All Tied Up

by Mirandabelle

Part 3 in the "Ties That Bind" Series. Established Tiva WIP. With Ziva home for good, she and Tony move forward with their plans for a wedding. Side plot McAbby and some Jimmy/Breena. AU post season 7. Moving through weddings, babies and general domestic bliss/chaos with the occasional case thrown in. Team and family-centric. Chapter 7 is up finally.

8. Buried Deep

Author's Note: One last reminder that we are AU, and because we are AU Wendy never showed up before this point. I'm sorry this took so long, it took me ages to work out how this all went together. I know this is a long one, but for all my reading and editing, I just couldn't leave out any of these scenes. Thanks for sticking with me.

Content warning: early miscarriage of an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy.

As always - enjoy!

---

Chapter Eight - Buried Deep

Ten Years Ago:

St Regis Hotel, Washington DC (Friday 25th October 2002, 2230)

Tony opened the door to his hotel room, surprised there was a knock so late at night. "Tony... hi..."

"Wendy Alice, the love of my life." He stepped back to let her in. "I thought we weren't seeing each other tonight? Twenty-four hours before the wedding, bad luck and all that? Isn't that why we've paid for two rooms? Or are you wanting to skip straight to the honeymoon part?"

She gave a tight, nervous laugh as he shut the door. "Couldn't sleep."

"I get that. It's a big day tomorrow, lots to think about." He caught her hand and pulled her against him."Got about twenty minutes of Roman Holiday left so we can watch that and call room service for some wine if you want. A little bit of Hepburn and a glass of red, you'll be snoring before you know it."

She ducked away when he bent to kiss her and stepped back, exhaling slowly. "No, there's something I need to tell you.."

He paused, thrown a little by her odd behaviour. "What is it, Wen? Is Julie on your case that the roses are the wrong shade of pink or...?"

"The roses are fine..."

He snapped his fingers with sudden enlightenment. "Oh! She's back to dissing string quartets and Canon in D," he chuckled. "Look, I know she's your sister and all, but she really doesn't understand the difference between classic and cliche."

"No, nothing like that. If only it were that simple. Listen to me, please." She brought her palms together as though she was praying and rested her chin on her thumbs, tapping the sides of her fingers on the bridge of her nose with another heavy exhale. "I'm calling the wedding off, Tony. I can't do this."

Caught off guard, he froze for a moment, his mouth partly open. Wendy stayed silent, watching his confusion eventually meld into a smirk and he wagged his finger at her. "Ha... good one. You almost had me there. Did the guys put you up to this?" Something between pity and pain crossed her face and his smile faded as reality settled in. "Oh... you're serious? Wen... no, it's just cold feet. We'll be fine. Twenty-four hours from now we're going to be holed up in a honeymoon suite in Aruba, and you'll wonder what all the fuss was about."

She covered her mouth and shook her head, eyes wide and sympathetic. "Oh, my sweet hero cop. You always find the bright side, even with all the bad guys you see every day." She sighed heavily. "But it's more than that, I can't explain it. I just... I should never have said yes when you asked me. It's all wrong. I can't marry you... I won't marry you." She stretched out to take his hand. "I'm so sorry Tony, really."

"Don't." He yanked back before she made contact and brought his hand to his mouth, chewing the corner of his thumbnail for a minute, looking like he was on the verge of being sick. He seemed to try a couple of times to offer a comeback, but stopped again, taking in the look in her eyes and realising she was serious. "Can you... can you go before I say something I shouldn't?" He choked out at last.

She nodded slowly. "Yep... yes, I'll be in my room if you want to talk... or you can go home if you want, I'll take care of... well... making tomorrow not happen. Just believe me when I say that I'm so, so sorry." He flinched away from her touch again, and with a lingering look of regret, she was out the door.

---

Batar Zikim (Zikim Training Base), Israel (Saturday 26th October 2002, 0530)

Ziva doubled over on herself caught in a wave of pain. She wondered if sitting alone on the cold steel toilet and bearing this in silence was penance for the way she had wished it had never happened at all. Another wave, and then another, and she balled the neckline of her shirt, Star of David jangling against her dog tags, between her teeth to muffle her cry. There was a sudden feeling of pressure, and then a dull splash. She glanced down quickly, it was smaller than she expected for the agony she had felt. At least the worst of it was over now.

"Bevakashah, s'lakh li," she whispered, a request for forgiveness. "Zeh hakol be-ashmati." It was her fault. She had spent the two days since she'd found out alternating between wishing it wasn't real, cursing herself for being so stupid as to get into this situation in the first place, and ignoring it entirely. Still, no one who held as much bitterness in her soul as she did could ever have sustained life; it was no wonder she'd woken up that morning to discover that her body had made the choice her heart could not. It was ending before it had truly begun. The knowledge that this presence, however brief and unwanted, had gone now hit with a suddenness that she hadn't expected. She pressed her hands hard against her cheekbones, suppressing the emotion, she didn't have time to cry. Even if she had the time, she didn't deserve the relief of tears, there'd been a part of her that had hoped for this exact thing.

Swallowing her feelings, she cleaned up quickly, scrubbing the evidence from her legs and the toilet seat, the streaks of scarlet wiped away as though they were marks on a chalkboard. Somehow it seemed too simple that the evidence could be erased just like that. She rinsed until the water ran clear, hurrying now, she had already missed roll call, any second now someone would come looking for her.

As though she'd willed it, there was a pounding on the door. "David!" She glanced at her reflection quickly, hoping no one would notice her pallor. To say she was sick would have meant medical attention and discovering this, which would inevitably have gotten back to her father. He could never know; pushing through was the only option. Her commanding officer's voice sounded again, impatience growing. "David, miyad!" At once.

"Ken. Ken. Ani ba'a. I am coming." She turned for the door, trying very hard to ignore the little seed of relief that planted itself inside her. Now, she wouldn't have to tell a soul.

---

Anacostia, Washington DC (Friday 25th October 2002, 2130)

There were lights and noise everywhere, and if anyone in the quiet residential street had not been woken by the gunfire a few minutes earlier, the flashing red and blue along with the sirens finished the job. Curious bystanders wrapped in dressing gowns huddled on their driveways, watching as the bodybag atop the stretcher was carefully wheeled out of the house.

