A/N: I must begin with an apology for the delay in updating this; that was never my intention. The good news is that this next section is so long that it will be broken into three updates that are already written. After we are finished visiting Stillwater, there will be three more chapters to this story - unless one of those is determined to be long enough to require more than one chapter, as well.
This chapter and the next are dedicated to my fellow football fans Cherokee Jedi and abstractartist; isn't it fun to picture Ziva enjoying football as much as we do? :D (For my international followers, all references are to American football, as I call soccer ... um, soccer. ^_^ )
To my dismay, I have no rights to Ziva, Gibbs or Jackson, but the original characters are all mine. Happy reading!
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The next morning Jethro jogged downstairs still grinning over his morning exchange with Ziva. After he'd nuzzled her awake, she'd stretched and mentioned a shower. When he'd suggested he could join her, she'd been positively horrified at the thought of showering together with his father nearby.
"He put us in the same bedroom; I'd say he guesses we've seen each other naked," Gibbs pointed out.
"Guessing and knowing are two different things," Ziva said firmly. "Besides, how would you feel if it were Jackson in there with some woman?"
Oh.
Still, he'd rallied for one last try. "You're not just some woman," Gibbs told her, which hadn't gotten him into the shower with her, but had earned him an enthusiastic good morning kiss – and a rain check.
Jethro went into the kitchen following the scent of coffee. His father was sitting at the table with the newspaper and a mug.
"'Morning, son," Jackson offered.
"'Morning," the younger Gibbs returned, even sparing a small smile.
"You smile in the mornings now?" Jackson asked with some disbelief, peering over the top of his glasses.
"What's not to smile about?" Jethro responded as though the event were nothing out of the ordinary. He poured himself a cup of the brew that was like his life's blood.
"You never used to feel that way," Jackson observed.
"Things change," Jethro offered his own observation.
"Sometimes change is good," Jackson said quietly.
Jethro started to deflect out of habit, then admitted with a half-smile and a single nod, "Sometimes it is."
Jethro turned and looked out the window into the back yard.
"Fence looks like it needs a little work," he said, then took another sip of coffee. "I'll take care of that for you today."
"You don't have to do that," Jackson protested. "I'll get to it one of these days."
"I know I don't have to," Jethro said, turning back toward his father. "I want to."
There was silence as the two men looked at each other. Neither gaze was heated…just taking each other's measure.
"All right," Jackson acquiesced. "Truth is I wouldn't mind the help."
Jethro gave the older man a hint of a satisfied smile, then raised his mug to his lips again.
"Where's Ziva?" Jackson asked. "She strikes me as an early riser."
"She is," Jethro confirmed. "Takin' a shower."
"Well, I'd better get breakfast going then," Jackson decided, getting up from the table.
"You don't have to do that, Jack," Jethro denied. "She usually has coffee and a protein bar and I have coffee and…" He paused. "...more coffee," he smirked into his mug.
"Your mother always said it was the most important meal of the day," Jackson reminded him.
Jethro didn't speak, but there was a softness to his face as he remembered.
Jackson began hustling around the kitchen, getting eggs, fresh tomatoes and grapefruit from the refrigerator and pulling the bread from the bread box for toast.
Jethro cocked an eye at the grapefruit.
"What?" Jackson asked somewhat defensively. "Doc says I should eat more fruit."
"Fruit's good," Jethro acknowledged. "I'll check on Ziva."
The bathroom door was open, so she'd clearly finished in there. Opening the door to the room they were sharing, he caught Ziva in the act of pulling on her shirt.
She whirled around and exclaimed, "Jethro! Perhaps you should have knocked first."
His eyebrows nearly reached his hairline as he shut the door behind him. He gave her a look as he crossed the room to loop his arms about her waist, clasping his hands at the small of her back.
"There's not much I wouldn't do for you," he advised her, "but I'm not gonna start knocking before entering our bedroom."
She had the grace to blush a little as she rested her hands on his chest and stared at her fingers as they plucked at his shirt.
"You do not have to." Still avoiding his eyes, she continued, "It is just that I have not had much practice at this."
"At sharing a room with me?" he joked. "I'd say you've had a lot of practice at that – lucky me."
She gave him a mock slap on the chest, even as she smiled – exactly as he'd intended.
"I have not had much practice at visiting parents," she clarified softly, laying her cheek against his shoulder. "I do not wish to do anything … wrong."
He pulled her in closer and rested his chin on the top of her head. These vulnerable parts of her that snuck up now and then never ceased to amaze him, and made him even more determined to protect her.
