I don't think I ever said this publicly, so here goes me saying this publicly: This story will be finished. Pinky promise. Actually, I'm writing the last two chapters right now and it will still be a while until we reach them on here. So, I will continue to post (at least) weekly updates until the very end of the end. - And now, off you go. Read. Enjoy.
Chap 36 Ticking Crocodiles
Monday, April 12th 2021
Eliana David was used to little sleep and waking often. When Ziva had opened the door to the study that morning, she had already been awake enough to peer back at her daughter. When Ziva had asked her to get ready soon for when she would get back from her morning run things were bound to get more hectic, Eliana had slipped into the bathroom only seconds after the front door had snapped shut. When things were picking up around her later on, Eliana made sure she blended into the background: She helped Tony set the table for breakfast, she located Ziva's backpack in the foyer, she announced the time whenever somebody asked for it. For the most part, however, she watched; she watched routines unfold and allowed herself to get lost in the memories they triggered for one or the other reason.
"Morning, princess!", Tony greeted and offered a bright smile to Tali as she hugged him from the side.
"Mommy woked me up", she mumbled, a low grunt escaping her lips.
Tony couldn't help but laugh. "We'll never get used to being woken up, will we?"
Tali shook her head decidedly. "Nope."
"I feel you", Tony replied, patting her back. "But it could be much, much worse than seeing mommy's face first thing in the morning, right?"
The five-year-old sighed and nodded, then finally lifted her head to eye her father wearily. "Dress?"
Tony chuckled at his daughter's drowsy morning cuteness and quickly led her upstairs.
*…the ides of time…*
"Ziva!", she called through the darkness of the room. She flapped her hand against the wall repeatedly until it made contact with the switch and the room was suddenly engulfed in light. "Ziva?"
"Ima!", Ziva cried, dashing out from a corner of the room and throwing her arms around her mother.
"It is alright, tateleh. I am here now", she soothed.
Eli was right behind her, following her down the stairs. Ziva instantly shrunk deeper into her embrace to the sound of her father's heavy tread, causing her to turn away instinctively so as to bring her body between her daughter's and her husband's.
He eyed the pair suspiciously. "Eliana, she deserved-"
"She is six years old, Eli", she barked, one of her hands covering Ziva's ear. "I will never comprehend how the same man can take his daughter to the stables so she can ride the horses she loves and then do this to her."
Eli straightened up, squaring his shoulders. "In life we need to be just as prepared to protect the things we love."
"No, Eli", she argued, glaring at him. "With six all she has to do is learn of things to love."
"She also has to learn to do as she is told."
She could feel Ziva trembling against her, muffled sobs escaping her small lips. "We are leaving, Eli."
*…the ides of time…*
"Do we have to go to Uncle Gibbs' again after school?", David inquired, leading a spoon full of cereal to his mouth and looking expectantly between his parents.
"No", Ziva assured him with a smile. "Sarah will pick you up and stay with you until your dad and I get home."
"Both?"
"That's the plan, buddy", Tony said.
"We promise."
*…the ides of time…*
"Promise me, Eli", she said, lying in his arms, her hand placed squarely on her bulging stomach. "Promise me we will keep this child safe and protected and we will not make her part of our world."
He sighed. "This is not your world anymore."
"Promise me", she repeated, rolling her auburn eyes up to meet his.
"How can we promise that?", he countered. "With all that we know?"
She inclined her head, as if she could look directly at the child growing inside of her. "She deserves so much more."
Eli waited for a moment, then put his hand on top of his wife's. "I promise you I will do everything so she has a chance to choose her path in life."
"Do you hear that, tateleh?", she said to her stomach, ignoring Eli's soft laugh. "You can be anything you want."
*…the ides of time…*
"Do you have all of your homework?", Ziva asked from where she was loading the dishwasher.
David nodded, then sprinted up the stairs only to come back down a moment later with his backpack in hand, perfunctorily rummaging through its insides. "Yep."
"Are you sure?"
"Mom", the eight-year-old groaned, rolling his eyes.
Ziva held up her arms, looking on innocently with a smile adorning her face.
*…the ides of time…*
She gently pried the door to her daughter's room open. Usually, she couldn't get Ziva to wake up at all and now she found her sitting at her desk at six in the morning, writing furiously on a piece of paper.
"Tateleh?", she called out, walking over to her desk and casting a glance over the girl's shoulder. "What are you doing?"
"Homework", Ziva replied.
"For today?"
"Yes", she pressed out, her hand swishing along the paper.
"Did you forget to do it yesterday?"
Ziva stalled for a moment, pretending to read instead. "I did not have time to do it yesterday", she admitted quietly.
"Ziva-"
"I know", she put in quickly, rolling her eyes up at her mother. "But Abba took Ari and me to the range and we were just coming back when you came to pick us up." Ziva studied her mother's face, the anger in her brown eyes becoming apparent. "Don't be angry, Ima-"
"I am not angry with you, tateleh", she assured her, running a hand down her daughter's wild curls. "It is your father who should know better."
