Hi, everyone! Yep, still alive. Yep, still writing. Yep, still under stress. ;P A family member that I live with has cancer and it is becoming more aggressive. There is a lot of stressful talk about protocols and possible treatments around the globe. If you pray, I'd appreciate it if you could think of me and my family. :)

Sadly, stress can affect my writing and editing, but I finally have this ready. This chapter is extremely long and I was going to break it in two, but why not just give you a giant chapter and have the fun of that? I already have the next chapter ready (this was, originally, only HALF of a chapter!) so no stress there.

Thanks for all the reviews to those who were patient and encouraging - Troubled-Angel-26, JessicaRae95, A, S (I study psychology too!), Ludy, Fan (thanks for both reviews!), DS2010, Readerxx (I'm glad that you are enjoying and sorry for the wait!), and Guest (not giving up, just tired and too stressed to really enjoy getting into it; I have been working away at writing behind the scenes, just not much on here). Thank you all for waiting - I really needed to take this time, but I hope to be back into writing a lot soon!

Also, exciting news - JessicaRae95 helped with editing on this chapter and I really appreciated her help! With fiftyshadeswritergal, I feel like I had a lot of outside perspective on this! (Although I then edited a lot and changed around a lot of stuff, so if there are problems, I probably created them while trying to fix others!)

Anyway, now that this has all been said, enjoy!

...

Gibbs stayed up most of the night, just as Tony had guessed, working on his boat and keeping an eye on the clock, waiting for the time when Ziva would need her next dose of medication. When it was time, he quietly entered her room and woke her with gentle words and lots of space so she would not be frightened as she exited sleep. He gave her the medications and a glass of water with a straw. She gulped them down with a tiny groan before falling back against her pillow and drifting off once again. He checked her temperature. It was high but he was relieved that it was not dangerously so. The medication would bring it down again. He went downstairs to sleep on the couch until she needed her next dose in the early morning.

This was not the most enjoyable part of fatherhood, but a part of him was warmed inside to know that he was doing something to take care of Ziva in a way that she had been refusing to let herself receive for years.

Ducky was right. They were making progress - slowly, yes, but surely.

It was good enough for him.

He closed his eyes and slept well until his internal alarm clock, never off by a minute, let him know it was time for yet another round of the medications.

...

Ziva felt significantly better in the morning when she silently made her way down the stairs. She searched the kitchen and found some tea bags and boiled some water to make herself a hot drink. She checked the schedule and took the pills that Ducky had ordered her to take. The coffee maker switched on and she waited until the pot was filled and then poured a hot mug for when Gibbs would come in to the room. It would not hurt to be extra nice to him this morning after their rocky evening. She was under no illusion that he was going to let it slide. Last night what he could say had been limited by the presence of his team, the three people that he considered kids. He would not have wanted to get angry with her in front of them.

The thought of an angry Gibbs made her stomach knot.

But apparently even knotted stomachs can growl from hunger. Fighting fevers and infection must have made her hungry. She went to the fridge, pulled out the containers of fruit, filled a bowl, and poured some milk over the top. She turned to grab a spoon and ran into Gibbs.

"I did not mean to hit you," she muttered, stepping to the side.

"Don't worry about it," he said gently. "You need to take your pills now."

"I already have."

He held her gaze for a minute, ensuring that was the truth, then nodded. "Good."

She shifted a little, understanding his suspicion and dreading the upcoming talk she knew that they would have. She expected him to start in on her right away, but he just picked up the freshly poured cup of coffee with an expression on his face akin to gratitude.

"Feeling better this morning?"

"Yes."

"Good." He lifted the coffee cup in her direction. "Thanks, Ziver."

She smiled a little. She felt pathetic, hanging on his praise so fully, but it felt good.

Gibbs looked along the cupboard, then lifted what he had been looking for - an electric thermometer.

"Before we forget, you need to take your temperature."

"How does it work?" she asked, looking at the little machine that Ducky had left. Growing up, her mother had only used a glass thermometer. This gadget seemed unnecessarily complicated. Gibbs smiled, took it from her, and took her temperature himself.

"You still have a fever," he said with regret in his voice. "You'll be resting today."

"Yes, sir," Ziva responded automatically. She was anxious to stay on his good side - if that were possible after all the lies of the past few days.

He must be very angry, just not showing it right now because he believes that I could not take the correct level of punishment while sick.