"You're not going do anything wrong," he attempted to reassure her. "Just be yourself."
"I am a little worried that my 'self' will not fit in very well around Stillwater," she admitted.
He lifted her face to his with a finger under her chin. "You fit with me," he told her, looking into those big brown eyes, "and that's all that matters."
A teasing glint came back into his gaze. "Hell, most of the men and more than a few of the women are going to be wishing they were me."
She laughed, her anxiety easing a little in the face of his humor and his certainty.
"And your second biggest fan is downstairs making breakfast right now, so we'd better get down there," he added, ducking his head to kiss her, leaving no doubt as to the identity of her number one fan.
When he would have kept it short, she pulled him back in more tightly, slipping her tongue into his mouth to dance alongside his. With a low noise in the back of his throat, he gladly allowed her to deepen the kiss.
Slowly, they pulled apart. With a little smile, she released him and led the way downstairs.
Walking into the kitchen, she said, "Good morning, Jackson," pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Something smells very good, but you should not have gone to any trouble."
"No trouble at all," he assured her, beaming. "Grab yourself a cup of coffee and I'll have this dished up in no time."
"What can I do to help?" she asked as she filled a mug with the fragrant brew.
"You can sit right there," he gestured at the table. "You're family, but you're still my guest this weekend. Leroy, you could make the toast; didn't want to put that in until you two were down here."
Jethro obliged, making short work of toasting a few pieces of bread. Soon, the three were eating breakfast together, chatting lightly.
"So, you two have any plans for today?" Jackson asked.
Ziva looked at Jethro questioningly.
"Thought I'd work on the fence out back," he informed her.
"I would like to see more of Stillwater this weekend," she said, "but other than that, I am open to suggestions."
"I was hoping you'd let me take you out to dinner tonight," Jackson said.
"We can go out to dinner if you like, but you do not have to treat us," Ziva responded.
"I want to. It's not every day that a man gets to celebrate the fact that he's gaining a daughter." He smiled just for Ziva, who had to blink back sudden happy tears as she squeezed his hand in gratitude.
"The Hawthornes – you remember them, don't you, Leroy?" Jackson asked. "They turned an old house here in town into a real nice restaurant a while back; I was thinking we could go there."
"Sure, Dad," Gibbs agreed.
"Um, I did not bring anything to wear to a nice restaurant, I am afraid," Ziva admitted, looking a little worried.
"I'm sure whatever you have with you will be fine, honey," Jackson tried to put her at ease.
Ziva threw a pleading look in Jethro's direction. Her worry about making a poor impression rang in his ears.
He gave her a half-smile. "We can go find you something."
As distasteful as shopping was to Gibbs, the pleasure on her face more than made up for it.
"There's a new dress shop just outside of town; Helen Clayson opened it a few months ago," Jackson offered.
"She finally retired from being the high school principal?" Jethro asked
"Yep – couple of years ago. Then her husband passed and she decided she was bored with nothin' to do, so she opened this shop," Jackson explained. "I've heard some of the ladies say it's nice."
"May need some supplies for the fence," Jethro said. "We could get those, find you a dress and have you back here in time for the game."
Ziva's smile gleamed.
"Game? What game?" Jackson asked, surprised.
"Navy is playing Penn State today, yes?" Ziva responded. "Jethro says you are a Penn State fan, so I was hoping we could watch the game."
"You like football?" Jackson asked, a little incredulously.
Ziva nodded enthusiastically. "It is like a little war every time they snap the ball," she explained, waving her hands animatedly. Jethro grinned at her description as he finished up his coffee.
"And who are you going to be rooting for?" Jackson eyed her suspiciously.
"Why, Navy, of course," Ziva advised him, as if there were any other choice.
Jackson snorted. "Navy! Why don't you pick a real team?"
"They are a real team," Ziva defended firmly. "And you would do well not to underestimate them. They have spoiled more than one team's winning streak."
"Humpf," Jackson huffed. Just because she was right didn't mean he had to say it out loud.
"Besides, it is not as though Penn State is doing all that well this year," Ziva needled him.
"We'll see who the better team is soon enough," Jackson's eyes flashed with determination. "Maybe we should have something riding on this."
Ziva threw a confused look at Jethro, brows furrowed.
"He thinks you should bet something," her fiancé clarified.
Ziva's eyes cleared, then narrowed as she looked back at Jackson. "Hmmm…yes, perhaps we should. But what will we bet?"
