A/N: In honor of the one-year anniversay of my first posting on this site, I give you the final chapter in our visit to Stillwater. I hope it's been as enjoyable for you to read as it has been for me to write.

IMPORTANT NOTE: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M FOR SEXUAL CONTENT IN THE SECOND HALF OF THE CHAPTER. I have placed a page break just prior to that scene in case you want to give that a miss.

As always, thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Nothing in Stillwater was very far from anywhere else, so it wasn't long before the three of them were walking into the restaurant. Jackson proudly introduced Ziva to Nancy Hawthorne who greeted them. She was an attractive woman in her fifties with short blonde hair that was going to silver. She and her husband, Bill, had opened this place several months ago and were very pleased that business was thriving. Ziva glanced around, admiring the charming ambience. When she said as much to Nancy, the woman glowed at the compliment as she guided them to their table.

The three diners decided to forego an appetizer in favor of their salads, as Ziva confessed she'd rather save room for dessert. She decided on salmon, while both men ordered steak. They attracted a fair amount of attention, though none of it unkind. Several people stopped by the table ostensibly to greet father and son, but with a clear underlying agenda of the friendly sort. Ziva met so many residents of the small town that she started to lose track of the names.

During a lull in the visitors, Jackson commented, "I've never been this popular." His beaming smile said he couldn't be more tickled at the attention or the reason for it.

Ziva grinned and finished her salad, then excused herself to find the ladies room. Both men stood as she got up, their gaze following her as she asked a member of the wait staff for directions. Theirs weren't the only eyes on her, though only one pair was calculating and bordering on hostile.

Not too long after she disappeared down the hallway to the restrooms, a man followed. Jethro's gaze was blocked by the arrival of their dinners, but Jackson noticed immediately, as did several other diners. Getting his son's attention, he said, "That boy's always been trouble. Maybe you'd better go meet up with Ziva." Jack's tone was worried.

"Ziva can take care of herself," Jethro responded. His voice was nonchalant, but his gaze trained on the hallway was anything but.

Jackson looked dubious. "Well, if you're not gonna check on her, I will."

"Jack -" Jethro started, but the man was already halfway to his goal, moving surprisingly fast with his cane.

Just before he reached the hall he heard two voices, the feminine one determinedly soft and non-engaging. The man's, however, seemed quite insistent, on the verge of ramping up to angry. Suddenly, there was a soft thud, accompanied by a distinct "oompf."

Ziva appeared, looking completely unfazed. As she stopped to speak to Jackson where the hallway met the dining room, the owners of the restaurant rushed over.

"Ziva, are you all right?" Nancy asked.

"I am fine," Ziva assured her, "but Mr. Kelly appears to have fallen." She gestured over her shoulder into the hallway.

Bill Hawthorne went to haul Bobby Lee to his feet (and straight out the back door), while Ziva suggested to Jackson that they return to their table. A hush had fallen over the restaurant, followed by excited whispers as diners rushed to tell others what they knew or surmised. Ziva ignored it, attempting to act as though nothing had happened.

As Jethro held her chair for her to sit, he murmured into her ear, "Anything I should know?"

"Yes," Ziva answered calmly. "Do not buy the same shoes as Mr. Kelly; they appear to be quite slippery."

Jethro smirked and brushed a kiss across her cheek before taking his own seat again. Ziva tucked into her salmon as though nothing untoward had occurred. In truth, she wanted to downplay the whole thing as much as possible. She really did not want to cause a scene here in Jethro's hometown, but she'd finally had no other option in order to get out of that hallway than to knock Bobby Lee down a peg or two. Literally. Well, flip him down, if you wanted to be technical about it.

Jackson's eyes were a little dazed as he looked over at his son. Jethro gave his patented half-smile, his head tilting to his right once in acknowledgement, clearly communicating told ya.

Ziva caught that look and asked, "Told him what?"

If Jackson had been astonished before, he was now nearly tongue-tied. What, did the woman read minds, too? Jethro's mouth widened into a full-blown grin that said he was clearly not surprised in the least.

