Gibbs and Ziva pulled into their driveway Friday after work. They had taken turns driving to work all week, so it was Jethro at the wheel today. They were both laughing as Ziva related the tale of McGee getting back at Tony for nosing around Tim's desk again. The look on Tony's face when sirens and lights went off announcing a security breach had been priceless.

The couple was headed to Stillwater this weekend to share the news of their engagement with Jackson before he found out from someone else. They had a bag already packed and were just stopping by the house to change clothes and load the truck before heading out. They'd grab dinner on the way.

As they went up the steps to the front door, Ziva suddenly stilled. She pulled her gun with one hand and stopped Jethro with the other. Because he trusted her implicitly, he froze immediately. She cocked her head slightly, listening. Gibbs couldn't hear anything, but that didn't mean she didn't. Her eyes scanned back along their street, narrowing slightly at a black Mercedes SUV parked down the block.

She gestured silently toward the door with her head, and Jethro pulled his own gun. They had started locking their door some time ago, as Ziva was more comfortable that way. She tried the knob and found it unlocked. Whoever was inside wanted them to know they had company, but strove for some element of surprise by parking down the street. Her gut told her she knew who it was.

She opened the door slowly and they entered, guns still drawn. From their years of working together, she knew he preferred going in high, just as he knew she favored going in low. Rounding the corner into the living room, they spotted their unwelcome visitor immediately. Eli.

He had chosen the straight-backed arm chair, but had turned it so that he was facing the door. He sat with deceptively casual ease. There was not a weapon or backup in sight, though, of course, he had arrived with both.

Ziva and Gibbs stopped, their guns trained on her father. With an eyebrow cocked, Eli raised his hands almost mockingly, attempting to pass himself off as harmless. Jethro glanced toward the kitchen and nodded his head at the stairs, silently instructing Ziva to clear the rest of the house. She did so quickly, slightly surprised that Eli had placed his security detail outside. Either he did not see them as much of a threat or he did not expect this visit to take a turn he could not handle himself.

Ziva returned to the living room where Gibbs still stood with his gun pointed at his future father-in-law. Ziva holstered hers as she came to stand slightly in front of Jethro, careful not to hamper his gun hand, but sending a clear message that anyone coming at him would have to go through her first.

Eli was the first to break the silence. "Shalom, Ziva."

"Father," Ziva returned almost woodenly. A myriad of emotions were bouncing around inside her, but none of that showed on her face.

Grabbing for the upper hand in this match, she skipped the small talk. "What do you want?"

Her father stared at her for a moment, attempting to shame her into responding more appropriately to his presence. He might as well have been trying that trick on Gibbs for all the good it did him. The need to protect Jethro and their relationship had Ziva opting for an offensive position with her father for the first time in her life.

With a condescending yet disdainful quirk of his lips, Eli looked every inch a king sitting on his throne, despite his actual surroundings and his daughter's attempt to take control of the conversation. He answered, "I have come to take you home, of course."

"Over my dead body," Gibbs barked.

"That can certainly be arranged," Eli drawled.

Before either man could blink, Ziva's knife whooshed through the air and buried itself in one of the narrow wings of the upholstered chair, mere inches from her father's throat. Silence reigned in the room. Eli's gaze was unreadable as he looked at his daughter. A vague sense of unease nearly had him shifting in his chair. He did spare a second to appreciate that she had aimed for the chair and not for him, though he also knew her well enough to know that she had pulled her aim to the side at the last minute.

She slowly advanced on his chair, and pulled her weapon from it. Leaning down, she encroached into his personal space. The cold flat tone of her voice was at odds with the fire that burned in her eyes.

"If you ever threaten his life again, the only dead body will be yours. Are we clear, Director?"

Eli's expression gave nothing away as he stared at his daughter. He gave a barely perceptible nod and she stepped back, returning her knife to her belt. She took up her previous position near Jethro. Once she was safely back by his side, he lowered his gun, but kept it at the ready.

"If you are here to pull me back into Mossad, your efforts are in vain."

"You are more than Mossad, Ziva. You are my daughter."