At the centre of the action, Major John Delaney and his daughter stood watching too, both of them wrapped in the emergency blankets from the backseat of a police cruiser.

"We're gonna be okay, baby," he promised shakily. "We'll find a way through, Delaneys don't back down - remember?"

She nodded, tearfully. "Okay, Daddy." The thud of the van closing drew a shudder from her and she pressed her face against him. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips in silence to the top of her head, distracted only when a new figure in a dark trenchcoat approached them.

"Major Delaney? Agent Gibbs, NCIS." A flash of a badge and ID in the dim light. "We'll be taking over the investigation from Metro. We don't take the loss of one of our own lightly."

"No sir, we don't." Something in the tone of voice spoke to a part of John that sat deeper than the newly widowed exterior, Marine talking to Marine, and he met the blue eyes steadily and shook the outstretched hand. "Charlotte, this is Agent Gibbs, he's here to help us."

Gibbs's eyes softened as she lifted her head. "Hi, Charlotte," he said, voice low and even. "I'm very sorry about your mom."

"Me too, sir," she murmured, sticking out her hand for a shake too. "Mom called me Charlie." Another sob caught in her throat. John kissed her head again, making a hushing sound.

"No sirs here, call me Gibbs." He bent at the knees lowering himself until he could meet her eyes. "So, Charlie, how old are you?"

"Fourteen, si - Gibbs." Like her father, there was something in the calm, steady way Gibbs spoke that soothed her enough to answer directly.

He nodded gently. "Okay, Charlie. We're going to find out what happened. You trust me on that?"

A car door slammed from the roadside and she jumped at the sound. "Are you here to ask questions? I stayed in my room like Dad said... I... didn't see a lot, but there were three of them when they left and I think one of them was hurt... and they took mom's car. I saw them out the window." The words came out in a rush, as though she was trying to share what she knew before she forgot.

An almost-smirk flickered in the corner of his mouth for a second. "Good girl. You hold onto that for me, we'll talk soon." He brushed her cheek softly and straightened, addressing John again. "First thing, we need to know if you have somewhere safe to stay until we've ruled out this being a targeted attack."

"Uhh..." he looked bewildered for a second, practicalities were a whole new level of reality. "My mother's in Peoria or... Lou's mom... oh, god I have to tell Martha..."

"Perfectly good suite at the St Regis going to waste." A new voice announced.

Gibbs regarded the newcomer with suspicion. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Found myself at a loose end, went into work, saw the dispatch notice." He shrugged. "Figured I'd come make myself useful."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked, with a more significant tone.

"Don't want to talk about it thanks, Boss." He produced a keycard from his pocket. "Room 524 is paid up for the next two nights. Turns out we won't be needing it. I'd appreciate it if you put Burley on protection detail though, I'd rather not go back there myself right now."

There was a long, hard look between the two men. "Your head better be in it," Gibbs growled at length, taking the card. "Well Charlie, looks like your safehouse just got an upgrade."

---

Present-day, Miami, Florida, USA (Saturday, October 20th 2012, 2230 hours)

"Hey Ninja, good shower?"

"I prefer a shower we can both fit in." Ziva emerged from the ensuite bathroom in their Florida hotel. "We are on holiday. You should not be working," she added reprovingly, seeing the interface for Tony's work email on his phone screen.

"I still don't believe we're all here," he said with a laugh. Somehow luck had been on their side, and the whole team had made it down for Jimmy and Breena's wedding. They knew, of course, that all of them being able to attend meant that Thanksgiving, Christmas, or likely both would now fall in a heap. Still, the day had gone off perfectly, the weather still warm enough to swim in the morning, the ceremony in the afternoon, and then dinner and dancing late into the evening. As planned months earlier, Breena wore Abby's comb, the earrings Jenny had given Ziva, and her signet ring. Even with the utterly over-the-top kitsch theme and Jimmy sobbing his way through his vows, the wedding had been a beautiful event. With the newlyweds happily ensconced in the honeymoon suite, Tony and Ziva had retired to their room, sandwiched between one of Breena's cousins on the left and Ducky on the right. Abby and Tim were a few doors down, while Gibbs had taken a simpler motel closer to the airport; he'd arrived shortly before the ceremony and was returning on the earliest flight the following morning. "Just wanted to check that something hadn't come up."

"I see..." Ziva perched on the end of the bed, combing out her damp hair. "Is there something I can do to help you believe we got two nights away?"

"Not remind us that this is our second night already," he groaned. "Do we really have to go back? One more night, fly back early on Monday and head straight to work from Dulles. What do you say?"

She gave a patient sigh. "You can if you want, but I will leave here as planned. I have my glucose test first thing Monday morning, and I am not doing that following a three-hour flight."

"Which one's that again?" Days away from her third trimester, Ziva's midwife Marlee had ordered one last round of tests to make sure everything was as it should be.

"That's the one with the sugar drink and the multiple blood tests... No, you don't have to be there," she added, seeing the reluctance on his face. Tony's aversion to needles was no better than it had been eight years after his run-in with Y-pestis. While determined to attend every pre-natal appointment he could, they'd quickly learned he was no better with blood tests, even if he wasn't the patient. On the other hand, Ziva had no such qualms and usually watched the proceedings, which awed and disgusted Tony in equal measure.

"Good," he said, relieved. "You have to fast for that, right? Are you going to be okay to drive afterwards?"

"Ducky offered to drive me when he found out," she answered, then gave a laugh. "Actually, he did not so much offer as insist. I think he plans to wait in the ultrasound suite with Eleanor. He will pick me up on Monday morning." They both shared a knowing smile, the sonographer who'd given them their first glimpse of the baby had been recommended to them by Ducky. It was clear from the way both doctors had spoken about each other that, at the very least, they were good friends.

"Don't suppose Marlee said we should go to see Eleanor again?" Tony asked hopefully. "Sure, it's good news for Ducky if he's got some dalliance with her, but I'd like another look at how that one's getting on," he said, indicating the baby.

Ziva worked the comb through a tangle as she spoke. "Unfortunately, no. But if we did, it would be because there is something to worry about. I would like to see her again too, but not having to is a good sign. Besides, now we can see her kick, so we know she is growing!"

