Ziva lifted the lid off the pan, and felt the steam rush to her face. The pasta, shaped like animals, for the joy of the youngest member of the household, floated in the water. Ziva placed the lid back onto the pan, and waited for the pot to boil over again.

She looked from the kitchen to the closed door of Tali's bedroom. She could hear muffled voices, but had no chance of hearing the words that were being said.

Ziva turned back to dinner. The thick tomato sauce had tiny pieces of vegetables hidden in it, but Ziva already knew that Tali could find the smallest slither of vegetable, even in the thickest sauce.

The pot boiled over again.

Ziva took a deep breath. Filling her belly, and let it out slowly.

In and out.

Inhale and exhale.

Her skin itched, a sign that the panic had not yet dissipated. Her new therapist had suggested Ziva go for a walk after an anxiety attack. Her flight and fight system was in overdrive, and she needed to move to finish the cycle, with movement.

Ziva looked to Tali's closed door, and then to the front door.

If she left now, even temporarily, it would only make things worse.

Tali's door opened.

"I'm going to talk to Ima," Tony told Tali. "Then we'll all have dinner. Why don't you have some quiet time?"

Tali's door was closed, and Tony stepped out, before Ziva could hear Tali's response.

Tony made his way across the living area to the kitchen, and Ziva noticed he was still wearing his coat. As soon as he had come home, he had gone straight to Tali's room.

Ziva turned down the heat. Little bubbles of water slipped from the pot.

Tony pulled off his coat, and dumped it on a chair.

"Come here," Tony said with open arms.

Ziva checked on dinner, and moved toward him.

Tony's arms wrapped around her. He held her tight. She was safe. Secure.

"Is she okay?" Ziva asked, as she looked up at him. His eyes betrayed him, he was exhausted.

He carried the weight of their little family on his shoulders.

"She is," Tony said. "She's sorry for freaking out."

Ziva had picked Tali up from school solo that afternoon. It had not been planned. Ziva and Tony had gone their separate ways after drop-off, Ziva to therapy and Tony had given himself some much needed time to himself.

Ziva had arrived at the metro stop closest to Tali's school with over an hour to spare. Tony had gotten stuck on a train, that was in a tunnel. The metro system was still dealing with the after effects of the strike.

Ziva had made sure to stand in the front of the crowd of caregivers for pick-up, but she had still watched as Tali looked around. Her eyes moving right over Ziva. Even when Tali found Ziva, her eyes had focused on the space next to Ziva, where Tony should have been.

Then the questions started.

Where's Daddy?

Did you make Daddy go away?

Each question was repeated over and over, with no space for Ziva to answer.

Where's Daddy?

Each time she spoke, Tali became more and more upset. Her lip wobbled. Big gloopy tears fell down her face. Words got lost in her sobs.

Other parents studied the scene from a safe distance.

Ziva's cheeks reddened, and she answered Tali's questions delicately.

Your father is on a train, it is in a tunnel.

He will meet us at home.

Tali was not satisfied.

I want Daddy! Not you.

Those words had hurt Ziva more than any bullet ever did. More than the endless hours that brought Tali into the world. More than the knife that left the new scar on her wrist.

I want Daddy.

Her little hands had formed into fists.

Daddy. Daddy.

Ziva had brought this child into the world, and yet was nothing.

Other parents lingered longer than usual but none stepped in. Ziva was used to their stares now. The American man, the one they all thought was a single Dad, had come back from winter break with a mystery woman that they all referred to as the child's mother. Tony and Ziva were a popular gossip topic.

One of the teachers walked across the playground. Her lanyard bouncing, and her heels clicking.

The teacher was going to see what a terrible mother Ziva was. How she had lost control.

He will be there when we get home. Let's go. Now.

Ziva reached for Tali's wrist, and held a little too tightly. Tali had squirmed out of Ziva's hold.

The panic had bubbled over.

Ziva needed to get out of there. She needed to get them to a safe place. She needed to get them home.

Tali's teacher had by then reached them, and was whispering calming words in accented English. Ziva hoped the woman knew enough of their story, not to think something bad was actually happening.

Tali continued to ask for her father. Ziva explained the situation. Showing Tony's texts from earlier.

The teacher had bent in front of Tali and explained what Ziva had said.

Ima and Daddy, Tali continued to whine. I need Ima and Daddy. No just Ima. No just Daddy.

Then a text had flashed across Ziva's screen. Tony was out of the metro, and was thirty minutes from home. His plan was to jump in a taxi.

Ziva had pressed the call button, and not bothering to explain the situation to Tony, had thrust the phone next to Tali's ear.

Tali started to talk to Tony, and calmed down. Her tears stopped, and she started to breath between words.