"About time you remembered that," Gibbs ground out, his eyes shooting daggers at Eli.

"Israel is your home," Eli continued, ignoring Gibbs' outburst. "It is past time that you returned to your rightful place in service to your country and your government."

In the maelstrom of emotions swirling within her, Ziva latched onto gratitude that she'd finally come to a place in her life where she could stand up to her father. Years of stuffing her feelings and following his orders had brought her nothing but heartache and emptiness. Gibbs was the most important person in her life now and before Eli left, he would understand that.

"My home is with Jethro. I love him and would give my life to protect his. And though I will never understand why, he feels the same for me." She shook her head in slight amazement. "I can only thank God for that miracle, because I have done nothing to deserve it."

"You would turn your back on your family – on your country – for this man?" Eli asked scornfully.

"This man is the best thing that has ever been connected to me – and he IS my family." Ziva's voice was low, but clear and strong with no hesitation.

"Israel will always live in my heart," she continued, her voice thickening with tears. Pausing to take a deep breath, she straightened her spine even more and her voice gained strength. "But my life is here now. I am an American citizen and an NCIS agent. I report to Gibbs and to Director Vance. Jethro and I are getting married, which I presume is what has brought you here. If you have only come in your official capacity, you have wasted your time."

Eli watched as Jethro's left hand came up to settle at her waist, wanting her to feel his support and her father to know they were a unit. Her hand pressed his briefly in acknowledgment.

There was a visual stand-off for several minutes.

"Is there any other capacity left between us, Ziva?" Eli asked quietly, certainty that there was not ringing in his voice. He looked at her, but his eyes were unfathomable.

"I have a director in my life, but I still have room for a father," she pointed out softly, almost hesitantly. Over the years, she had caught occasional glimpses of the man who loved his children. Usually that part of him was hidden under his Mossad mantle, but the father in him had been revealed just often enough to keep her hope alive somewhere deep inside.

He looked away. "Even at my best, I was never very good at that." His gaze stared unseeingly out the window as though his mind was very far away. "And after your mother died…well. There was no hope for me, I am afraid."

The silence that followed spoke loudly.

Ziva gave no outward sign of the dagger she felt to her heart at his words. "Well, then it appears this is goodbye," she said in a voice devoid of emotion. Without turning her back on him, she moved to the front door and opened it. "Unless you are able to support us – to be happy for us – you are not welcome here."

He looked at her in silence, then inclined his head as he realized he had underestimated this situation, and quite possibly his daughter. Perhaps he simply hadn't wanted to believe this was real, but in the face of Ziva's steadfast resolve he was forced to concede. Eli pushed up from the chair and moved slowly to the door, not missing the fact that Jethro's eyes tracked his every movement. Just before he stepped through the doorway, Eli stopped. Without turning his head to look at Ziva, he opened his mouth as if to say something. But after a pregnant pause, he closed it again without a sound and walked out the door.

The Mercedes SUV picked him up at the curb. Ziva waited until the car drove out of sight, then she softly closed the door with extreme precision. After turning the lock, she pressed her forehead to the wood, closing her eyes.

"I would not blame you for running as fast as you can from this," she offered in a voice thick with emotion.

Jethro holstered his gun and moved toward her. "From Eli?" he asked in disbelief.

"From me," she stated in a voice that made his throat ache with emotion of his own. "Because of Eli."

Reaching her, he put his hands on her shoulders, turning her toward him. With one hand, he tilted her face up to his gaze. "First of all, I wouldn't run from you if someone held a gun to my head." His tone brooked no argument. "And second, I can handle Eli. And clearly so can you."

She burrowed into his arms, needing comfort. He pulled her in close, one hand smoothing her hair, as he tenderly held her to his chest. He tugged her ponytail loose, massaging her scalp soothingly. Slowly, he felt the tension begin to leave her body.

"Why, after all he has done, did part of me still hope that he would want to simply be my father?" she asked, closing her eyes against the self-disgust that she knew he would see.

"Because you're human," Jethro answered. "Tough, but still human."