"But-"
"Taking you to shooting ranges, training pitches, the offices", she griped. "He gets his days with you so he can spend time with you, not drill you."
"Please, don't fight", Ziva implored her, taking a hold of her mother's hand. "He made us promise not to tell. He will know it was me who told you. Please, Ima."
"He does not have to know", Eliana replied, squeezing her daughter's hand. "But that was not our deal, Ziva, you know that."
Tears were now clearly pooling in Ziva's eyes. "Don't fight."
She caught a tear that threatened to drop onto the little girl's cheek with the tip of her thumb. "I will always fight, tateleh", she insisted. "For you, for the three of you, I will always fight."
*…the ides of time…*
"Can we have s'ghetti tonight?", Tali asked as she stood in the foyer with only one shoe on, her eyes cast hopefully into her father's direction.
Ziva recognized her daughter's look instantly as she bent down to help the five-year-old on the case of the missing second shoe. It was the very look that regularly caused Tony to cave, whatever his little girl's request.
"Yes, daddy, we have not had spaghetti in almost a week", Ziva teased, smirking at her partner.
"So, it's about time", David jumped in.
"What a diverse pallet we have", Tony quipped, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair. "Sure, we can have spaghetti."
*…the ides of time…*
"It is time, Ari", she said, stepping into the room. "Amid called. Your father is on his way."
Ari looked at her for a moment, his eyes heavy with questions. None of them transitioned into sound. Instead, he wearily lifted himself up and grabbed his bags from where he had deposited them on the lounger. When he passed her on his way to the hall, she put a hand on his arm, stopping him.
"I am sorry", she apologized.
He shook his head degradedly. "It is not your fault."
"It is only two weeks", she tried, smiling vaguely. "And when you get back, I will have a surprise waiting for you."
He tried to return her smile, but failed. "You do not need to have a surprise waiting so I will want to come back", he replied softly.
"Ari!", Tali cried, hurtling herself at her big brother's legs. "Don't go."
Ari let go of the bags in one of his hands and instead swung an arm around his little sister. Over the top of her head he noticed Ziva leaning against the doorframe, her expression blank and unreadable as their eyes locked.
"Orders are orders", Ari declared, offering Ziva a small smile.
Ziva's chest heaved with a muffled laugh, a sad smile erupting on her face in return.
*…the ides of time…*
"Eliana?", Ziva called over.
She was waiting out in the hallway, holding the front door open expectantly. Eliana realized that everyone else had already left the apartment. Following her daughter outside, she watched Ziva lock up and then accompanied her down to the car where Tali, David and Tony were already waiting for them.
When the doors of the elevator opened and revealed a new week along with the bustle of the squadroom, the serenity of their morning finally evaporated. They had met up with McGee on the bottom floor and already all three of their desk phones were ringing incessantly. They hurried to answer them, a hail of 'Special Agent' announcements and curt answers raining down on Eliana as she slowly followed them into the bullpen. Catching Tony's eyes, he nodded towards the spare desk opposite his and she settled down in the chair behind it, watching the team as they exchanged remarks on their respective calls.
"Got a new case", Tony announced, already grabbing his gear.
Ziva and McGee followed suit. The men were already at the elevator, when Ziva turned back around and looked at Eliana. "It is not safe for you to leave the building", she said, her grip on the strap of her backpack somewhat tightening.
Eliana nodded. "So, I will stay here." Ziva briefly returned her nod before following Tony's impatient call and rushing after her team.
The case, the murder of a Marine Staff Sergeant, was quickly turning into a matter of embezzlement and blackmail. When the team returned to the squadroom, McGee and Ziva spent most of the rest of their morning with background checks, detailing money traces and building up to means and motive, while Tony went through his routine steps of linking their findings with Abby's and Palmer's, leaving once to brief Director Vance. Lunch rolled around and McGee soon took their orders for take-out, surprising Eliana when he came to stand in front of her as well, handing her a menu. Their food, however, was only a tailpiece, so Eliana was once again confined to being a silent observer - and it was getting a dreary role to uphold.
She had spent most of the last thirty years on the run and in hiding from, basically, the whole world. Sitting around and doing nothing, hearing herself chew, watching others do and talk - it was eating away at her nerves, and reliably. There was nothing she could do here. She might have officially come to NCIS as the expert on an ongoing case, but she had since turned into its center piece; a silent and quiescent one at that. She waited until Tony and McGee had left following a call from Abby to march herself over to Ziva's desk.
Ziva was typing out a report. It took her a few moments to realize, or to recognize, that Eliana was staring at her. When she did, she merely raised her eyebrows in a silent question.
"I am trying", Eliana stated, folding her hands in front of her body in a way Ziva had seen her do many times in the past few days.