"Yeah," Tony chuckled. "Please show McGee. He might actually hurl if you do that."

"I am not using our daughter to torture McGee!" Ziva scolded with a laugh. During the reception, the band played the same song the team had danced to at Tony and Ziva's wedding, and now, firmly declaring it "their song" Abby coaxed-begged-blackmailed her reluctant fiance into dancing with Ziva again. It had been fine for the first verse until Ziva leaned in to make a comment about Tony and Abby's antics. Two weeks bigger than the last time, and active from the sugar in the dessert Ziva had just eaten, the baby had booted hard against McGee's ribs. In response, he'd turned a colour no one had seen on him since the last time the team had been afloat. It clashed terribly with the aqua tuxedo Jimmy had convinced him to wear as part of the groom's party, put a swift end to anything resembling a proper dance hold and they finished the song holding hands at arm's length like sixth graders.

"But the look on his face..."

"No!" She cut in firmly, making another attempt to redirect. "We have an entire hotel room for... twelve more hours, surely we do not want to be talking about McGee?"

"Maybe we should talk about how you couldn't stop drooling over the Gremlin's abs in the pool this morning," Tony suggested. Still hyped from the reception, and probably a little drunk, he was far more inclined to tease, missing Ziva's cue.

"Oh please," she laughed, "you stared too!" He had, they all had. Ziva had spent much of the morning in the pool, relishing the weightlessness of floating, and tolerating Abby trying to balance things on her belly, hoping the baby would kick them off. The inflatable doughnut had been too large, but the ping pong ball she'd stolen from the rec room had been met with some success, although Ziva was sure it was just gravity. However, when Jimmy and Breena joined the party, Abby clutched Ziva's arm, demanding she that sit up and look, succeeding instead in completely submerging her.

When Ziva had resurfaced, spluttering and indignant, she was directed to look at Jimmy and what Abby described as "the best-defined six-pack this side of the Mississippi." Despite two full-time field agents (who were, theoretically supposed to maintain a high level of fitness) also being in the pool, Ziva had to agree that the young medical assistant was by far the best built out of any of the guys present. He was quite unconscious of this fact as he cheerfully invited them to play volleyball. Even when Tony loudly declared Ziva to be baptised in 'the name of the Father, Son, and The Washboard Abs' Jimmy remained oblivious although Breena could be heard giggling proudly.

"Tony..." Ziva tried one more time. "I did not mean we should talk about Jimmy and Breena either."

Tony looked puzzled, "Then what did you - oh!" he exclaimed as she stood and quite deliberately let her robe fall. "That's your something blue... You don't want to talk at all, do you?"

---

They flew home as planned, much to Tony's disappointment, and Ziva arrived at work late on Monday morning. Her appointment although by no means fun had passed uneventfully. The long wait had been broken by a text from McGee warning her of a case, followed by one a little while later from Tony simply saying Gibbs and an angry face emoji. Ducky, who had as predicted spent the time with Eleanor, had been called out as well, leaving Ziva to catch a cab back to base when she was finished. On arrival, she noticed that none of the team was at their desks, although there were several sticky notes on her keyboard. A quick glance at the hasty scrawls led her to the decision that tea was necessary to manage them.

As she waited for her drink to steep, she realised that the communal coffee pot was empty. Even if she still couldn't enjoy it herself, her sympathy lingered for those who needed it and set it to brew again. Just as she settled the carafe back in its base, she realised she wasn't alone and turned to face the newcomers. Ned Dorneget was escorting a well-dressed brunette woman with a visitor's badge. "Agent David! Hi!" The young probationary agent paled visibly at the sight of her.

"Hi Dorney," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"Uhh, I was just escorting Ms Miller here to see Director Vance... but Rachel said he wasn't ready for her and I should bring her for a coffee... I..." He flicked his eyes nervously between her belly and the coffee pot. "But it's not ready yet, maybe we should go and see if the break room in accounting has some..."

"It's fine, I don't mind waiting," the woman said. Dorney shot her a desperately uncomfortable look. "Or we could go to accounting?" She offered, clearly puzzled.

"I have it from here, let Rachel know that Ms Miller is with me," Ziva intervened before it got more awkward. Dorney uttered a faint noise of gratitude and all but bolted for the door. She turned to face the newcomer. "Sorry, Agent Dorneget seems to live in fear that I will go into labour in front of him." She explained with an eye roll.

"No matter," Wendy shrugged it off. "Thank you for waiting with me. Agent... David was it?" Once again the name came out wrong.

"Ziva is fine." She turned back to the coffee pot. "Take a seat, Ms Miller, the coffee will be ready in a minute."

"Call me Wendy. I'm here to talk to Director Vance about reporting a case one of your teams is investigating. I write for the Globe." She slid into a chair at the table closest to the bench where Ziva stood. Suddenly the mystery text from Tony made sense.

"Ahh, well I can't discuss that with you unless I have clearance," Ziva warned.

"Oh, I wasn't asking," Wendy said with a slight chuckle. "I used to know someone who worked here, I understand the chain of command. So, I know you're not supposed to assume, but seeing as you already brought it up, how long do you have left until the baby arrives?"

Ziva reached for a paper cup. With the real reason for Wendy's presence being off limits until further notice, of course, she wanted to know about the baby. "Long enough that it feels like forever, yet soon enough that I cannot imagine being ready in time... about twelve weeks. How do you take your coffee?"

"Don't worry, the last month will feel like a decade, you'll have plenty of time," Wendy said with a sympathetic laugh. "Milk, no sugar."

"Do you have children?" Pregnancy small talk with strangers was still not an area Ziva enjoyed particularly, but she was learning, and at the very least it kept them both clear of the case.

Wendy nodded with a smile. "Yes, Fred. He's almost nine. Do you know...?" She gestured towards the bump as Ziva returned to the table.

"Officially no, we are waiting for a surprise." Ziva set the drinks down and slid herself into the chair opposite Wendy. "But I am sure she's a girl."

Wendy picked up her cup and sipped it. "Does your partner think it's a girl too? Fred's father and I disagreed the whole time until we had a scan to find out."

