Should have done this a while ago, but I only recently got the motivation to revisit this. This is set probably a day or so after Tony's father comes and goes. Just another discussion about fathers between our favorite two agents. I never really intended to continue this story, but it felt unfinished after the events of Flesh and Blood. And also, some of the details of the previous chapter were revealed to have been not quite accurate after that episode aired, so this chapter will address that. Somewhat.

Also, for the sake of keeping this as close to canon as possible, there is no relationship or major change after the events of the first chapter. It was just something that happened one night and was left behind and temporarily forgotten.

Okay, that should cover it.

The crime scene that evening had been a bit of a longer commute than most, but neither Tony nor Ziva minded the drive as they sat quietly beside each other as they headed home in the darkness of the cool January night.

"I thought you said your father had disowned you," Ziva said after nearly twenty minutes of silence, finally daring to ask the questions about his father's recent visit that had been plaguing her thoughts.

"He had. You heard the voicemail," was the response, along with a shrug of the shoulders, as if to shake off the questions.

Ziva pressed on. "Then what happened?" Tony groaned inwardly, knowing that she wouldn't stop pushing until she got what she wanted out of him. He thought for a second, contemplating the best way to proceed with the conversation.

"Remember that night, Ziva? When we talked about our fathers and all the mistakes they'd made?"

"Well of course I do," she started. "That was the night you played that voicemail for me." And the night you ... She did not let her mind finish the sentence, but a she felt a slight rush of embarrassment, and thanked the powers above that it was night time.

"Yeah. Well, shortly after that night, I decided I should get in touch with my dad. Maybe time had cooled off the anger and he'd be willing to speak with me. So I called him, kind of put some feelers out. Let him know what I was doing. You know," he stopped, unsure of what else to say.

"So this explains how he knew of me," she surmised, referring to the fact that Anthony DiNozzo Sr. had brought up the fact that he'd heard of her previously when they'd met a few days ago.

"Yeah..." he trailed off. He didn't really know what to say. It had been pretty embarrassing the way his father had just declared that she'd been mentioned.

"What did you tell him about me?" A slight smile played on her lips and Tony could see that she was actually ... pleased ... that he'd spoken of her.

"Just ..." he paused, shrugging his shoulders. "Work stuff. You know. Small talk."

"You are lying."

I can't hide anything from this woman.

"So I am." He paused again, searching his thoughts once more for the right thing to say. "I may have mentioned an interest in a particularly sexy and complex woman. Who'd also 'lost' her father. I kind of used you as an excuse to call him. Kinda like, 'Hey dad, seeing this happen all over again made me think a little.' You know?" She nodded.

"And?"

"And he picked up on more. I guess even over the phone people can tell by the way I talk about you," he smiled sheepishly, glancing at his partner in the passenger seat. She didn't ask him what he meant.

She knew.

They rode in comfortable silence for a few moments then, sharing quiet acceptance of the changes taking place between them, even though neither had said as much over the past several months. They'd just kind of slipped into it over time: a smile here, a lingering touch there. They'd kissed only once, and alluded to deeper feelings on one occasion, but neither felt compelled to push the issue, rather, they were both content to let whatever was going to happen just take place on its own. Ziva smiled inwardly, pleased that she'd been important enough to Tony that he'd mentioned her to his estranged father. She broke the silence for the second time that night.

"I have not spoken to my father since that night," she said, taking her turn to share.

"I wouldn't imagine that you had," he responded, glancing at her for a moment. Her expression was solemn, but he could tell that there was a faint light in her eyes. Even through the pain of her father's betrayal, she'd still been able to find something to shine a light in her life. He briefly hoped that the light was his own doing.

"It's okay to let it hurt, you know. I won't think any less of you," he spoke again, quietly, after several moments of quiet contemplation.

She turned to him and smiled, a big genuine smile that pretty much turned his insides to mush whenever he saw it. "I know that, Tony. I guess I am just still not completely ready to talk about it. I'd rather hear about your father some more."

"Like what?" he asked lightly.

"Like what other things you told him about me," she said. Ziva would not admit it to him, at least not yet, but she enjoyed hearing things about herself from the point of view of her partner. He had this way of talking about her that made her feel ... special.

"What makes you think I told him a lot of things about you?" Tony asked innocently, grinning confidently as she looked at him cynically, a look he knew well. The look that clearly said, I am not buying a damn thing you are selling, Tony.

He wasn't sure at this point which he liked more: her beautiful smile, or her 'I smell bullshit!' look.

"He said that you'd mentioned I was beautiful," she goaded, intentionally pushing his buttons and knowing damn well that he would not - could not - lie to her.

Tony let out a surprised cough, and turned his head to look at her, astonished. She was watching him calmly and expectantly, waiting for his answer. "I may have," he choked out. "I don't know if I said beautiful exactly. Maybe he just said that. You know. DiNozzo charm."

"Would your father lie to flatter a young woman?"

"Actually, yes," was the response, and they both burst out laughing.