If possible, Ziva's eyebrows shot up even higher. She halted her current task. "Yes?"
"I am trying not to make things difficult for Tony and you", she continued. "But I believe I will go crazy if I have to sit at that desk from eight in the morning to eight in the evening doing nothing."
A part of Ziva readily understood. There had been days in this office when it hadn't been much different for her either: following her early arrival at NCIS, the death of Brian Dempsey, her return from Somalia, those few hours only a year ago when chances were she had contracted a highly contagious virus. A part of her could understand, but this was different.
"We are trying to do our job here", Ziva argued.
"Yes, and I understand that I am part of that job. But I can do nothing here", Eliana countered. "I will be of more use if I could at least cook dinner at home."
For a second Ziva was taken aback by the use of the word 'home' in such casual context, but she recovered quickly. "We have a case. Neither Tony, nor I can leave yet."
"I can go by myself."
Ziva chuckled, disbelief causing her to lean back in her chair and cross her arms in front of her chest. "It is the first day of this assignment and already you are jeopardizing the whole thing."
"Ziva, I was able to go thirty years taking care of myself without being detected", Eliana reasoned, bracing her hands on Ziva's desk. "I was Mossad. I am well capable of protecting myself."
"Ziva", Tony's voice suddenly cut into the stare linking mother and daughter. Ziva's head whipped around, the obstinate glisten in her eyes barely wavering. "Abby found Mike Hannigan. McGee and I are going to question him now. Our apartment's on the way."
"You will drop her off at home?"
Tony nodded. "I'll take her up personally, explain everything to Sarah, make sure she's all set."
Eliana watched as Tony's and Ziva's eyes took care of most of the conversation. When Ziva turned back to her, her look was much different. "Sarah stays."
It was a statement, but it sounded a lot like an order to Eliana's ears. She couldn't blame her daughter, though. The kids, barring early-onset grandmotherly inclinations, were off limits. "Of course."
With a last approving nod McGee, who had remained on the sidelines up until then, sprang into action. He retrieved his gear and led Eliana away to the elevators, with Tony right behind them. When he passed Ziva's desk, however, she called him back.
"Tony?"
Tony leaned around the orange partition on her side, offering her a knowing smile. "I'll call in a favor with Dorneget. He'll keep an eye on her, stakeout style."
Ziva returned his smile. "Thank you."
She unconsciously reached out a hand, running her fingers over his where he had curled them around the edge of the partition.
Ever since becoming an MCRT trinity it usually depended on the given circumstances of a case and on the given point in their work and private lives who would partner up with whom. However, doing paperwork instead of going into the field still didn't sit completely right with Ziva. That feeling had lessened over the years, of course. During her early days at NCIS she would have gone just as much out of her mind as Eliana probably had. She had come to appreciate the desk-related demands of murder investigations over the years; Gibbs had taught her as much. Then, during both of her pregnancies, she had equally learned that taking on lighter loads was not a sign of weakness, but strength, for the life growing inside of her - even if she had almost gone nuts during her first pregnancy and the demands of bed-rest before she had found something to occupy herself with. What grated even more on her nerves, however, was letting Tony go into the field without her there to have his back. She trusted McGee with her life, no questions asked, and with her partner's life; she just preferred being the one to look out for her husband on principle.
She had been writing up ROIs for a while and was just returning from the copy room when the elevator announced itself. She lifted her head in time to see Tony enter the squadroom with a big ice pack pressed to the back of his head.
"What happened?", Ziva asked, worry instantly etched into her face.
"Nothing", Tony muttered, offering her only a weak smile as he breezed past her.
She quickly discarded the stack of paper on her desk and turned to her friend, whose features divulged familiar traces of worry. "McGee?"
McGee glanced at Tony before deciding to focus on Ziva instead. "When we got there, Hannigan got spooked. He took off down the street", he recounted. "We followed him. Tony cut him off at the other end of an alley. I guess he panicked because of the guns, he lunged at Tony and-"
"He knocked me over and I hit my head on a dumpster", Tony finished, sinking into his chair. "It was stupid. I was stupid. End of story."
"Did you get him at least?"
McGee nodded. "Yes, they're taking him to interrogation as we speak."
Ziva offered him an appreciative smile before turning on her heel and stepping up to Tony's desk. He was haphazardly pulling out drawers and digging through their contents, one hand still clutching the ice pack and holding it to his head.
"What are you doing?", she inquired, getting impatient with his antics.
"Pain meds", he replied simply. "Always got some in here."
Ziva watched him for a few more seconds, but a sigh eventually bookmarked the end of her silent watching. She rounded his desk and placed a hand on his shoulder, a gentle squeeze that caused Tony to finally look up into her eyes. Ziva applied the smallest pressure with a simple touch and Tony readily complied, allowing her to push him against the back of his chair, so he was sitting up straight in front of her.