"My husband," Ziva smiled at the correction, Tony had unquestioningly referred to the baby in the feminine since the night she'd returned from Israel and broken the news. Although the memory was pleasant, it was far too intimate to share with a stranger. "Well, if he does not, he knows better than to argue with me!" she deflected with a laugh.

"Good move," Wendy shared the laugh and took another sip. "Is she your first?"

"Oh..." Ziva's smile faltered. Her hand moved unconsciously to cradle her belly before she answered. "You are the first person to have asked that, Wendy..." another long pause. Wendy's eyes narrowed subtly, and Ziva quickly redirected. "Yes, she is our first," she answered softly glancing down.

Wendy gave her a curious, thoughtful look, and opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think the better of it, shook her head and changed the subject. "How long have you been married?"

"Not long," she said, hand still splayed over her stomach. "We got engaged at the start of the year, but never made plans. Then someone decided she wanted to be there for the wedding." She patted affectionately, her smile returning at the sensation of a kick. "Yes, we are talking about you," she added with a laugh.

"Babies work to their own timelines, you'll find out soon enough," Wendy said with a knowing smile. "Congratulations though, I can tell your husband is a special guy from how you smile about him." She glanced at her own left hand, bare of any rings briefly. "So, pregnancy's no walk in the park. What do you miss the most?"

"I have not had a coffee in six months!" They both laughed then, Wendy relating an issue with the pulp in orange juice. They were interrupted when they finished their drinks and Ziva was trying to explain exactly why "things that burst" were so offputting.

"Excuse me, ladies?" Ziva turned to face Rachel, Director Vance's assistant. "The Director is ready for Ms Miller now, and he has requested that you come up as well, Agent David. All I know is that he asked for you too," she held her hands up innocently in response to Ziva's questioning look.

"Very well," Ziva rinsed her empty cup quickly. "Thank you, Rachel, follow me, Wendy."

---

In Vance's office, the atmosphere was less amiable. "I'm not negotiating on this, your team will be liaising with the reporter. This was an extremely public situation and it's already made news reports that a senior officer was involved," Vance said firmly. "I have orders from higher up that we will release the outcome of our investigation ourselves, try to counteract the rumours that are taking place. I've spoken with the editor from the Globe who has assured me that the reporter he's sending over will work with us, and tell the story appropriately. " Neither Gibbs nor Tony looked impressed with this command.

"I don't have time for this Leon..." Gibbs growled. "Got a murder to solve. We already let this guy down once ten years ago when we didn't find his wife's shooter. We're not doing that again."

"Your team will make time. And if you value your job do not use those words in front of the reporter." Vance turned his head at the knock on the door and rose to open it. "That will be her now. Ah, Agent David good to see you too, I trust everything went well this morning?"

Tony turned towards the door, some of the aggravation leaving his face on hearing Ziva's voice. "Thank you, Director. Yes, we're both doing well."

He nodded, pleased. "Good to hear, and you must be Ms Miller?" There was a polite murmur in response.

"Come in, both of you and take a seat. Thank you, Rachel. Hold any calls until we're done here." He stepped back to let the women enter the room.

"Hey, pretty lady... Wendy?" Tony's affectionate greeting for Ziva was cut short, his smile quickly replaced by an expression of shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Tony!" Wendy paused in the doorway, sounding equally surprised. "Well, that's a warmer welcome than I expected after this long."

Vance cleared his throat before Tony could offer a rebuttal. "You've met before then?" he inquired, ushering Wendy further into the room and shutting the door firmly.

"Well, that's one way of putting it." Tony nodded stiffly, still looking uncomfortable. "Are you okay, Zi?"

She glanced around the room, puzzled at the sudden tension. "Fine?" It was more of a question than an answer. "Why wouldn't I be? I got in about fifteen minutes ago and was having coffee with Wendy until the Director called us." Ziva found herself caught in the middle of Tony's deer-in-the-headlights expression, Wendy's uncomfortable surprise, rapidly being covered by a professional coolness and Gibbs' generically unimpressed glare. She took a step backwards, getting out of the odd staring match that was taking place, and ended up closer to Gibbs.

"You had coffee with her?" Tony echoed blankly, pointing at Wendy. "You two sat down and had a coffee with each other?"

It was Wendy's turn to look confused now. "Yes, Tony. What's so strange about that?" She turned instead to Gibbs, greeting him politely but showing no more inclination to sit than anyone else. Everyone was scattered around the office, ill at ease. "Good to see you again."

"Wendy." He gave a curt nod in return. "Still with the Evening Tribune?"

"The Globe, now," she replied.

Tony now made a noise somewhere between a choke and a scoff of disbelief. "You stayed in touch?" he managed.

"It's called reading, DiNozzo." The eye-roll was evident in the team leader's tone, even without the body language. "You should try it sometime."

"Please don't tell me you were married to her, Gibbs," Vance said sarcastically.

Gibbs snorted quietly. "Not me."

Suddenly, the penny dropped for Ziva. "Oh... Wendy. I get the photo..." she murmured.

Wendy glanced at the others for translation "Photo?" she mouthed. Tony wouldn't make eye contact, and Gibbs offered a mysterious smirk, although Ziva felt his pinky brush hers reassuringly.

Vance looked perplexed for a second too, less used to Ziva's muddled idioms than the men who worked with her more often. "I think you mean picture, but whichever one it is, I don't have it. Someone needs to fill me in, now!" He demanded. "I take it you all know each other?" He looked between the four of them expectantly.

Wendy recovered first. "Ton... Agent DiNozzo and I were engaged several years ago. Obviously, that did not turn out as planned."

Vance sighed and rubbed his face. There had to be thousands of reporters in the DC area. Naturally, the only one with a personal history with his MCRT had shown up. "Of course you were," he said wearily. "So, Ms Miller, you've also met Agents Gibbs and David before?"

"I met Gibbs when Tony and I were still together, but I only met Ziva a few minutes ago," she explained.

"So, you've never met Agent David before today? You have no idea who she is?" Wendy shook her head curiously at these new questions. "Well, I hope you two got off on the right foot because she will be your liaison."

That finally stirred a response out of Tony, "Director! You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack, DiNozzo. You and Gibbs made it very clear that neither of you was willing to work with a reporter." There was an odd smirk around Vance's mouth, he obviously found strange dark humour in the situation. "With Agent David unable to assist with fieldwork, this seems like an excellent use of her time."

