"You're early this morning, Mr. DiNozzo."

Tony sighed - yes, sighed - and lifted his head from where he'd been scrolling through his email on his phone. He was momentarily disoriented, having been engrossed in his inbox for so long he'd partially forgotten where he was, but was quickly brought back to earth when he spared a quick glance to his left and saw Ziva and Tali standing in front of a large poster in the shape of a tree with a dozen little faces occupying the branches. The little girl was talking a mile a minute and her mother seemed to be nodding along absently, probably having lost track of their conversation long ago.

"What can I say?" He cleared his throat and stood up straighter against the chalkboard, "Kid couldn't wait to get back here. She was bouncing off the walls all morning."

Miss Charlotte Poppit smiled, finding a spot next to him on the board and getting comfortable.

"I know how she feels. Winter break is great and everything, but after a few days I really start to miss the kids," She was scanning the room with a fond smile on her face until she seemed to realize something and swiveled all the way around to look at him (an action which caused him to realize he could feel her arm brushing up against his), "Is that weird?"

"Yeah, maybe a little," He gave her a friendly smile while tucking his phone back into his pocket, "But I won't tell anybody."

He didn't have the heart to admit that Tali's poop-her-pants excitement had little to do with the school itself and a lot to do with the prospect of maintaining her mother's undivided attention for as long as she could milk their tour.

It was all she talked about all morning.

"Just you wait, Ima. If you think Abba's pancakes are good, you should see my Kind Caterpillar at school. I have the longest one because I've done the most nice things in the whole class!"

What one thing had to do with the other, he was pretty sure they'd never know, but that was pretty much how their morning went.

"If you think this outfit is cute, you should see my artbox. Abba got me the 64 pack of crayons so I have all the colors."

"If you think my backpack is full now, you should see my table-space at school. I always win the Clean Corner award because I always keep my papers in piles instead of spread all over the place like the other kids."

"If you think I'm good at tying my shoes, you should see the nametag on my cubby. I put pink and blue sparkles on it to match my room. It's the prettiest one out of all the cubbies!"

That's actually what the two were looking at now. Tali's pride in her nametag was only half deserved - she hadn't actually contributed to its construction beyond the picking of colors. But alas, she stood below it now, puffing up her chest and throwing her arms into whatever story she seemed to be telling about its conception. Unabashedly taking credit for something she had very little hand in. She got that from him.

"It will be our secret," Charlotte knocked her shoulder against his and offered a quiet smile.

A smile which he returned, as most people would, without much thought on the gesture. It wasn't until he looked in the direction of the girls again (They'd quickly moved on from the cubbies and were now huddled together around a table that couldn't be much taller than Ziva's knee. Tali was flipping through her binder and making grand gestures toward each and every picture contained within the notebook.) that he realized his mistake.

Ziva was watching him. Actually, she was watching them. Her eyes bounced between their bodies, seemingly coming to her own conclusions as she eyed the lack of space left between their shoulders. He tried to meet her eyes, hoping to get an idea of what was going on in her head, but she seemed to be actively avoiding him. After a few seconds, she turned her head, refocusing on Tali (or at least appearing to refocus) and nodding along with whatever the girl was saying about a particular piece of work.

Shit, he thought. Shit, shit, shit.

He'd meant to warn her about this, but it was too late now.

Charlotte was, by objective standards, a young and attractive woman. She had pin-straight brown hair that fell around her shoulders and halfway down her back. She was a bit on the tall side (her head seemed to hover at right about his shoulder as opposed to Ziva's falling squarely on his chest), and was more leg than anything else - a fact which was often exaggerated (as it was this day) but the pencil skirts she paired with her colorful blouses. From what he understood, she'd been teaching for just under a decade, which would put her somewhere around Ziva's age (not that he dared to ask). She had these piercing blue eyes - not unlike Gibbs - that seemed to shoot right through you and come back out the other side.

They first met at an open house for prospective students to the Beckland Academy for International Students. He had been extremely anxious over the prospect of Tali attending school in the fall (given their unique circumstances of possibly being hunted by terrorists at any moment), and Charlotte had been the first member of the staff to actually take time and answer his questions - no matter how strange they probably seemed. She took him on a personal tour of the building, never once questioning his near neurotic focus on the security and safety of the students while on the property. She also put in a good word for him with the Dean, seeing as how he and Tali didn't technically meet all the requirements for admission (Beckland required some form of tangible international connection, be it a parent in another country or an official military rank). Thanks to her, he was given a chance to plead his case and thankfully managed to secure a spot at the one school within their district that taught classes primarily in English. To show his appreciation, he'd taken her out for coffee a couple of times.