"I never bet money," Jackson said, "so it'll have to be something else."
"Loser buys dinner tonight?" Ziva suggested.
"Nope, dinner's on me either way," Jackson declared, his own eyes crinkled in consideration. "Loser fixes breakfast in the morning - ?"
"Deal," Ziva agreed and they shook on it, a pair of brown and one pair of blue eyes sparkling with excitement.
Jethro watched them with a wry look on his face and shook his head.
"What's that look for, son?" Jackson asked.
"You've never watched football with Ziva," Jethro pointed out.
"Yeah – so?" Jackson shrugged.
"She gets a little … excited," Jethro revealed with a grin at Ziva, who started to look indignant, then laughed.
"He is right," she admitted.
"Well, that'll just make it all the more interesting," Jackson said, satisfaction ringing in his voice. "You like any other teams, Ziva? Any real teams?"
"I like UCLA," she advised him, winking at Jethro.
Jackson looked at her like she'd grown two heads.
"I can understand you rooting for Navy since you work for them," he said, "but why in tarnation do you like UCLA? That's clear on the other side of the country."
Ziva's grin became a little mischievous. "Tell him, Jethro," she urged, her eyes sparkling.
He gave her a look that said not in this lifetime. To Jackson's amazement, a blush actually started up his son's throat.
She got up and stood behind the younger Gibbs, looping her arms around his neck. Leaning down, she pressed her cheek to his temple and urged, "Go ahead – tell him."
"Why?" Jackson demanded of his son when Jethro still didn't speak.
"She says their uniforms remind her of my eyes," Jethro all but mumbled into his empty coffee mug, desperately looking for the final dregs as a distraction.
Ziva grinned even more broadly and rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek.
Jackson looked at her in disbelief.
"True," she confirmed.
It was now Jackson's turn to mumble into his own coffee mug. The words "stupid" and "reason" floated on the air loud enough to be heard.
Ziva didn't care; she just chuckled and hugged Jethro a little harder. He squeezed her arm, smiling up at her indulgently.
"Let me take a look at the fence, then we can get going," Jethro suggested to Ziva.
With a last squeeze, Ziva let go of him. "I will clean up the breakfast dishes while you do that," she said.
"I'll do the dishes," Jackson protested.
"You cooked, so I will clean up," Ziva disagreed.
"Maybe I'll let you help," Jackson acquiesced, secretly glad to have her company.
As they moved around the kitchen, Jackson asked after each person on the team, and Ziva filled him in on how everyone was doing. After loading the final dishes into the dishwasher, Jackson caught Ziva staring out the window at Jethro in the yard, a small smile on her face.
"You've been good for him," Jackson observed.
"He has been better for me," she returned, turning her smile on him.
Ziva poured them both another cup of coffee and they sat at the table. It was Jackson's turn to look toward the back yard where his son was still testing sections of the fence and taking measurements for the replacement wood he needed.
"I wasn't always the father Leroy needed," Jackson said softly, his eyes looking into the past, "but I always wanted to be."
Ziva gently put down her mug and laid a hand over Jackson's on the table.
"It is not an easy lesson to learn that one's parents are not perfect," Ziva reflected, "but I believe the most important thing is for children to know their parents love them exactly as they are and will be there for them as often as possible. You have done that for Jethro."
He laid his other hand over hers with a squeeze in appreciation of her words.
Her eyes twinkled. "And perhaps you two are too much alike not to bump heads once in a while, hmmm?"
"You may be right about that," Jackson smiled ruefully, then he grew more reflective. "Leroy was one hell of a father."
"I am sure he was," Ziva agreed softly. After a pause she added, "We hope he will have the chance to be one again."
Jackson's eyes lit up. "Now that's the second best news I've heard this weekend," he declared, grasping her hand more tightly.
Ziva smiled gratefully, then her eyes became more serious. "In the eyes of most people, your grandchildren will be Jewish."
"Is that supposed to bother me?" Jackson asked, puzzled.
"It might bother some people," Ziva shrugged, aiming for nonchalance and almost succeeding.
"I can't promise you that no one in this small town will ever say something hurtful, but I can promise you it won't be me." He squeezed her hand. "And as for those grandchildren, I'll just be glad to have them."
He grinned mischievously. "How soon can you start?"
Ziva laughed, then leaned in close to him. "I thought we would have the wedding first," she confided with a sparkle in her eye.
"Well, if you must," he grumbled good-naturedly with a twinkle of his own.