Jackson recovered and spoke up first. "I thought maybe you'd need one of us in that hallway, but Leroy said you could take care of yourself."

Ziva's own smile bloomed. Placing a hand on her fiance's thigh, she gave an appreciative squeeze, her eyes sending a clear message that he'd given the perfect answer. Then she turned her attention to Jackson.

"I need you both," she told him, "just not to handle the likes of Bobby Lee Kelly." And with a wink, she returned to her dinner.

Shortly thereafter, Nancy Hawthorne arrived at the table carrying a bottle of champagne in a small silver bucket on an elegant stand and crystal champagne flutes. Ziva, Jethro and Jackson all looked at her in surprise.

"There must be some mistake," Jackson started, but Nancy interrupted him.

"No mistake, Jackson," she informed him, placing the bucket between Ziva and Jethro. "This is a gift to Ziva from that table over there." As she broke the seal on the bubbly drink, she nodded toward a table of four women a few tables away seated near the entrance to the hallway Ziva had recently exited. "But I thought she might share, so I brought three glasses." She proceeded to pour a glass for each of them at the table.

As they looked over to the table in question, all four women raised their glasses in a silent toast to Ziva. She grinned and picked up her own glass, saluting them in return with an incline of her head. Jethro thought he recognized Heather Baker in the mix. Well, that explained that a bit more.

Mrs. Hawthorne leaned down and confided in a low voice, "Bobby Lee has been harassing every woman and girl around here since he was in elementary school. It's not very neighborly to say this, but it's nice to see him get his comeuppance."

"Oh, I – " Ziva began to deny, only to get cut off.

"Please, honey," Nancy said to the Israeli kindly, "give us a little credit." She laid a hand on Ziva's shoulder. "Welcome to Stillwater, Ziva; we're glad to have you." With a final wish for them to enjoy the champagne, she walked away.

Now it was Ziva's turn to look stunned as she turned her gaze to Jethro. He gave her a small, satisfied smile and found her hand with his.

Jackson suggested a toast. Holding his glass in the air, he offered, "To Ziva, for bringing joy back into more than one Gibbs' house and to Leroy, for being smart enough to hang onto her." Ziva chuckled and Jethro smirked as they all clinked glasses.

"Seriously," Jackson intoned after they'd each taken a sip, "it does this old heart good to see both of you so happy. Welcome to the family, Ziva."

"Thank you," she responded warmly, and leaned over to place a kiss on the old man's cheek.

They finished their dinners and the sparkling wine, and shared a huge piece of chocolate cake for desert. While Jackson settled the bill, Jethro – who'd limited himself to one glass of the bubbly – went to get the truck.

Ziva and Jackson said their goodbyes to the Hawthornes, who invited them to come back soon.

"People keep saying that to me here," Ziva observed with a shake of her head as she and Jackson made their way down the front steps of the restaurant just as Jethro pulled up.

"They mean it," Jackson advised as he opened the passenger-side door for her. Ziva climbed in and slid over on the bench seat next to Jethro, as Jackson followed close behind.

When they got home, Jackson invited them to watch a John Wayne movie on TV with him, to be followed by his standard viewing of the eleven o'clock news. The couple passed in favor of turning in, and wished the older man goodnight. Before he settled into his favorite chair, Ziva hugged him and thanked him for dinner. He reminded her of their date to fix breakfast; apparently Ziva wasn't the only one looking forward to that.

Upstairs, Jethro made short work of getting ready for bed. Putting an arm behind his head, he leaned back against the pillows and watched as Ziva moved around the room doing the same. After she hung up her dress and slipped on her soft cotton pajamas, she threw Jethro a ghost of a smile and headed to the bathroom to clean her face and brush her teeth.

Coming back in, she slid into bed beside him, leaving the bedside lamp on for now. Propping her head on one hand, Ziva turned on her side and rolled up against Gibbs.

"Dinner was nice tonight," she commented, resting her left hand on his chest.

Jethro covered her hand with his, his thumb rubbing almost absently over her engagement ring. "Still worried about fitting in?" he asked, one side of his mouth lifting into his patented smile as he looked at her.