Somewhere along the line, she seemed to have gotten the wrong impression. He never encouraged her to flirt with him. But he also never discouraged her. Things with Ziva had been so up in the air for so long, it was nice feeling like someone wanted him. He wouldn't dream of doing anything real with Charlotte. She was Tali's teacher, for god's sake. But he'd never been particularly open about that line in the sand - which was unfair of him. Something told him he'd be paying for it later.

"Abba!" Tali was running across the classroom, nearly plowing into another kid who was just trying to play with some blocks, "Look what I found!"

She brandished a small pencil top eraser in the shape of a dolphin. It'd been a feature of their 'Winter Festival' gift bags just a few days before school let out. Tali had grown absurdly attached to the little trinket in the days that followed, which resulted in a near-meltdown when she realized it wasn't in her backpack when she came home for break. He'd told her she probably left it at school, but she'd insisted she put it in her bag. In all the excitement of Ziva's return, they had both completely forgotten about the lost eraser.

"Hey, look at that," He knelt down to get a better look at it, "Crisis averted, huh?"

"You left that at school this whole time?" Charlotte asked.

Tali nodded, "It was in my art box! I guess I forgot it."

"That's fine," The teacher gestured toward the tank in the front of the room which housed their class fish, "Gil probably appreciated the company."

Tali giggled before shaking her head, "Gil can't talk!"

"Say's you! Maybe he's just shy."

She looked over at Tony then, as if looking for his thoughts on her teacher's comment.

He just shrugged, "You want me to hold on to that? I can put it in your room so you don't forget it at school again."

He held out his hand for the dolphin, and she snatched her own away as if insulted.

"No," She replied emphatically, "Ima can take it."

Speaking of Ima, she'd been taking her time with joining their little pow-wow. But she was getting close now, just a few steps behind Tali and very much able to hear what was going on.

"What am I taking?" She asked as she settled into place next to her daughter.

"My dolphin," Tali exclaimed before holding up the eraser, "You can take it home for me. Just put it on my dresser and I'll move it later. Not next to my shark plushie, though. I don't want them to fight."

Ziva smiled as she took the little dolphin and tucked it carefully into her front pocket, "Of course. Nobody wants that."

"Ima?" Miss Poppit was leaning back against the chalkboard again, though her posture seemed a bit more rigid than before, "That's Hebrew right?"

"It is," As Ziva spoke, Tali reached up to take her hand, "It means Mother."

"So that makes you Tali's mom?"

"It does," The smile on Ziva's face was small but triumphant. She stuck her hand out (the one not being tugged around by a 5-year old) for a shake, "Ziva."

"I'm Miss Poppit. Tali's Teacher, of course," She looked down at her student then back up at the mother, "It's so nice to meet you. I just love getting to know the kids' parents. You know, getting to see what traits they pick up from who. It's like a big puzzle I get to work out each year."

"I'll give you one piece for free," Tony pushed himself off the chalkboard, taking the opportunity to gain a little extra space between him and the woman to his right, "She's the source of Tali's brains."

The smirk that crossed the teacher's face just moments before she opened her mouth told him he should really abort the mission. Too late now.

"That must make you the source of her beauty?"

He glanced up at Ziva to find her eyeing Charlotte with something like mild interest. Perhaps even amusement. But he knew her well enough not to trust the emotions playing on her face.

"Uh… I don't- I mean… I wouldn't say I-"

Ziva must have taken pity on him, as she didn't bother allowing him enough time to fully respond before she turned to Tali, "Is there more you wanted to show me, Love?"

Tali considered this, twisting her body around to scan the entire room with narrowed eyes, "No… I think I showed you everything. Unless-"

"Easy, Tiger. You've talked Ima's ear off enough for one morning, don't you think?"

Tali looked at him in confusion before looking back over at Ziva.

To which she said, "I don't mind."

"See," Tali leaned into his leg and gave him a small push, "She doesn't mind."

"Maybe not, but I do. I've gotta get home so I can do some work."

The girl's face fell, her lips dropping into the distinctly deep frown that he knew proceeded a mild to moderate freak out. He braced himself for the whines.

