Ziva pulled at the buttons of her coat, as Tony led the family around a corner. He had picked Senior up from the airport the previous evening, and dropped him off at his hotel to sleep off, and now they were going to meet him. Earlier that morning, Tony had marched them out of their apartment and to the metro station, saying they had a surprise, before they saw Senior. Ziva was getting used to Tony's surprises, they were always sweet.
Tali bounced with excitement. She loved her Pop-Pop, and could not wait another minute to see him.
Ziva was nervous. It had been over seven years since she had seen Senior. He had loved her then, but could he love her now, after everything she had put Tony through. She was a parent now, and knew the fight that almost all parents had, if someone hurt their babies they wanted to hurt them.
If someone even tried to hurt Tali in one of the many ways she had hurt Tony, Ziva would be ready to kill.
The street Tony had turned into was quiet, and Ziva felt Tali's hand thrust itself into hers. She noticed it was ungloved, but reminded herself that she had taken the gloves off of Tali on the crowded metro. The gloves were dangerously close to being lost, so Ziva stuffed them into her own pockets.
Tali was so careless with her things.
Ziva wrapped her hand around Tali's, and smiled. These little things were still so precious. The hand holding. The hugs. The chats on Wednesdays when they walked to ballet. Ziva had thought that Tali would have questions about their past, and Ziva's absence, but Tali's focus was on the present or the very near future. She wanted to know what was for dinner, or what movie they would watch on their Saturday movie night.
"We there yet?" Tali asked.
She might be rather European in her attitude to walking, willing to cover vast distances, but the excitement of seeing Pop-Pop again, was killing her. Tali had proudly announced that morning that Pop-Poop was her third favourite grown up, after her parents of course.
"Soon Tali," Tony said. "Pop-Pop's really excited to see you. Are you excited to see him?"
"Yes!" Tali screamed.
The scream made Ziva flinch. How could someone so small make so much noise?
A man walking a dog flinched as well.
They walked down the tree-lined street, and noticed that the area had become more touristy. There was the clunky sound of those rolling suitcases that Ziva hated. Ziva recognised some of the languages.
Spanish with a Chilean lilt.
Arabic, spoken by disgustingly wealthy people from the oiled states.
German, with all its constants.
"We need to cross the street," Tony announced. "Hold my hand Tali."
Tali grabbed Tony's hand, and Ziva felt a rush of love. The three of them were circuit, with love being their electricity. Tali was their connector.
The family stood at the zebra crossing, and Tony made an exaggerated gesture of looking for cars.
A taxi swooshed along the road, in the back of the taxi, a tourist was peering out, with an excited look on her face. Ziva knew that look, that was the look of someone being in Paris for the first time.
Ziva could remember her first time. It had been only for a few days, long enough to put a bullet in an arms dealer who was selling to Hamas. She remembered sitting on the back of the motorbike, and seeing the city through the helmet visor. Paris was something else.
It took you in, and made you fall in love with all of the little moments.
Ziva spent those kidon years, spending brief moments in foreign cities between assassinations, and Paris always remained her favourite.
"All right, lets go," Tony said.
They crossed the road. Ziva felt the slight relief of reaching the otherside unscathed.
She would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the world to take away the people she loved the most.
The panic still reared its ugly head at times, but it was softer now. The medication worked, especially as the dosage had been adjusted for her. That and she knew how to challenge the panic, to start to tame it.
Still, she always held Tali's hand very tightly when they crossed the street.
"Daddy," Tali whined. "I'm tired."
Tony let out a laugh. Ziva knew what he was laughing at. Tali had woken her parents before dawn. Ziva had gotten up with her, and put her cartoons on.
"We're nearly there," Tony said, as they turned another corner. This street was quieter, so the family remained connected. "I promise."
Then Ziva saw it. Across the street was a cafe on a corner, with burgundy bricks and art deco windows.
She stopped, Tony and Tali did too.
"See Ima's tired," Tali whined. "No more walking."
"It's okay," Tony said. "We're nearly there. We've just gotta cross the street."
