Hello! CHAPTER FIFTY! How AMAZING! Next month this will be two years old. I never knew what I was committing to with this story, but it has been lots of fun and I can't wait to see how you all like what I have planned for the next bit of it. I am guessing that we will have at least another ten chapters.

I've been doing lots of posting lately and just in case you haven't seen them (I know some people probably just check this story or have followed this story and not my account), I have started a fiction based on the show "Broke" (two chapters); three NCIS one-shots - "Adages and Unicorns", "Sour Words", and "A Kitten With Claws"; and another chapter of "Half of the Story". :D I hope that you will enjoy them! It has been lots of fun writing them. :) I hope to be getting out some new "Bull" fictions soon and finishing out the last few chapters of "Half of the Story".

Thank you to all the reviewers on the last chapter: didemi, Troubled-Angel-26, Loads of Randomness, Sarai, DS2010, Dawn248, Fan, Luvreadings67 (sorry for the long wait - I had to finish the semester out before being able to focus on this story), Your Lazy Friend, KrisShannon, NCISLover, Guest, PaciParty, and NCISLover10. :) I appreciate hearing from each of you! :) Thanks to quintawrites for reading over this chapter and giving me the go ahead. :)

Now, let's finally rejoin Ziva and Gibbs after the long wait.

Enjoy!

...

Ziva was fuming. Corner time was an indignity. Not one but TWO spankings (choosing to see them are distinctly separate was beneficial in fueling the fire of temper) was even worse. And now Gibbs wanted to talk?

He would see how "talkative" a sore butt and even sorer pride made her.

She clenched her jaw tightly and glared.

So he thought a snack would calm her down? He knew nothing!

"Come over here," he said calmly. The stern tones of a few minutes ago were gone and he was gently coaxing her. He sat down on the couch, setting the plate of crackers and cheese on the coffee table.

"I do not want to," she grumbled. She did not shout it, figuring that would earn her a quick repeat of the previous "treatment" but also not wanting to immediately concede.

Gibbs' face was impassive for a moment and Ziva was not sure what response to expect, but he finally said, "Okay. Stay there or come over here and sit down. Those are your choices."

"Stay," Ziva grumbled, venom in her tone.

"Then you're still gonna listen from there," Gibbs said firmly. He gave her a stern look for a moment, conveying how serious he was, before continuing, "Ziva, I don't like the attitude today. You won't like the consequences if it continues. There's a lot more where that sample came from, but I'm not interested in having to use it on you. I think it'd probably be good for you to go on a run to get it out of your system."

Ziva opened her mouth to protest the grounding and then paused as she processed what he had said - which was pretty much the exact opposite of a grounding. He was actually encouraging her to go on a run, one of her favourite things to do.

Was it a trap?

No. Gibbs did not really do traps the way that others did..

At least, he did not seem like he did.

But then, today was the day that she proved things to him.

"What if I do not want to go for a run?" she challenged, safe in her spot several feet away. He could not swat her from there so she felt confident enough to be a little sassy.

"You?" Gibbs replied with an incredulous smirk.

"Well, maybe I do not want to run today," she replied defensively.

...

Gibbs had not been a parent and/or psuedoparent - let alone a team lead - for years without being able to tell when he was being challenged. He also had tried and true methods of dealing with challenges - by overcoming them, whether by silence, stares, smacks, or swats. But he also knew how to identify the tiny challenges. Ziva was looking to see what his reactions were to a variety of things that she could do, and right now it was carrying over into the tiny, rather ridiculous details. They both darn-well knew that she loved running and jumped at every chance to head out, rain or shine, especially now when those chances had become a little more limited. Gibbs settled for silence in answer to her challenge this time, and it worked. She eventually shifted her gaze away from him and her body language, although still stiff, was no longer confrontational. Good. He did not know what had gotten into her today but he was not a fan.

"Want to take a granola bar, fruit, or a sandwich with you?" he asked, moving forward with the idea that she needed out to run on her own. He knew best. She was going to go out, by choice or by force. He knew that she needed the physical exertion to wear off all the energy she was building up and using as fuel for her bad attitude.

"All three," she answered after a moment of hesitation. There was a slight lift in her voice, almost as if asking a question but not quite. Once again, she was seeing how much effort he would put into reaching her demands. Well, he could handle that quite easily.

"A picnic. Good idea. What time will you be out to?"

He stood up and headed to the kitchen and began preparing the simple meal. He noticed how Ziva stood back, analyzing his every move. At least now he could interact with her in a less "you stand there and listen to me scold you" manner, which he hoped would yield positive results.

As if!

But maybe ... maybe she'll get it this time and I won't have to keep warming her hide.

When did you turn into an optimist, Jethro?

The last inner thought was so startlingly like Jenny's voice that he nearly dropped the knife he was using to slather butter onto the sandwich bread. Even Ziva, as ticked off as she was, noticed and asked, "Are you okay, Gibbs?"

"Fine. Fine. Just a fly bugging me," he answered, consoling himself that it seemed too true to be a fib. Jenny was on his mind a lot more lately, and his ability to stay disconnected from her and their ... past and the accompanying ...

He was NOT having emotions or feelings or any such thing!

...

Ziva could not hold back the unexpected amusement that bubbled up inside of her when she heard Gibbs' response.

Fly bugging. I actually understand that one! Gibbs is really more funny than he thinks.

If she had known what Gibbs was thinking, she would have been proud to apply her knowledge of the phrase "bit by the love bug" as well, due to Tony and Tim educating her on it when they watched their last movie together.

...

Gibbs looked up to see the smirk on Ziva's face.

What am I missing? What is she up too? he questioned, not realizing the humour in what he had said. He quickly decided to nip any mischievous plans in the bud as he asked, "What time are you planning to be back, Ziver?"

Ziva, who had not been thinking about any mischievous plans for probably the first time ever, was pulled away from her insect-related amusement. "Um ... 4:00?" she answered.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "It's only 11:00 right now. That's a long run."

"I can handle it," she said, on edge. "I do not have to run the entire time. I can walk for the rest."

"It's still longer than I want you to be out today," he said calmly. His worry for Ziva was far from over, although he did feel more certain about letting her out of his sight.

"I do not need to be babysat!" she grumbled indignantly.

"I'm not babysitting you, Ziver. You're going on your own. I'm going to stay and work on yard work," he said calmly.

Ziva took a breath, gulping in the taste of her "approaching" freedom.

"But I think that you should be back here by 2:00."

A little of the sweetness was replaced with bitterness. Why did Gibbs have to be such a worrywhat? He was going to try to control even the small, fun parts of her afternoon. He freedom was already so ... so compromised here.

She took the lunch bag silently and went searching for her running shoes, which differed from her regular sneakers that she had been wearing more regularly around the house.

"Ziva, I mean it - back by 2:00."

She snatched the food and disappeared out the door.

Gibbs shook his head. He had a bad feeling about this. He almost ran after her, to warn her, scold her, stop her.

But he did not.

"It's up to her now. If she makes a bed, she'll have to lie in it," he muttered under his breath, turning down the stairs to the basement. He needed a little time with the boat and his "liquid courage" before he started on that yard work.

...

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