"Hey, Tali," Charlotte leaned down to get closer to eye level with her student, "I need some help feeding Gil this morning. Do you happen to know where I could find some?"

Tali's eyes grew wide, "Here! Me! I could help!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Yes! I help Abba feed the goldfish all the time!"

"That's perfect! You'll already know what to do. You should probably say bye to your mom and dad first. We don't want to keep them waiting while we work."

This clearly caused some tension within the child. She looked back and forth between her two parents. Each time she turned, her eyebrows seemed to draw a bit closer. Finally, she landed on Ziva.

"You'll be here after school, right?"

"Of course, Motek. We're going to the park, remember?"

"Oh yeah! And you'll push me on the swings?"

"I will push you on the swings."

"And then we'll go get ice cream?"

"And then we'll go home and you can help me make dinner."

Ooh, Tony smirked to himself. She's good.

Tali huffed, taking a moment to process her defeat before moving forward, "Mac and Cheese?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Yay!" She pulled on Ziva's arm (a little harder than necessary) to prompt her to kneel down. Then the little girl threw her arms around her mom's shoulders and gave a tight squeeze before letting go and immediately taking off for the fish tank. "Bye, Ima! Love you!"

Charlotte tossed Tony a smile as she quietly followed behind the girl to make good on her promise to feed the fish. He sent her a grateful one in return. He'd been convinced there was no way to separate daughter from mother without shedding some tears.

Ziva stood up slowly, watching Tali pull up a chair and stand on it to get a better angle on the tank.

"Bye, Abba! See you later! I love you!," Tony pitched up his voice to imitate that of the little girl before returning to his normal register, "Yeah, Squirt. Love you too."

Ziva looked over at him with a smile and gave his arm a light squeeze of solidarity.

"What now?" She asked.

"Now we get breakfast. And after the morning we've had, some coffee, too."

"So tell me," Ziva was leaning over slightly as she examined the assortment of pastries in the case before them, "What exactly do you do for work, Tony?"

He shrugged and sent a withering look toward the ordering line upfront. Was this place always so busy in the morning? "Just freelance stuff. Reviewing old cases. Following up on forgotten leads. Working with families who feel the police failed in getting justice for their loved ones."

Her head snapped in his direction. Had he said something wrong?

"What?" He asked.

"You're a Private Investigator."

She was still eyeing him strangely, making him feel oddly self-conscious.

"Uh, yeah," He shifted awkwardly on his feet and rubbed at the back of his neck, "I guess you could say that."

She made a face - a sort of raised eyebrows, pursed lips, 'well okay then' face.

"What, you don't think I've got what it takes to be a P.I.?

"No, you clearly have what it takes, it's just…" She turned back to the display case with a shrug, "I can't believe this is the first I'm hearing of it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you are you. Magnum, Marlowe, Dresden… you've spent years idolizing Private Investigators and I am just now learning that you are one?"

Hm. Guess he'd never thought about it that way.

"I mean, it's cool, I guess. Not as sexy as I thought it'd be. I normally pick pretty basic cases. Things that keep me close to home. Don't eat up too much of my time. Have a very low likelihood of landing me in a dump somewhere."

She chuckled to herself but it came off a bit darker than he would have liked, "All good things."

"Surprisingly I didn't really set out to be an investigator again. It just sort of happened."

With that, she looked over at him again. This time with an expression he couldn't quite read.

"Okay, what now?"

"You are just… different… than you used to be."

Something about the way she said it just didn't sit right with him. It was a little too slow. A little too quiet. A lot too detached.

"Different good or different bad?"

The corner of her lip curled in a faint little smile as her eyes raked over him. Normally he liked being the center of her attention - particularly when her eyes got a little hazy and a little playful like they were right then. But considering the question on the table - whether or not she liked the new him and ultimately saw them years down the line with the same chemistry they'd had in the beginning - he wasn't so sure he would have picked now to be checked out so thoroughly.

"Good. I always knew you would mature well."

He was so relieved at her answer, he almost missed the slight drop in her tone at the end. Almost.

"You knew I'd mature?"

"Well, I hoped," A thin blonde barista offered Ziva a cup, which she took with a smile before turning to wink at him, "Against all odds, and often against my better judgment, I still hoped."

"Tony?" The barista asked as she held up another coffee in his direction.