"Let me take a look", she requested, her voice had audibly softened.
One of her hands had moved to the side of his face, the other was cupped around his ice pack-handling hand. His eyes were fixed on her as she looked down at him, her eyebrows raised diminutively, a small smile on her face - creating a typical Ziva look. Feeling swept up in her smile, a smile she so rarely showed to anyone really but their children and him, Tony's arms sagged and Ziva was free to inspect the back of his head. Her fingers tenderly traced the spot where she could see a bump already forming and withdrew abruptly upon Tony's sharp intake of breath.
"Tony, you could have a concussion", she surmised, one of her hands still resting on his shoulder.
He eyed her wearily. "So what?"
"Concussions are serious."
"Death rates are close to zero, though", McGee put in from where he had taken a seat behind his desk, adding upon Ziva glare, "Just saying."
Tony snorted. "Also, I plan on dying of something memorable. Gladiator style." He blamed his numbing headache for barely registering his own words. When he turned to find Ziva blank stare, however, he became sorely aware of them. His hand shot out to graze her arm. "Hey, I was joking, not pitching a storyline to the Grim Reaper."
"We are going to the hospital, Tony", she declared.
Tony shook his head adamantly. "No, no, no. No hospitals."
With much less gentleness than before Ziva took a hold of his arm and yanked him upright into a standing position. Admittedly, he was not making it too difficult for her. "We are going and that's final."
"I'll take care of the incident report, don't worry", McGee put in, earning himself another grateful smile from Ziva.
"Ziva, please", Tony whined as she was handing him his wallet and cell phone.
Ziva rolled her eyes. Sometimes he was worse than their children. But if she managed to withstand their kids' innocuously pleading faces when matters were important enough to her, then she certainly was capable of withstanding Tony's. "You are going to get checked out and I am going with you."
"But-"
"No buts", she held.
Her tone wasn't angry or demanding as she was standing in front of him in the middle of the bullpen. It also hardly reminded Tony of the low sternness she reserved for the kids during their more petulant moments. It wasn't an order, it wasn't a gripe. It was a sincere request. In her way, and in response to his reaction to hospitals, she was asking him, sincerely, to do this for her. There was no way he could refuse that.
"Okay", he conceded, waiting for Ziva to get her things and allowing her to lead him to the car.
Ziva was driving, but Tony barely acknowledged the trip. His headache had worsened ever since leaving the parking lot and he had resigned himself to closing his eyes against the blinding lights of oncoming traffic. He could feel Ziva's worried glances at every traffic light and whenever he did, he managed to offer her a small smile. It didn't nearly appease her, but they both, quietly, appreciated how much this moment emulated the story of their first kiss from more than ten years ago. It was strange to feel the beautiful surge of that moment against the backdrop of their current destination being Bethesda.
After registration they settled into two chairs in the far right corner of the ER waiting room. Ziva briefly checked for any messages on her and Tony's phones and quickly texted McGee to keep him updated. Returning her attention to her partner, she realized Tony's face had not gained any color since she had last checked. He was still pale and ashen against his dark suit. Once again a smile crept onto his face when he noticed her eyes on him, but she didn't buy it. His eyes were only half-open against the pain anyway. When he placed a hand on her knee, Ziva gently took a hold of it, entwining their fingers.
"This is stupid, Ziva", he mumbled, looking at their hands. "I've got a bump on my head. I'll pop a pill, ten minutes give or take, and I'm good as new."
"This is not stupid", she insisted.
"It is, if you compare it to the stuff we usually go to hospitals for."
"It is not stupid."
Tony leaned his head back. The coughing, the beeping, the hollow announcements around him, Ziva's breathing. He hated hospitals for everything that they stood for and everything that he had endured in them: Every time he entered one, he saw his mother's slowly decaying body, the bullet hole in Kate's head, the oblivious look in Gibbs' amnesic eyes. He heard Ziva's growls of pain echoing in the hallway of that German hospital, standing guard in front of her door on their stop-over from Mogadishu and listening as they re-broke her fingers, learning only later that she had doggedly refused any anesthesia for she had spent half of her captivity drugged and had been left terrified of their consequences. He heard the swooshing of the inhalator hooked up to his newborn son. He remembered the blinding overhead lights from being wheeled along hospital hallways on a stretcher, remembered the hospital beds with friends in them, remembered Ziva's eyes closed to the effects of a coma. Hospitals just weren't his kind of place.
"I thought I was seeing Kadeer", Tony relayed suddenly, not looking at her.
"You saw Kadeer?", she repeated, alarm ringing through her voice.
"I didn't see him. I thought I was seeing him. When I was standing in the alley in front of Hannigan. For a moment, I thought Kadeer was watching me", he elaborated, tilting his head a little. "Guy at the corner of the street looked like his spitting image. I was distracted for a second and boom! Hannigan practically ran me over."
