Nothing Like Him

The seats were less than comfortable, the people were loud, and Ziva's patience was wearing thin. And if the little boy seated behind her kicked her seat one more time she was going to snap! Even given all this, Ziva was particularly excited. It was Sophie's first ballet recital and as Ziva was helping her daughter get ready for tonight, braiding her hair and getting her dressed; she couldn't help but remember her own childhood. Her mother had always said she was a natural dancer and the stage was her home. She loved performing and seeing the smiling faces of her entire family in the audience. Well, almost her entire family. Her father was never there and that made looking at the empty seat next to her that much more painful.

Tony had said that he would be there. He was coming straight from work. He promised he would be there.

As the lights dimmed, the dull roar of conversation died out and the curtain rose. Roughly 15 little girls between the ages of 4 and 6 dotted the stage, each donning a leotard in varying colors. As a light tune filled the auditorium, the little girls began to spin and hop in a roughly simultaneous manner. Sounds of laughter and cooing came from the audience.

Ziva watched the dancers in amusement, but her eyes kept darting to her cell phone. Tony had not called or texted her. She should be worried but her anger was overriding any fear she felt. She did not want Sophie to experience the same pain she felt. Tony was in big trouble.

The first song ended and everyone applauded. A second song began and the dancers on stage began their routine.

After the 4-6 year olds finished their two dances, a small announcement was made thanking those for attending before the next group took the stage. These girls were older, between 7-10 years old. This was the group that Sophie should have been in, but her dance teacher had insisted on moving her to another group. She had simply raved about Sophie's talent and maturity and begged Ziva to allow her to dance with the older girls. After speaking with Sophie, Ziva relented and allowed her daughter to perform with girls nearly 2 years older.

Again Ziva checked her phone. No message. After three performances, the curtain dropped and a brief intermission was held. Ziva flipped her phone open and speed dialed her husband's cell phone. It rang five times before going to voicemail.

"Tony," Ziva hissed, "where are you? You have already missed the first half of the recital. Sophie will be on stage in 10 minutes. If you are not here, I swear I will kill you with an oven mitt!" She took a few calming breaths and lowered her voice. "Please Tony, do not do this to her. She deserves better." Snapping the phone shut, Ziva stared at the seat in front of her. She tried not to remember the pain that sprung through her chest when she realized that out of every face in the audience, her father's was not one of them. To know that you were less important than a security briefing or a meeting, at eight years old was absolutely crushing. She didn't want Sophie to feel that same pain.

As people began to return to their seat, Ziva became more and more nervous. She was angry with Tony, that was very clear, but she was nervous about facing her daughter. How do you tell a nine-year old that her father had more important things to do than watch her dance? Who would have ever thought that the big, bad Mossad ninja would be afraid of dealing with her daughter.

Finally the lights began to dim and Ziva felt her heart sink. He was really going to miss this. Any last shred of hope she had held on to was stripped away as each second passed. As the tears sprung to her eyes, Ziva blinked them away furiously.

"Sorry…sorry…excuse me."

Ziva looked to her left to see what the commotion was about and sighed in relief. There was Tony scooting past parents to get to his seat.

Sinking down in the hard plastic seat, he shrugged his coat off of his shoulders and turned to his wife. "Sorry I'm late," he whispered.

"I—I thought you weren't coming," Ziva whispered, slightly distracted as the music began to play.

Tony grabbed Ziva's hand and squeezed it gently. "I wouldn't miss this for the world." He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly before turning his attention to the stage.

TIVA

"So are you going to tell me why you were so late?" Ziva asked. She and Tony were still lingering in the auditorium with a slew of other parents. They were all waiting for their daughters to emerge from backstage or wherever else they were hiding.

"I had a uh…errand to run," Tony said. His eyes were darting around the auditorium, supposedly searching for his wayward daughter.

"What kind of errand are we talking abo—"

"Daddy!" Tony spun around and stretched out his arms, allowing Sophie to jump into them. "Daddy, did you see me? Did you see?"

"I saw Bambola," Tony said kissing her cheek. "You were magnifico!"

"Grazie, Papi!" Sophie laughed.

"You were wonderful, Darling," Ziva gushed kissing the crown of her daughter's head.

"Thanks Ima!"

"This is for you," Tony said pulling a single yellow rose from inside his jacket. "I'm so proud of you, Sweetie."

"Thanks, Daddy." Sophie took the rose and sniffed it slowly. She turned to say something when a lingering figure caught her eye. "Gibbs!" She took off running up the aisle and threw herself into the older man's arms.

Ziva was taken by surprise, Gibbs had said nothing about coming to the recital. Neither had Abby or McGee or Ducky for that matter. But they were all here, gushing over her daughter and showering her with praise. Abby had even brought a balloon bouquet for Sophie.

"This is the errand you were running?"

Tony donned that famous DiNozzo grin. "I knew that they would all want to be here. And Sophie deserves to have her whole family present."

Ziva blinked away tears for the second time that night, except this time she couldn't have been happier. "I was wrong," she whispered.

Tony turned and caught her eye. "About what?"

Ziva reached up and cupped her husband's cheek. She brought her lips to his in a gentle kiss, eventually breaking and resting her forehead against his. "You are absolutely nothing like him."

Thanks for reading!! Let me know if you liked it.

Bambola—baby doll