Wow, what a wait.

Thanks: Amilyn, girleffect, Chemmie, Born30. If you have not read "Salam," I suggest you do it now. Go ahead. I'll wait. And sit in the dark.

Disclaimer: B*tch, please. This chapter owes something to "Ya'alili" as recorded by Eighth Day.

xoxo

. . . .

You may be reborn,

but it's all for scorn

and that's what you'll take to your grave.

-Indigo Girls, "Faye Tucker."

. . . .

Tony and Ziva rode the elevator shoulder-to-shoulder for the first time in a year. Stiff, straight-backed, pulled out of bed by Gibbs' urgent phone call. We got a case.

But slept in her car seat at their feet. Tony shouldered both his weapon and a diaper bag. Ziva's hand rested not on the butt of her weapon, but on the long handle of Sara's tiny wheelchair. The seat was laden with an overnight bag and her stuffed rabbit.

They were greeted by Gibbs' pointed blue stare and Abby's slightly frantic face. Sara is out of sight, but Tony could hear her singing a camp song and keeping a beat on something metallic and hollow. "What d'we got, Abbs?"

She shifted, slumped. "DNA collected on scene came back as a fifty percent match to..." she trailed off. Her eyes fell on a cabinet in a corner. "To Shawn Keyman."

Tony's heart fell into his shoes. Sara sang faster, louder. A low cabinet pulsed with her rhythm. "He's dead," he slurred. He needed a coffee.

"Dead people have families," Abby wheedled.

A father. A brother. Maybe an uncle, but that could be a stretch. He looked at Maya and swallowed. Sara pounded, fast and furious. The song was in Hebrew. "We think—"

Gibbs tensed. "I don't believe in coincidences, DiNozzo."

The pounding moved inside his head. His patience thinned and broke. "Bug! Knock it off!"

Silence. Gibbs, Abby, Ziva stared at him. Maya squeaked her tiny little cry and waved her arm. Ziva clucked and shushed, rubbed the baby's silky head.

All the air had been sucked from the room. Tony had to breathe deeply to find it. "What's the plan?" he asked eventually.

Ziva's eyes flickered. Hunt them down and kill them.

Abby tap-tap-tapped like always. "I'm running a search for Keyman's relatives in the area, and running that list against our vic's name and stats."

He nodded. "We got COD from Ducky?"

"Asphyxiation. She was buried alive. Unconscious but..."

Ziva picked up the baby seat and stepped away from them. He heard her speaking softly in Hebrew, but to whom, he wasn't sure. "Sex crime?"

"Yeah," Gibbs growled.

Tony nodded again. Abby tapped away. "And Dad?"

Dad. Gibbs' jaw tightened. "Shot. Kid taken at the time of the murder."

"We got a suspect?"

"Not yet. You and McGee are going out to canvas at sunup. Get a coffee. Crime scene report is on your desk." He stalked across the lab to where Ziva had Sara on her lap. "And give the keys to Ziver—you're riding with me."

She joined him once Sara was safe in her father's arms. Maya was still in the car seat. She sucked her bottom lip. "She'll be hungry soon," he pointed out.

"Yes. I will take her home and feed her."

He gave her the car keys. "You need Sar's seat out of—"

"Palmer already moved it."

"And you trust him?"

She took the diaper bag from his shoulder. "And you do not?"

Sara rolled up on them and patted Ziva's leg. "Daddy said I can go to camp."

Ziva gave her a short nod. "Then we should go home so that you can go to sleep. There is a field trip to the aquarium tomorrow and it will be a long day."

She lit up. "Oooh." She pulled Tony down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Bye. Be good."

"Bye, Bug. Sorry I yelled."

She blinked at him. A shadow of uncertainty—fear?—crossed her face. "It's ok. I know what you were talking about. I was singing so I didn't have to hear."

Well, shit. "Yeah. Just...sorry, Bug."

"It's ok. C'mon, Zeeba, we should go. I need to go to bed."

Ziva leaned up and kissed him. Her mouth was firm and confident on his. "Be safe, please."

He gave her a grin. "Yep. I'll even catch the bad guys."

She smiled and nudged Sara toward the elevator. "Shaifeleh, it is late. We need to go."

