"So, we're really doing this?" Tony asked as he looked around their living room, and the boxes that filled what had once been empty space.
Ziva put some books in one of the boxes, next to some of Tony's DVD's, and a few of Tali's toys. She put another pile of books in a crinkly blue bag brought from that Swedish furniture store. That was the bag for stuff to donate.
Two weeks into packing up their lives in Paris, and Ziva had a system.
"Yes, we are," she said, as she wiped sweat from her forehead. "Though I seem to be doing most of the packing."
Tony could not wait to live in a house with air conditioning again.
Ziva grabbed a marker from the coffee table and labeled the box.
Tony scanned their living area, the too-small dining table where the three of them had shared almost every dinner for the last year and a half. The couch where they snuggled up for movie nights, Tali squished between her parents. His eyes fixed on their tiny kitchen, where he and Ziva had so many late night conversations during that first year when they all got used to each other again.
The tiny apartment held so many memories.
The scream tantrum that Tali had a few weeks after they moved in, because all she wanted was her mother, and that was the only thing Tony could not give her.
That time, he and Ziva had tried to make the most of Tali finally being back at school after lockdown, by having a grown-up cuddle on the couch, only for both of them to lose their nerve.
Our daughter sits there, Tony said, as he took Ziva's hand and led her to their bedroom.
That time, a few days before Christmas, where Tony sat staring at his phone. At the missed calls from Ziva, and the text
It is over. We are safe xo
After everything they had been through. They could finally be together.
"You say this every time we do something for the move," Ziva said softly, as she abandoned her packing, and walked towards him.
Her arms wrapped around his waist. He could see down Ziva's tank top, the one she never wore outside the house, because it had a faint tomato sauce stain, from that time Ziva brought too many tomatoes from the farmers market down the street, and tried to make pasta sauce for the winter.
Tali had loved helping her mother squash the tomatoes. Tony had loved hearing the two of them giggle in their tiny kitchen.
"I know," he said, "I just still can't believe we're doing this. I mean this time two years ago-"
"Things were very different," Ziva said softly, interrupting him.
"Yeah," he said. "There was no way I could imagine our lives would look like this."
Ziva's face broke out into a smile, and her eyes crinkled ever so slightly.
She was so happy these days. The panic lingered in the shadows, but she knew what to do when it tried to darken her day.
"Sometimes it doesn't feel real," he admitted. "Here we are, moving home, planning a wedding, and maybe having another kid."
Ziva looked past him.
They had not been preventing pregnancy for the better part of a year now, and nothing seemed to have happened.
They might always be a trio.
"Do you think we have gone too fast?" she asked. "So much has changed in the last eighteen months."
Tony shook his head. He wouldn't have changed anything. They were finally together, all three of them.
"We've never been good at timing," Tony said, "There were a few years we were almost at a dead stop."
Ziva smiled. A soft smile.
We have wasted so much time, they had both said many times over the last year.
"I will miss this," he said, taking one hand off Ziva's hip and waving it around the apartment.
"This apartment?" Ziva asked.
"Not exactly," he said.
He loved the little apartment, with the closet sized room that Tali had turned into her little den, but even if they were staying in Paris long term, they would have had to move. The place was not big enough for three.
"I will miss Paris," he said, "It's been good for us here. We needed some time to be together, just us."
"Yes," she said, with a slight nod. "I think it would have been harder for me to reintegrate, if we had been back in D.C. There would have been so much other noise."
Reintegrate sounded like a therapy word. Ziva had completed her final therapy session the week before, and had not found another one for their new life. She was going to see how she went. The good days far outnumbered the bad these days, and she had skills to manage the bad ones.
"But," Ziva said, as Tony pulled Ziva closer. Their bellies touched. Both of them had softer bellies now, carrying the happy weight from lingering diners and the cookies the family made together in that tiny kitchen. "I am looking forward to being back there, to rebuilding some relationships. We wanted to expand our lives, yes?"
More therapy words, but he knew what she meant.
She had come back from the dead, and left a lot of pain in her wake.
Healing was a journey.
He was looking forward to spending some time with the McTwins in person, and seeing his Dad more often.
The old man seemed to have aged a decade in a year, he had lost many friends to the virus.
Tali was looking forward to seeing her Pop-Pop all the time too.
