The door of the apartment opened, and Tony felt the overwhelming urge to slam down the lid on his ancient laptop. Instead, he pulled up another tab, pretending that he was looking for places to visit for their upcoming summer road trip. Despite it costing more and taking longer than the train, the plan was to spend two weeks driving around the South of France. Tony had visions of Tali running in and out of the sea, Ziva sitting in the sand with a big sunhat and an even bigger book, and him with his big panama hat watching it all.
Ziva stepped into the apartment. A bunch of flowers stuck out from her backpack, and her bike helmet hung off the crook of her elbow.
Tony's eyes rested on the week old grazes on her forearm.
"Hello," she said, as she walked further into the living area.
Tony took her all in. The tan lines on her feet from the ugly sandals she was living in, now that the weather was warm. Her ankles were exposed in the linen blend trousers she was wearing during the warmer days.
"Hi," he said, as Ziva moved toward the kitchen, with her backpack. "I thought you were going to take the metro today?"
Ziva stopped still.
"I was," she said. "But, the weather is so lovely. There is a saying about getting back on the bike, yes?"
The week before, Ziva had walked into the apartment, with grazed arms and a hole in the knee of her new pants. A careless driver had not given her the right of way, and to avoid a more serious accident Ziva had tried to speed up only to take a tumble. Another cyclist had helped her up, and Ziva had walked the rest of the way home. Her cellphone was the most damaged by the accident, and the most easily replaced.
His chest had ached as Ziva told him her story. He had nearly lost her so many times, and he had come close yet again.
Didn't she know that he could not live without her?
She had been hesitant to let Tony help her when she walked in. He found the first aid kit and helped pick out the road grit from her arms. She had hissed when he put the antiseptic on her grazes. Tali had been even more upset than him, when she saw Ziva's busted up arms when they picked her up from school.
He had asked her to be careful on the bike, and she was. For the rest of the week she ran all her errands on foot or used the metro, and when they took Tali to the park to practice on her bike, she was more careful. To get to her therapy appointment she had looked up metro times. Her plan was to get off on one of the earlier stops and walk the rest of the way to her session.
"Get back on the horse," he declared, as he got up and walked toward the kitchen. "We looked up the metro times. I thought you were going to take the metro, today."
Ziva plucked the flowers from her backpack.
"I was careful," Ziva said, justifying herself. "But, I needed to do this today. Otherwise I would have never used my bike on the road again."
"Is that such a bad thing?" he mumbled. "Roads are for cars."
Bikes were for the park, where the most dangerous things were birds, or a toddler who was finally let loose from the stroller running without looking where they were going. Those bike rides were contained.
"I like cycling as transport," Ziva said. "I am not going to stop because I took one spill."
Tony sighed.
"I know," he said. "It's just, when you came home all cut up, I freaked out. I couldn't stop thinking about what would have happened if it was more serious. How I would have explained it to Tali."
Ziva reached across the kitchen counter and took his hand.
"I had all the same thoughts when I was walking home last week," Ziva admitted. "And when I shower and the water makes them sting. I promise you I am being more careful on the bike. If I have another accident or if I feel that is no longer safe, I will reevaluate. I think the bike will get less frequent outings when it gets cold again."
"I know I'm overreacting," he said. "It's just we've had more than enough near misses."
Ziva picked up the vase from the draining board. Wednesday was fresh flower day. Ziva's little treat after therapy. He had no doubt that there was another new book in her backpack too.
"I know," Ziva said. "I promise you that I do not think I am invincible. But, I also will not stop doing things that can be dangerous. That does not set a good example for Tali."
When he was rookie cop he had been to more than enough car accidents. Scenes with crumpled bodies, coffee cups in the cup holder and thankfully empty car who did not know they were living their last day.
Yet, he still got into his car day after day, because he had to get around.
Life involves risk. Some risks could be avoided. Some could not.
"You talked about your spill in your session, didn't you?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Briefly, I talk about how when we took Tali to the park on Sunday, and you got her on her bike I wanted to tell her to be careful, but that would have only freaked her out. Then she might not have gotten back on the bike."
Tony knew what she was getting at. Their love for Tali was so profound. He wanted to protect her. To wrap her in cotton wool. That would make him feel better, but it would not help her.
Parenting was putting your child out into the world, and trusting they would be okay. Trusting you'd given them enough skills to handle whatever the world threw at them.
"We cannot live in fear," Ziva declared, as she pulled out a box of pasta from her backpack.
Ziva had been so adamant that the anxiety that haunted her now, would not hurt Tali.
"No," he agreed, as he picked up the box of pasta. "Is this for tonight?"