He picked up the car seat. Maya slept on. "Walk you to the car?"

"Unnecessary."

His stomach fluttered. "Being a gentleman here, Zi."

She knew it was for him, not her. "Fine. Carry the baby, please."

They went up, over, down. Crickets chirped. Dew was falling. Sara hauled herself up and snapped the harness by herself. He only had to tighten it for her. "Have fun tomorrow," he instructed.

She nodded seriously. "I will."

Ziva started the engine. "Call me if you need anything."

There was a glint in her eye. Did she want to stay with him? "Same," he said slowly.

The baby squawked. She gave him an apologetic look, backed out of the space, and sped away, taillights flashing I love you.

. . . .

Sara's bunk was taking a school bus to the aquarium. The bus had a special gate and lift just for her and a place for her chair and straps to keep it still. The driver's helper dropped some snap-thing on Sara's lap and walked away.

Tova looked at it with a confused face. "What's that?"

She threw it on the ground. "I don't know."

The helper came back and picked it up. "You'll need this," he said. His voice was gruff like Daddy's.

She didn't want it. Wouldn't Ziva help? She was talking to Sara's counselor Mushky and waving her hands. She looked impatient. Maya was asleep in all that teal green fabric. Sara didn't go over, but waited. Politely waited.

The helper came back again and pushed Sara backward so fast she couldn't react. Her tires bumped over the lift edge. She was cranked up by a whirring machine and backed up again. Her wheels went into ruts. The helper looped straps around the front and back of her chair and cranked them down like rrr-rrr-rrr.

The driver nodded at his helper like they were working men on an important job. "Her chair's WC-19 compliant."

And then the helper took the snap-thing and clipped it to the back of Sara's chair with four clicks. It went across her chest like her car seat straps and was pulled tight. She wiggled. Her face was hot. It was bad and she didn't know how to tell them. She started to cry. Baby.

Ziva saw just in time and climbed up. "No," she said. She talked to those men like they were bad kids. "Sara does not have adequate spinal support for that. She can transfer to a regular seat and sit with a partner."

Partners was how she was supposed to always be with a friend for safety. All the kids were. Like swimming. She wiped her face and tried not to let her scared show. "Can you let me out, please?"

Ziva unbuckled everything. Sara got out, holding tight to her hand, and all the kids were getting on the bus. She waited for Tova and sat with her. Tova grabbed her hand. "Best buddies!"

Ziva nodded. She asked in Hebrew if Sara was ok and Sara said so. She was getting better at Hebrew. She liked that it was their secret language.

Almost, anyway. Yaron Pelled smiled and pointed. He came from Israel so his dad could work on computers. He talked to everyone in Hebrew and sometimes he cried because no one understood except Sara, and he was afraid of her wheelchair even though she let him touch it. Ziva smiled and told him to sit down.

"Bye, Zeeba. See you after."

Ziva waved and got off the bus by the stairs. They drove away. Sara felt proud without a car seat. She looked just like a regular kid now, especially since Ziva gave her soft, loose, tie-dye pants from Israel that hid her pull-up and her braces. They were colorful. Everyone said they were cool.

The bus ride was bouncy. Their counselor and the CITs led them all in singing circle-time songs like Ya'alili and Machal. They banged on the seats like drums and they clapped. Sara liked singing all together. Maybe they could do that at school, too.

And then they got dropped off. Everyone filed off the bus and Sara went down the lift and lined up. Everyone else held hands. Sara couldn't; she would crash if she only pushed with one hand.

Tova understood. "I don't want you to wreck."

"Me, either."

"The fish might break out and get us all wet."

"And slimy. My dad took me fishing and there was slime all over the whole boat."

Levi Galperin was walking in front of them with Matthew Miller. He laughed. "You can't fish."

"Yes, I can."

They had to wait while Mushky showed the tickets. Levi put his hands on his hips. "No you can't. People in wheelchairs can't go on boats. They'll drown."

He was so dumb. "I'm a good swimmer. My dad taught me."

"No you're not."

She got really close to him. His breath smelled like eggs. "Yes, I am. I can run you over, too, and smash you flat, so you better not be mean anymore."