"I guess in that way you are both alike then," she started, "lying to charm a woman. Telling her she is beautiful. Making her feel special."

"I was not lying when I told him you were beautiful!" he blurted out. Shit! How many times has she done that to me?

"Ha!" She retorted. "For such a good investigator, Tony, you should have seen that set up coming a mile away."

"Yeah, I guess I should have," he said, glancing at her and grinning sheepishly. "But you already knew it. You didn't have to go and make me say it."

"I suppose not," she agreed. Again, though, she was glad to hear him say it. She really felt beautiful when Tony told her she was; when he smiled at her like that, and she liked that feeling.

"I forgive him." Tony broke the silence this time. "Sort of." Ziva didn't respond. Instead, she waited quietly, knowing that he would continue on his own. It was only a minute before he spoke again.

"Because he was trying to make it right, you know? Maybe it's old age, or maybe it's time, like I said. But now it's like he's almost trying to be a part of my life. Catch up. Maybe he wants to have some grandkids or something, be a part of their lives. Maybe he's just tired of missing out. But he's trying. And I can't hold a twelve year grudge against him anymore. You know?"

"Yes."

"And I kind of want him to, too. There's a lot I've done that he's missed. Some good, some not quite so good. But there's still plenty I haven't done that he could be there for. And I'm willing to give him another chance. To not screw up."

"To just be there," Ziva supplied. They slowed to a stop at a red light, and Tony took that moment to look at her.

"Yeah. To just be there," he confirmed. "It won't change the past, but maybe he could be a better grandfather than he was a father."

"There you go again, with those imaginary DiNozzo children," Ziva teased. He chuckled inwardly.

"It's just something that thinking about my dad does to me. Makes me want to be better than him," he explained.

"I suppose this is where I am expected to say something like, 'You already are,' but I do not know your father well enough to be able to say such a thing. And that would not be fair." She paused then added, shaking her head, "I am not good at this."

He chuckled. Her inability to speak endearingly was actually quite endearing. "It's fine. I know what you're trying to say." The light turned to green and he accelerated, once again placing his attention on the road. He could still see Ziva's relieved smile out of the corner of his eye, though.

"I am glad that you and your father are making out," she said, reaching over and taking his hand in hers and stroking it comfortingly with her thumb.

"Making up. Making out would just be wrong. And very disturbing." He preceded to explain to her the difference between the two terms, and as he finished, they were both laughing heartily at her very unfortunate English mistake. The laughter died down and they cruised in silence, and it wasn't until Tony pulled his car beside Ziva's apartment that they realized they were still holding hands.

"Oh," Ziva said simply as she looked down at the connection, but still did not pull her hand away. She lifted her eyes to meet Tony's, and he was looking at her apprehensively, almost nervously. She smiled slightly. Just that slight smile was enough reassurance for Tony, and he leaned over and placed his lips on hers, not unlike the first time they had kissed several months ago.

They did not part so quickly this time, though, and Ziva reached her free hand around the back of his neck to deepen the kiss, allowing herself the indulgence of playing with his tongue. Their embrace began to intensify and Tony allowed himself to pull her even closer to him, when Ziva started giggling into his mouth, at which point he had no choice but to pull his mouth from hers, disappointed.

"What?" he asked, confused. "Am I bad at kissing?"

"No, no, not at all, Tony," she struggled to spit out between fits of laughter. "I just can not stop thinking about the fact that I said that this-" she indicated with a flourish of her hand, "was what you and your father were doing!" And with that, she started laughing all over again.

He sat back in his chair. "Well, you sure do know how to kill a mood, thank you very much," he said jokingly. "Now that I've got that image in my mind, I don't think you'll ever have to worry about me wanting to come upstairs." He hadn't meant to say it like that, though he was planning to offer such a thing, but he seemed to be having more and more trouble keeping himself from saying things without thinking first. Ziva still had a smile on her face, but her fit of laughter had at least subsided.

"Well, Tony, if you think you can banish that image from your mind," she started, speaking seductively, "You certainly are welcome to come up." He couldn't help but notice how his body responded to the way she lowered her voice at him. If she keeps speaking to me like that, he thought, I'll probably forget my father even exists.

"I think I can manage," he said, grinning, and pulled her back to him for a quick kiss before turning off the car and taking her to her apartment.

That should do it. I really didn't want to take so long to update this story, but the creative mind was on vacation or something. Probably went somewhere warmer. I have no plans to add anything else to this, though I'm sure someone will inevitably request that I write what happens when they go upstairs. I've already got a backlog of "M" stuff to write as it is, so sorry. Use your imagination on this one.

Also, I'm so very sorry about the cliché 'English screw up.' I accidentally typed making out instead of making up and it fit so I left it alone. I do try not to use stuff like that too much.

For those who may care, my mother and I have been talking some since the first chapter was written. There isn't forgiveness - not yet - but we are at least talking. It seems that DiNozzo and I have something in common.

Reviews are always appreciated.