"Yes," Ziva said. "This is how we are going to get Tali to eat ratatouille two nights in a row."
Ziva had learnt the hard way that any heat from cooking lingered in the apartment for a long time. When it had been just Tony and Tali in the apartment, summer dinners were often sandwiches and other meals that did not have to be cooked.
Ziva was less willing to eat sandwiches for dinner, and they were trying to convince Tali to eat grown up food. So they had gotten into the habit of cooking once to eat twice. The plan worked well for quiche, but less so for ratatouille.
Tali had been interested in the ratatouille when Ziva had said she was making it for dinner, thinking of the movie with the mouse. She had been less interested in eating it, when the bowl of vegetables was placed in front of her. Tali was still not convinced that eggplant should be a part of her diet.
Tony had tried not to feel like the worst parent ever when Tali ate two pieces of crusty bread and some coaxed spoonfuls of the vegetable stew for dinner.
"I will eat my hat if she eats anything other than the pasta," Tony declared. "And, I don't mean my winter beanie, I mean my sunhat."
Tali was better than most kids with her eating, but it usually took a few attempts with a new food before she added it to her diet.
"I am going to mix the leftovers with the pasta," Ziva replied. "So we will get at least one vegetable into her today."
Tony chuckled.
"The school lunches are actually nutritious here," he said. "So we don't need to worry too much."
With the amount of money they were dropping on tuition for Tali's international school. Tony hoped she was getting restaurant quality meals.
"You should remember that when you are minutes away from making her grilled cheese, because she will not eat what I have put in front of her," Ziva said.
"Point taken," he said.
Ziva adjusted the bright sunflowers in the vase.
"What did you do today?" Ziva asked.
Tony looked out the window, and then back at Ziva.
"I ran the vacuum over the couch," he said. He had found the second of Tali's favourite pair of socks among the couch cushions, days after he ordered another pair of the socks online. "I did some research for our vacation, and tried to find where you've hidden my birthday present."
A smile crossed Ziva's face. Her whole face lit up.
"You will never find them," Ziva said.
His birthday was six days away. Tali was in her last week of school, maybe she would help him. Not that he really cared what the presents were he enjoyed the apprehension. The waiting.
"Them, as in plural?" he asked.
There had been so many little presents in the last six months. The easter eggs Ziva had managed to find during lockdown. The World Best Dad t-shirt he was wearing now. All the books, and little things that were given for no reason.
"You will find out soon enough," she declared.
For the first time in nearly a decade he was looking forward to his birthday.
"You have been quiet," Ziva said, her eyes still focused on the sunflowers. "These last few days."
"I've been busy," Tony said. "All of the end of school year stuff for Tali, and planning our trip."
Those hundred hour weeks he used work seemed so foreign. Now, his days were his own, at least between nine and three.
He still managed to fill his days.
"I thought it was because of your birthday," Ziva said, as she picked up the vase, and walked toward the dining room table.
Tony followed her and sat down in front of the computer.
"I'm a big boy," he said. "My birthday isn't a big deal."
Ziva sat down at the seat next to him, the one that looked out the window. The seat that Tali called 'Ima's chair' when she set the table.
"I know you get sensitive about your age," Ziva said. "I thought that might be it."
"I am not sensitive about my age," he said.
His next birthday would be a big one. The big 5-0.
If someone had told thirty year old Anthony DiNozzo what his life would look like pushing fifty, he wouldn't have believed it. He would have never believed he would be surrounded by so much love.
Ziva raised her eyebrows, and looked him dead in the eyes.
"Okay," he relented. "I might be a little sensitive, but it's not about losing my youth."
"Really?" Ziva asked. "I remember when you found all that hair in your brought it to work. You were inconsolable."
That was years ago.
"I just feel like time is running out," he said. "That's why birthdays freak me out. I don't know how much time I'll have. Doesn't that freak you out?"
Ziva's eyes scrunched in confusion.
"Birthdays do not freak me out," Ziva announced. "I know it is silly but I like birthdays. I suppose it is because there were times where I thought I might not see the next one."
His chest heaved, and resolved to spoil her on her next birthday.
"It's about Tali," he said. "I know I'm not the oldest Dad ever, but I was nearly forty-three when Tali was born, and I don't know how many more years I'll have with her."
He spoke of being forty three when Tali was born, as if he had actually been there. As if he had been the anxious Dad in the delivery room. As if he had done the late night feedings and diaper changes.
He would have been there if he had known.
Ziva's mouth dropped open.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"I'm healthy as a horse," he said, tapping the table for luck. "It's just I know I was an older Dad. I know that my Dad is still going strong. Even if I make it to my late eighties like he has, Tali would only be in her forties. If it takes her as long to have kids as it did me, if she even wants to have kids, that doesn't leave much Pop-Pop time."