He smiled, taking the cup along with the paper bag on the counter, "Merci."

He turned to find Ziva eyeing the crowded tables across the cafe. He tried to read her expression - and when that failed he tried to find answers in her posture. He was still getting used to this new feeling - this almost animalistic urge to hide, fight, protect even in the most mundane of situations. He knew Ziva's anxiety was unpredictable, and merely being in a crowded cafe wasn't a sure sign that she was going to panic. But, after hearing about her panic attack on the sidewalk yesterday, he was a little extra anxious himself.

He also knew that he showed so much as a withering glance to suggest he wasn't confident in her mental and physical stability, he'd get a face full of coffee. Ziva could take care of herself. That's what he had to keep telling himself.

"After you, m'lady."

He extended his arm to signal she should take the lead. Without any clear indication as to how she was feeling in the moment, he'd let her pick their table. She could decide how many people she felt comfortable around.

But instead of starting across the cafe, she just gave him a blank stare. She even glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting to find someone standing just behind her.

When she finally met his eyes again, he was waiting, his confusion apparent by his quirked eyebrow.

"Oh, you were talking to me?"

"Uh, yeah. Who else would I be talking to?"

"It's just… I thought I heard you say 'm'lady'."

"I did."

"So then I just assumed your friend was here. Miss… what's her name again?"

"Poppit?"

"Right, yes. Miss Poppit. How French."

She stepped around him slowly, making her way between a couple of empty tables.

He chuckled as he fell into step behind her. He just couldn't help himself.

"Pretty sure she's English, actually. Y'know… with the accent. "

"Whatever," She threw her head back in exasperation as she carefully maneuvered through a particularly crowded section of the shop.

"See, I knew you'd be jealous. I totally meant to warn you about that before we left."

"Warn me about what?" She sidestepped a circle of lounge chairs and came to a halt in front of an empty table by the windows, "The attractive woman who practically falls over herself to flirt with you? 'That must make you the beauty'. What does that mean anyway?"

She sat down on one side of the table, and he stepped around to sit on the other, only allowing himself a moment's satisfaction as he caught the tightness in her expression.

"Not sure. You really think she's attractive?" He asked. He was teasing her now.

"Like you didn't notice."

"I didn't."

"Oh, come on, Tony. You may be getting up there in years, but your eyesight has not started failing you yet. She's gorgeous."

"Okay, first off: ouch," He laid a wounded hand on his chest, to which she rolled her eyes. She tried to hide her smile with a strategic sip of her drink, but he saw it anyway. "And as far as Charlotte goes, you have nothing to worry about."

"Oh, she's Charlotte now?"

He could have head slapped himself for that one.

"Look," He set down his cup of coffee and pulled out their muffin, carefully unwrapping it and setting it in the center of the table, "She could be Charlotte or Miss Poppit or whatever she wants to be. She's still just Tali's teacher. There's nothing to be up in arms about."

She reached out to take a piece slowly, eyeing him the entire time, "I am not up in arms. And I'm most certainly not jealous."

"Really? You're not?"

She shook her head, "Not at all. I'm merely surprised at the lack of professionalism it requires for a preschool teacher to feel justified in acting that way in front of her students."

"It's… unprofessional?" Okay, he'll admit, he anticipated Ziva going many directions with this conversation, but this was not one of them.

"Yes. Very. Don't you think?"

That felt like a trick question.

"Uh, I guess. Though, I'm not sure that we, of all people, should be calling anybody unprofessional. It feels a little pot-kettle if you ask me."

There was a long beat where he fully expected her to respond - maybe flub the expression in question and continue to deny her feelings toward the woman. But she didn't, and when he looked over to see why, he found her looking thoughtfully out the window while absently chewing on a bite of muffin.

"I'm not jealous," She finally said.

"No?" He was struck with a wash of insecurity (If she really wasn't jealous, what did that mean for them?) and sincerely hoped it wasn't reflected in his voice.

"No," She tilted her chin in what could either be perceived as an acknowledgment or a challenge, "I do not currently feel I have a right to be jealous. It is one of those things, you know? Something I'll have to earn."

He wanted to protest - to tell her she always had a right when it came to him - but then she took a larger piece of muffin and pushed the rest across the table for him to finish. And he figured, hell, if she wanted to think she earned her place, he'd let her. It wouldn't hurt either way.