"Eat your breakfast, then I think you should either go back to bed to get some more rest or read. No darts, no television, no phone and no going outside. Actually, when you are done, I need you to go get your phone and put it in the safe where it will stay until I give it back to you."

"Why?" Ziva questioned. It was not that she needed the phone, but she was concerned about why it was being confiscated.

"You're grounded."

"Oh."

He said before that being grounded would not be fun. I guess today I will find out if it is really as bad as the others all say being grounded is.

Immediately, self-protection techniques were starting. Ziva had a great many in her arsenal and they were all coming out for a play-date.

First, she questioned his judgement.

Who does he think he is to ground me? HE should be grounded for being so strict! If he was in my position, he would do the exact same thing!

Then she tried to blame him.

If he had just let me go for a walk in the first place, I would have never climbed out of the window and hurt myself again! And if he had made me get checked by Ducky rather than taking him out for tea, then it would have been stopped faster. And if he and Jenny had actually asked me if my side was okay when I got back inside, then I would have been fine too!

Then she tried to brush off the discipline.

It does not matter anyway. I do not want my phone anyway! And I do not want to go outside or play darts or watch television anyway! His punishment cannot bother me!

But all her thought processes were pulled to a stop when Gibbs gravely added, "And when your fever is gone - hopefully by this evening - we are going to have a little chat about all the lies you've been telling me recently."

There went that hope.

She almost wanted to keep the fever forever, just to get out of that coming talk!

...

Ziva, under the watchful eyes of Gibbs, slipped her phone into the safe and let it click shut.

She turned around and crossed her arms.

There! Now are you happy?! she wanted to yell, but she had the distinct impression that would only get her into more trouble. She had tried to avoid having to hand over her phone - she had promised herself that she would not use it, but she had wanted to keep it in her room and thus within her power - but Gibbs had "reminded" her five minutes ago.

"Your phone was supposed to go into the safe right after breakfast. That was two hours ago. I do not want to have to have a discussion with you about obedience today," he had told her before sending her off for the electronic device. He had waited silently until she returned and sulkily put her phone into the small black box that was also housing all of her weapons.

"Good," was all he said, but it was infuriating. She did not want to be "good"! She wanted to do her own thing on her own time!

She stomped back up the stairs and threw herself dramatically onto the bed - wincing as doing so jolted her headache into overtime. She laid back, stared at the ceiling, and joined every grounded youth ever in muttering, "This is NOT FAIR!"

...

The morning was long and boring. Ziva's headache, which persisted despite the medication and all the water Gibbs advised her to drink, prevented her from reading. She tried listening to the radio which she found on the living room bookshelf, but the voices hurt her ears and the underlying static nearly drove her crazy. She was too restless to sleep and despite the various aches and pains through her body, she could not keep still and had to keep rolling over, again and again.

She was surprised when, right before lunch, Gibbs knocked on the door. He entered at her grumpy "come in" and held out his cell phone to her.

"You said that I could not have my phone," she grumbled, refusing to touch the device in case it was some sort of test.

"This isn't yours. It's mine. And Jenny called and as your mother, her calls will always be forwarded."

Ziva noticed how Gibbs so seamlessly called Jenny "your mother." Although in some ways there was a little pain in the innocent reminder that her Ima was gone, there was the homey feel of someone being acknowledged so naturally as her mother. But Ziva, not wanting to show any sentimental side, turned away from the extended phone.

"I do not want to talk to her."

"Ziva ..."

"She already scolded me last night and you are going to scold me tonight. I do not want to hear anything else."

Through what she could tell was a tightly tensed jaw - "Young lady, she wants to talk to you and see how you are."

"Tell her I am alive and I do not want to talk to her since I am grounded from everything remotely enjoyable!"

She could hear the grunt of frustration at the untruth. She tensed. She had onced dared to be a quarter as sassy to her father when she was ill, thinking that perhaps her health issues would grant her a free pass. They had not, and she was rather surprised that she only had one teensy tiny remaining scar from that encounter. She really had deserved more than she got back then.

What would happen now?

No slap. No strike. No push or shove or hair yank.

Just four words.

"We will talk later," Gibbs said into the phone before snapping it shut and leaving the room. Ziva knew that the message was not just for Jenny.

Her stomach re-tied itself into a pretzel shape.

...

Although Ziva was not particularly eager to recover from the fever - she had a suspicion that their "talk" when her fever left was going to involve another sore bottom - Gibbs was adamant that she take the medication at the right times. Tony had stopped by to grab a slice of pizza, keeping his word, but he was on the run, having to rush to a location for a surveillance operation and he got to witness one of their battles.