She bumped him to prove it. He stumbled back. He looked a little scared now. "Nuh-uh."

Abby said it was better to be nice. "You can come next time."

They walked down the first long hall, with the freshwater fish and clams and the jellyfish swirling in a circle at the end. "Nuh-uh."

"Ask your mom."

He wouldn't look at her again for a long time, not even when he got up close to her to look at the turtles. "That's a Red-Eared Slider," she said, but he walked away fast.

She watched the striped bass swim in the fake current. "His mom died," Tova whispered.

They went to the kids' room. Sara made sure to pick a spot near him at the craft table. He acted like he was really busy gluing pompoms to a cut-out of a green tree frog. "Sorry I hurt your feelings," she said.

He smeared glue with his finger. "Don't talk to me."

The scissors weren't right for her. She handed her paper to Mushky for her to cut and colored the headband instead. They would all wear animal crowns on the bus home. "My mom died, too."

A fat teardrop fell on his paper. He rubbed it with his gluey finger and put a pompom on it. "Is that why you have that stupid wheelchair?"

"She had a disease and she gave it to me."

"Are you going to die, too?"

Die. Like Mr. Shawn and Mommy and Mama and Kelly. Like Ziva's mean old dad. "I think we all die."

"But will you get sick and die?"

Sometimes she wanted to take blankets and put them where Mama and Mommy and Kelly were in the ground. Especially if it was raining or snowing. "I don't think so. Not until I'm old. Like my dad. He's really old. His hair is all white except for some in the back. It's a stripe. Like a skunk.

That made Levi smile a little. "I live with my grandma and grandpa. They're old, too. But not that old. They takes me skiing in the winter."

"I never went skiing."

"Because your legs don't work."

"Yeah."

He put his frog on the headband. The pompoms stayed over where that fat tear made a mark. "Can I really go fishing with you?"

She would ask Daddy as soon as he was home. "Sure."

"I'll ask my grandma."

Mushky and Ellie and Isaac clapped their hands. "Garinim! Garinim! Please line up!"

All the kids rushed to line up. Levi stepped ahead of Tova. "Go with Matthew," he whispered.

Tova was so smart. She knew better than to fuss and tattle. "I get to sit with you at lunch."

And Levi could sit on the other side. Maybe with Matthew so it would be even. "Ok," she said.

Then everyone clapped. Mushky started singing Ya'alili and they all put on their crowns. Sara patted her legs. They sang the dance, dance, dance part and Levi did a little step-shuffle.

Tantz, tantz, tantz, Chabibi.

. . . .

They took a bathroom break after lunch. Everyone lined up by boys or by girls and the counselors made sure everyone washed their hands and waited outside quietly. Isaac sang Put your backs against the wall, against the wall and everyone did. Sara made sure her tires touched.

She went last so no one would see her take out a pull-up and change. Then there was someone crying and Mushky ran out of the bathroom before she could finish. She heard Mushky clap and sing Garinim! Garinim! so she rushed and didn't wash her hands very well. Oh, well. She had sanitizer.

But she wasn't fast enough-everyone was gone when she got out. No problem. She knew everything about the aquarium. She went upstairs to Marine Mammal Discovery, but they weren't there, and then she went downstairs to Antarctic Exploration, but they weren't there, and then she went to Shark Alley, but they weren't there, either.

Maybe they were going home. Sara went out to the doors, but there was no bus in the parking lot which meant they packed up and went home without her. Her heart made a weird, loud noise. She put her chin down tight to make it stop but a few tears came out. She snuffled them back and dried her face. She was not scared. She did everything by herself before Daddy and she could do everything herself now.

His voice came on in her head. You get lost, it said. You get scared, you come home. Got me?

She looked at the long, long sidewalk, then back at the glass door, and touched the backpack hung on her chair. Daddy was working. She still had granola bars and water. And half a banana. And two pull-ups.

"Got you," she said, pointed her chair, and zoomed off.

. . . .

George Keyman was heavy and pasty-faced. He eyed Tony's badge with a furtive look and looked down at his hands. They were fat and soft. "I raised a nice family," he said quietly.

"And Shawn?"

He didn't look up. "I don't know what happened."