Ziva and the teacher had shared a look.

Change is hard, the teacher had said, but Ziva felt the judgement in her tone. She has support here. Your whole family does.

What sort of mother leaves her child?

What sort of mother could be so rejected by her child?

Once Tali was calmed, Ziva had taken her hand and walked out of the schoolyard.

Tali had held onto the phone chatting away to Tony, on the whole walk home.

Tali told Tony all about her day, about the sticker she got for reading, about her friend Sabrina, and about the new boy who was from America.

On the few occasions she had allowed herself to imagine life once she and Tali were reunited, she had imagined her and Tali walking home from school and sharing secrets and giggles. Just like it had been for Ziva and her own mother.

Ziva wanted desperately to be part of her daughter's world, yet Tali still held her at arm's length.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked, dragging her back into the present.

"Tali is okay," Ziva said, as the pot boiled over. "That is all that matters."

She untangled herself from Tony, and rushed to the stovetop.

"No," Tony said. "That's not all that matters. This is new to all of us, but we're all making adjustments."

Ziva took the lid off the pasta. The pasta was done. She turned it right down.

She checked the sauce. It still needed time.

They all still needed time.

There were some deep wounds that needed to heal.

"I thought we were doing better," Ziva said, as she opened the lower cupboard in search of a colander. The cupboard was a mess.

Once, they were sufficiently adjusted, Ziva would organise the kitchen to her liking.

"So did I," Tony said, as he reached up to the cupboard above the fridge, and revealed the colander. "Pick-ups have been fine all week."

Ziva shook her head, as she took it from him.

She would be organising this kitchen. Soon.

"She is still getting used to me," Ziva said, as she balanced the colander in the sink. "I know that. It just hurt. She trusted her teacher more than she trusted me."

"It's not like that," he said. "She just got confused. We both said we'd be there to pick her up, then I got stuck on the train. I wasn't there, that's why she was upset."

"It is not your fault," Ziva said.

"Maybe not," he said. "But, I never missed a pick-up, I can see why she got spooked. I wanted to be there, she's always so chatty after pick up."

Ziva adjusted the colander again.

"I was looking forward to that," Ziva admitted. "I wanted to hear her stories first."

Tony looked down at his shoes.

"Do you feel excluded?" Tony asked. "With me and Tali."

"You have been there for the last three years," Ziva said. "It is natural that Tali goes to you first. It is natural for you two to be closer."

Ziva checked the stove, and lifted the pot off the stove. She moved the few feet to the sink and poured the water over the colander.

It splashed violently, and the steam clouded the tiny window above the sink.

"You know when I was trapped underground with half of Paris, I was thinking that we should split up the school run," Tony said. "I haven't gotten up later than 0600, in nearly four years. I could do with a sleep-in."

The steam dissipated.

"If we let Tali know in advance," Tony continued. "I think she'd be okay with it."

"So I do drop offs, and you do pick up?" Ziva asked.

Tali was grumpy in the mornings, and drop offs were a rushed affair. Pick-ups were slower and calmer. Tali always had so many stories after school.

"That would be nice," Tony said, "But it would not be fair."

"Very little of these last few years have been fair," Ziva said.

Not fair to Ziva. Not fair to Tony. And, most unfair to Tali.

"Maybe not," Tony said. "But, I was thinking we'd play it by ear, still do most of the school runs together. You can have pick up on Wednesdays, that's dance day."

"That starts again next week, yes?" Ziva asked, as she shook the water off the pasta.

"Oh yeah," Tony said. "You're in for a treat."

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked, as she moved across the kitchen and lifted the lid off the other pot. The sauce was almost done.

"Some of the Moms there are definitely projecting their own issues onto their little ballerinas," Tony said, "And, I really stand out there. There are no ballet Dads."

Ziva stirred the sauce.

"I did ballet," Ziva said. "When I was her age."

Did she still remember the steps?

"I know," Tony said, as he moved across the kitchen. He lifted the colander from the sink, and held it up. "You wanted to be a ballerina."

Ziva felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Tony knew her so well.

"I thought you two could share this," Tony said. "And, I think you'll do her hair better. I never got that right."

"Curls are hard to style," Ziva said. Tali's curls were more waves, than the tight curls Ziva had as a child.

"Don't I know it," Tony said.

"Do you think Tali will be okay with this?" Ziva asked.

"I already asked," Tony said. "She'd like that. She was very impressed when she found out you used to dance."

Tony held the pasta over the sauce, and slowly tipped the shells in.

"You see what we got here is a failure to communicate," Tony said, in his best southern accent.