Ziva pressed her fingers more tightly against the old man's briefly, then walked to the sink with her empty mug. Standing with her back to Jackson, she spoke.
"Speaking of the wedding," she began, softly clearing her throat, "it appears I am in need of someone to walk me down the aisle."
Keeping her vulnerability all but hidden, she asked him, "Would you be interested in the job?"
Jackson's eyes teared up and he stood up from his chair. She turned and looked at him then, and he held out his arms. As she stepped into them, he husked, "I'd be honored."
As a tear rolled down each cheek, Ziva gave a happy laugh and squeezed him tightly, resting her head on his chest.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Jackson asked conspiratorially, resting his cheek on her hair.
"If you wish," Ziva allowed, not moving.
"I love that Abby, but you've always been my favorite," Jackson admitted with a gleam in his eye. "But maybe we shouldn't tell her."
Ziva chuckled. "It will be our little secret," she agreed as Jethro walked in the back door.
"Not keeping secrets from me, are you?" he asked, one brow raised in question, even as his eyes roamed over his fiancée, not missing the evidence of her tears.
Ziva and Jackson pulled apart with a smile and Ziva looked up at him questioningly. "All right; I guess you can tell him," he granted. "I'm gonna see if anyone is answering the phone yet at the restaurant so I can make a reservation." He left the room.
Jethro walked over to Ziva, brushing a thumb over her cheeks. "You OK?" he asked, concerned.
Ziva's smile lit up her whole face. "I am better than OK," she confirmed.
Moving his hands to her hips, Jethro lifted her to the counter and stepped into her. She wrapped her legs around him and looped her arms around his neck.
"So what's the secret?" he asked, nuzzling her throat.
"Promise you will not tell?" she asked playfully, stretching her neck to encourage him to continue.
"Promise," he murmured against her skin.
"I am your father's favorite, though he loves Abby, too." She couldn't help but feel a small bubble of happiness rise inside her, no offense to Abby.
She felt him grin against her before he pulled back to look in her slightly bemused eyes.
"He's got better taste than I thought," Jethro teased.
She gave him a look that said he shouldn't say such things, then laid her head on his shoulder.
"And he is ready for grandchildren, but I suggested we have the wedding first," she continued, her smile evident in her voice.
He smiled into her hair. "We haven't talked about a date yet; any thoughts on that?"
"Soon," Ziva said.
"Works for me," he agreed, running a hand over her back. "You want a big wedding?"
"No," Ziva said decisively. She raised her head and looked at him. "Unless you do - ?"
"Hell n–" He cleared his throat and amended his first response. "Nope. But I want you to have exactly what you want."
"What I want is to be married to you," Ziva said in a clear voice. "The details are less important."
He bent his head to kiss her, silently communicating that he couldn't agree more.
When they came up for air, Ziva burrowed back into his chest. "I asked your father to walk me down the aisle," she said in a voice almost too quiet to hear. "Do you mind?" she asked, tensing a little.
"Is that what you want?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Then I don't mind," he assured her, feeling her relax again in his arms.
"Maybe we could talk more about the wedding on the drive home tomorrow?" Ziva suggested.
"Sounds good," he agreed, giving her a squeeze. "You ready to go shopping?"
"I am," she confirmed. "Let me get my purse. You will tell Jackson we are leaving?"
He nodded and lifted her down from the counter. Within minutes, they were on their way.
Jethro quickly found what he needed at the home improvement store that had gone up at the edge of Stillwater a few years ago, though it was crowded and the check-out line was long. When they eventually got to the front, a former classmate of Jethro's rang them up. He was pleasantly surprised to see Gibbs and genuinely glad to meet Ziva. Jethro suggested she bring the truck up to the loading area while he paid, and she took the keys and headed out to the parking lot.
As she neared the truck, she heard strain in a woman's voice as she said, "Bobby Lee, I said please get out of my way."
Ziva looked for the source and noticed a woman a few spaces down trying to get to her SUV. She was juggling a bag and holding the hand of a young girl while trying to evade a tall, muscular man who was blocking her path. Ziva watched for a moment, taking note that no other help seemed near.
The sound of a bag tearing reached Ziva's ears and the woman's voice said, "Now look what you've made me do." There was a clatter as several items fell to the pavement and began rolling. The worry in the woman's voice had increased.
That did it. Ziva walked toward them, picking up a couple of things as she got closer.
"It appears you could use some help," she called out with a small smile as soon as she was within a few steps.
Three pairs of eyes turned toward her voice; one set was relieved, while one was clearly annoyed.