Silent tears spilled down her cheeks, absorbed by his shirt. Her voice was so low, he could barely hear her. "I still miss my mother, but eventually it became a fact that she was gone and I could not have her back. In some ways it is harder with him because he is still alive. Do you think I will ever completely stop wanting a father?"

"You can have mine," he offered, not really joking.

Despite the pain in her heart, she laughed lightly through her tears, starting to come out of her mood. "I will take him." Her eyes shadowed. "If he will have me."

If Eli David had still been in the room, Gibbs would have put a bullet in him right then and there for bringing sadness back to her eyes and opening a crack in her self-assurance.

With a levity he did not feel, Jethro snorted lightly. "Are you kidding? He's half in love with you himself."

He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. "But you're mine, got that?" he growled playfully in her ear.

She smiled, more than a little grateful for this man. "Got it," she affirmed.

Resolutely, she took a breath, straightened her shoulders and put the incident with Eli out of her mind. Well, she got points for trying, anyway.

"Now, we need to get on the road, yes? Jackson is expecting us."

Jackson knew they both were coming, though he didn't know why. Ziva had wanted them to tell him in person.

"We don't have to go," Jethro said.

"Yes, we do," Ziva answered. "I am through with letting Eli David ruin important moments in my life."

He looked at her with admiration. "OK. Let's go," he agreed with a kiss to her forehead.

She held him to her for another moment, needing to check something one last time. "You are absolutely certain you wish to be married to Eli David's daughter?"

"I am absolutely certain I want to be married to you, no matter whose daughter you are."

She searched his gaze, but found nothing but truth there. Relief lit her features as she relaxed into a soft smile. "Good. Because I may not deserve you, but I do not want to give you up," she told him.

"Not even worth your effort to try. You're stuck with me," he informed her.

"There are worse things," she murmured as she stretched up to capture his lips in a kiss that healed her wounded spirit.

After they'd pulled apart slowly, lips clinging, Ziva headed toward the stairs to change; after all, those few hours of driving they had in front of them weren't going to take care of themselves. When he didn't immediately follow her, she looked back, her eyebrows raised in question. He sent her on upstairs ahead of him, saying he was going to check the doors and windows again before they left. He also had another agenda that he kept to himself.

Moving to the kitchen, he unlocked the sliding glass door to the back deck area and stepped outside. His first call was a brief one to Vance, alerting him to the fact that Eli had been here so someone could track his movements. Gibbs wanted to be informed when he'd left the country. Vance had just been given the information that Director David had apparently flown in that day on the down low on a Mossad private jet; he was as interested as Jethro in keeping track of the Israeli, friend or no.

Before going back into the house, Gibbs made a second call. He didn't think Jack would knowingly say something to upset Ziva, but he and his father had been at odds often enough in the past that Jethro was still on guard at times and he was taking no chances with Ziva after the scene that had just transpired. He wouldn't share the real reason for their visit; it was too important to her that they tell his father together and in person. However, he could alert Jackson to be careful with her, and he was going to.

After three rings, Jethro heard, "Hello?"

"Hey, Jack."

"Leroy! This is a surprise. I didn't expect to hear from you again until you and Ziva got here tonight. Everything all right? Are you still comin'?"

"Yeah, we're heading out soon. Listen, Jack…Ziva…she needs a little TLC this weekend, OK?"

Jackson paused, surprised by his son's words and the concern he could hear clearly beneath them. Hmmm…maybe there really was something to his hope that there was more to this visit than Leroy had let on.

"Sure, son. I've got a real soft spot for that girl. You didn't think I was going to be rough on her or anything, did you?" He could see his son's half-smile just as surely as if the man were standing in front of him.

"Nah…just looking out for her."

"All right. See you in about four hours?"

Jethro smirked again, eyes on his fiancée as she came looking for him, now dressed in yoga pants, a tank top and hoodie. "Uh-huh. Less if Ziva drives." She quirked a sassy eyebrow at him, then turned to grab some water bottles and a couple apples for the drive. Oh, and she'd better make coffee for Jethro while he changed. She preferred tea or water this time of day, but Jethro would want coffee for the trip.

"You forget, Leroy, I've seen the way you drive, too," his father's voice said into his ear.