Time was running out.
"I find it hard to imagine Tali being an adult," Ziva declared. "Let alone having children of her own."
"So I am alone in this?" he asked.
This was his neurosis.
"I understand," Ziva said. "You do not want to imagine a world where you are not there for her. Even when she is all grown up."
Maybe, he wasn't alone in all of this.
"Yeah," he said. "That and we both know what it's like to lose a parent too early, and I don't want that for her."
Tali had been through enough.
"Whether she loses you when she is twenty or fifty, it will still hurt," Ziva announced, her eyes glassy. "But, she will have had many good years with you, and memories. That is what matters."
"You're probably right," he said.
"Even though I lost my mother when I was a teenager, I still have good memories," Ziva continued. "It hurts that she did not get to meet you or Tali, or see who I have become, but the memories I do have are a comfort. "
He thought of his own mother. Of the movies they shared. Of the movies he had now shown Tali.
Tali had loved the live-action The Little Prince, declaring it to be better than the animated version they had seen the year before, even with the dodgy CGI.
"Can we talk about something less morbid than your eventual death?" she asked.
Tony smiled, and opened his laptop.
"Let me show you what I did today," he said.
Ziva got up from her seat and stood behind him.
He pointed to the results from his things to do in Nice with kids, google search.
She reached across and navigated the mouse pad.
"You have been busy," she announced, her head was over his shoulder. He could feel her breath on his neck.
Just like the old days in the squadroom.
She navigated to the tabs at the top of the browser, and clicked on another tab.
The tab he had hidden when the door opened.
"What is this?" she asked.
It was a property listing for a four bedroom, three bathroom brick colonial house in Alexandria, Virginia Something that they could afford to buy outright with Ziva's inheritance.
"I can explain," he said.
Ziva moved from behind him, and sat back down in her chair. She pulled the laptop to her place and started clicking on the mousepad rather agressively.
"This is a lovely house," she murmured.
"The McTennant emailed me," he said. "He said that spending the last three months mostly at home with both kids, has made him realise that they need a bigger place. Now, he's said this before: when Delilah was pregnant, when they found out it was two babies instead of one, and when the twins turned one."
"They are two and a half now, yes?" Ziva asked.
She was clicking on the photos of the listing. No doubt admiring the separate laundry and grilling deck.
"Yep," he said. "Anyway, I didn't believe that the McFamily were ready to give up the sweet rent deal, so Tim sent me some houses they were looking at."
Ziva frowned.
"Delilah is a wheelchair user, yes?" she asked. "This house has three sets of stairs and very narrow hallways. I do not think it would be suitable."
Sometimes he forgot that Ziva and Delilah hadn't actually met, except through skype. That they had only spoken one-on-one for about a minute.
"Yeah," Tony said. "This isn't the house he sent me. The one he sent was all one level and open plan living. It looked like a spaceship."
Ziva raised her eyebrow.
"How did you end up looking at this one?" she asked.
Tony peaked over the laptop and saw that Ziva had stopped in the attic area that had been converted into a studio, with built-in bookshelves and a skylight.
It would be a perfect little home office.
Ideal for a mature college student to study away from her partner and child.
"The algorithm," he declared, as if he had no control. "It showed me another house listing and then I just kept clicking through."
"How many did you look at?" Ziva asked.
He peaked over the screen again, and saw her cursor heading toward the settings. She would see just how many he looked at in history.
"A few," he admitted.
He had studied each house, imagining his little family in each of them. Kitchens big enough for them to all cook together without bumping elbows. Spare bedrooms for guests to stay in. Spaces in basements or attics that could be carved into offices or quiet places for Ziva.
Each of the houses had been in what was considered the DMV metro area. Each was close to most of their friends, and his Dad. Each house could so easily be home.
"I should have realised," Ziva said, as she slammed the laptop lid down rather violently. "This mood you have been in, it was not about your birthday, you are homesick."
"Homesick," he echoed. "I mean maybe a little, but that always happens around the fourth of July, it helps that Bastille day is going to be more subdued this year."
The usual parade had been cancelled because of the virus.
"It all makes so much sense," Ziva said. "You have been pulling your feet about finding a bigger apartment because you are not sure if you want us to stay in Paris."
"Three things," he said holding up his fingers. "Firstly it's dragging my feet, secondly I'm not, and thirdly most of my procrastination is not wanting to deal with all the burrecacy, that I barely understand. Besides I love our life here."