"That was before I knew it was Wendy!" he exclaimed. "When did you stop teaching four-year-olds to sing The Wheels On The Bus anyway?"

Wendy looked him up and down thoughtfully. "About the time you stopped dressing like one of the T-birds and started wearing thousand-dollar suits, I imagine. Are you saying you want to work with me?" She finished in disbelief.

He looked horrified at the suggestion. "No! That's not what I mean. I don't want Ziva working with her either, Director. McGee can do it."

The Director's gaze narrowed in Tony's direction. "And which part of you is making that request, DiNozzo?" he asked in a warning voice.

"Whichever one is least likely to get me fired," he mumbled, realising the futility of arguing that line further. "Which is none of them. Consider it withdrawn."

"Look, I know you like to be in charge of things Tony, but I get the idea this is not your call," Wendy said impatiently. "Can we please just get on with it? Ziva?"

With Wendy's attention on her, Ziva had to decide fast how she felt about it all. Although she had worked out how Wendy fitted into the situation, it was clear that Wendy still had no idea why Tony was being so difficult, and just expected professionalism from one woman to another. The absolutely bewildered look on Tony's face made it clear he hadn't expected the sudden appearance of his ex-fiance any more than the rest of them, and judging by the way he glanced at her, half his worry stemmed from whatever reaction he was expecting.

"Of course," she said with a nod and exaggerated calm, hoping Tony would get the message. This was about the case and work, not any personal connections, she was prepared to leave their marriage out of it for the sake of keeping everything on an even keel. "I'll need time to be read in first-"

"Would you stop talking to me like you know me? It's been ten years a lot's changed!" Tony shot back, cutting Ziva off. "I'm not the same person you walked out on the night before our wedding." Ziva sighed, Tony had completely missed her cue.

"I know how long it's been!" Wendy scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not the same person either! What's your problem, Tony?"

Vance retreated back behind his desk with a sigh of his own. "Do you want to handle this, Gibbs?" He gestured vaguely. "You're the expert when it comes to exes and cases overlapping."

"Nope," Gibbs shook his head. "DiNozzo, you want to do the honours?"

"Honours?" Tony repeated blankly.

"Oh for god's sake!" Ziva exclaimed impatiently. She crossed the floor in a couple of brisk steps, putting herself in front of Wendy. The women assessed each other quietly for a moment. "Wendy, given the situation, we weren't properly introduced before."

"Ziva..." Tony began. "Do I get to..."

"It's fine, Tony." Ziva shook her head, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, now he wanted to keep quiet. "I've got this."

Tony tried again, weakly. "Because I'd really rather we didn't..."

Still facing each other, both women extended a hand in his direction, clicking and raising their index fingers at him. "Not now, Tony!" they exclaimed in unison, in a tone so similar that, save for Ziva's accent, it might as well have come from the same mouth.

Tony recoiled visibly. "Oh, I'm screwed," he muttered. Vance swallowed a laugh and sat down again. Even Gibbs seemed to be having a hard time keeping his mouth in a straight line. Wendy looked at Ziva curiously for a second, realisation becoming clear on her face.

"Oh... I see now," she said. She drew a line between Tony and Ziva with the finger that still pointed at the stunned Senior Field Agent. There was no accusation in the gesture, only an action connecting snippets of information. "That could only have come from someone who's lived with Tony."

"Yes," Ziva nodded. "If I had known when we were introduced, I would have corrected things. I still go by my birth name at work. We should start over, Ziva DiNozzo, Tony's wife."

There was a moment of tense silence as the two women locked eyes again. Although Ziva's tone of voice had been pleasant and calm, her meaning was clear and she straightened her shoulders, her body language drawing a firm but unspoken line in the sand about what exactly she would accept from Wendy in this situation. A second later, Wendy nodded, accepting the message Ziva sent. An understanding was reached, and they both relaxed.

"I'm still Wendy Miller, but I guess he never told you my surname before?" Ziva shook her head and they shared an awkward but kind of understanding laugh before they turned to face Tony, who still looked like he had just been slapped. "Well, when you said a lot's changed... Congratulations, Tony."

Tony regarded her with suspicion despite the genuine tone. "Thanks, I think?" he choked out uncertainly. "Is it always so warm in here?" He ran his finger inside his collar nervously.

"Well," Wendy turned back to Vance. "Who am I working with then, Director?"

Vance rubbed his forehead and looked between the four people in the room. Gibbs' mood seemed to be more to do with Wendy's occupation than who she was as a person. Tony looked thoroughly uncomfortable in general, while Ziva and Wendy were still sizing each other up although with curiosity than animosity. Suddenly, he was struck by the similarity in their appearance, petite, brunette, and well-dressed with apparently expensive taste in boots. He choked on a dry chuckle.

"You know what? Duke it out amongst yourselves. I don't think I need to remind any of you what will happen if I have any complaints about unprofessional behaviour from Ms Miller," he said at last. "I also think you all understand the importance of ensuring this investigation reaches a swift and palatable conclusion."

Gibbs was clearly in the mood to make no promises. "It'll reach whatever conclusion it needs to."

Vance sighed again. "Why don't I like the sound of that? Dismissed. Ms Miller, please stay. We have a few more details to cover before you get started..."

---

The three MCRT agents filed out, making their way down the stairs in silence.

"Okay, what did I miss?" Ziva spoke first as they reached the squad room floor. "What is big enough that we have a reporter on the case?"

"Shootout, broad daylight, the middle of Anacostia. Marine Colonel John Delaney got in the middle of it. Two dead, including the Colonel. One more in ICU. Witnesses said the Colonel shot first. Journalists were there before we were, and it's already being televised as vigilante justice." Gibbs said.

"Wait, are we just going to pretend that didn't happen?" Tony exclaimed. "That we haven't just been ordered to work with Wendy? That my wife and ex-fiance didn't just have some kind of... what the hell was that anyway? Psychic connection? Women's intuition? Supernatural mind melding?"