"She's got all the help she needs," the man said to Ziva rudely, straightening to his full height.
Ziva gave him a direct look, her body tensing into readiness. "Not from where I am standing."
"Listen," he snarled, "this is none of your business, so you can just go on back to wherever you came from."
"Actually, I would appreciate the help," the woman spoke up, a firm arm around her daughter's shoulders as she gave Ziva a grateful look. Keeping the focus ostensibly on the dropped items, she continued, "We'd like to get these things picked up as quickly as possible, so we can get them back to my husband." She gave Ziva a tight smile. "He's in the middle of a plumbing job that isn't going very well."
"Ah, then you do not want to keep him waiting any longer, do you?" she smiled at the woman and the girl and joined them as they bent to gather their things, though she remained watchful of the man called Bobby Lee and adroitly put herself between him and the woman. Working together, they had the items gathered quickly. The man tried crowding Ziva's space, but she just stood and held her ground. "Go ahead and help your daughter into the car," she suggested to the woman in a light tone without taking her eyes off the man. "I can take care of everything else." None of the adults missed her double meaning.
As his intended target was getting the little girl fastened into her booster seat, Bobby Lee noticed they were starting to gather some distant attention, including that of a blue-eyed former Marine who had come looking to see what was taking Ziva so long.
"Next time you can mind your own business," he bit out at Ziva, his look suggesting this wasn't over if they crossed paths again. He huffed off into his own pickup truck and peeled out of the parking lot.
The woman turned to Ziva. "Well, I for one am glad you didn't," she said thankfully. Putting out a hand with a smile, she said, "I don't think I've seen you before. I'm Cindy Thomas."
Ziva smiled back and shook her hand. "Ziva David."
Before she could say more, she sensed Jethro nearby and turned in his direction. "Everything OK?" he asked as he reached them.
With a small smile she nodded. Cindy was much more forthcoming. "Thanks to her it is." Then she got a good look at Gibbs. "Jethro Gibbs – is that you?"
He nodded as he tried to place her. "Cindy Thomas – well, used to be Baker."
His puzzlement cleared. "Sure – Heather's little sister." He looked at Ziva. "Her sister and I went to high school together."
Ah. This aspect of small town living was a little overwhelming to Ziva: everyone seemed to know one another or be related to each other or had gone to school with someone – or their sister.
"Nice to meet you," Ziva said.
"You, too. You in to see your dad?" she asked Jethro.
He looped an arm around a Ziva's waist. "We are."
Cindy took in the two of them and the engagement ring on Ziva's finger and put two and two together quickly and accurately. "So, are congratulations in order?"
Gibbs gave her his half-smile and a nod.
"Your dad must be thrilled," Cindy guessed.
"You could say that," Ziva agreed with a smile.
"Well, I wish the best to both of you," Cindy said. Looking up at Jethro, she continued, "Bobby Lee Kelly was being a pest and Ziva saved the day."
Clearly Bobby Lee had a reputation that even Jethro knew about.
"I did not –" Ziva started.
"She's good at that," Jethro interrupted, pulling her in a little closer.
"I'll let you get on with your day. Nice meeting you, Ziva; I hope to see more of you around here. And thanks again." They waited as Cindy got into her SUV and headed off with a wave, then they made their way to their truck where Jethro had left the cart with their things.
They made quick work of unloading the items he'd purchased, then climbed into the truck. She handed him the keys and Jethro put them in the ignition, but didn't make a move to start the vehicle just yet. Instead he looked at her silently until she said, "What?" knowing full well that he wanted some details. He didn't say a word, just stared at her expectantly.
"All right," she caved. "There was a man bothering this woman – Cindy – and then her things fell on the ground and I went to help her. That is all."
He gave her a look that said he knew that wasn't all, but he then he smirked. "Fully prepared to kick his butt if needed," he pointed out dryly.
"Of course," she confirmed with a wink. "You said I should be myself and that is one of the things I do best."
The corner of his mouth pulled up in that half-smile of his as he started up the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. He couldn't disagree with her there. You could take the woman out of Mossad, but you couldn't fully take the Mossad out of the woman. And he wouldn't, even if he could have.
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Another A/N: I just couldn't resist that reference to UCLA for those of us who love Mark Harmon and football. ;D Some of you may be interested to know that Navy is actually on Penn State's schedule for 2012; I just may have to watch that game and root for Ziva's team. hehehe Hope you enjoyed the first Stillwater installment; feel free to let me know what you think. =)