Jethro grinned and said they'd see him soon.

"Drive safe now," Jackson ordered. With assurances they would, Gibbs hung up and put his phone away. He went back through the glass door, stopping to make sure it was locked solidly before moving to where Ziva was starting the coffee pot.

Sliding his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her hair, he murmured, "Thanks for making coffee."

"You are welcome," she answered, placing the carafe on the burner so the brewing would start. She turned in his arms and linked her hands behind his neck. "You told Jackson we are leaving soon?"

"Mhm," he confirmed, dropping a kiss to her nose.

"Did you tell him my fa- Eli had been here?"

"Nope," he answered truthfully. "Would it matter if I had?"

She shook her head. "No. I just wanted to know." She gave him a direct look. "And what did Vance say?"

With a wry smile, he marveled at just how well this woman understood him. "He'll keep an eye on things and let us know when a certain jet has cleared American air space."

She nodded. They would both sleep more easily when that information came through.

"You go change. I left the bag on the bed in case you need to put anything else in there. I will take care of putting your coffee in a thermos." She shooed him off with a quick kiss and turned to finish her task. With a squeeze, he let her go and headed upstairs.

Soon they were on their way, Ziva at the wheel. He would drive later when darkness met with unfamiliar roads, but for now she needed the distraction of negotiating the heavy traffic as most of the city seemed intent on heading north of DC this weekend. Before too long, they picked up I-83 north of Baltimore, which would take them into Pennsylvania. As they drove, he answered her curious questions ("Why is Pennsylvania called a commonwealth and not a state?" "Why did Tony say it is the chocolate capital of the US?"). They both relaxed as he told her little facts about his home state, stuff he hadn't thought about in years. They traveled on as darkness fell, cocooned in their own little world as they sped down the highway.

Back in Maryland…

Vance was sitting in a park, the remnants of his kids' fast food meals scattered around him on the bench, watching said children play with wild abandon on the playground equipment. It wouldn't be long before they were too old for this kind of play and too cool to be seen out with their father. So for now, he'd enjoy it. Jackie was off on her monthly girls' night out with some friends, and he was on daddy duty. He pretended this was simply about him supporting his wife in having some time to herself, but in reality he wouldn't trade this regular night with his children for anything.

When his phone rang, he looked at it out of habit, though he only took certain calls on this night. However, this would be one of them. Keeping his eyes on his children, he pressed the box on the screen to answer and put the phone to his ear. "Shalom, Eli. I hope it's pleasure and not business that prompted this call."

"Shalom, Leon." Eli paused. "Perhaps it is a little of both. I imagine you have heard by now I am in your country. I wonder if we might meet?"

Hmmm. Vance couldn't quite place what was prompting Eli's request. He never mixed business with his kids, but…something in the voice coming over the phone didn't sound like all business.

"Well, I'm currently watching my kids run like wild things around a playground. You'd be welcome to help me warm this bench, if we can keep it short." There, that should set the boundary he needed, while still responding to this man who was his friend and ally, even if it was not always a comfortable relationship.

Eli agreed, and took directions to the park where he would find Vance. Before long, he was sitting beside him, watching the group of children playing as though they hadn't a care in the world. For a moment, he envied their freedom.

"So, what brings you to my world?" Vance asked, chewing on his toothpick and giving nothing away while he waited for an answer.

Somewhat surprisingly, the Israeli went right to the heart of the matter. "My sources advised me that my daughter is engaged to marry your Special Agent Gibbs. It seemed time to put an end to this nonsense, this new life she is pretending to live, and bring her back home."

"And how'd that work out for you?" Vance asked in a level tone.

"Not as I imagined, as I am sure you know," Eli acknowledged.

The two men sat in silence for a moment, watching the children instead of each other.

"Why did you call me, Eli?" Vance finally asked, breaking the silence.

"I am not completely sure," Eli admitted, somewhat self-derisively. "I intended to ask you to order her back to Mossad since she has informed me that you are her director, but I find that I am questioning that plan."