Ziva just stared at him, unable to say anything, but not needing to when a nurse appeared to inform them that a doctor would see Tony now.
"Can my wife come along?", he asked.
The nurse smiled and nodded, leading them to an examination room. They followed and stepped inside, their hands clasped together all the while. The nurse left again shortly after jotting down a few of Tony's vitals, only to be soon replaced by a doctor who ran a few tests and ordered an x-ray. Ziva was hanging back during most of the examination, smiling a few times at the appropriate places when the doctor was directing a joke or an observation at 'Mrs. DiNozzo'. She had no intention of correcting him.
As they were waiting for the results, however, she had reclaimed her spot by Tony's side. He had been given medication against the pain and she was relieved to see the color return to his face. One of her hands was lightly trailing along the side of his arm. His eyes were closed and he was appreciating with a small smile the fading of his headache and the pleasant lingering of numbness. Ziva's other hand was still clasping his tie. He had taken it off first thing when they had entered the room. She couldn't help but be reminded of the time nurses had handed her Tony's things after he had been shot, his tie on top of the pile, and she had fainted on the spot, six weeks pregnant with David.
When the door opened and the same doctor from before stepped in, they were both yanked from their quiet reverie. Tony sat up, taking a hold of Ziva's hand once again in the process.
"I'm happy to inform you that you are healthy as can be", he announced, taking a stand in front of the pair. "We can rule out a concussion. There's no major trauma. You're good to go, Agent DiNozzo."
Tony's smile easily turned into a grin. "Thanks, Doc."
"But", the doctor cautioned, "You did experience quite the fall. It's bound to leave you with a big bump for a few days. Headaches are to be expected, I'll leave you with a prescription for pain medication. And, just to be on the safe side, no strenuous activities for the next few days."
Tony sighed. "Bummer."
"We will see to that", Ziva cut in, a pointed expression on her face. "Thank you."
"No problem", the doctor said, leaving them with a last smile.
"See? I told you so", Tony was quick to point out, swinging his legs over the edge of the hospital bed.
Ziva handed him his tie with a small shrug. "I needed to be sure."
Tony smiled, leaning in to capture her lips. "I know", he mumbled against her. "Apparently, you love me."
Ziva chuckled. "You know I do."
Tony and Ziva had returned to NCIS headquarters to wrap up their day only to be greeted by Abby and her need to be twice-assured that Tony was, in fact, okay. Other than that, nothing much prevented them from going home at a reasonable time that afternoon. Hannigan, it turned out, had pumped his system with an off-putting mix of drugs and there was no way to question him until he had sobered up.
Arriving at their building, Tony promptly took off towards the car on the other side of the street so as to give Agent Dorneget their thanks and to relieve him, while Ziva went upstairs. She entered the apartment absentmindedly, her thoughts anywhere but in the present, but that changed abruptly when the sounds of the afternoon drifted towards her. It wasn't Sarah's habit to have music running in the background, and even if she did have music on, it never sounded like this. These were jazz notes streaming from the radio in the kitchen. Eliana, Ziva recalled, had had a whole vinyl jazz collection that she used to play day-in and day-out. Ziva also recognized the muffled back-and-forth of voices.
She stepped into the living room, however, to find it quiet and empty except for David sitting at the coffee table and doing his homework. Ziva went over to him and sat on the edge of the couch, dropping a kiss on his head.
"You're home", he observed.
"We promised", Ziva said, returning his smile.
"Dad?"
"Will be right up."
David nodded and returned to the questionnaire he had been filling in. Ziva surveyed the books lying open on the table before turning her attention to the kitchen. The sliding door that separated kitchen and living room was usually wide open, but right now it was closed, keeping out most of the sound scenery she had picked up on before.
"How was school?", Ziva inquired, leaning forward to get a better look at her son's face.
"Okay."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "Yes?"
David turned to face her and nodded. "I didn't miss much."
"Where is everybody?", Tony asked, when he entered the living room.
"Kitchen", David informed them curtly.
Ziva and Tony shared a look before deciding to go in and see for themselves. They pushed the door open to reveal Eliana standing at the stove, stirring something invisible while Tali and Sarah were busying themselves at the kitchen table. Sarah was cutting up vegetables while instructing and overseeing the five-year-old in mixing ingredients together in two separate bowls. When Sarah turned to Eliana to check whether they were doing it right, Ziva realized that it had been their voices she had heard.
"Mommy! Daddy!", Tali called out once she noticed them standing in the doorframe, both rooted to the floor in stunned ambivalence about the scene before them.
The little girl abandoned her current activity and rushed over to deliver her welcoming hugs. With her arms still around Ziva, who had crouched down to her level, she assessed, "Grandma's making your fav'rite."
Ziva's eyebrows rose. "My favorite what, tateleh?"
