"Sometimes it scares me."

"What does?" Ziva questions.

"I know that if I had shot him, I would have killed him, and I know I wouldn't have felt bad about it. I would have felt relieved."

"I know."

"I know that when you kill someone it is supposed to make you feel like a terrible person, but if I had taken his life I would not have felt that way. He deserved it. The world is a better place without him. That isn't normal. I am not normal."

"Eli was not a good person. He did not deserve to live, but eventually you would have felt remorse for killing him."

"How many?"

"Many," Ziva answers tersely.

"You feel remorseful for killing them all?"

"I do not remember all of their names, but I can see all of their faces, the second that they realized they would not live another day."

"He said things to me that..."

"Were not true," Ziva finishes her sentence.

"He said things that I once believed."

"What things?"

"That you did not want me. That you did not love me. That you felt obligated to take me."

"None of those things are true. None of them."

"He said that you wouldn't come for me."

"No matter what, I will always come for you. I would do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"If I had to walk through fire, swim the ocean, climb a mountain, I would. If I had to choose your life, or mine I would choose yours."

"Why? You barely know me. You..."

Ziva cuts her off, "You are mine. You are my child, and that is all that matters. That is what a mother does."

"Why?"

"Because the love for your child, that is stronger than anything else."

"How do you know?"

"For eleven years I did not even knew that you existed, but in my heart, I still felt a piece of me missing. The instant I saw you, all I knew was that I had to protect you, no matter what."

"I don't understand."

"One day, you will."

"When?"

"When you have a child of your own."

"So in twenty years?"

"That sounds about right to me."

"I want you to be happy."

"Hannah where is this going?"

"I want you to give Tony a chance."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"I want to know why you want me to be with him."

"He is a good man. He loves you, he loves us."

"Sometimes things aren't that simple."

"Why can't they be?"

"Because there are rules, there are things that..."

"There will always be a reason that you shouldn't be together. All you need to be together, is one, one reason. If you find a reason, if you find someone who chases after you when you walk away, cries when you go, and prays that you will come back, you should hold on to them. Those kinds of people don't come around every day. The ones that you can count on, the ones who know what you need, without a single word. I can see it, when he looks at you, he can read like he has known you all of his life. He knows you, even when you don't recognize yourself. I think he sees what I see."

"What is that?"

"Someone who has been hurt so many times, that she expects that at some point, everyone will let her down, everyone will hurt her. You aren't afraid to get hurt. You are afraid that you won't get hurt, that for once in your life things will work out. It scares you, because you are always waiting for the other foot to drop. You are afraid to take the leap of faith, because you don't think you deserve it. You don't think that you deserve to be happy, to have everything that you want. We are all sinners, but we can have forgiveness, all we have to do is ask."

"Hannah I do not want to get involved with him because he is a co-worker if things go badly..."

"There are more jobs."

"I do not want to lose his friendship. I do not want you to get too attached to him."

"Where is he going? Hasn't he proven that he isn't going anywhere, no matter how hard you push?"

"You are looking for a father and..."

"Why shouldn't it be him? Why shouldn't I get to choose?"

"If things do not work out between he and I..."

"I will still love the both of you, just the same. My allegiance, it will always be with both of you. Nothing can change that."

"There are millions of men that I could be with, that I could fall in love with. There are many worthy candidates, many who would want to be your father. Why him?"

"There is only one Anthony DiNozzo Jr."

"Why do you want me to be with him, and only him?"

"No one else fits."

"No one else fits what?"

"No one else fits, into the picture. He is the only one who wants us, all of us. You can spend the rest of my childhood looking for another man like that, and you may find him, but they will all fall flat."

"Hannah..."

"Hold on, I'll show you."

Hannah slips off the couch, and runs upstairs. She climbs under her bed, and pulls out a book. She races back down the stairs. She flips the brown, worn, leather bound book open. Pasted in the center of the page is a drawing. Hannah points to it.

"I drew this when I was five."

Ziva stares at the drawing. In colored pencil is a family of four. A little boy, who looks like Matthew, standing next to him is Hannah, next to her is a mother, who looks like Ziva, and the man next to Ziva, he looks like Tony. Ziva touches the book.

"What is this?" she questions.

"A scrapbook. I got in contact with one of the women who took care of me while I was... anyway she sent it to me. I just got it the other day. I was waiting for the right time to show it to you."

"Now is a good time," Ziva suggests.

Hannah closes the book, "I guess we should start at the beginning." She flips open the cover. On the front page of the book in cut out letters is the name Hannah. Underneath, written neatly in pen is her birth date. "I didn't make this. The nannies made them, for each of this. I managed to get a hold of one of them, and she sent them out to everyone who left," she clarifies.

"What is in this book?" Ziva questions.

"Drawings, things we wrote, my first perfect target is in here. The nanny who stayed with me in the hospital when I had leukemia wrote notes about how I was doing every so often."

"That's it?" Ziva questions. She thinks back to the hundred of pictures on her camera, of Matthew. He was a few weeks old, and there were more pictures of him, than days he had been alive. She wondered what Hannah had looked like as a baby, she had hoped one day she would find a picture, something so she could look at, instead of just wondering.

"Oh, and pictures," Hannah adds. She flips the page. Ziva stares at it silently. A baby picture. Baby Hannah. Her head is covered in thick black hair. Her eyes are closed. Her tiny nose is like Matthew's. Her tiny pink lips gap open as she sleeps. She is swaddled tightly in a receiving blanket. "That is the day I was born," Hannah narrates.

She points to the opposite page. "That is my first birthday." Hannah stands outside, wearing nothing but a diaper, and sandals. She smiles, her big dark eyes stare directly at the camera. She waves to the camera. A mop of dark curls surrounds her face.

Hannah turns the page. In the next picture Hannah is older, her hair is longer, and more teeth are visible in her smile. She sits at a table, with a plate full of cake. "Second birthday."

They go through two more pictures, two more birthdays. Drawings follow. Hannah hesitates on turning to the next page. This was her story, she knew each page well.

"Hannah turn the page," Ziva coaxes.

"Maybe this is enough for tonight."

"I want to see."

Hannah nods, and turns the page. In all of the previous pictures there was a happy, little girl, staring at the camera. In this picture... the little girl is not happy. She lies in a hospital bed, clinging onto a stuffed animal. She wears a hospital gown, and is hooked up to an IV. Instead of dark curls, there is no hair. She looks pale, and weak, and sad. Hannah looks at Ziva, trying to read her expression.

"I think that is enough for tonight," Hannah suggests.

"We should talk about that."

"Not tonight," Hannah warns.

"Why not?"

"I want you to get some sleep."

"I won't anyway."

"I remember that picture. I remember all I wanted was my mommy, and I knew that no matter how much the nanny cared for me, and how well the nurse took care of me, none of them were my mom."

Ziva stares at her daughter, and fights the tears as her heart breaks for her.

"I remember being scared, and I just wanted someone to hold me, to tell me that I would be ok. Instead all I ever heard is, 'Hannah you are strong,' that was all they ever said."

Ziva tightens her jaw, trying to will the tears away. She reaches for Hannah. And for once, Hannah reaches back. She allows Ziva to hold onto her, to hug her. Ziva pets her head, feeling her long, thick locks.