"How did you feel about the charges brought against him, Mr. Keyman?"

"Terrible," he admitted. "I didn't raise a son to be a child molester and drug addict."

"How did you feel about the verdict?"

"Terrible," he admitted again. "But I have other children. I couldn't have Shawn out if he was...like that."

"Were you angry about what happened?"

He finally looked up. He had brown, fairly bulging eyes above a short salt-and-pepper beard. "Initially. We're trying to move on."

Tony nodded. He held out a picture of their victim. "Do you know this man?"

He looked, shook his head. "No."

"DNA says differently."

He looked up again, confused. "I'm related to him?"

"We found DNA that matched yours."

He wiped his mouth. "He's dead. You're—"

Tony felt almost sorry for him. "Let's try again—do you know this man?"

"I don't."

"And where is your family, Mr. Keyman?"

He laced his fingers. "My wife is at work. My sons are at sleepaway camp in Pennsylvania. My daughter is playing at a friend's house. I...I was a teacher. I lost my job when..."

Tony heard McGee swallow. "I'm very sorry about that, Mr. Keyman."

He shrugged. "If that's all the karma that comes down from raising a rapist..."

Silence. Tony held out the picture one more time. "This man's six-year-old daughter was killed, also. Justice for him could mean justice for her. I will ask one more time—do you know this man?"

Keyman shook his head. "No."

"Think hard," McGee urged. "Did you ever see him with Shawn? Or did Shawn ever mention a buddy in the Marines?"

He wavered. "He...my son...he talked about enlisting sometimes. Talked about using it to get scholarships. We're teachers, Agent McGee, there's not a whole lot of money...I thought it would be good for him. I thought he was craving the structure."

Traction, Tony thought. Finally. "Can you remember any of his friends' names? Friends who might have been in the Corps?"

"None. Well, my brother," he sighed. "Dom. E-7."

Gunnery Sergeant. "Can we have his contact information?"

He went to a low bureau and pulled a business card out of a small, ornate box. "Here."

"Thank you," Tim said.

He motioned to the front door with one arm, pulled it back. "I read the documents."

Tony schooled his features. "Yeah?"

He blinked. "That little girl—is she ok?"

He and McGee gave each other a brief look. "She's ok," he said lightly, and walked out.

. . . .

Abby tottered over as soon as they were off the elevator. Her face was ashen beneath her makeup. "Sara is missing," she warbled. "She gave 'em the slip at the aquarium! Gibbs is flipping out!"

McGee went white. Tony lurched toward his desk. "And?"

She wrung her hands. "And what, Tony? Sara is gone!"

"And who's on it, Abby? What kind of grid are they working? Is there an AMBER alert? Who is she with? What was she wearing?"

"Oh," she sighed. "Oh. Um, DCPD is working it. They're a mile out from the aquarium and the building is shut down. The tanks are all...they're checking filtration systems."

He shook his head. "She's not in the water."

"They're putting divers in the river at fifteen-hundred."

"She's not in the water," he repeated. Why was he so damn certain? "What was the last sighting?"

"Thirteen-ten at the dolphin tank. Someone said she looked confused."

He pulled up map after map. The aquarium, the neighborhood, nav maps of the river. "Where were the other campers?"

"Auditorium. Baby sea otters."

She'd be pissed to know she missed that. "Who's filing?"

McGee threw live feeds of the aquarium security cameras on the plasma. "You know her stats better than anyone, Tony."

Except her dad, he thought, and pulled up the DCPD form. Sara Elise Gibbs. Age: 6. Weight: twenty-eight pounds. Height: thirty-one inches. Hair: brown, curls. Eyes: hazel. Health status: Tony paused, then typed FRAGILE and clicked Send.

His phone rang in seconds. "It's Nachshon. I was on her original case. What's going on?"

"Walk-off at the aquarium."

"Shit."

"She's on wheels. Guess it's a roll-off."

Her heard her put the clip in her gun. "Just texted my partner—we'll get there STAT. Where's Gibbs?"

The bullpen buzzed, but the silver fox superior was nowhere to be found. "No idea. Bet he's there or close."

"Tell him to get at me," she said, and hung up.