"Just take it and don't make things worse!" Tony had hissed at Ziva when Gibbs' back was turned to get Ziva another glass of water since she had gulped down the first while "forgetting" the pills. Ziva had finally taken the pill reluctantly after multiple whispered messages of how bad Gibbs could make her grounding ("I know from personal experience!"). When she finally took the medicine, Tony toasted her with his empty water glass, snatched another piece of pizza, and was on his way.

She wished that he would have stayed. She did not like being alone and grounded.

Thanks to Gibbs' careful oversight, her fever was gone by the time Ducky stopped by to check on her. As Ziva went back to finishing her second piece of pizza, Ducky and Gibbs spoke in undetectable tones by the front door for a few minutes before Ducky wished Ziva a good night and left.

Once the doctor was gone - having given his "go ahead" for what had been confided to him as the night's plans by Gibbs - the reluctant father figure turned to her.

"After you finish eating your supper, put your dishes into the sink and then come sit on the couch in the living room. I think we need to have a little talk."

He turned and went to the living room, and Ziva winced behind his back. It seemed that whatever punishment she was going to receive, Gibbs was going to administer it right then and there.

She looked down at remainder of her supper. This whole not-wanting-to-eat feeling was getting very frequent. She glanced in at the living room. Gibbs was sitting on the couch, drinking yet another cup of coffee. She did not exactly want to face him either. Supper was the less threatening option. She slowly chewed each bite, dragging out the experience while trying to think of any excuse that would carry weight with Gibbs.

...

Gibbs sat on the couch, trying to decide what to do once Ziva stopped stalling and came out to talk. He did not know for sure how to deal with the situation, but he had talked with Jenny that morning when she called in to check. Although Ziva had not wanted to talk, he and Jenny had already discussed to what extent Ziva would need to be corrected for her actions. It had been decided that since most of the lying had been to Gibbs, he would be in charge of the discipline. Coupled with Ducky's warning of the night before and just now his "blessing", Gibbs knew that it was time to deal with his newest child. Just how, he was not certain - a rarity for him.

His concerns-bordering-on-worries stopped. He had finally heard Ziva walk to the doorway to the room.

Ready or not ...!

"Come 'ere, Zi," he said gently, motioning to the seat beside him when she tried to go to a different chair farther away. She reluctantly switched and sat next to him. She curled up a little, likely a combination of self-soothing and self-protection. She peered nervously at him through the curls that she encouraged to hang across her face like a veil.

"I think we need to talk about what's been going on the past few days," he started.

Silence.

"I think we need to talk about why you felt you needed to lie to me and put yourself in danger rather than let us help you."

"I broke the rules. I did bad things," Ziva admitted, avoiding eye contact. "I ... I deserve to be punished however you see fit."

Gibbs suppressed a sigh. This was going to take awhile.

"I still love you," he stated, deciding to lead with affirming facts. It was important for Ziva to know that she was still loved, no matter how many rules she might break. But by how stiffly she was holding herself, understanding that fact was going to be difficult. And so was explaining it.

Ziva sat as straight as a ramrod and focused on a spot on the wall, staring at it as she said flatly, "You are going to punish me. You do not have to say nice things to me first. Do not worry - I understand. Just punish me now and it will bother both of us less."

"That is NOT how things are going to happen. You are not going to 'just' get 'punished.' I am not just wanting to talk about how I'm going to discipline you because I want to help you!" Gibbs sighed, frustrated as Ziva shrank back even further.

He gave up on this method. There would be no progress with this Ziva, trying to partially hide herself by curling up into the couch cushions.

"Never mind this. Let's go work on my boat."

Ziva's forehead crinkled as she frowned at the sudden change of tone and location.

"Wh...why?" she asked in confusion.

"I think better with busy hands. Don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then we might as well have busy hands. C'mon, Ziver."

He lead her down to the basement, handed her some sandpaper, and led her to the area where he wanted to work. He then grabbed a tool and began working across from her. He was pleased with his decision as he saw her body visibly relax a little as she began to work.

"So Duck says the fever is gone," he started the conversation.

"Yes."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes."

"Did you know that it is okay to not feel okay?"

"Yes?"

Gibbs winced a little at her suspicious tone. "You don't have to say it like a question, Ziver. It really is okay if you are not feeling well. I just want to know that you are okay. I do not think that you are weak if you have to rest or take pain medication - or, when we go back to work, if you need to take a day off if you are not feeling well."