"But I will say: if a few months down the line, she is still over there making oogly eyes at you-"

"Googly eyes, Ziva."

"Whatever kind of eyes they are," She lifted her cup to take another sip, and this time the tilt of her jaw was all challenge, "If she continues to make them into the foreseeable future, we will have a serious problem."

"I'll be sure to let her know," He tilted his own head as he took a sip of his latte. The smile that had spread across his face somewhere in the midst of their conversation was starting to hurt, but he couldn't quite get the muscles to relax. Feeling wanted by anyone over the past year had been nice, but it was nothing compared to being wanted by Ziva.

"So," He leaned back in his chair and brought his arm up to rest on the back of the empty one next to him. A more casual position for a more casual conversation. Or so he thought. "You got any plans for today?"

She went to say something, then seemed to stop herself to reconsider.

"I think I need to call Orli."

"Orli?"

"Yes. I need to… undead myself, for lack of a better term."

"Yeah," He turned his head slightly to take another sip, but kept his eyes trained on her face, "Seems like she'd be a good resource for that sort of thing."

"Yes. I thought so, too."

He watched her take another chunk out of the muffin before pushing the rest in his direction. She then split her chunk into smaller pieces, which she ate one by one until she was done with the treat. He waited for her to speak. He knew she had a lot to say. But when it became clear that she wasn't going to, he decided he'd start the conversation himself.

"Not to mention she's your director. So you probably need to check-in and see if you have any orders waiting on her desk."

And then, for might actually be the first time in the history of their relationship, she gave him a look of genuine surprise. She had not expected him to know about that.

"How did you…"

He shook his head. There wasn't much to say, really. Between the years of silence and the farmhouse and the secret love child… things just weren't quite adding up. Having Orli, of all people, deliver Tali? It didn't make sense. And even when she spoke of Ziva, tried to convince him they'd 'mended many bridges' and become friends, there was still a coldness in her voice. He could smell a rehearsed set from a mile away. He was an investigator after all.

It hadn't taken much digging to confirm what he'd already assumed: Ziva had rejoined Mossad a few months after their Casablanca Kiss.

"Tony, it's…" She paused, bringing both of her hands together to rest on her cup. She stared down at it, clearly trying to work out her best route forward. "It's not what you think."

"No? And what exactly do I think?"

She finally met his eyes, and he almost wished she hadn't.

"You think that I lied to you. Or at least that I wasn't entirely truthful."

"Were you?"

"Yes. I stayed in Israel because I wanted a fresh start. And a clean break. I wanted to give up that lifestyle, and I did."

"So you rejoined for what? The Mossad knitting circle?"

The corner of her lips curled up into a dark half-smile, "Something like that."

She waited for him to say something, but he felt no obligation to do so. It was her show now.

She bowed her head again, taking an unnecessary interest in the wood grain beneath her cup.

"It's not as easy as just walking away. You've seen the movies. People who do the things I used to do… they don't just get to bow out whenever they want. They make enemies. Powerful ones. You've said it yourself: there's no such thing as a former assassin."

"But there is. You were one. For almost a decade."

"No, I was a liaison officer, and then I was a special agent for a branch of the United States Military. I resigned from Mossad and pledged my allegiance to an equally powerful institution. At no point in time was I left without adequate protection from the 'Sahars' of my past."

There was a part of his brain that saw her point. There was a certain level of status that came along with being a US Federal Agent. Namely: anybody who messed with you was likely to face the wrath of whatever division or agency you worked for. In this case, anyone who went after Ziva would have been met with not only the force of NCIS but also the entire US Navy. It didn't seem like a risk many back alley terrorists would be willing to take.

But, there was another part of his brain (which just happened to be bigger in the given moment) that wasn't done being hurt by this.

"So you signed your life away for an Israeli-tech security system?"

Her nose scrunched and she shook her head. When she lifted her eyes again, he saw the sheer exasperation in her face.

"I didn't sign away anything. Look, we can all agree that Mossad engages in rather… risky business, yes?"

"Risky Business. 1983. Tom Cruise. 'Time of your life, huh kid?'"

She didn't dignify his reference with a response.

"The tactics they use are bold. And they're brash. And to some, they are just plain distasteful. But it is how they have always run. And it is how they will continue to run until Israel is no longer a target. It's simply how things must be."

"Frankly, I don't give a damn about the future of Israel. I care about the future of you."