He got up. McGee followed. "C'mon, McFlipper. We're going to the aquarium."

. . . .

"Yallah, yallah, ya'alili. Tantz, tantz, tantz, Chabibi!" Sara sang. She patted her knees between pushes. "Sh'tehei l'amazl sh'tehei! Ai ba'dir sh'tehei!"

Singing made her happy because pushing was hard. The sidewalk was bumpy and crooked. Her hands were dirty and getting blisters. Cars went fast on the street and made her nervous when there was no sidewalk and they were really close. Smashed flat, like she told Levi. She would apologize tomorrow.

She rolled under a highway. Cars went fast up above and the noise echoed. "Hachatan et Sefardi. Kaleh no'eh Ashkenazi!"Her voice echoed, too. She stopped pushing to clap and there were more echoes. "So cool."

There was a corner and she stopped. Two cars passed. Then she looked both ways and crossed. There were cars and houses and dogs on leashes. She waved at a baby in a carrier. And then there were no more houses, but tall trees. Woods. Maybe Daddy would take her camping. Or maybe she could go to sleepaway camp with a tent. Tova would come, and Levi, and Beila and Sophie and Matthew. They would sing Ya'alili all together in a circle. If a grownup came they could make s'mores. And drink grape juice from Dod Romi.

Then there was no sidewalk anymore. The road was rough. Her hands were hot. Her voice was tired from singing. She felt warm on her tush and sighed. Wet. She needed to change. But there was no bathroom anywhere. She turned at the edge of the road. Her front wheels smushed in some dirt. Cars swished by. She was on top of a little hill and below was bushes and pickers. There was a tiny path, but not one big enough for her chair. She unbuckled and scooted down. Maybe she could just go down enough so no one could see, change, put her old pull-up in the bag, and then go back up.

Sara bum-scooted down, then switched to hands-and-knees. Her backpack slid up her neck. She crashed, banging her chin. Dang it, she thought, and felt ashamed. That was almost a swear.

She wiped her face and went a little more, then stopped and looked up; she could see her chair, but no one could see her. And if she went under a bush then she'd really be safe. There was a yellow one near, and it had flowers. Perfect. She scooted closer. The branches caught in her hair. Daddy would wash it when she got home.

Sara went in and in. The bushes were tall. She was a brave adventurer. A brave adventurer with wet pants. She turned around, pulled off her backpack, and took off her soft pants. The knees were dirty. Would Ziva be mad?

Off came the pull-up. On went the clean one. She leaned against the fattest part of the flowerbush to pull it up, but there was a creak and something popped and then she was rolling down and down. Thorns scratched and pulled her clothes. She might have screamed, but didn't know-all the air was gone.

She landed on her side in wet, black, mud and laid there for a long time. Her breath came like guh, guh. There was pain in her leg and her tush. She sat up and wiped her face again. Her shirt was muddy now, too, and her pants were way up the hill. She could see them caught on a tree and waving like a flag.

Sara clawed at the dirt, thinking of Yitzi and Yaffa and how they clawed the furniture. Ziva yelled at them for it. She would yell at Sara for getting her new pants all gross. That was a bad choice, Shaifeleh.

A bad choice. Her legs were heavy. She got up a little bit, but slid back down. Her knees sank in the mud. Her braces were full of leaves. She climbed harder, faster. She would not stay here. She would go home.

"Daddy?" she called, but she couldn't hear anything. Not even the cars. Not even birds. "Daddy?" Still nothing. Someone had to hear, right? There were cars. Cars meant people. People meant someone was close enough. She didn't need to be scared.

She took a deep breath and yelled. "Daddy! Daddy! I'm stuck, Dad!"

Nothing. A car rumbled over the broken pavement.

Dang it. She sat back. Her knees were up. They didn't go down. She patted. She could turn Ziva's lullaby into a happy song, and then everyone would come and tell her how brave and smart she was to wait so nicely for them. And they would go home and have cake and maybe Ziva would put baby Maya on Sara's lap so she could smell her sweet, sleepy smell.

She patted faster, clapping, rocking. "Ha Ruach! Gov-er-et! Hoooo-ma! Hataza-mer-ET!"

The horsemen are coming, my child.