"No happier about it than you are, DiNozzo." Gibbs shrugged. Ziva slid behind her desk, organising the sticky notes left into something resembling an order of priority. Cold case - 2002 and a file number was scribbled on one, daughter, Charlotte, FLETC on another, and a third was wholly illegible. "Ziva's got the lead with liaising. Only one who seems to be acting like an adult right now."

Tony didn't believe him, at least about the first half of the sentence. "Oh, I doubt you feel even half as awkward as I do right now, Boss. Zi, are you really okay?"

"I got a medical student during my blood test this morning, and I have had enough sugar to last me a month, that drink is disgusting. But other than that, yes, I am fine." She rolled up a sleeve, revealing a bruised needle-stick wound. Tony winced sympathetically. "The other side is just as bad. But as far as Wendy goes, there is no problem there. She seems nice."

"Yeah," he scoffed quietly. "That's what she wants you to think."

"Tony! You liked her enough at one point to propose, yes?" She waited for the grudging nod. "Besides, if she had stayed, who would I have met sitting at that desk seven years ago, hmm?" One eyebrow raised meaningfully.

"Yeah but..."

"But what?" she asked. "We have been told to work with her. I can separate your history from what we have to do now. The rest of this talk can wait until we are home, I need to catch up on the case."

"Like I said, the only adult. Going to get Charlie from FLETC. DiNozzo, bring Ziva up to speed." Gibbs ordered, walking briskly towards the elevator. "On the case!"

---

"Of all the cases, in all the towns, in all the world..." Tony was grumbling. Ziva, thumbing through files ignored his groans. "It had to be this exact one? This case?"

"What about this case Tony?" She asked, eyes still on her papers. McGee had returned upstairs in time to give a slightly more objective retelling of the facts. Ducky's latest guest was the same Delaney - although he'd been promoted in the intervening years - who Gibbs and Tony had attended the night Wendy ended the engagement.

Three masked men had broken into Delaney's house late at night and fatally shot his wife Staff Sergeant Louise Delaney who had fallen asleep on the sofa watching a movie when she woke up and tried to stop them. Delaney had heard the ruckus, taken his own weapon downstairs and shot twice at the intruders who had fled with Louise's keys and taken off in her car while he was attempting to stop the bleeding. By the time the police arrived, they were long gone. Delaney's statement at the time said he believed he had hit one of the attackers, and a few drops of blood at the scene corroborated this, however, there were no reports in the following days of unexplained bullet wounds presenting at local emergency rooms, and no prior DNA records. Louise's car had been found dumped and burned out so thoroughly that the forensic scientist at the time (who Abby had replaced three months later) had been unable to find any remaining evidence to track them. In time the case had gone cold, despite their best efforts to solve it, and remained a sore spot in all of their minds. Meanwhile, Charlie, his daughter was on her way to becoming an NCIS agent and was training at FLETC in Cheltenham. On this point, Gibbs had been incredibly clear that he would be the only one to speak with her during the investigation.

"Sergeant Delaney's shooting was the first case I was on after Wendy called it off. Walked out of the hotel and straight back to work... and Colonel Delaney's murder is the case she ends up reporting? There has got to be some kind of karmic retribution going on."

"Pretty sure karma falls under Rule 39," McGee murmured. He was trying to load surveillance videos from a store across the road hopeful that the camera angle had caught even part of the shooting.

Tony was unconvinced. "Almost ten years to the day? You're telling me that's not one hell of a coincidence, McGee?"

"Did any of the witnesses give you the same story?" Ziva attempted to redirect, now thumbing through a bewildering array of events from the Colonel being unarmed and being accosted, to the Colonel being the one to instigate the shootout. Abby was working on ballistics and recreating the scene as fast as she could in an attempt to corroborate any of the information they'd been given.

"No luck." McGee shook his head. "Abby's working on ballistics as fast as she can, she said the lab is a no-baby zone till she's done, by the way, something she's swabbing with is no good for you."

She nodded, taking in that piece of advice, before continuing on with the active case. "So of the three involved, two are dead and the third is unconscious, and there are eight witnesses who cannot get their stories straight. Including one who seems to have imagined the whole thing to be a 'pistols at dawn' style duel." Ziva sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Good, and I have to convince..." she caught the look on Tony's face, "the reporter that we are investigating this thoroughly. Right now, I am going to go and talk to her now and try to get her to give us all some breathing room."

"Hey, if you word it right she'll give you ten years of breathing room," Tony murmured sarcastically. This time he caught the look on her face. "Sorry, Zi... I'm not trying to..."

She cut him off firmly, but not unkindly."I know you're not. And I also know this running commentary is how you work things out. But I have had so much sugar today that it feels like my skin is crawling, and there is heartburn radiating from my ears to my kneecaps. My patience is hanging on by a thread." She swept her files into a bundle against her chest as she stood. "I love you, and we can talk properly when you are ready, but it will drive me crazy if I have to listen to this anymore. McGee, he is all yours, I will be in the conference room with Wendy."

"You owe me for this," McGee mouthed silently before raising his voice. "Thanks, Ziva, emotionally repressed Tony is my favourite afternoon entertainment," he said with heavy sarcasm.

It worked, Tony was immediately distracted. "I've seen your superhero jammies McFreud. You're one to talk about being repressed," he shot back.

"Really? I'm not the one who..." 'McFreud' began indignantly. Thankful for the diversion, Ziva left them to it and headed for the stairs.

---

Tony did manage to redirect his energies into a more productive conversation at home later that evening. Ziva and Wendy had stayed more or less out of sight for the rest of the day, and Wendy had eventually gone home, at which point Ziva had sequestered herself in the gym working off the last unsettled feelings from the glucose drink. Gibbs had stayed invisible, although he was glimpsed heading to the morgue with a young woman at his side. "So... What did you talk about with her?" An attempt at sounding casual, even when paired with a lean against the doorjamb, wasn't convincing.

"Not you." Ziva was sitting in the centre of the soon-to-be nursery, a flatpack that was allegedly a bookcase in pieces around her. Currently, she was searching for the Allen key, which had apparently vanished. She shuffled two 'Part A' pieces and shook out the instruction manual. "The only way it's going to work between us is if we stay professional, we spoke about the case... only the case. I am not getting in the middle of what happened between you. If you want answers, you'll have to find them yourself."

"Who said I want answers?" he shot back, again a little too quickly to really sound disinterested.