"Food, mommy", Tali replied with a matter-of-fact tone.
"Eliana said it was your favorite dish as a kid, Ziva", Sarah clarified, offering them a smile in passing, en route to gathering up her things.
Ziva and Tony were still recovering from the casual use of the 'grandma' moniker, when Eliana spoke up, "I appreciate you setting me up with a warden, by the way."
"You are not imprisoned", Ziva countered.
"Not yet, at least", Tony quipped, then turned his attention to his daughter, motioning towards the kitchen table. "Let's finish up here, princess."
"But you donno how, daddy."
"You show me then." He held out his hand and Tali led him to the table, starting to ramble away explanatorily.
A smile springing to her face at the manner father and daughter quickly fell into routine banter, Ziva stepped up to her mother and inspected the contents of the pot. It looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't even remember the name of the dish. She then turned to take in Eliana's appearance. She had obviously changed out of the clothes from that morning, and she had a rag tucked around her belt like a sash. She had a habit of doing the exact same thing, Ziva realized.
"I can take care of myself whenever I stay here", Eliana stated quietly, her words only meant for Ziva. "I know how to scout a building, evaluate exit and entry ways and come up with possible ways to defend myself with chance weapons. I am capable of protecting myself."
Ziva gave her a quick glance that was barely indicative of any emotion and then decided to see Sarah out instead of getting into that argument. The younger woman had just finished saying goodbye to David and Ziva followed her to the foyer.
"I have to admit I was a bit anxious about meeting your mother when Tony told me", Sarah started offhandedly, putting on her shoes. "But she's one really nice lady. And it sounds like she's been all over the world. She gave me great tips for my trip to Mexico with Jason next week."
Ziva watched her struggle with her boots for a moment. "She's certainly gotten…around."
Sarah, oblivious to the undertones in Ziva's voice, looked back up with a smile. "The kids haven't met her before, have they?"
Ziva shook her head. "No, this is the first time."
"Tali's taking to her", Sarah observed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "It's like when Tony came back from Spain. You can feel it with her."
Ziva reflexively turned her head, as if she could get a glimpse at her daughter from out here. "Yes. Yes, you can", she admitted, seeing her own suspicions readily validated.
Sarah tilted her head to the side. "David, not so much."
"I know", Ziva said, a sigh hanging on her lips.
It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Sarah's observations. After all these years of taking care of her children, Ziva had only gratitude and fondness for the younger women. She had always valued Sarah's opinion when it came to Tali and David as she had often come to depend on it, particularly during Tony's days in Rota.
This time, however, Sarah detected Ziva's reservation and continued, "You need me tomorrow again?"
Ziva nodded. "Yes, please. I guess Eliana will be here also."
"No problem", she replied. "I mean, I've heard of Uncle Ducky telling the best stories and all, but your mother can't be too far behind with hers, right?"
Ziva just smiled and hinted at a nod as they proceeded to say their goodbyes. Closing the door again, she realized that she had no idea if Eliana's stories were just as entertaining as Ducky's, or as long and intricate, or nearly so. She really had no idea.
Dinner had started out as a rather quiet affair again, the clonking and clanging of pots, and plates, and cutlery the only sound for a while. Still, taking her first bite, it was like a trip back in time for Ziva. She tasted ingredients and spices she so vividly associated with her home country that it was hard not to stop and stare at the plate in front of her. If she wasn't specifically intending to cook an innately Israeli dish, she usually didn't even create the tastes she had grown up with. For a second she was left to wonder where Eliana had gotten all the ingredients from, though, suspicious of some flavors she was pretty sure were impossible to accomplish with only her supplies.
She couldn't wonder for long, however, when the mood at the table markedly tipped. Looking over, Tali was poking around in her food, a sour look on her face every time she forced herself to take a bite. That, at least, still managed to draw a small smile on Ziva's face. The five-year-old hadn't been much of a fan of the food selection in Israel during their Haifa trip either, so she had expected that reaction, already thinking of a backup dish to fix for her daughter. David's demeanor, in turn, wiped the smile promptly off her face.
"You okay there, buddy?", Tony asked, having gone through the same motions as Ziva. He briefly shot his partner a look.
"I don't like it", he declared, putting down his fork and pushing the plate away.
"You have not even tried it yet", Ziva reasoned.
He turned to his mother. "So?"
"So, the rule is we try first and then you can still decide if you like it or not."
The eight-year-old shrugged. "I don't want to try it."
"Yes, you do", Ziva insisted, placing the plate back in front of her son.
"No", he shot back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And you can't make me."
"Hey", Tony cut in firmly, fixing David with his eyes. "Watch that tone."
The little boy tilted his head, dodging his father's stare. Ziva meanwhile picked up his fork and held it out in front of him. "David, please", she insisted, her voice colored by a tinge of sternness that usually marked the beginning of being in trouble.