The postcard stands still sat on the outside of the tables, creating a border between the street and the cafe. Tourists sat at tables with maps and smartphones. On the edge, she noticed a group of Turkish men, taxi drivers who huddled near the hotels, rubbing their hands together and drinking strong coffee.
This was why she had chosen the little cafe. It was the real Paris, not the tourist traps Tony had done a whistle stop tour of. Ziva had enjoyed her coffee, and slightly burnt croissant.
She too, once upon a time, was wowed by the uniform apartments, and well dressed people. It was all so different from busy chaotic Tel Aviv. It was also so perfect and civil.
Now, Ziva sought out the other gritter side of Paris. Ziva saw the slightly confused immigrants from war torn lands who crowd in apartments that are too small to begin with, Ziva noticed their hope. These new Parisians had fought for this new life, and they would keep fighting. Ziva understood the fight.
"It hasn't changed," Tony whispered. "Not one bit."
Ziva smiled.
"No," she said, as Tali bounced on her feet.
"Where's Pop-Pop?" Tali asked, as she craned her neck.
"Inside," Tony said. "You know Tali, this cafe is very special to me and Ima?"
Tali screwed up her face in confusion.
"Why?" Tali asked.
Her daughter's favourite question.
Why? Why? Why?
"You don't recognise it from the picture?" Tony asked.
In Tali's defense the picture that hung in her bedroom is of her mother getting on the back of the scooter. You could barely see the cafe.
Ziva could still remember her face reddening, when Tony asked one of the taxi drivers to take a picture of them on the scooter.
It's like Roman holiday, he'd said, as he tucked the digital camera back into his pocket. That had been the height of technology back then.
Ziva could remember him giving her a copy of the picture in a frame the following summer, after the Reynosa cartel reared their ugly heads. Ziva could remember, hastily packing the photo and its frame into her backpack, a week after she handed in her badge, as she headed to Israel. She needed to take a piece of him with her. She could remember sitting in her empty apartment, her belly taut, and the creature that would become Tali kicking, she held up the picture and promised Tony she would explain it all to him. One day.
Tali shook her head.
"Well, this cafe is where Ima and I went when we came to Paris the first time," Tony said.
Tali noded, though Ziva wondered how much she really understood.
"Where me?" Tali asked.
Ziva felt a laugh rise through her. Tony laughed too.
"This was ten years ago," Tony said. "Before you were born."
Tali brought her hand toward her face, and looked at her fingers. She has trouble imaging a world without her.
Yet, she has only been in the world less than six years.
"Ten years," Ziva echoed.
Had it really been ten years?
For Ziva time is not always linear. The past lingered and tained the present. The future felt so far away.
"Almost to the day," he said, as he gave Ziva a soft smile.
It would have been ten years exactly on the prior Monday, which they had spent getting reacquainted with each other in the biblical sense. Perhaps, the most fitting way to spend such an anniversary.
"Where Pop-Pop?" Tali asked, again.
Ziva looked down at her daughter, and placed her hands on Tali's perfect little cheeks, trapping some of her curls.
"We will see him soon, Motek," Ziva said.
A tourist passed by, with a surgical mask on his face, and trundling a rolling suitcase. From the corner of her eye she can see Tony tense up. She took one of her hands from Tali's cheek, and reached for Tony's hand. She squeezed it.
She had not been there when he had the plague, but she knew enough to know that all these masks brought up unwelcome memories.
"You know that hotel we stayed in is gone," Tony announced as he turned to look at his family. "I'm not surprised."
Ziva looked toward the end of the street, at where the hotel used to be. She noticed scaffolding over the building.
"According to the article I ran through google translate, they're gonna turn it into one of those pod hotels," Tony said. "They won't need to do much renovation."
Ziva scoffed.
The tiny room on the fifth floor. The elevator that did not work. The tiny bed, that was apparently a double. The en suite, that reminded Ziva of when she was still learning English and came across the outdated term water closet.
Despite what they told Abby and McGee, there was no couch.
And, there were no other rooms available. Other foreign visitors had been fooled by the inaccurate photos, proximity to the Eiffel tower, and cheap prices. They worked for the government, it was all about cost cutting. Especially back then.
