Chapter 17: Another Generation – 2060

"Let's get Savta Raba," the squeals from nearly fifteen-month-old Rachel just about drowned out her Saba Raba's voice as he walked towards Ziva with the baby on his shoulders. "BOO!" he said to his wife as she pretended to be startled. Their great-granddaughter laughed even more.

Ziva put a kiss on the little girl's hand, "Hello, yaldati. Saba Raba seems to forget that he will pay the price for putting you on his shoulders." She tickled the baby's socked feet as she locked gazes with her husband, "And who will have to listen to his moans and groans later tonight…"

"Still worth every ache and pain to hear her laughing," Tony replied as he leaned in for a quick kiss from his Ninja. "Mistletoe!" he pointed upward with the thumb of his left hand, which was also holding Rachel's leg. He leaned closer to Ziva and whispered in her ear, "Besides, Saba Raba likes how Savta Raba helps the aches go away…"

"Oh you do, do you?" she playfully swatted his arm and grinned. "Now go; let me finish getting this lasagna ready for the oven so we can eat dinner on time. Or would you rather explain to thirty other hungry family members why YOU delayed dinner?"

Tali came into the kitchen as Tony turned to leave, "There's my girl!" She reached to take her granddaughter from her Abba's shoulders. "Come see what Saba and Uncle Elijah have put together for you." Turning towards her mother, she said a short phrase, "Indoor playhouse. Thanks for keeping her distracted, Abba."

The elder DiNozzos watched their oldest carry her granddaughter back towards the playroom.

"I still cannot believe our baby is a grandmother," Ziva sighed and leaned on Tony's shoulder. "Only yesterday she was playing with her baby dolls…"

He sighed as well, "Zi, she's middle-aged! When did we get old?"

"We are not old," she laughed. "Well maybe you are… How did that happen?"

"I don't know. I realized this morning that Levi is close to the age that you were when you walked into the bullpen and captured my heart all those years ago. If anyone had said that we'd have five kids, fifteen grandkids, and a great-granddaughter back then…"

Ziva frowned, "That was fifty-five years ago, Tony. FIFTY-FIVE!" He pulled her into him and sighed as she continued the thought, "We ARE old."

He placed a gentle kiss on her gray-streaked curls, "To me, you will never be old, my love. Merry Christmas." He fused his lips to hers as she threaded her fingers into his now silver hair. "Mistletoe," he breathed into a second kiss.

They were interrupted by Jethro, LJ's youngest, when the eight-year-old came into the kitchen from the family room.

"Savta, when is dinner? I'm hungry," the boy asked.

Ziva tousled the boy's hair, "In about an hour, motek; provided your Saba lets me get the lasagna pans in the ovens."