He loved the slow meander to the shops every day, as much as he would never admit it he liked not driving everyday, and he enjoyed the mild winters.
Most of all, he enjoyed seeing Ziva smile as he walked the streets. She loved Paris. Paris was her favourite city.
"You can love our life, and still want to move back to the states," Ziva said. "They are not mutually exclusive."
He thought of what moving back would mean for them. It would mean getting used to driving every day again. It would put an end to random strolls to the ice cream store. It would mean disrupting Tali's life, something Ziva wanted to avoid at all costs.
It would mean seeing his Dad more often. It would mean getting to see the McTwins and autopsy gremlins spawn grow up. It would mean operating in one language.
"If you had asked me in January if I wanted to move back, I would have said no, or at least not in the next few years," Tony declared. "But now, after lockdown and everything, I like the idea of Dad being able to see Tali as often as he wants."
The pull home was strong.
"Okay," Ziva said. "Let's do it."
"Okay," he echoed. "You want to move back? You love it here."
"I do love it here," Ziva said. "I also loved it in the U.S. During my first year there I was asked if I wanted to go back to Israel, and I told that person I loved being in the US. I have happy memories in the US."
Tony nodded. He wondered whom she had the conversation with.
"I suspect that was more because of the people than the place," Ziva admitted. "But, it was the same when Vance split the team up, and I went back to Israel. Those few months were so hard. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like home."
"Does it feel like home here?" he asked.
"You and Tali are home for me," Ziva said. "We could be anywhere, but as long as I have you two I will be happy."
Tony wished he could be so bohemian about it all, but he missed America. He missed understanding the culture he was living in. America was home for him.
"We have a good life here," he said.
"We could have a good life in the U.S," she said. "I know it is harder for you here, than it is for me."
"My French is not that bad," he said.
Ziva smirked.
He barely had to use his French. In Paris it was easy to find people who spoke English. Shop staff would hear his shaky French and respond in near perfect English.
Tali's international school operated mostly in English. Tali's fancy international school had been chosen mostly for that fact.
Tony did not have a job. He missed having a job.
"Your French is very good for someone who learnt it in their fifth decade," Ziva said. "And, I did not mean your language abilities when I said that."
"What did you mean?" he asked.
"I meant that you are American," Ziva said. "Through and through."
"We live in a global world," he said. "Well not at the moment, but I can be an American in Paris."
"Yes you can be," she said softly. "You know when Tim found out that I was-, when I was in DC last time."
"When he found out you were alive," he interrupted.
"Yes," she said. "He asked me to come home. My only thought was about you and Tali, but now I quite like the idea of going back to the U.S."
"Do you really want to do this?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
"But, what about your therapist?" he asked.
"There are therapists in America," Ziva said softly. "Besides, I do not intend to be in therapy forever."
"You won't be able to ride your bike there, like you do here," he said. "Definitely not on the road."
Ziva raised her eyebrows.
"Maybe not to commute," she said. "But, we could find a house near a bike path. We could at houses in Bethesda or Silver Spring, I seem to remember both of those places had good cycle paths."
She was making it so damn easy.
"The winters are terrible," he said.
He needed to be sure that she really wanted this.
"I survived eight of them," Ziva retorted. "I think I could survive some more. Especially, if we go somewhere warm during Tali's winter break."
So it was decided.
"Why are you testing me on this?" she asked. "It is not like America is unknown to me. I fought hard to become a citizen. I want to live there."
He remembered the months she spent studying for the test. She had not just learnt the flashcards, but instead she had read dozens of history books. She could practically recite the constitution. She still read the occasional biography of the founding fathers.
"I know," he said. "It's just I want us to think this through. I don't want to drag you two back home, and have you be miserable."
"Why would I be miserable?" Ziva asked.
"It's not like it is here," he said.
"I am well aware," Ziva declared. "As much as I would miss Paris, I think we would be very happy in D.C. At this point a separate laundry room would really boost my quality of life."
He chuckled. A second bathroom would boost his quality of life in the same way.
If they stayed in Paris, they might be able to find a house that had two bathrooms, and a laundry room but it would probably be at the edge of the city, and cost them a lot more euros than they were willing to spend.
It would also not bring them any closer to where most of their favourite people lived.
"I think you would be happier there," Ziva said.
"I am not unhappy here," he said. "We have a good life."
"We do," she said. "But, you are not tethered. It feels very temporary here."
One letter from immigration could send them back to the states how could it not feel temporary. It was brave to place yourself in another country, try to build a life, knowing that it could all fall apart with one letter. And his reasons for moving were individual, he was not trying to escape a government that wanted him dead or a civil war that already claimed so many loved ones.