"Maybe we should show Tali," Tony said. "After we feed her."
Tali's head moves having heard her name.
"I starvin'" Tali declared.
"Like Lee Marvin?" Tony asked.
Tali nodded. Her eyes wide. For just a second, the years washed away, and it was just Ziva and Tali in the farmhouse. Ziva told Tali how much her Abba loved her, and how he was going to look for her.
"Hear that Ziva," Tony said, dragging her out of her memories. "Our kid is starving."
"We best feed you," Ziva said, looking down at her daughter.
Tony took Tali's hand and turned her around with a dance. Ziva took Tali's other hand, and the family stepped out through a gap between two taxis. Tony made his exaggerated show of checking the road for cars.
The taxi drivers, a chorus who moved together, looked up from their table. Eyeing the little family as a potential fare.
They crossed the road, and stood outside the cafe. Tony looked through the window of the cafe, and saw that the old man was talking to someone. A woman, with grey streaks in her long hair. Ziva could tell it had been blonde once upon a time.
"That man never changes," Tony said, as he pointed Senior out to Ziva.
Ziva felt a hitch in her chest.
What would Senior make of Ziva's return?
Would he forgive her?
She had caused so much pain.
Those thoughts echoed in her head.
Then came another thought, she had missed him, so much.
She knew Tony and Senior had to work through a lot to get to this point, but Senior had always been nice to her.
Senior had treated her like a daughter-in-law, long before she came one.
"Ima," Tali whined. "Did you and Daddy fall in love here?"
Ziva stopped short. She blamed all of those movies Tony watched with her, where the Princess fell in love at the end. Ziva, only a month in, preferred that Tali watch the movies with the talking animals. She really liked the one, where the two dogs got lost in New York city, and hoped Tali would choose that for their next movie night.
"Not exactly," Tony said delicately.
Ziva remembered the tiny hotel room, and the little bed. She remembered Tony in his boxers, standing in front of the bed. Ziva tugged at the blouse she had been wearing earlier that day before, and was prepared to sleep in. Tony could not see her scars.
Both of them had expected to have their own rooms, and neither had brought something that constituted pyjamas.
Ziva had prepared herself for a sleepless light. It was only a few months since she was prepared to die in that dusty cell, and nightmares still haunted her. She vowed, to only doze, so Tony would not be witness to the pain that came out after dark.
Somehow, Ziva fell into a deep sleep. Maybe, the familiarity of Tony's snoring. Maybe it was the jetlag.
She woke at some point, to Tony's voice.
Ziva, wake up.
Saleem's face was right at hers. He had his knife to her neck. A cigarette hung out of his mouth.
Ziva, Tony called, tugging at her shoulder. It's just a nightmare. Wake up.
Ziva woke up with a startle, and to Tony's face etched with concern.
He had offered to let her talk about it, but she had declined, but tugged at her blouse. The polyester fabric was constricting, and had ridden up to her neck in her sleep. She took it off without thinking and threw it on the floor.
Tony's eyes widened as he saw the cigarette burns on her shoulders, which were barely covered by the spaghetti straps of her undershirt.
Saleem Ulman had a pack a day habit.
Oh, Ziva, he whispered.
Ziva tugged the duvet high over her shoulders.
We should go back to sleep, she said.
Tony's arm moved closer to her, so that it was almost touching her waist. It was one of the few, non medical touches, she had received in months.
Then she fell asleep. A deep, nightmare less sleep.
With Tony she was safe. For the first time in months she finally felt safe as she slept.
She had woken up to the sun dawning through the too thin curtains, Tony shuffled around, and was fully dressed.
I'm going to be a tourist, he said, as he adjusted his shirt. Wanna come with, your French is better than mine.
She shook her head, and sent him on his way. He left the key card on the narrow desk, which was far too big for the room. Ziva would organise check-out.
Tony, she called, as he stood at the door, his overcoat folded over his arm. Thank you.
Tony looked down at his shoes. They were still so awkward in those days. Still so unsure.
No problem, he said, as he pulled at the door handle. See you later.
"Where did you make love?" Tali asked.
Ziva turned to look at Tony, with her eyebrows at her hairline. Tony grimaced and then erupted into giggles.