"Yeah," Tony said, "Tali needs to be around more family."
All three of them did.
Life was too short to be so far away.
They stood for a few beats looking at each other. Tony studied Ziva's face, seeing the features that had been passed onto Tali.
"Leaving Paris, will be bittersweet," Ziva said, "But, I think it will be worth it."
"I know," he said. "We'll have that house with the two bathrooms, and the yard, and we'll be close to everyone."
The modest house, toured during their fast paced visit to the US during Tali's spring break, was just outside the beltway, and would be home for a long time. It had enough full sized bedrooms for the three of them, and a spare they hoped to fill. It had two bathrooms, which was what excited Tony most. There was also a basement room that Tony hoped to turn into a movie room.
Buying a house while living in another country had involved a lot of late calls, and misunderstood emails, but Tony could not wait to be in his house with his girls. It would be their forever home.
This plot would be great for a tear down, the realtor had said when she showed them the dated house, the was a mere ten minute walk from a stop on the red line, but as soon as the three of them had walked through the door Tony had known they would never tear it down.
Tali loved the big tree in the backyard, and Tony had promised her he would put a tire swing up..
Ziva loved the kitchen that looked into the lounge, so that she could help Tali with her homework while she cooked.
Tony loved that he could see a future in the modest little house. He could see a teenage Tali slamming doors. He could see him and Ziva enjoying an empty nest, while still being close to amenities. He could see another chair at the table, maybe a high chair.
Maybe.
This is it, Tali had said, as she stood on the rotten back deck. This one.
Tony and Ziva had shared a look, while the realtor talked about all the renovations they could do, to make the little house seem bigger.
This house had been the third one they had viewed in person. Tony had thought that Tali had just had enough of her not very fun vacation. They had gone to house viewings and on school tours.
The first had been too small, and too far away from everything. A townhouse in a complex, surrounded by more almost identical houses. Paris had spoiled them, they wanted to be able to stroll to the supermarket to buy a forgotten ingredient. Ziva wanted to walk Tali to the school they were dropping a mortgage payment on.
The second was too big. A huge Chip and Joanna house plopped in the place of a more modest house. Everything was brand new, and it was less than a half mile to some shops, but it was on a main road. They wanted to live on a quiet street. For Ziva sleep was hard enough to fall into, she did not need to have disturbed by an early morning bus, or truck horns.
On the crumbling deck, he and Ziva had shared a nod. This was it. The one.
We're really doing this, aren't we? Tony asked, as Ziva looked around the yard.
She got the attention of the realtor and said the words.
We would like to make an offer.
"And, you have your job," Ziva added.
Tony smiled, and felt butterflies in his stomach.
It had been a long time since he had been excited about a job.
It had been over five years since he had a job.
The job was part of a non-profit that helped get unemployed people into new careers. The non profit had been started by two childhood friends who grew up in the less savoury parts of DC, and went into careers that got them out. One of them had gone to Iraq for his country and came back with half as many limbs. The other had struck out during his first year in the minor leagues and battled an addiction. They had come out on the other side and wanted to help other people do the same, especially after the pandemic caused so much pain.
Tony would be a career coach, helping to get people into new careers and training for the new economy. He was looking forward to being their to help people pick up their lives, and make good. He'd spent years being there on the worst day of someone's life, and now he got help them rebuild.
Tony had been able to negotiate flexible work hours, and would be home for dinner every single night.
"I know," he said. "And, I'm excited. It's just a big change."
"And, you have never done well with change," Ziva said softly.
Tony frowned.
"You've got me there," he said. "I also hate packing, how have we accumulated so much stuff?"
In Tony's twenties he had moved every two years, almost always after something had gone down where he was. Those moves had always been quick, with apartments packed in a single afternoon, and that had been in the days before music and movie streaming. Tony had once had quite the collection of cassettes that were lugged from apartment to apartment.
Ziva stepped back and held up her hands.
"Don't look at me," she said. "You and Tali are the pack mice."
Ziva had come back to them with only the clothes on her back, and a go-bag.
She had always packed a good go-bag.
"Pack rats," he corrected, as his arms snaked back around her waist. "And, there are a lot of books in those boxes."
Ziva looked up at him, and flashed him a slight smile.
"Are you worried about the move?" she asked softly.