"I didn't make a lot of effort," he admitted. "You've heard my French. Besides it's too easy to be an expat in Paris."
He had tried to go to French class once Tali started at preschool, but had found it hard along with the bright eyed twenty year olds hailing from other faraway lands and already knowing English as a second language.
He had considered getting a tutor, but had let time pass without looking into.
He was just waiting for Ziva.
"It is," Ziva said.
"Is this what it felt like when you moved to the US?" he asked. "Like you were mostly in one place, but you'd left an arm in the other place."
Ziva frowned.
"Before I moved to the US I had basically been living out of a bag," Ziva admitted. "I tried to keep reminding myself that a call from Tel Aviv could end it all, but it was easy to make a home there. I built routines. I had places I went to regularly, which was something I had not had for a while. And, there was all of you. I did miss Israel at times. I missed speaking Hebrew, but when I was back, I knew it was not home."
"You stayed-" he stammered. "Before."
"I had to," Ziva said. "I had to shut myself away from all of you, before I caused you more pain. I know now that I was wrong. A part of me will always wish I got on that plane with you."
His chest ached.
If only.
"So we're gonna do this," he said again. "We're gonna go home."
"We are," Ziva said. "Maybe, you can get a job when we go back."
"You sick of me already?" he asked.
"No," Ziva said. "But, I know you miss working. You need colleagues to annoy."
Those times in the squadroom with her and McGee were some of his happiest memories.
"I do," he said. "But, if I do get a job, it'll be part time. I want to be home for dinner."
He wanted to help Tali with her homework. He wanted lazy evenings with Ziva, after Tali went to bed.
"I like the sound of that," she said.
"It'll be easier for you to go to school too," he said tentatively. "If that's something you still want to do."
"I do," Ziva said. "Eventually."
"So, it's settled," he said. "The DiNozzos are going home."
"I am not a DiNozzo," she reminded him.
"In all but name," he muttered.
Maybe one day she'd be a DiNozzo too.
One day soon.
"What about Tali?" Ziva asked suddenly.
"Well we have to take her with us," he said. "Child abandonment is frowned upon here. Besides, she's cute, I'd miss her."
"No," she said. "I mean her whole life is here. Her school. Her friends. Everything she knows."
"She's moved countries once now," he said. "She'll be fine."
There would be teething issues, but they would get through it. Just like they found their new normal once Ziva came home.
"She was not even two when she left Israel," she said. "I do not think she remembers it. This would be different."
"Kids move all the time," he said. "Especially in a city like D.C, she wouldn't be the only new kid. Besides, we'll research everything to make it easy on her."
Like they researched everything else for her.
"Maybe, we should try and coincide it with the school year," Ziva said. "To limit the disruption, to give her a chance to say goodbye to her friends."
The goodbyes would not matter too much at Tali's fancy international school there was almost always some sort of goodbye party for a child who was following their parents somewhere.
"I don't think we'd be able to pack up and move in eight weeks," Tony said. "I mean I've moved quickly, but not with a six year old in tow. Besides with everything going on in the states right now, it would be really hard to move."
There were more cases there. The EU was restricting visitors from the US.
"I think we should do this slowly," Ziva said. "To give Tali a chance to adjust."
"We could aim to move this time next year," he said. "It would give us time to work through everything, and see a little more of Europe once it opens up more."
"I like the idea of her having a normal school year," Ziva said. "Especially after this year."
"It gives a lot of time to start looking at houses, and schools," he said. "Maybe, we can promise to get her a puppy to help sweeten the deal."
He could picture it already, the two of them sitting on a deck as the sun set, while Tali played in the garden with a dog. Their house slightly messy from guests earlier in the day. His Dad asleep on the couch in the living area, with a cat next to him. Maybe, his Dad would have a room of his own in their big house, or at least use their guest room frequently.
"I will hold you to that," Ziva said.
Ziva liked dogs even more than Tali. He could already imagine Ziva slipping Fido extra food as she cooked, and taking him on gruelling runs to compensate.
His imaginations already felt real. They felt like home.
The DiNozzo's were coming home.
A/N: I don't own a thing.
I honestly believe that our favourite little family will eventually return to the U.S. Probably not while the show is on the air, but eventually. I've moved countries twice (once as a child and once as a young adult), and moving countries is not a spur of the moment decision hence the wide time frame I've given our family. Especially, with the virus.
The next chapter will be set on their summer holiday. Our little family will talk more about moving and other plans for the future, but we won't see them move in this fic, as the last chapter will be set in December of this year.
Thank you all for your reviews, tweets and kind words. I'm so behind on review replies, but I appreciate every one of them.