"She's an American citizen and a full NCIS agent, Eli; there's nothing pretend about that. And, for what it's worth, I think this relationship between her and Gibbs is the real deal, as well. Fact is, I couldn't order her back to Mossad even if I wanted to," and with a direct look at the other man, Vance added, "which I don't."

Friend or no, Eli David needed to understand that Leon Vance looked out for his agents – even if he was a bit underhanded about it at times.

Eli gave a single nod, acknowledging the other man's position.

"There's more on your mind," Leon observed.

Eli wasn't surprised that Leon could sense that; one of the things he'd always admired about the man was his shrewd ability to size people up. At first, Vance thought Eli wasn't going to answer, then he spoke, his expression brooding.

"Ziva…" he voice trailed off, then picked back up again. "She suggested that she has a director in her life, but that she still has room for me to be her father. I am not sure if I can be a different kind of parent than I have been…or if it would be good for either one of us for me to try."

Vance took a while to respond. When he did, it appeared he was off topic. "Once a month, my wife goes out with her friends and I stay with the kids. There's this whole ritual that goes along with it. First, she reminds me every day that week that this will be the night, as though I'd forget about it if she didn't. My kids come up with ideas of what we can make for dinner, knowing full well as soon as she leaves they'll start badgering me for fast food and I'll cave in. I act like this is all about having my wife's back since God knows she spends most of her time having mine and the kids'. And afterward, Jackie pretends not to notice the kid's meal toys and the ice cream containers in the trash.

"What no one says out loud is that this is always the highlight of my month, and I'd give my right arm and more to protect it. It's like they know if we say it out loud and then the unspeakable happens, I don't know how I'd live with it."

He looked over at his friend. "Having kids makes you vulnerable and tests you in ways you never expected. They don't tell you that in the childbirth classes." Sticking the toothpick back in his mouth, his eyes found his children again, making sure all was well there.

There was silence as Eli thought over Vance's words. He had honestly never considered that fear of losing his children had played a part in keeping them at arm's length, forcing them into certain boxes in his mind. He had always been so focused on his work…but if he were honest, he had become even more guarded after the deaths of his wife and his youngest daughter, Tali. By turning Ziva and Ari into warriors – the BEST warriors – did I attempt to know their destiny, dangerous though it may be? As though sacrificing a child in service to a higher cause would somehow be less painful than if the worst were to happen and it was completely outside my control - ?

Vance's voice pulled him from his reverie. "They also don't tell you that children are remarkably resilient and forgiving, which can make up for a whole host of things we might have done differently."

"Ziva thinks she is just another Mossad operative to me. That is not true. But I do not deny that things were less complicated when she simply followed orders and we were united in a common purpose."

"Mhm. I know that's right," Leon commiserated.

Thinking back over the scene at Gibbs' house, Eli had to smile. "But, I must admit, she has become quite a woman, my daughter," Eli stated, a finger raised in the air for emphasis, his pride unmistakable.

"That she has. So think about this: clearly you've done something right in the father department; who's to say you can't do more?"

Somewhere deep inside Eli David, something shifted. Was it possible - ? He shook his head in denial, even as a tiny spark breathed to life somewhere…

Just then a high-pitched shriek was heard, followed by, "Daddy, daddy! Save me!" With quick reflexes, Leon caught a running blur that hurled himself into his father's arms, completely confident the man would catch him.

"Whoa! What's going on here?" Vance asked, looking at his son, who was looking fearfully over his own shoulder for his tormentor. A leggy young girl who looked to be a couple years older than her brother came running up.

"Dad! Make him stop! He's embarrassing me – again!" The girl's deep brown eyes burned with an intensity of emotion that reminded Eli of Ziva.

Leon looked at his son, one eyebrow raised in silent question. The boy squirmed, then found his bravado. And in the age-old tradition of throwing your sister under the bus to distract your parent from your own culpability, the boy responded, "She started it! She wouldn't push me on the swing because she was talking to those boys. Look," he pointed, "They're old!"

Leon looked over at the group his son was pointing out. It was indeed comprised mostly of boys, who were undeniably older than his daughter. This time she was favored with the silent questioning eyebrow.