"Not so much," she admitted, secretly glad that he didn't seem to feel any more need than she did to dissect the situation with Bobby Lee. It had happened; she had handled it. End of story.

In a voice touched with amazement, she continued, "They seem to like me."

"Like you?" he snorted. "If you stuck around, I think they'd elect you sheriff."

She grinned delightedly. "Well, it is always good to have a backup plan."

At that, she found herself suddenly flat on her back. The bed gave a squeak as Gibbs pressed her into the soft mattress.

"You'd better not have a backup plan for me," he growled.

"Well…." She looked thoughtful. "There is always your father."

In a split second, he'd captured both of her hands in one of his, holding them above her head. His other hand began tickling her mercilessly.

"Jethro!" she protested, but the punch was lost in her laughter.

"Say it – no backup plan for me," he ordered, refusing to stop tickling her until she complied.

By this time she was twisting around as much as she could and trying so hard to laugh quietly that she could hardly breathe.

"All right, all right," she gave in breathlessly. "You win – no backup plan for you."

He stopped tickling her, looking down into her laughing, happy face. God, she looked so beautiful…eyes sparkling, lips curved, hair spread out over the pillow. Sometimes he looked at her and couldn't believe she wasn't with someone twenty years younger.

"Mine," he whispered, his eyes darkening as he looked into hers.

She gentled, tugging one hand free to cup his jaw in her hand. "Yours," she confirmed, lifting her face up to brush her lips over his. "Always." With another brush across his mouth, she laid back and looked up with all the love she felt for him shining clearly and solidly in her eyes. "Permanently."

"Permanently," he agreed, bending his head to capture her lips in a kiss that was long and slow and saturated with feeling. He released her other hand to slide his arm under her, while her fingers slid around to skim through his hair.

When he slowly raised his head, his gaze traveled her features again, unable to help himself.

"You're the only woman who's ever stayed in this room with me," he reflected in a quiet voice.

Confusion warred with surprise on her face. "Surely you and Shannon…"

He shook his head. "No one put us in the same room before we were married," he commented wryly, "and after, always stayed at her parents'."

It would not have bothered her if they had shared this room, but she couldn't deny that part of her was elated to know that he'd made this memory with her and no one else. Catching her bottom lip in her teeth, she smiled as her fingers moved gently over his face as though learning him all over again.

She didn't voice her reaction, but he knew…and understood. With a smile of his own that acknowledged he was glad, too, he brought his mouth back to hers, their kisses gradually deepening until they grew more and more urgent and heated.

His body hardening, he pressed against her more firmly, his mouth leaving hers to wander down to that spot on her neck that made her crazy. She gasped and arched into him. Her arms looped around his neck, one hand pressing into his back while the other cradled his head to her even more closely.

His tongue traced a path to her ear. "Want you," he breathed, capturing her earlobe in his mouth.

"Your father –" she began a token protest even as her body softened to mold against his.

"Is downstairs watching TV for at least the next two hours," he pointed out, nibbling his way back down her throat and across the tops of her breasts. "Worried you can't be quiet enough?" he challenged, throwing her a look that managed to be teasing and sexy at the same time.

"You are not worried about that?" she questioned with a breathy laugh, eyebrow raised, not even bothering to deny it.

"Don't care," he admitted, running his tongue along the scooped edge of her top. "Love hearing you."

She gasped his name as he dipped his tongue under her shirt to lick the valley between her breasts.

"Like that," he murmured in satisfaction.

He slipped his right hand under her shirt, finding more of her. She bowed into him, giving herself up to the tide of desire that pulled at her.

Sliding his hand down, Gibbs tugged at the tie to her pants, loosening them. Sliding his hand inside, he pushed them down and off her.

As he repositioned himself more firmly on top of her, the mattress squeaked again. Ziva froze.

"Jethro," she whispered urgently.

"Mmm?" he responded, as he pushed her top up to reveal her left breast. His mouth wasted no time in following his hand, exploring her with his tongue as though he had all the time in the world.

She momentarily lost the power of thought as he tugged her nipple into his mouth to suckle her slowly and deeply – until he moved and the bed squeaked again.

