked her head, embarrassed to say that out loud, even to Jethro.

"See? Finally I told you something that really does sound stupid."

Shaking his head at her inside, Gibbs carefully sat the picture frame to the side, but in front of them where they could still see it. Then he managed to shift her so he was cradling her across his lap. He allowed her to bury her face against him for a moment, tunneling his long fingers into the silk curtain of hair that she'd left loose for him because she knew he liked it best that way.

Then, resting one hand on her hip, he tugged on her long locks with the other just hard enough to lift her face to his, though she did not meet his eyes until he asked her to.

The love in his expression and his touch broke through the urge she had to hide from him.

"Think it sounds pretty amazing," he told her quietly. "And maybe we should poke around in that attic together sometime."

And with those words, she knew it was all good, that he did love the collection of pictures she'd put together for him, that somehow there was room in his heart for all of them equally, that they both understood now that neither remembering the past nor celebrating the present diminished the other.

"I think we all would like that," she whispered emotionally, a single tear escaping to bead down her cheek until he caught it with his lips.

He simply held her for a moment, absorbing all she was to him. He had a thought that he chose not to keep in his head.

"She'd have liked you," he murmured.

Ziva tipped her head back and looked up at him searchingly.

"If things had been different, she'd have liked you."

Ziva had the errant thought that if her heart melted anymore, she'd be one big gooey mess on the floor. How was it that he always seemed to give her exactly what she needed?

"I think I would have liked her, too," she returned softly, warmly. Then her expression turned knowing and teasing at the same time. "Until one of us found the other sleeping with her husband. Then …"

She arched a brow and dipped her chin to look up at him impishly, shrugging as if to say who knew what would have happened then, because she couldn't imagine herself or Shannon knowing him under any circumstances and not wanting him.

"You'd both have killed me and then finished off my bourbon together," he predicted with a playful smirk of his own.

"Hmmm …" she considered, fixing him with a slight version of that narrow-eyed stare she did so well. "You may be right about that."

They laughed together and hugged each other close. Felt good to be able to joke about that.

Better than good.

"Could we pretend that I would still get to keep you?" Ziva asked softly, wistfully, tucking her face into his throat.

"Sure," he answered immediately. "'specially since it might have been true."

While he could never have willingly allowed his first wife and daughter to be ripped away from him, he'd made peace with that part of him that was glad he'd never had to choose between loving them and loving Ziva.

And, though those words stayed in his heart, she got the message through that connection they had that didn't rely on words. He felt her press a kiss and a smile against his skin, and he squeezed her a little tighter.

Emotion rolled through her and she held on to him for dear life.

God, she loved him. So much.

"Thank you," she whispered emotionally, nuzzling her face against his.

"For what?"

She looked into those brilliant blue eyes of his, tears of happiness still sparkling like diamonds in her brown ones.

"For loving me. For marrying me." She moved one of his hands back to her belly, leaving her own hand over his to press it against her, even as she also tilted her head toward the picture frame resting on the floor. "For making a family with me."

He rested his forehead against hers.

"Should be thanking you," he responded quietly.

She opened her mouth to disagree, but he hushed her with an index finger placed gently over her lips.

"Having you makes everything better for me," he shared decisively. "Us together, that's what makes all of it work."

He let her see the truth of that on his face, then he found her lips with his and slowly delved into her mouth … losing himself in her soft, sweet warmth … in the way she loved him.

Loved him enough to give him what she knew he needed, even when it left her vulnerable.

And what had he ever done to deserve that?

He felt more than heard her breath hitch, and his body hardened in response.

Ziva leaned back against the arm of the small sofa, pulling his chest over hers, desire clouding her eyes.

"I miss having you on top of me," she breathed, as she skimmed her mouth to his ear, giving him better access to that spot on her neck that drove her crazy.

"Miss having you under me," he nearly growled, relishing the outright gasp she couldn't hold back this time. "But I'll take you anyway I can have you, anytime."

A moan escaped her throat and her thighs shifted as moist heat flooded her panties.

"Then you might like your other gift, as well," she murmured provocatively as she arched into him.

He lifted his head just enough for her to see his brow lifted in question.

After a deep, clinging kiss that ended with a flick of her tongue across his lips as it left his mouth, Ziva levered herself up, walked to her bag to pull something from it, and settled back into his lap as she invited him to discover what she'd just handed him.

Wrapped in the white silk robe that she'd worn for all of about five minutes on their wedding night was a book on sex during pregnancy.

"I did not bother to bring the matching nightgown," she grinned somewhat self-deprecatingly, tilting her head toward the silky robe, "as I am certain I would not manage to fit into it this year."

He looked at her with a roguish gleam in his eye and a cocked eyebrow.

"Seem to recall, you didn't manage to get into that last year, either," he reminded her in a voice that ghosted up her spine.

"True," she agreed breathlessly as he dipped his head to bite gently at her neck.

"You trying to tell me somethin' with the book?" he asked, laying it aside and licking the skin he'd just nipped to soothe any sting.

"Only that I do not want you to get bored with me," she answered sultrily into his ear before capturing his earlobe in her teeth.

"Not possible," he denied in a tone that was almost a growl.

She took his mouth again with a hum of pleasure as his hand slipped under her shirt, caressing the ever-growing curve of her middle and the more-gently-growing curves of her breasts.

"Still," she murmured against his lips, "we have mostly been in one of two positions over the past couple of months. Perhaps there are other positions you would like to try, hmmm?" She tilted her head back so he could see the wicked gleam that was banked in her gaze. Her voice dropped even lower until it skittered over his nerve endings. "There is even a DVD in case we need assistance in figuring things out."

She gave a sexy chuckle and nuzzled into his neck as he hardened even further beneath her thigh.

"It appears you are not opposed to the idea of a little … research," she husked.

"Only a little?" he teased her devilishly, thinking the brand new bottle of warm vanilla sugar edible massage oil she didn't know was in his bag might make a pleasurable addition to their … research.

She gasped and slid her hand under his shirts to find his warm skin.

"Perhaps more like a lot," she admitted breathlessly.

"Now you're talkin'," he grinned before he kissed her brainless.

And then there was no more talking for a very long time.

Just loving …

And laughing …

And sharing ...

And holding …

Secure in the knowledge that the way they loved each other had healed them and had created exactly the family they both needed.