She had the grace to blush a little, then wrapped herself indignation. "I was just talking, Daddy. You know Mama always says to be polite. But he was being rude – not to mention obnoxious!"

Hiding a smile at the antics of his children, Leon said, "Hmmm…maybe we should break this party up and head home."

"But what about ice cream?" his son asked, his lower lip starting to tremble.

"Can't take rude, obnoxious, brother-chasing kids to the ice cream shop. Who knows what might happen?"

"But, Dad – " That lip was trembling in earnest now.

In a quick one hundred eighty degree move, Delilah wrapped an arm around her brother's shoulders in a show of solidarity. "We'll behave, Dad. We promise. No more fighting, right, Jared?" That girl was as shrewd as her father at sizing up a situation, Eli noted with interest.

"Right. Please, Daddy?" Jared pleaded.

Leon pretended to think it over, giving them both a stare that had felled lesser adults.

Then with a small smile, he caved. "All right."

Leon stood and Eli stood, as well.

"Who are you?" the young boy asked Eli, noticing that his father had company.

"Kids, this is a friend of mine, Director Eli David," Leon responded. "Eli, meet my children, Delilah and Jared."

"David? That's Ziva's name, too," the girl observed perceptively.

"Yes, it is," Eli smiled at her. "She is my daughter."

"I like Ziva," the boy advised him. "She plays with us at Dad's work picnic every summer. She can do a lot of cool stuff. And she's pretty, too." Then he hid his face in his father's side as though worried he'd said too much.

"You are correct – on both counts," Eli agreed, feeling a surge of pleasure that surprised him a little.

"Would you like to come with us for ice cream?" the daughter asked, finding those good manners again that her mother preached about incessantly. She grinned at her father. "Dad's buying."

Both men smiled. "Thank you, but I have a plane to catch. Perhaps next time," Eli said, surprised to find that he meant it.

As the kids walked over to the trashcan to deposit the bags from their dinner, Eli held out his hand to Leon. "Thank you for your time, my friend, and the talk."

Vance shook the hand that was offered. "Anytime. It's not too late, Eli. And it's worth it. SHE'S worth it."

Eli gave a single nod, then walked to his car as Vance rounded up his kids and headed to his, all three of them arguing good-naturedly about whose turn it was to choose the ice cream shop. Watching the family drive off, it occurred to Eli David that he had never herded his family into a car for the simple pleasure of going for ice cream. Not once. His situation with Ziva seemed bleak. Just because she was worth it didn't mean he could change.

Later, in Stillwater…

Gibbs parked in front of his father's house a little after nine. Given the way they both drove, they had indeed made good time once they'd cleared the rush-hour traffic near home. When Ziva did not make an immediate move to get out of the car, Jethro looked over at her sitting somewhat pensively in the passenger seat.

"You OK?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I was just thinking that we still have not decided how we are going to tell him."

"We'll just tell him," Gibbs said matter-of-factly.

"Like you did Vance?" She rolled her eyes. "Not one of your smoother moments."

"Worked didn't it?" he pointed out with a smirk. "Come on."

Jethro took their overnight bag, while Ziva grabbed her backpack. As they got to the front steps, the door opened and Jackson welcomed them.

"Hello, hello. Come on in." Holding the door wide, he ushered them in, Ziva first. He hugged her hello, then turned to wrap his son in a brief hug, as well. They put their bags down out of the way and followed the older man to the kitchen, the heart of the house. "I was just pouring some coffee, but maybe you'd rather have something else."

"Coffee's fine, Dad," Jethro said.

Ziva looked at him. "You have had enough coffee today to float a battleship."

Jethro grinned, and accepted a mug from his father. "Your point?"

"Do not complain to me when you cannot sleep and I am lying there sleeping like a baby."

Jethro sat at the table and raised his mug to his mouth to hide his grin at her words, which could be taken to mean she'd be lying there next to him. Suddenly, the intimacy of her words occurred to her; she blushed lightly and looked away. Jackson just watched them, his eyes unreadable. But inside he was doing a mental fist pump and shouting Yes!