She gave him that look that said she wasn't buying it. "Tony, she broke it off without explanation the night before your wedding. Of course, you have things you want to know. Look..." she sighed, and rattled the bag of fittings hopefully, but unsuccessfully. "When it comes to my exes, things ended long before it was that serious..."

Tony snorted quietly. "Or you killed 'em."

"But right now, the woman you were going to marry is in front of our noses," she continued ignoring the remark. "And if you want to use this opportunity to find out why, I will not stop you. Where is it?" She flapped the instructions again and leaned back on her hands with a frustrated growl. "These things are more trouble than they're worth!"

"Just once," Tony groaned, "can't you be one of those crazy wives who threatens to castrate me for even thinking about an ex? Stand up." He crossed to where she sat and took her hands, pulling her to her feet. "Here. Someone was hiding it." He stooped and presented the little L-shaped hex tool; it had slid off Ziva's leg where she'd balanced it and disappeared beneath her belly when she looked down.

She swiped the key with an impatience not directed at him. "Thank you," She considered it for a second turning it around in her hand before tossing it into the middle of the scattered components. "I will get Abby to do it when the case is done. She loves puzzles."

Tony looked surprised. "Not Gibbs?"

"The only way I could insult him further is if I asked him to assemble it with power tools! He has strong feelings about flat packs." Ziva laughed momentarily but refused to be distracted, using their proximity to capture his face in her hands. "Whether or not you talk to Wendy about what happened is up to you. Do not try and get me to forbid it so you do not have to decide."

"Can you stop mind-reading me already?" he grumbled. "I don't know how I feel about it yet."

She kissed him softly, gentling her tone. "That is fine too, but don't use me as your way out of it. Everybody has some moment in their life that they will always wonder about. How things would have been if it had gone differently. This is yours."

"Really?" Tony tried to deflect again. "What's yours then?"

She shook her head lightly. "Ah, we're not talking about me right now, are we, neshama? Look, Wendy and I will work in the conference room as much as possible, so you do not have to go out of your way to avoid her. But, I think she would like to talk to you."

"Oh!" Tony's expression was gleeful, clearly thinking he'd caught her out. "So you did talk about me?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, we already reached an arrangement in Vance's office."

"Can you stop saying we? You have no idea how weird it is to hear you grouping yourself with her like that. You two are nothing alike!" Ziva smirked; apparently, Tony was the only one who didn't see the similarity. McGee and Abby had both not-so-subtly hinted at the likeness during the day, and Gibbs' wry smile had said more than his words would have. "And what do you mean arrangement? The only thing I heard was you two having some weird psychic connection."

"It was not psychic Tony, it was all in the body language. But Wendy knows where she stands with me. She will not ask me about our marriage, and I will not ask her about what you had back then." She leaned in and kissed him lightly. "If you want to tell me about it I will listen, but do not ask me to get involved between you two."

"Hmmm." Tony didn't look impressed, apparently, the line about Ziva being the overly possessive wife was not entirely a joke. As far as he was concerned, it really would have been easier if she'd just said no. "And you're okay with this? Really okay?"

Ziva nodded gently, but sincerely. "Yes, really. It was over ten years ago Tony, whatever was there then is obviously not now. I promise this is not going to affect our marriage, I am not jealous, and I am not worried." She thought for a second and the corner of her mouth twitched. "It will only be as weird as you make it."

"Great," he sighed. "Like I said earlier, I'm screwed."

---

It did get weird the following day, but despite Tony's predictions, it had nothing to do with Wendy. Given that she was required to be accompanied by an agent her whole time on site, and that removed Ziva from her ability to work on the case itself, they decided it was best for everyone involved if Wendy only visited towards the end of the day, so she and Ziva could head to the conference room to debrief and provide updates. The two women kept to their agreement, sticking only to the case, or other completely neutral areas of discussion. Although during some downtime, Ziva did ask about Wendy's experience with prams and infant seats and she shared what she knew, allowing for the nine years interval since she'd needed the information herself. However, the conversation was polite and entirely surface-level, no deeper than what would be exchanged between two strangers passing each other on the street.

Gibbs remained mostly absent, although he checked in occasionally, frustrated by McGee's long-winded explanations about the difficulties with decoding the video files they'd obtained from local surveillance cameras, and annoyed that he was down an investigator while Ziva worked with Wendy. The third victim/suspect remained stable but very much out to it in hospital and therefore Otherwise, he seemed to be elsewhere, occupied with the Colonel's daughter. Tony had filled them in on Gibbs' promise to Charlie the night of her mother's death, which heightened the significance of solving either one of the shootings as soon as possible.

The rest of the time, Tony avoided the situation at all costs. Between the reminder that they hadn't solved the first murder ten years earlier and Wendy's presence, he was not in the best frame of mind. Fortunately, the complexity of the current case and conflicting evidence helped keep him busy enough without manufacturing excuses, though he seemed to have plenty of those too. However, when he tried pressing Ziva for details about Wendy again, he quickly found she was unwilling to play into it. She switched to work mode, responding with an indifferent formality that she usually reserved for lawyers and commanding officers. It didn't take him long to decide he much preferred living with Mrs DiNozzo rather than Agent David, and he dropped the topic.

Things became weirder still when a bullet Ducky had found, lodged in the other corpse that didn't match any of the weapons collected at the crime scene. It got more confusing when Abby declared that not only had it not been fired from any of the guns she'd been given to process, that it had not been fired that day at all. It got weirder still when to the best of Ducky's estimations based on scarring and cyst formation, it appeared that the bullet had been in there for several years. This, of course, didn't provide any new answers but offered a whole host of new questions.

It was Wendy's turn to become annoyed, her editor wanted a good article soon, and the dead-end leads were not conducive to that either and there was only so much stalling under the guise of understanding the criminal investigative process that Ziva could help provide.

"Ziva," Wendy sighed. It was the third day, and she had returned for another update. "There has to be something you can tell me. My boss and readers aren't going to accept an inconclusive result on all of this, especially with it being linked to a cold case from ten years ago."

Ziva met Wendy's gaze with determination. "My boss is not going to accept an inconclusive result either," she replied sharply. "You know everything I know. We cannot fabricate details to allow you to finish your article."