A peek across the boat revealed that Ziva's face was impassive.

She does not believe me. Time to try a new perspective.

"If I got a cold, would you be angry at me?"

"No!" Ziva snorted.

"Would you think that I was weak?"

"No!" Ziva repeated, confusion in her voice. Suddenly, her expression changed to one of understanding. But still ... Gibbs could see hesitancy. "It is ... different," she whispered.

"How?"

There was a full minute of silence as Ziva suddenly started sanding harder. Gibbs let her focus on the motion. Soon enough she would wear herself out and need a rest. Then they could talk.

"You are never weak," she finally said. "Even if you were ill, you would not be weak."

"Do you think that you are weak if you are ill?" Gibbs asked, flipping the question with ease that a therapist would envy.

"When it is my own fault," Ziva admitted to the sandpaper.

"No one - at least not someone as smart and stubborn as you - chooses to be sick," Gibbs commented. "You can try to take care of yourself and still get sick."

"But this was my fault!" Ziva burst out, clearly angry at herself. "This is all my fault!"

Gibbs chose to be silent. He did not want to say that it wasn't, because her actions had most definitely contributed, but neither did he want to blame her more either. Besides, if he remained silent, he knew that Ziva would feel anxious and immediately try to vindicate her reasoning. Then he could hear the whole story.

"I was the one who climbed out the window and up and down the apple tree. I was the one who did not talk to Ducky. I was the one who was stupid enough to be cut in the first place."

"Hey!" Gibbs said sharply. Ziva tensed and startled at the sharp remark. Gibbs softened his reaction as he said, "You are not at fault for getting cut. You were doing your job and you got injured. Happens to everyone."

She obviously still did not believe him.

"Even I get cut, Ziver, and I've been doing high-risk jobs longer than you have been alive."

It had been worth saying. The tilt of her head revealed that she was carefully considering this information.

"But I should have known that he had a weapon," she told him at last. Her tone was full of self-condemnation. "I should have known that he would cut me."

"You aren't God, Ziva. Give it up. You aren't always going to know. I don't. Jen doesn't. Tony and Tim don't. You are just like the rest of us - imperfect."

Ziva's face hardened at that word and her sanding became furious yet again.

"You think you are perfect?" he asked, purposefully nettling her. He would rather have an explosion now than one later in an uncontrolled situation.

"No," she admitted through tightly locked teeth. Gibbs let her sand for five minutes straight until the angry energy began to wear off and her pace slowed accordingly.

"Why can I not be perfect when I try so hard?" she finally asked, focusing carefully on the curve of the boat. The words had been spun to sound deceptively light, but Gibbs was not fooled. Her question held all the pain of a thousand imperfect moments that she still carried with her, from recent encounters to childhood memories.

"Reality. And no here is going to be mad or disappointed in you if you aren't perfect. Look at me, Ziver. Look up. Good girl. You are doing great and I know that you will only do better. Remember when you first joined and started learning the rules?"

...

Oh, she remembered those first days well! They were a part of her now ... integral to who she was ... who she was becoming ... who she would be next week, next month, next year.

"Yes," Ziva grumbled, angry as she recalled the feelings of helplessness and confusion as she was trying to learn a code of conduct without a guide or pamphlet. It had been frustrating with Tony and Tim constantly quoting numbers and Gibbs always telling her to keep up with his own rules while she was still struggling to differentiate between NCIS and Mossad regulations. It felt like last week - because it had been last week. Much to her chagrin, she was still struggling periodically after nearly a year. She had a better idea of a lot of Gibbs' rules but she still felt behind the others. Despite being a world-class killer, she still had a hard time staying inside of the lines that others placed around her.

"You learned so fast and I was proud to have you join my team. I'm still proud and you're still learning. You can make a hundred more mistakes and I'll still be proud as long as you own up to it, face any consequences, and do your best to prevent it from happening again."

The anger evaporated. Ziva could not help the small smile that crept across her face at hearing that Gibbs was proud of her. He meant it, and she could have wanted no greater prize.

"And now, because part of being responsible is Rule # 45 - clean up your own mess - we need to talk about what's been going on with you."

Ziva sighed in defeat. She had known this was coming and now the moment was here. All happiness at Gibbs' praise and acceptance and pride in her evaporated in an instant.

She was going to be punished.

...

The next chapter should be up soon. It is written, just going through the editing process.

Remember to review! Holiday hugs to all!