"Then would you just listen to me?" Her body moved in a strange flinch and he heard what sounded suspiciously like a stomp coming from beneath their table. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shoved down the frustration he was clearly triggering. He waited for her to continue.

"Because of the nature of their… business … Mossad as an organization has gone to great lengths to ensure the safety of its operatives. These safety precautions apply to officers while they are on assignment, but they are also extended to those not on assignment. They understand the amount of danger we put ourselves in to carry out orders, and they want to protect us from any negative consequences that might arise afterward."

"Like death."

"Like being hunted down and tortured for actions taken while carrying out orders."

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Up until this point, Ziva had been both hunted down and tortured for her work with Mossad. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what else these terrorists could think up for her.

She paused in her lecture, seeming to have noticed the change in his demeanor. One of her hands slid off her cup and reached across the table to grab his. When she spoke again, her voice was much softer.

"After I left NCIS, I had nothing. No badge. No gun. Nobody to watch my back."

She squeezed his fingers here, a silent acknowledgment that yes, of course, he had always been the one in charge of her six. But he wasn't there, and even if he had been, it still wouldn't have been enough.

"You were vulnerable."

"We were vulnerable, really. Tali and I" Her other hand, slid off the table and she offered a shy smile, "I never gave my safety a second thought until I found out I was pregnant. The moment I knew, I arranged a meeting with Orli. Operatives who wish to retire from the field can be declared inactive. They cannot be called for duty or issued any orders, but they are given the full extent of agency protection in the case that their past comes back to haunt them. It is the least Mossad can do to honor their service."

The scales currently balancing the parts of him that were still mad and so freaking thankful she found a way to protect herself were really starting to tilt. He knew she was alone when he left her in Israel. Knew he was leaving her to her own devices at what might have been the absolute worst time to do so. But it was what she'd wanted, so it was what he did. And he had spent countless hours convincing himself that it was going to be okay. That she was safe and relaxed and working towards finding a way to actually be happy.

He always dismissed his nagging gut as being selfishly yearning to have her home with him. He'd never stopped to consider that maybe, despite the abrupt turn their relationship had taken in the end, he was still in tune with her on a fundamental partner level.

His gut wasn't just telling him he missed her. It was telling him she was in danger. And he never allowed himself to consider the possibility long enough to realize it was true.

"You could have come to us. Me. The team. We would have protected you."

Her eyebrows shot up, a look of mild amusement playing on her features.

"You and the team would have found out about Sahar before she got a chance to strike?"

"Maybe." Not likely.

"Maybe wasn't good enough. Not when it came to our child. I had no idea what sort of threats I would face in the future - if any at all. But I knew if they showed up, Mossad was more than qualified to protect us."

"With a big scheme in which they fake your death and air-mail me a child? Come on, Ziva. There had to be a better way."

Her eyes darkened and he immediately realized his mistake. His comment was meant to be conversational. But it came across as an accusation. She immediately dropped his hand and reached for her cup again.

"There wasn't. You'll just have to trust me."

"Okay, that came out wrong. I'm not suggesting you wanted this."

"I didn't."

"I know that. And I'm sure it seemed like the best option at the time. But there had to be other-"

"We should get going."

He paused.

"Huh?"

"Your job, yes? You wanted to get home so you could do some work."

She stood, tilting her cup all the way back to finish off her coffee. Then she stepped out from the table and tossed her cup in the bin by the door.

He watched her through the window as she stopped on the side of the street, stuck her head out to look both ways, then quietly crossed until she was standing outside of their car.

Guess that's the end of that, he thought.

But as he shoved the remainder of the muffin in his mouth and got up to follow, he realized just how lucky he was in the situation.

Lucky she wasn't armed.

"Now what?"

"Now we add the cheese. Here, you pour it in and I will stir."

"Like this?"

"Perfect. Are you sure you haven't made Mac and Cheese before?"

"Aba has. But it normally comes from a box."

Tony chuckled to himself from his perch at the top of the stairs. He heard the girls come in an hour ago, all giggly and out of breath from their time at the park. He soldiered on at first, replying to case requests and searching through local databases for leads. But work held no interest for him. Not when his family was downstairs.