David very well recognized the markers of the situation, but he just couldn't bring himself to act accordingly. He lifted his eyes up and looked alternately at his mom and dad. "I don't want it, because she made it", he snapped, his hand shooting out towards Eliana.
"David-"
"No, I don't want it."
And with that he pushed himself away from the table and was headed towards the stairs, darting up the treads and down the hallway until they could hear the door of his room being soundly flung shut. The rest of them were left to stare after him in disbelief over what had just happened. Eliana in particular tried hard to focus her eyes on anything but on either one of the others. Tony and Ziva eyes met across the table.
"What's with Deed?", Tali asked in a small voice, looking between her parents.
"Excuse me", Ziva said, her eyes not having left Tony's once, as she got up and followed her son upstairs.
"Mommy's gonna fix it?", the five-year-old tried again, now focusing on her father more directly to elicit an answer.
Tony put on a small smile for his daughter's sake. "Yeah, your mom will fix this."
Ziva didn't bother knocking on her son's door. She was ready to be understanding and calm, because she knew in her heart that his outburst had been about anything but the food. But, for starters, she had expected less of a tantrum from her eight-year-old.
"You want to tell me what that was about?", she asked, her voice stern as she closed the door behind her with a pointed snap.
David was sitting at his desk, dangling his feet in mid-air and shaking his head at his mother's question. "I didn't like the food. Dad promised us spaghetti."
"And you think the way you chose to tell us that was at all acceptable?", Ziva demanded, walking over to him.
David shook his head again.
"David, look at me, please", she said, waiting until he had done so to continue, "Do you think it was okay, the way you just acted?"
He moved to shake his head again, but his mom's narrowed eyes made him rethink that choice. The words hung on his lips for a while, his mouth gaping, before he answered quietly, "No."
"Why?", she asked, crouching down beside his chair so he wouldn't have to look up at her anymore.
David puffed out a small batch of breath. He hated the part where he had to explain why he was sorry or why he was in trouble. It seemed pointless, seeing as he was already apologizing or in trouble anyway.
"I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have run off. And I should've tried it", he listed, not really looking into his mother's eyes yet.
"So, why did you do all of that?", she pressed on, her eyebrows rising. "Eliana's food could not have been that bad."
"I never even tried it anyway", he mumbled, eliciting a smile with his sheepish smile.
Ziva studied her son's face for a while as his eyes flickered towards hers repeatedly but never fully stuck. He was still swinging his legs back and forth and eventually, Ziva reached out a hand to stop his nervous movements.
"Tell me what is really bothering you", she educed.
The returned gentleness in his mom's voice made him somewhat feel at ease again. He didn't really want to say it to his mom's face, but she already knew it anyway. His dad had told her and now she just wanted to hear it from him. She wouldn't get mad again, right?
"I don't like her", he declared, bowing his head again.
Ziva nodded, offering him a small smile to soothe her son's apprehensive gaze. Instead of any kind of response, however, she got up from the floor and held out her hand. David eyed her questioningly, but took her hand nonetheless. Ziva led him over to his bed, where she settled down and slid back to lean against the wall. David quickly followed suit, mimicking the way his mom had tugged her knees up to her body.
Ziva fought the urge to just envelop her son in a hug and instead slung her arms around her legs, facing him. She wanted him to be his own person when he answered her next question, not her little boy wrapped into his mother's arms.
"Why is it that you do not like her?"
David took a deep breath and turned to look at his mom. "I don't like that she's here. I don't like that she was away for so long. And I don't like the way you look at her."
Ziva perfectly understood the first two reasons, but was taken by surprise by the latter. "Why? How do I look at her?"
"Like you did when we looked at the pictures together and there was one of her", he explained. "You look at her like she's still gone."
The profoundness of her son's words stunned Ziva into silence for a moment. She regretted that they sometimes forgot to hold David to the emotional standards of an eight-year-old little boy, and she often feared they weren't giving him enough of a chance to be treated as a child, and protected like one. But it was so hard to find the balance, when he seemed so much older so many times.
"Maybe she still is", Ziva offered, finding her words again and yet not knowing if this was really the way to go. Tony and she had agreed on venturing the truth, if at all possible, and she saw no way around it right now. "It is very hard for me to look at her and to see my mother in her and not just a woman who I do not know."
"See? I don't like that she left you at all and that you don't got to know her and she doesn't know you", David said, his voice gaining strength. "Moms aren't supposed to leave."
Ziva couldn't hold back a small laugh. "You are right. Moms and dads are supposed to be there for their sons and daughters, yes?"
"Right", he agreed, nodding his head. "You need them all the time and if they aren't there, you're alone all the time. Like you were, mom. You said you were really lonely. And it's her fault."
It was hard to argue with logic like that. A smile settled firmly on Ziva's face as she reached out a hand and tucked a strand of light brown hair behind her son's ear. "It is very easy to blame everything on my mother, tateleh", she said, a small shrug falling from her shoulders. "But it just- It is not that easy."