Ziva cleared her throat and said she would just have water. She offered to get it herself, but Jackson would have none of that. He directed her to sit next to Jethro and sat her glass in front of her. He joined them at the table with his own cup of coffee, making small talk about their drive.

Ziva took a drink, then wrapped her hands around the water glass. From his position across from her, Jackson had a bird's-eye view of her engagement ring. He reached out and took the fingers of her left hand in a gentle grip, tugging her hand across the table for a closer look. He pulled his glasses from his shirt pocket, slipped them on and looked approvingly at the ring.

Then, looking over his lenses, he begged Ziva, "Please tell me my son was smart enough to be the one to give this pretty ring to you."

Ziva couldn't hide her startled expression, though it quickly gave way to delight. Her gaze flew to Jethro, who just sat there with his patented half-smile on his lips. With a light laugh she said to her fiancé, "And I was worried about how we would tell him."

She looked back at her future father-in-law with a beautiful smile and answered, "As a matter of fact, he was." She squeezed his hand in gratitude.

"Now that's the best news I've heard in a mighty long time. C'mere." He stood and tugged at the hand he still held until she was standing, as well. He pulled her in for a warm hug and she squeezed him back, cherishing the feeling of being welcomed into his family. With one arm still around Ziva's shoulders, he reached out and clapped his son on the shoulder with the other. "Congratulations, son."

"Thanks, Dad," Jethro smiled, conveying the depth of his gratitude with his eyes.

After Jackson and Ziva had taken their seats again, Jackson asked, "So, how did all this come about?"

They gave him a highly edited version of their story; he was just as shocked as the team to learn they'd been together for two years. They talked for a long while, the conversation coming easily. At one point Jethro asked his dad what he would have done if the ring had been from someone else.

"Why, point out that anyone who'd let their fiancée take a trip with you was too careless to deserve her," Jackson pointed out firmly. "Then I'd have done my darndest to sweep her off her feet." At his smirk that was so like his son's, Ziva laughed with pleasure.

"If Jethro had not beaten you to it, I might have let you," she grinned.

As Jackson asked a few more questions to fill in the story of the last couple of years, the day started to catch up with Ziva. After she'd smothered her second yawn, Jethro suggested it was time for bed; everyone agreed.

Heading back to their bags, Ziva slung her backpack onto one shoulder and waited for Jethro to lead the way. Jackson leaned on his cane there in the front hallway near the stairs and said to Jethro, "Your old room is ready for the two of you."

Ziva glanced at him in surprise, then looked at Jethro. Her eyes asked You told him? He shook his head, a little surprised himself.

"How did you know?" Ziva asked Jackson.

The old man shrugged and shook his head. "Didn't. But after Leroy called earlier in the week and said the two of you were coming, well…a man can dream, can't he?"

And in that moment, Ziva's heart completely melted for another blue-eyed Gibbs.

Dropping her backpack to the floor, she slowly walked over to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she laid her head on his shoulder.

"So that is where Jethro gets it," she observed softly.

"Gets what?" Jackson asked, his arms automatically coming to rest around her.

"The gift for saying the perfect thing to me exactly when I need to hear it," she told him.

"Aw, honey, I don't know about that…unless his mother managed to rub off on us," he demurred. "Either that, or you bring out the best in both of us."

Her beaming smile summoned an answering one from him. And when she reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, he fell head over heels for this daughter of his heart.

"Goodnight, Jackson," Ziva said.

"G'night," he answered, watching her move back toward the stairs.

"Second room on the right," Jethro directed her so she could go on up. "Bathroom is first door on the left."

Before following Ziva up the stairs, Jethro turned to Jackson. Wrapping the old man in a hug, he said in a low voice, "Thanks, Dad."

"No need to thank me, son," he said as they moved apart. "That's one special little lady you've got there."

"I know," Jethro smiled. "Want me to lock up?"

"Nah, I got it. You go on up. I'll see you in the morning."

With a murmured goodnight, Jethro headed up to join the woman who did indeed bring out the best in this father and son.

X X X X X X X X X X

A/N: This one's for my Dad, who thankfully was a lot more like Jackson than Eli...and I still miss him. Thanks for reading; hope you enjoyed it! =)