So he eventually logged off and resolved to join them in the kitchen - he assumed by the rattling of pots and pans that they were starting on dinner - but stopped himself. Ziva had spent the whole day avoiding him. His desk sat at the end of the hallway upstairs, and as a result, she stayed almost entirely on the first floor (aside from a single trip into her bedroom in which she emerged with a leather-bound notebook and an extra blanket). Every time he went down there to grab a drink or a bite to eat, she stepped outside, feigning some interest in the horribly abused planters lining the back porch.

The girls sounded like they were having fun. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin that.

So he just sat down. And listened.

"Boxed Mac and Cheese is good. I think you might like this a little better, though."

"Aba says you're the best cook in the whole world!"

"The whole world, huh?"

"He says you make pizza and pasta and cake!"

"Yes. I can make all those things."

"Tonight?"

Ziva laughed. It was light and airy and musical. It drew him to his feet and pulled him down the stairs before he caught on to what was happening. Suddenly he was around the corner and stepping onto the living room floor.

"Abba!" Tali twisted around in her spot on the counter, leaning in his direction and flashing a thousand-watt grin.

"Hey, Sweet Pea," He crossed to the kitchen and ducked down to kiss his daughter's forehead. He continued past, fully prepared to do the same to Ziva until he stopped just short. He stood up straight to cover his mistake, "Sweetcheeks."

She eyed him without malice, and he almost wished he'd gone in for that kiss, "You're done with work?"

"Clocked out for the day," He settled for a light hand on her back as he leaned over to look in the large soup pot on the stove, "You're making dinner?"

"I'm helping!" Tali cried before her mom could even respond, "I added the butter and the milk… oh and the cheese!"

"Wow, all that?" He took another chance, gently bumping his hip against Ziva in jest, "When's Ima gonna start putting in work?"

Tali giggled, and something told him that it was the sound of the girl's laughter as opposed to his original joke that drew the soft chuckle out of Ziva.

"Now, actually," She stopped her stirring of the cheese and turned down the heat of the stove before looking up at Tali, "Everything from here on out is too hot for you, Motek. I'm afraid I can no longer accept your help."

A pout formed on the little girl's mouth and she immediately crossed her arms in preparation for a proper fit.

Tony acted fast.

"Hey, T, it's after four. You know what that means."

She froze, thinking through the implications of the time before…

"Bubble Guppies!" She threw her arms in the air and practically launched herself off the counter. In the half-second it took for her feet to hit the ground, he saw Ziva flinch out of the corner of his eye. He'll admit, he used to do the same. The kid was a freaking spider monkey.

As quickly as she dropped, she disappeared around the cabinets and made a B-line for the living room.

"Bubble Guppies?" Ziva asked as she retrieved a casserole dish from the top cabinet.

"It's a show. Weird mermaid kids doing… weird mermaid things. They rerun a few episodes every day starting at 4. Helps keep the kids busy so the parents can cook," He leaned over the pot again, having reminded himself of the meal inside, "This looks amazing, by the way."

"Amazing enough to help me get it in the pan?"

She set the glass dish on the counter and retrieved the wooden spoon from the pot, clearly signaling that he was to lift and she was to pour.

"What are partners for?" He muttered as he grabbed the handles.

They shuffled around each other easily, quickly finding their places where he could hold the pot and she could carefully scoop and spread the cheesy pasta into the pan. Once it was full, she reached for the block of cheddar. He watched her grade it across the top of the pasta for a few seconds before a question clawed its way out of his mouth.

"Are you still mad?"

She paused, sparing him an almost shy glance before continuing with her work, "At you?"

"Yeah."

"For what?"

"Being an ass."

The corner of her mouth quirked in a hint of a smirk, "You are going to have to be more specific."

"At the coffee shop this morning. I was completely out of line."

"Oh," Her lips pressed into a tight line and her face hardened into an unreadable mask, "That."

"I shouldn't have… I didn't mean to… I know you never wanted-"

"I'm not mad at you."

He held his breath. Honestly, he was still pretty new to this whole relationship thing. But he thought he had a pretty good grasp on when she was setting a trap - and a cursory read of her body language suggested he was in the clear.

Still, he proceeded with caution.

"You're not?"

"No."

"Are you… sure?"

She set down the cheese and gave him an exasperated look, "Do you want me to be mad?"

"No! I just thought…" He had to stop and think. Had he been imagining it? "You were avoiding me all day."

"Because I thought you were upset with me."

Now it was his turn to fire off an exasperated look, "For what?"