"The bed is squeaking," she informed him a little desperately.

"So?" he responded distractedly, uninterested in anything but her chest.

"So? It is noisy. I-" she broke off as he finally lifted his head to look at her with a gaze that was so blazing hot with desire that it stole her breath.

In an adroit move, he rolled to his back and positioned her on top of him.

"Try this," he directed in throaty murmur.

His much heavier body depressed the mattress more deeply so the addition of her weight over his barely moved it. As she slid against him experimentally, she was pleased to find he was right: no squeaking.

With a look of admiration, she bent over and braced her arms on either side of his head.

"Smart man," she complimented him. "I knew there was a reason I keep you around."

He chortled quietly at her teasing as she traced the curve of his ear with the very tip of her tongue.

"That the only reason?" He cocked an eyebrow at her, his hands busy taking up where his mouth had left off.

"Well…" she drawled. "Perhaps there are one or two additional reasons."

He pushed his hips against her center suggestively.

"Mmm…" she breathed with feeling. "Definitely that."

Then she raised her head and looked into his eyes, growing more serious.

"And then there is the fact that I love you more than I ever believed possible," she told him in a voice husky with emotion.

"Never stop," he entreated in a tone that was almost harsh with stark need, his eyes locked with hers, hiding nothing.

"Never," she pledged confidently, leaning in to swamp his senses with a passionate kiss that sealed her promise.

Unhurriedly coming up for air, Ziva sat up, straddling him. Her eyes on his, she pulled off her top and dropped it over the side of the bed. She looked so alluring he thought he might come just from staring at her. His gaze dropped, unable to keep from wandering over her.

She smiled at him knowingly and ran her hands under his t-shirt. Dear God, she loved to touch him.

"Off," she commanded in a low, sexy voice. He lifted up from the bed so they could tug his shirt over his head to follow hers.

Holding him to her and luxuriating in the feel of his chest rubbing against hers, she kissed him deeply. His hands roamed over her back and hips, molding her body even more closely to his before moving around to caress her breasts. A low moan of pleasure escaped her throat.

Slowly she released his mouth and pushed him back down to the bed. She moved her mouth over his chest and stomach in a leisurely fashion, making sure to cover every inch of him. When she reached the waistband of his boxers, she placed maddeningly slow kisses along the edge. She started at his left hip, giving his hard length only the barest of brushes as she worked her way to his right. She felt him leap under her touch as he moaned her name, and she couldn't help the satisfied smile that curved her lips.

"Hmmm?" she asked softly, continuing her slow kisses at his waist. "Is there something you want, Jethro?"

"Yes," he groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair.

"And what would that be?" she wondered, dipping her tongue into his belly button, causing his breath to catch. Her voice stayed low as she spoke; he could almost feel it vibrating against his skin.

"Your mouth…on me," he managed.

"My mouth is on you," she pointed out matter-of-factly, her lips never leaving his skin.

"Not…there," he panted.

"Where?" she asked with mock innocence, scraping her teeth over his hip. A low noise sounded in his throat. Her lips and tongue roamed everywhere but the very center of him where the front of his boxers was now tented with proof of his desire for her.

"Here," he growled, using one hand to position her head over his straining cock and the other to push at the offending material covering it.

"Mmmm…" She nuzzled his hardness as more of him emerged from the constraints of his clothing. Going ever so slowly, she lapped at him with her tongue, scooping up the droplets leaking out on the tip of his swollen shaft.

"Like that?" she murmured.

"More," he begged, feeling like he just might die if she didn't take him in her mouth soon.

Deciding she'd tormented him almost enough, she tugged his boxers down and off, tracing her way back up the inside of one leg with her tongue as her nails lightly scraped the other. Stopping just short of her ultimate goal, she switched her mouth to his other thigh.

He moaned her name again. "Ziver…"

"Now who is having trouble being quiet?" she teased in a sexy murmur, then finally ran her tongue up the length of his cock.

His breath caught, his voice finally stolen. Taking pity on him, she took him into her mouth as deeply as she could. His hands flexed in her hair, holding her there. Slowly she moved her mouth up and down on him, sucking, tongue swirling, nearly swallowing him whole. She was tireless as she pleasured him, taking pleasure from it herself.