"I'm a bit concerned about what these French movers will do to our furniture," he said, "And, I know Tali is going to be concerned about her toys being on a ship."
His mind drifted off to that time he and Ziva had gotten trapped in a shipping container.
Oh how far they had come.
"I was not asking about our stuff," she said.
"I know," he admitted, as he looked at her. "I guess I'm a little worried. It's probably going to be weird being back, and when servers are actually nice to me. Reverse culture shock is a thing, right?"
"It is," Ziva said. "But, I would say you have been very American while we have been here."
"Yeah," he said. "Honestly, mostly I'm excited. We have a great life, and now it's going to be even better."
Ziva smiled at him.
"It is," she said.
"Did you look at that link I sent you?" he asked. "The community college near the new house."
Tony and Tali were both going to start at new places at the end of the summer. Tali at progressive private school, chosen because they didn't want Tali to get lost in the overcrowded public schools. Tony at his new job, that was set to start the week after Tali went to school.
Tony worried about Ziva having nothing but the house for six hours a day. He knew her, she needed to feel useful.
"I did," she said. "I will look into it more, once we are there. I think it would be good to make sure Tali is settled, before we add more change."
While Tali was excited about the new house, and being close to Pop-Pop, she had been less impressed when she realised that they would be giving up their little apartment, and she would be finishing at little school at the end of the school year.
They had thought Tali would take it in stride, she went to an international school, and kids seemed to cycle through all the time.
Tali was not willing to pack up her toys and books for the container, insisting that she might need everything.
She had also wanted her parents to tell her every time they were doing something in Paris for the last time.
She did not care that they would find another ice cream place near the new house, or that they would be surrounded by parks.
"She'll love it once we're there," he said.
"I know," she said. "Children are resilient."
Tali would never have to be a resilient as her parents were as children.
Tony's stomach rumbled.
They hadn't really done lunch, wanting to get as much packing done as possible, while Tali was at school. The movers would be emptying their apartment in less than a week. They were working to a deadline.
Tali was on her second-to-last day of school.
"If we shower now," she started. "We could make a stop before we pick Tali up."
"That little patisserie?" he asked.
Ziva nodded.
"We have not said goodbye to that place yet," she declared.
When Tali was told they were likely visiting a place for the last time, she insisted on saying goodbye to it.
Goodbye dentist, I didn't like you anyway.
Goodbye hairdresser, you smell funny.
Goodbye toy store, I will miss you most of all.
At seven, Tali had found her dramatic streak.
Tony and Ziva had found themselves doing the same thing when they visited places for the last time. Often standing in the lobby or in front of the window taking in a place that had been part of their little life, and silently saying goodbye.
Goodbye doctors office, thanks for letting me freak out when Tali got really sick.
Goodbye supermarket, you were always so busy, and so cramped.
Goodbye gym, that I did not visit enough, even once it was allowed again.
"The government does want us to support local cafes," he said. "To help the economy."
Ziva let go of his hand and walked past the debris in their living room, toward the bedroom.
Tony admired the view. Ziva in yoga pants would be the death of him.
He followed her, maybe they could share that shower, that would save water.
Then she turned around.
"I have been thinking," she said, as tugged at the hem of her tank top.
"That's dangerous," he murmured.
His eyes nowhere near hers.
"About the dining table," Ziva announced.
Tony turned around, and looked at the table. They had been sorting through the kitchen, so it was covered in junk.
Did they really have two cake tins?
"What about it?" he asked.
He thought of the lazy family breakfasts they had shared on many quiet Sundays. He thought of those cozy midnight snacks of cheese and crusty bread he and Ziva shared after Tali went to sleep.
He finally understood why cereal ads featured a family around the table. It really was the center of their little home.
"It is small," Ziva said.
Knees always ended up being bumped under the table, but Tony did not mind.
"Yeah," he said, as he looked at the sunflower Tali had been growing on the windowsill. That would not make it through the move.
"Probably too small for the new place," Ziva said. "I know we are probably not going to use the formal dining room for eating, but the table is probably too small for the nook."
The new place had a screened porch that one of the previous owners had converted into a formal dining room. When the family had walked around the house, the realtor called the owner to discuss the offer, they had agreed to turn the formal dining room to a den. The piano would sit by the window, and they would build floor to ceiling shelves on the big wall.
