AN: Sorry for the slow update...again. Just letting you know, the disturbing description of Santa Clause comes from one of my former classmates, a former member of my synagogue. Credit goes to Erin!

Ziva hauled herself out of her bed, barely making it over to the trash bin before her stomach retched. She was really getting sick of this; this was the third time this morning she'd thrown up, and she hadn't even eaten anything. Rinsing out her mouth, she lumbered over lazily back into her bed. It was still dark out, not that that meant much this late in the year. She figured she'd at least try in vain to get in another hour or two of rest before Gibbs came to take them home.

"Hey, Ziva?" Tony knocked on her door when he was already half-way through the doorway, "You awake?" he reached over to turn on the light, but thought better of it considering that she was probably still resting

"Unfortunately," she groaned, feeling the stinging pain return to her throat as she spoke. The sensation was a bit like someone had shoved a bottle brush down her throat, right before she drank orange juice, "What do you want?"

He sat down beside her on the bed, feeling her brow which was covered in sweat and red hot, "Whoa there, you're burning up!" he hit the call button next to the bed, "Ducky's here. He's gonna give us a ride. Well, maybe not you; you're not looking too good..." he meant that in the most loving way possible, but she really did look like hell

"I did not sleep well, I am just tired," she insisted, trying to sit up, fighting the violent urge to hack up her lungs, "We can go now, yes?" if terrorists, criminals, and stress didn't kill her first, her stubbornness would be her downfall

"Well, we'll see," one of the nurses came in, flicking on the lights. Ziva moaned, using her wafer thin pillow to shield her eyes from the light, "Oh, come on! It's not that bright...everything okay in here?"

"Yes, Tony hit the button accidentally," Tony tried to object to her fabrication, but her fingernails digging into his thigh, painfully close to his groin told him to hold his tongue, "Everything is fine. May we leave now?"

The nurse seemed a bit skeptical, handing Ziva a thermometer, "Let's get your vitals, and go from there, shall we?" Ziva slipped it in her mouth, letting it rest on top of her tongue, "Well, your temperature's 98.2, so no fever...let's get your BP."

Tony shot Ziva a look that could break glass. They'd always had this ability to communicate with each other without words, using only their eyes. It came in handy at times like this,

"What the hell is wrong with you? If you need to stay in the hospital, its not the end of the world! If you don't, it might be the end of your life..." Tony communicated to her

"It is my health and my concern, Tony! I will rest. Once I am out of here, I will take it easy. However I refuse to stay in this sanitary hell any longer than is necessary!" she countered

The nurse watched the two of them, not quite sure what to think, "Okay...um, you two done?" they both stopped their non-verbal feud. At least for the moment, "Your vitals are okay. So I'm gonna say you can go home, but I want you to stay at home, drink plenty of fluids, get some rest, and try to get better. I don't want to see you back here. And Mr. DiNozzo? You're free to go too, just be sure to pick up your medication from the pharmacy."

They found Ducky sitting out in the waiting room, patiently waiting for them, "I was beginning to worry that they would keep you longer!" he stood up and stretched a bit, "I've been going a bit batty out here; all there has been on the television for the last hour is some deranged children's show about a talking sponge!" Tony chuckled a bit; sitting through an hour of Spongebob wasn't something he'd wish upon his most heinous enemy. Perhaps they should use that at Gitmo for interrogation? A few hours of that and bin Laden himself would crack.

"Well, maybe they should have kept us longer?" Tony nudged Ziva deliberately as they walked, causing her to stumble into the wall, "because maybe someone is sick?"

"Anthony, watch your step! Careful not to trip over each other's feet!" Ducky held the door open, letting them into the car, which was about as cozy as an ice box, "We've had enough in the way of mishaps already. Good heavens its cold this morning!" he started up the car, setting the heater as high as possible, "There we go. That will warm up in a few minutes, will the two of you be alright back there until them?" he was a bit worried that being in the cold car would aggravate their conditions

"I will be." Tony told him confidently, "Don't know about her though," he pointed to Ziva, who was shivering in her seat, "She might freeze solid by then, if she doesn't boil herself from the inside first." he knew she'd hate him for all of this, but for now all he cared about was her well being

"Ziva, why don't you come up here? You might be better off riding shotgun." he pulled over long enough for her to come up front, "Interestingly enough, the term 'riding shotgun' came from the Old West..."

The cold blast of air that hit them upon opening the car doors was almost too much to handle. The bitter wind whipped at their faces, leaving their skin numb and red. Thankfully, it was only a short walk to the front door.

The entryway to the house was pleasantly warm; they could hear the warm crackle of the fire in the living room, and the whole house seemed to glow with the warmth of it. Gibbs ran down the stairs to greet them, "You're late!" he chastised, "DiNozzo, you're in the guest, down the hall there across from the kitchen. Ziva, you're upstairs in the Master bedroom, its the only door up there that isn't a bathroom."

"Where will you be sleeping?" Ziva asked, grateful for his hospitality, but not wanting to kick him out of his own home

"Couch," before they could open their mouths to protest, he interrupted them, "Trust me; I've been married enough, and pissed off my wives enough, that sleeping on the couch doesn't bother me a bit. Now both of you, go to your rooms and unpack. Tony, you can hop in and take the first shower." Tony let out a silent shout of victory, "But Ziva gets a bath first."

Ziva grinned at him, darting her tongue out at him. Tony happily returned the favor. "Oh, come now! You don't want to be naughty little children, do you? After all, Santa comes tomorrow night!" Ducky laughed warmly, "You know what he does with naughty little children!" he chided

"What is a Santa?" Ziva asked

"He's a crazy drunken old guy, who wears a onesie, breaks into your house at night, and eats your food," Tony told her, "Most people think he's an urban legend, but I've seen him, Ziva! I've even got pictures!" he held up a Christmas card from years ago that he procured from his jacket pocket. The image was one of a little Tony DiNozzo, no older than eight, sitting in a department store Santa's lap, listing off the things he wanted, "And yeah. He's a pedophile!"

Ziva stared at him, completely aghast, "What?!"