Ziva rolled her eyes, and then slipped to a smile, and stirred the pasta.

She had missed this. She had missed him.

"I think it'll be good for you two to have time to get to know each other," Tony said. "It'll probably be good for me too."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I've been her everything, from the moment I saw her in Vances office," Tony said, as he looked toward her door. "Except for school, and a couple of times with Dad, I've never left her with anyone else. I'm always the first parent there for pick-up, because I know what it's like to be looking for someone who isn't there."

His own childhood left scars he wanted to spare his daughter.

"You are a good father," Ziva whispered.

Tony shook his head.

"I just give her whatever she needs from me," Tony said. "I love her, more than anything, but it was so good to have some time to myself today."

"What did you do today?" Ziva asked.

The night before, when they were checking Tali's school bag, for permission slips and the gloves she had lost. Tony had been surprised to find, he had no life admin to do. The pantry was full. The laundry was done. The bathroom was clean. Even with an extra person in the house, their little life was much easier to manage with a second adult.

While Ziva had a mid-morning therapy session, her second. And, Tony had the day completely to himself.

"I went to the movies," Tony said sheepishly. "I've missed surround sound, and seeing characters that aren't animated."

Ziva stirred the pasta into the sauce.

"And, it was really good to have time to myself," Tony said. "When I was in Philadelphia, there was this sergeant who spent all day complaining about how his wife was so lazy and boring, now that she was a stay at home mom. Gotta say, I see it from her point of view now."

Ziva sucked in a deep breath. Tali's early days came back to her. Those milk soaked nights, when Tali would wail and wail, and Ziva longed for someone to talk to, who could talk back.

She had always banished those thoughts of loneliness, as quickly as they came. She had made her choices.

She had sent him away.

"It is probably good for us too," Ziva said softly. "A month ago we were not even on the same continent. This morning I was ready to kill you for not putting your shoes away."

"You didn't hear me curse you out for moving Tali's cereal," Tony said, flashing his thousand watt grin. "But, yeah we need to let things settle.."

There had been more than a few tense moments. Their little apartment did not provide many places to hide.

"We talked about self care in therapy today," Ziva said. "Things always feel better if I go for a walk in the morning. I would like to make more time for that."

That day had only been her second therapy. The focus was still on getting Ziva to the point where she could start to work through the mess of the last six years.

She had a prescription for anti anxiety medication, and was working on self care rituals.

"I get it," Tony said. "Now that you're home, I realise I've kinda spent the last few years in survival mode. It was the best feeling, just to be able sit there and not have to worry about anything."

Ziva's chest hurt. She had caused so much pain.

How could he ever forgive her?

"I will take my daily walks," Ziva said, "And, you will have your weekly movies. It will be our routine."

"They say routine is good for kids," Tony said, as he collected the plates from the cupboard. "It will be good for us, too."

"Yes," Ziva said, as she got the knives and forks from the drawer. "Do you think it will be good for Tali?"

"Having two parents who are in a good place has to count for something," Tony offered. "She'll get it when she's older."

Ziva worried about what would happen as Tali grew older, and her questions became more nuanced. When she would be able to pick through her parents half truths, and lies of omission.

Could Tali ever really understand?

That was one of the many things she had made a list to talk about with her therapist. That list ran over two pages. There was so much that she needed to unpack, parts of her past from long before Tali was born.

Less than a month ago, Ziva's life had been a fight to survive, and now she was trying to fit into her family.

"Sometimes," Ziva started. "I worry about how we will explain all of this to her, when she is older. My mother always tried to keep so many things from us. I'm not sure if hiding these things "

Tony frowned.

"Well it's always gonna be there," Tony said, after a long pause, "But, we won't hide things from her. We'll keep telling her our story, and go into a bit more detail each time. She'll get it eventually. She'll know how much you sacrificed for her."

Ziva would not call it a sacrifice.

She would call it an impossible choice, made over another impossible choice.

There was that idiom about rocks, and hard places.

"You make it sound easy," Ziva whispered.

"It won't be," Tony said, "But we'll get through it. We always do."

Ziva wanted to say more. She wanted to poke holes in his optimism, but didn't. She decided she would have faith. She would believe.

They would get through this. They would build a happy family.

"Daddy, Ima," Tali's voice called from her now opened door. "Me starvin' like Lee Marvin."

A/N:

I don't own a thing.

I promise we will have some happier chapters, but first we're gonna have a couple of chapters with Ziva telling Tony about why she did not inform him about Tali earlier.

Thanks for all the reviews. Big shout to the guest reviewers, I wish I could reply to y'all. Thank you for all the support.

Thanks to all those who've heard me out while writing this chapter. You ladies know who you are.