"Everything! I thought the honeymoon was over and we had finally entered the angry phase of my return."

There was a hollow sort of bite to her words and a distinct set of her jaw that he'd come to be quite familiar with. She was making herself big in a moment where she felt very small. His earlier outburst hadn't pissed her off - it shook her confidence. And now she wasn't sure where they stood.

Somehow, that made it all worse.

"There was no honeymoon, and there is no angry phase. I'm not mad, Ziva."

"You have every right to be," The oven beeped, and she quickly bent down to set the dish inside.

"But I'm not. I'm…" When she stood up, he made a point to step into her space. He reached for her hand slowly and held her fingers loosely as he tried to find the words, "Well, most days I don't really know what I am. But it's not mad."

It was meant to be reassuring, but when she caught her lower lip between her teeth and gently pulled her hand away from his, he realized it wasn't.

"Tony," She spared a momentary glance toward the living room before reaching for his arm and guiding him backward until they both stood huddled in the corner, partially obscured by the island and the edge of the fridge. Her voice dropped down to a stage whisper, "I know you have questions. I want to answer them for you. I will answer them. The coffee shop just… wasn't the time or place."

He took his chance with touching her - since she touched him first - by brushing some hair over her shoulder. When she didn't flinch away, he let it drop lightly to her waist.

"I know. I shouldn't have pushed like I did. I'm sorry."

The corner of her lips quirked in a half-smile and she squeezed his arm where she had continued to hold it, "Your apology is accepted, though not necessary. Sorry for avoiding you."

"Yeah, can we maybe not do that again?" He pulled her gently and she stepped easily into his arms - like she'd been there all along, "We've wasted enough time circling each other. Mad, sad, hungry, whatever; let's talk it out and move on, okay?"

"No lying, no hiding?" Her hands found their way to his chest and she leaned into him, giving him the distinct impression they were out of the woods here.

He shrugged, but offered a smile, "It's a good rule."

"I thought we were done with rules."

"Nah. We just make our own now."

"I can live with that."

Then she slid her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and around the back of his neck. She slid onto her toes and pulled his face down until their lips met.

Somewhere between his eyes sliding shut and his hands creeping higher, then lower and lower on her back as he pressed her body against his, there was a fleeting thought about 'moving slowly' and 'maintaining boundaries' - but then her hands tangled farther in his hair and her teeth grazed his lower lip and, frankly, thoughts stopped entirely after that.

They went at it for a while. Long enough that he considered nixing dinner altogether and tossing Tali a bag of popcorn on their way up the stairs in pursuit of the bedroom.

Luckily, Ziva seemed much more reasonable. Her hands eventually became less active, her lips less insistent, until eventually she pulled back entirely and rested her forehead against his.

"Wow," He muttered as his breathing returned to an acceptable rate.

"Still good, yes?"

"Still great," He tucked a stray hair behind her ear and let his hand linger, "Amazing, really. Can we do it again?"

She chuckled before slowly stepping out of his reach, "Later."

"I'm counting on that."

She turned her back to check on dinner, and he took the opportunity to step up behind her and whisper in her ear, "By the way, I'll find us a time. And a place."

She closed the oven again and moved to stand up. The motion caused her to brush against him, and he reveled in it a little too much for a currently celibate man.

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder and smiled, "I'm counting on it."

He returned the expression and ran his hand up her back before stepping around and heading out to the living room. With any luck, he could catch a full episode of Bubble Guppies before it was time for dinner.

Oops.

I know, I know. This chapter is long overdue. But it's also, well, long - maybe that makes up for it? A little bit?

The world has been crazy lately. I just haven't had time to write. But I do have like 3 more chapters planned for this thing, so don't give up on me now! My semester is over, so it shouldn't take me nearly as long to update again.

The next chapter will include a time jump as well as a special guest. They won't be central to that chapter, but they'll be more involved in some of the following ones. Any guesses?

Please leave reviews! Let me know what you'd like to see in this story! I just might incorporate it.

Thank you all for reading and for being so patient with me. You guys are so supportive - even when I take literal months to update! It means the world and is honestly the only reason I've maintained the confidence to keep updating after taking these long breaks.

Hope you all liked this chapter. It had some jealousy. It had some serious talks. We laughed, we cried, etc, etc.

Again: Reviews are the best! And keep your eyes out for chapter 6!