Tony had also imagined a desk in the corner. His new job allowed him to work from home at least once a week, and if Ziva wanted to go to college she would need the space to study.
"Yeah," he said. "Probably."
He was doing his best impression of a bored sitcom husband.
They weren't even married yet.
They had been talking about doing it in their new garden before the year was out. Just something small with all their favourite people, and a Rabbi.
We have waited too long, she had said as they did the dishes one evening.
"We should not pack it then," Ziva said. "It will be two weeks before the ship comes in, that will be enough time to get a table."
In the time between the three of them landing at Dulles, and their belongings arriving, providing Tali's fears of the container falling into the sea did come to fruition, would be busy.
They were going to paint every room, and get the rotten deck replaced. Their new home had been in one family for over thirty years, before becoming too much for its widowed owner, it needed just a little love to make it a home for the three of them.
"We have space in the container," he said.
Ziva frowned.
"Why would we bring it with us only to discard it?" she asked.
"I don't know how to get rid of furniture here," he said, "It probably needs four seperate forms, and will cost us money."
It had been hard enough to get rid of the car. There had been so many forms.
The table was the center of their little home, and he wasn't ready to let go.
Tali would not cope with any more changes. They had promised her that they would set up her new bedroom exactly like it was in the apartment. Tony had even made a show of taking photos of the bedroom from every angle, to help rebuild it in the new house.
Ziva frowned. She was unconvinced.
"It'll give us more time to find the perfect table," he said.
"It does not need to be perfect," Ziva said. "It needs to be bigger. You said you wanted to have your father over for dinner all the time. We will not all fit, especially as Tali gets bigger."
He knew enough to know this was not just about the table.
He had no idea what this was really about.
Was it Ziva trying to assert decortrial dominance, because every piece of furniture in this tiny apartment had been picked by Tony and Tali.
"We'll get another table," he said. "A good one. From that store with all the throw pillows you like."
The store with the name after a social science discipline, with oddly designed impractical furniture. Ziva lusted after the items on that website. Tony had visions of their living room being turned into a Moroccan bazar.
"We would probably need something more practical than the ones they sell there," Ziva offered. "We both need back support at meals, and we have a child."
He scoffed, and reached out for her.
He would ask her what all this was about later, once they had picked up Tali, and said goodbye to their favourite patisserie by buying far too many pastries.
Laying flat in their bed, listening to the whir of the desk fan, and feeling sweat trickle down them, they talked about it. Ziva assured him it was all about practicality, and the table being too small. Tony promised to look at some tables that Ziva had bookmarked. Ziva had expensive taste.
It was like a scene from a sitcom, and Tony was so glad that he got to live it with her.
Then it all happened so quickly.
All three of them cried on Tali's last day of school.
Then the movers swept in, and emptied their tiny apartment of all but six suitcases and three backpacks.
And three hours later, they closed the door on their little apartment for the last time. All three of them had tears in their eyes.
It's the end of an era, Tony said, as he led Tali down the stairs toward the taxi that had been hired to take them to the hotel the night before their flight.
In the airport, after they had paid extra for their overweight suitcases, Tony took the hands of both of his girls, and said it again.
"We're really doing this, aren't we?" he asked.
'We are," Ziva said as they walked toward the immigration line, with their one way tickets.
"Are you scared, Daddy?" Tali asked.
"No," he said softly. "I'm excited."
A/N:
I don't own a thing.
I'm baaack!
I know I said that future fics in this universe would likely be one shots, but my brain kept coming up with ideas all the set around the summer our favourite family move back to the states. So, I've combined them in this fic, with a few threads running throughout.
Over the next twelve to fourteen chapters, we're going to see our family adjust to being back, and seeing some familiar faces. It's going to be soft and slow. This chapter is bit info dumpy, but I hope I've sparked your interest.
The next chapter is going to feature Tony meeting Odette.
This fic is set in July through to September 2021, so there's going to be less 'real world' stuff than in other fics. It also assumes that by the northern hemisphere summer of 2021, COVID-19 is no longer a threat. Also, it'll pretty much ignore any canon after the end of season 17.
I'm aiming for weekly updates, but sometimes life may get in the way, we'll never go more than two weeks without an update.
Reviews are love, I do reply to them I promise.