This was going to be one of the stories Tony told Tim during their monthly Skype chats.
Ziva laughed too. A full bodied laugh.
Tali looked at her parents with a confused look.
"I think you mean fall in love," Tony said, still smiling. "And, we fell in love in America. It just took us a while to get to our happy ending."
Ziva nodded.
Tali looked at her parents.
Senior got up from his seat, ditching the grey haired lady.
"America," Tali said. America was a foriegn country to her. "I born in Israel."
"Yes," Ziva said softly. "I moved back to Israel, and you were born there."
"You were there?" Tali asked. "When I was born?"
Ziva chuckled to herself. She remembered the hospital room, where she had watched a sunset and then a sunrise. She remembered the waves of pain, the worst pain she had ever felt, but the most productive.
She remembered holding Tali, all fresh and new, and feeling this overwhelming burst of love. Nothing else mattered, except the tiny person in her arms.
"She kinda had to be," Tony said, with a chuckle.
Ziva looked at Tony, waiting for a small sign of the anger that came when they talked about what had been missed, but nothing came. He smiled proudly.
Today, their daughter was hilarious, and that was all that mattered.
The bell of the cafe chimed.
"Pop-Pop," Tali cried out, as Senior stepped out, wrapped in a coat that looked very similar to Tony's.
The older Tony got, the more he became like his father.
In a matter of seconds Tali had moved from Ziva's side, and had wrapped her arms around Senior. Ziva looked at Senior and smiled.
"Hi Tali," Senior said. "I've missed you so much."
Tony patted Senior's shoulder, and walked into the cafe. Before the door closed, he turned to Ziva and mouthed the word 'croissants'. Ziva nodded. Tony disappeared behind the door, and strode straight to the counter.
Tali pulled away from Senior, and reached out for Ziva.
"Pop-Pop," Tali started. "Dis Ima."
Senior chuckled to himself.
"I know your Ima," Senior said, as he stepped forward, with open arms. "Hello, sweetheart."
"You know Ima?" Tali asked. Her eyes were wide.
Yes child, Ziva thought, the world did exist before you were born.
"Yes," Senior said, as he wrapped his arms around Ziva. "It is so good to see you."
Tali tugged at Ziva's coat, wanting in on the hug.
Senior stepped back, and let Tali in.
"I have missed you," Ziva whispered. "So very much."
Senior's eyes were watery. He placed his hands on Ziva's shoulders.
"Me too," Senior said. "I am so glad this all worked out. You and Junior deserve your happy ending."
"And me," Tali cried out.
"Yes," Ziva said, as she got out of Senior's embrace, and bent down in front of Tal. She bopped Tali's nose. Tali giggled. "And for you most of all."
A sniffle came from Senior, and Ziva looked back up, to find Senior's teal blue hankie quickly wiping his face, before dipping into his pocket.
"Are you sick Pop-Pop?" Tali asked.
Her school had devoted a whole hour to teaching the kids, the best method hand washing. Kids were expected to monitor each other for signs of illness. Tony joked that all those kids were going to end up with a complex.
"No," Senior said, his voice cracking. "I'm crying."
"You sad?" Tali asked.
"No," Senior said. "I am so very happy."
Ziva got up, and placed a hand on Senior's shoulder.
"Because Ima home?" Tali asked.
Senior nodded.
"Yes," he said, as he wrapped his arms around Ziva again. "I'm so glad your Ima is home."
"There is so much I need to explain," Ziva whispered.
"No," Senior said. "It's water under the bridge."
Ziva frowned.
Father and son had the same coping mechanism, just keep moving forward. Don't think about the past.
It was something Ziva was far too familiar with.
Senior was making the most of the Schengen visa rules, and would be in Paris for ten weeks.
The questions would come up eventually, and she would be ready to answer them.
"I am so glad Junior won't end up like me," Senior whispered. "He was always gonna be a better father than I was, but I didn't want to see him try and fit someone into a Ziva-shaped hole."
Ziva felt a tear fall down her own face.
The bell on the shop rang again, and Tony stepped out of the shop with a cardboard tray of drinks, and a big paper bag.