David tilted his head to the side. "What d'you mean?"
"I mean that your grandmother had to make very hard decisions in her life. Decisions she sometimes did not have control over. She had to leave, to do her job and to protect me and my siblings", she explained, the words tumbling right from her thoughts. "It is never easy for a mom to leave her kids. Believe me, I know."
"But you don't know", David countered. "You never left us."
Ziva smiled, feeling both honored by her son's trust and yet oh-so guilty. "It does not matter if we leave you for the first time with somebody else when you are a baby, or if we take you to your first day of school, or if we spend nights apart. It is never easy to let your child go", she said. "I did all of these things and even if I knew that I had to, I still felt guilty for doing them."
David thought about this for a while, conjuring up memories of his and Tali's first days. He blinked. "So, you think she feels guilty?"
"I know that she is very, very sorry, yes", Ziva assured him.
David's shoulders slumped instantly. "So, that means I'm bad."
Ziva threw her head back. "Why do you say that?"
"Uncle Gibbs says so", he clarified, looking serious. "Rule #6a: Always try to forgive."
The smile on Ziva's face easily grew into a grin. How times had changed. She put a hand on her son's cheek, leaning in a little closer to him. "The important part about that rule is trying to forgive."
David narrowed his eyes. "Are you?"
Ziva nodded. "I am trying very hard. But it is not easy for me", she admitted. "Just as I know it is not easy for you either. I understand that very well."
"But we have to give her a chance", the eight-year-old concluded, sighing softly.
"Exactly", Ziva agreed. "Every family we get is a gift, tateleh. If you get a chance at having a grandmother, you should take that chance."
David fixed her with his eyes. "But you didn't get a mom."
"No, I did not", Ziva said, a sad smile twisting her lips. "But it is not your job to punish her for that. Your job is to see if she deserves your trust. And so is mine."
By now he had heard the same advice by three people he trusted deeply - three and a half, if he counted Tali. "How will we know?", he asked.
Ziva smiled. "We will. Give it time."
"Okay."
"Okay", Ziva nodded, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his forehead.
When she pulled back she turned to the door and to Tali, who was peeking in through the crack. She had noticed the little girl a minute ago, even though she had to give the five-year-old credit for her untypical stealth. Tali, recognizing her mother's eyes on her, offered her a sheepish grin. Ziva reached out a hand towards the little girl and Tali came over, hoisted herself up on the bed and crawled into her mother's lap.
Tali took a moment to alternate gazes between her mother and brother, scrutinizing their expressions, her forehead creased in pensive wrinkles. Satisfied with Ziva's smile, she turned to David. "Mommy fix you?", she asked.
David chuckled, shooting his mother a look. "Yeah. Mom fixed me."
"Good", she declared. "It's not nice to yell at people that make you dinner."
"I know."
"Well said, tateleh", Ziva agreed, dropping a kiss on her daughter's head.
They remained in that position for a while. Ziva just felt content to be where she was, and David was contemplating the many conversations he had had over the past two days. At one point, however, he felt he still had to establish something important.
"Mom?"
"Yes, tateleh?"
He turned to face her. "I'm sorry."
She took a hold of his hand beside her, nodding her head. "I know."
When Tony had excused Tali to go after her brother and mother, quite suddenly only he and Eliana were left in the kitchen. He readily recognized the look in her eyes as that uncanny mixture of obstinate resolve and deep disappointment, but he couldn't help it either.
"It was a nice gesture, really", he offered, pressing his lips into a thin line.
"That is kind of you to say", she replied, already proceeding to clear away the dishes and the food that had barely been touched.
Tony nodded. "It's not easy."
"I appreciate that you are giving me a chance, though, Tony."
He turned around to look at her. His eyebrows lifted. "I'm not doing this for you, you know that, right?"
"I know."
"I'm not big on parents that abandon their kids or take them for granted, for that matter. Especially when that kid is the women I love and I've watched hurting because of it", he continued, getting up to help her load the dishwasher. "But there's no use adding to her grief."
"Grief…", Eliana repeated quietly, bending down towards the dishwasher in order to dodge Tony's eyes.
"I don't think you really appreciate just how much this is all worth to us", he said, keeping a tight hold on the plate he was handing to her, so she eventually had no other choice than to look up at him. "How long it has taken us to be happy. How long it has taken Ziva to be happy."
Eliana narrowed her eyes. "You do not make it easy for me either."
"It's not supposed to be easy", Tony held. "It's worth it, but not easy."
"I am not taking her for granted", she declared.
"You shouldn't take anybody for granted. It takes a lot of work to be a family."
Eliana took a deep breath, straightening up. "I am still learning."
"You keep doing that", he advised, finally letting go of the plate. "Falling over's part of the process. Believe me, I know."