Time seemed to stand still as their world was reduced to this room, this bed, each other. The sensations running through both of them took them closer and closer to the edge.

"Getting...close," he panted after what seemed like a gloriously endless amount of time.

She released him from her mouth, but kept her lips against his erection as she spoke.

"Not yet," she instructed in a voice that was almost gruff with need of her own. "I want you inside me."

"Ziva…" he implored.

"Do you want to be inside me, Jethro?" she asked in a throaty voice that was just above a whisper, even as her mouth continued to work its magic.

"God, yes," he groaned.

With a last lick, she lifted her face and rose over him. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself to the hilt inside her in one stroke, but he had handed her the reins. Besides, he needed to make sure she was as close to completion as he was.

"You ready for me?" he husked.

"Perhaps you should find out for yourself," she whispered, rising up on her knees to give him better access.

His fingers slid up the inside of her thigh and through her tight curls, finding her slick heat. Her breath catching in her chest, she closed her eyes and dropped her head back, her dark hair falling in waves down her back. She was hot and wet and the most incredible sight he'd ever seen.

"Every time I think you couldn't possibly be any more beautiful to me, you prove me wrong," he whispered.

At his words, she slowly brought her head forward until she was looking into his face. With the smile of a woman who knows she is well-loved, she flowed up his chest to capture his lips with hers, rubbing herself against his hand.

Tracing a line of kisses from his mouth to his ear, she breathed, "I am ready."

Without hurry, he moved his hand to her hip so she could center herself over him. He watched as she took him in her hand and slowly lowered herself onto his hard length until they were both gasping for air and robbed of the capacity to speak. He was mesmerized by the vision of their two bodies becoming one, though she couldn't take her eyes from his face.

Once he was seated completely inside her, she bent to cage his head between her arms again. His hands moved up to cup her breasts, caressing, kneading. Their connection practically sizzled in the air between them as they looked deeply into each other's eyes. Slowly she began to move, bringing even more pleasure to them both.

Her lips alternately brushed and clung to his in a series of brief kisses until her tongue darted out to trace his lower lip. That drove him wild. With one hand grasping her waist and the other cupping the back of her head, he took her mouth in a deep, need-filled, tongues-tangling kiss.

With the help of his hands on her hips, Ziva moved faster and faster on him, hurtling them both toward the cliff of their mutual desire. Just before their climax, he captured her mouth again with his, swallowing her cry as she came, even as she did the same for him. They tumbled over the edge together, clutching each other tightly on the way down.

Breathing heavily, heart pounding, Ziva melted onto Jethro's chest, tucking her nose into his neck, sliding her fingers into his hair to press against him even more closely. Utterly boneless, she couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to.

Wrapping his arms around her back, he held her to him as though he'd never let her go. That was only fitting; he didn't intend to. In fact, he was perfectly content to just lie here with her like this for the rest of his days.

They lay exactly like that for a long time, both of them drowsy and completely satiated. Eventually Ziva made a half-hearted attempt to reach for the lamp that was still burning.

He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "Where you going?" and his arms tightened reflexively around her.

"Light," she murmured, unable to muster enough energy for a complete sentence.

"I'll get it," he offered. "In a minute…"

Several minutes later, Jethro exerted himself enough to turn off the lamp. As he moved, he slipped out of her, prompting a low sound of protest from her. He turned back to her and they shifted to their sides of one accord, facing each other, not even a breath of air between them. Ziva snuggled into Jethro's chest, their arms and legs completely entangled.

Lifting her chin with the side of his hand, he softly kissed her goodnight.

"'night, Ziver," he murmured, laying his head back on his pillow.

"Goodnight," she returned, smiling sleepily and pressing one last kiss to his chest.

"Love you," she sighed, unsure if she'd said it out loud or just thought it in her head.

"Love you, too," he responded, his last coherent thought until morning.

Nestling back in and still smiling, Ziva drifted off to sleep, Jethro right beside her. Permanently.