"Daddy," Tali squealed, and rushed toward him.
Ziva carefully reached in front of Tali and held her back, before she crashed into Tony. Senior liberated the paperbag from Tony's hand.
"It's crowded out there," Tony announced. "There's a park the next block over. I think someone needs to get some fresh air."
"Daddy," Tali said as she wriggled out of Ziva's embrace. "Those cups are bad for the ocean."
Zero-waste, and the evils of single use plastic was another lesson Tali got at school.
"We'll recycle them, Tali," Tony said, even though the plastic lined cups could not be recycled. "And, Ima will make sure we remember the special cups next time."
In one of the high cupboards, in their tiny kitchen, there were three brightly coloured reusable coffee cups, that Tali encouraged her parents, and Senior when he was in town, to use. Tony and Ziva remembered the cups approximately sixty per cent of the time. Tali had proudly presented Ziva's cup to her, on Christmas morning. It had a blue lid, and an orange band.
"If Daddy had told me where we were going I would have brought them," Ziva muttered.
"Even the special one for Pop-Pop?" Tali asked.
"Yes," Ziva said. "Even Pop-Pop's cup."
Tony handed his Dad a napkin with scratchy writing on it.
"Ebba would like you to email her," Tony said, as he reached out for Ziva's hand. "She is in Paris until the 20th, and said if you are ever in Stockholm, she would like to show you around."
Ziva smirked.
Some things never changed.
"Thanks," Senior said, as his face reddened. "As soon as I saw the three of you, I just got up."
"I explained it was a bit of a family reunion," Tony said, with a smile.
"It certainly was," Senior whispered. "Today is one of the happiest days of my life."
Tony nodded at his father.
"These last six weeks have been amazing," Tony said softly. "Hard in places, but amazing."
"Pop-Pop," Tali said, tugging at Seniors coat. "Let's go."
Senior took Tali's hand.
"You've heard the little lady," Senior said. "Lead the way Junior."
Tali started babbling to Senior about the complicated social hierarchy of her kindergarten class.
"Do you come here often?" Ziva asked, as she and Tony meandered to the park.
"When we first came here, I kept looking for it," Tony declared. "I couldn't remember the name of the hotel for the life of me. And, my French was pretty terrible."
Ziva gripped his hand.
"A couple of years ago, I had to get a document translated so Tali could go to nursery school, and the translators office was 'round here," he continued. "Dad was visiting so I was making the most of my kid free time to wait in lines and only have to bring one pack of snacks. I found the cafe, and just stopped short. After the appointment I went in for a coffee, but it was just too hard. A part of me, expected me to walk in and see you sitting there nibbling on a croissant."
Ziva let out a deep breath.
"I am sorry," she said.
"Ssh," he huffed. "We get this now. That's what matters."
"Maybe, we could go back there one day," Ziva said softly. "Maybe, when Tali is at school. You did say you wanted us to go on more dates."
Tony smiled.
They talked about things now. The past, the present, and the future. Their present wasn't just about making sure Tali was okay, but the two of them finally having a normal relationship. Their normal relationship included regular dates.
"I'd like that," he said.
"Daddy," Tali cried out, causing both parents to turn to face their offspring. "Are we there yet?"
All three of the adults laughed.
A/N: I don't own a thing.
So friends, what did you think. Too much Tali? Not enough? Does Tali sound like a five year old with a fifty year old vocabulary?
Reviews are love, let me know what you think.
Thank you so much for all the love so far. Love makes the world go 'round.
Next chapter should be up next week.
Just a heads up, seeing as this fic is being written about two months behind real time, we're going to have coronavirus come back again in future chapters, no one is going to catch it, but it's going to be mentioned and lead to decisions our little family makes. I'll put warnings on the top of those chapters. It'll probably start being a plot point, around chapter 14 or so.
Writing about it through the lens of our favourite fictional characters, is how I am managing my own anxieties in these times, but if you'd prefer not to consume fanfic about the current situation, right now, that's more than okay. Please look after yourselves first. Fanfic will always be there.
Sending love to all of you out there. Look after yourselves.