Wendy sighed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I'm not asking you to, I just... that can't be all of it. Whenever Tony-" She stopped herself abruptly, this was the first time either of them had referred to Tony by anything other than Agent DiNozzo or referenced their history together, breaking the unspoken rule they had established. "Sorry, I know we're trying to keep our personal lives out of this."

Ziva paused. Annoyance flashed across her face for a second and Wendy tried to apologise again. "No, it is okay," she said, her face softening. The intimate knowledge they both shared but had been avoiding mentioning was exactly what made it possible to explain this situation to the woman she was working with. "Of all the reporters we could have been assigned, you may be the one who best understands what we are dealing with. You've seen Tony at work before, you will know how hard he - and all of us - are working. Surely you learned back then that results, interviews, and evidence all take time. It is not like television, it can sometimes be days. We are doing our best but we also need to be patient."

Wendy nodded, her frustration easing as she listened to Ziva's words. She could recognise the proverbial olive branch that was being offered, although she recognised the subtle possession in the way Ziva's left hand splayed over her belly as she spoke, a reminder of where Tony's affections now lay. "Does he still talk it out?" she asked, a peace offering of her own. "This constant stream of words, like he's thinking with his mouth instead of his brain?"

Ziva chuckled, a fond smile crossing her face. "Yes!" she agreed emphatically. "It is endless, as though he is afraid of silence."

Wendy nodded again, a sense of understanding settling in. "Well, at least some things never change," she said with a faint smile.

Ziva smiled back, a glimmer of camaraderie between them. "Indeed," she replied. "He has always had a way with words, and often too many of them!" A knock at the door drew their attention, and Ziva rose to answer it.

"We're heading to the hospital, the other shooter, Shane Leonard, is awake at last. And Tony sent these," McGee explained, subtly palming her mid-afternoon dose of antacids he'd brought up. "Abby wants someone ASAP too, or specifically, she said 'tell Ziva it's safe to come down.'"

"Thank you." She winked, adding double meaning to the words. Truth be told, the information was the smaller part of her gratitude, the tablets now dissolving under her tongue were far more welcome. She bid McGee farewell and turned back to her temporary colleague. "This may be the 'something' you were looking for, Wendy, you should probably come with me."

---

What Ziva hadn't planned on when she invited Wendy to follow her downstairs was that Tony had received the same summons from Abby. For the first time since the awkward standoff in Vance's office, Wendy and Tony were in the same room.

Tony was already in Abby's lab when they arrived, still sharing a mutual chuckle about Tony's loquacity as they entered the room. Their laughter faded suddenly on realising he was there too, and an uneasy tension settled over them all.

"Tony!" Ziva said with surprise, "I thought you were going to the hospital with McGee?"

"Nope. Gibbs decided he was going." Tony answered shortly, eyes flicking suspiciously between the two of them. "So are you two best friends now or something?"

"Tony!" Wendy objected. "You don't get to-"

Ziva put herself firmly between the pair and cut in, her tone clipped. "And which part of you is making that enquiry, Tony, my husband or my senior agent?" She echoed Vance's words from the first meeting. Tony's jaw tightened uncomfortably; that voice meant trouble whatever hat he wore. He also didn't miss the possession in her tone. "Husband" had been specifically used to cut off Wendy's complaint. No one got to tell him off but Ziva. A hint of a smile flickered in the corner of his mouth but faded at Ziva's narrowed eyes. Staking her claim or not, he'd overstepped and he was pretty sure he'd hear about it later.

"Oooh, this is fascinating!" Abby cut in, eyes bouncing from person to person with a grin. "We are so going to talk about this later, Zivvie. But can we focus on my genius for a second? I know who shot Louise Delaney ten years ago." The announcement had the desired effect, and the tension dissipated quickly.

"And sometimes, Wendy, it is like television, and everything falls into place all at once," Ziva murmured, turning to face her friend. "What do you have, Abby?"

"This!" She picked up a specimen jar and rattled a very old, corroded bullet at them. "The bullet Ducky dug out of Eddie, the guy who shot Colonel Delaney. When a bullet stays in the body, especially for that long, it starts to leech lead into the bloodstream, and with a bit of scientific brilliance, you can work out how long it's been in there... in this case..." She rattled the jar again, for emphasis. "About ten years, give or take. I can't be exact, but it did make me think. I had Gibbs get Charlie to bring in her father's personal weapon, and you'll never guess...

Wendy guessed first. "Colonel Delaney did hit one of the intruders the night Louise was killed?"

Abby hesitated, her eyes narrowed, not liking Wendy entering the Team Gibbs dynamic she valued. "Yes," she nodded. "The striation pattern is an exact match for Delaney's personal weapon. It's as distinct as a fingerprint," she added, her words laced with condescension and a hint of hostility in Wendy's direction.

"Breathe, Abs," Tony warned softly. Wendy and Ziva shared a questioning, silent eyebrow arch at his subtle defence. "So the guy who shot Colonel Delaney four days ago..."

"Is the same person who shot his wife, Sergeant Delaney ten years ago." Ziva finished. "Presumably they recognised each other again after all this time?"

Tony shrugged, more at ease now that at least one case looked like it was coming to a close. "Hopefully that's what the Bossman and McGuff The Crime Dog are finding out now. Actually, it's just like the movie..."

"He still does that too?" Wendy interrupted. Ziva nodded with a wry smile. "Looks like some things stayed the same after all, Tony." She smirked.

Tony spun to face Wendy properly for the first time, looking offended. "Like the way you interrupt me all the time. That hasn't changed either."

"Old habits die hard," she shot back. There was another tense pause. Ziva bristled although whether she was ready to snap at Wendy for overstepping the boundaries they'd drawn, or Tony for making her job harder was unclear, and Abby's eyes were wide and cautious.

To everyone's surprise, Tony chuckled and nodded his approval. "John McClane, Die Hard 2... nice one, Wen." There was a collective sigh of relief as he turned back to face Abby. "So, Abs... It's never just one detail with you, what else have you found out?"

---

Wendy double-checked the address she'd been given before knocking on the front door the following evening.

Ziva opened the door a minute later. "Wendy, come in." Wendy stepped over the threshold and hung her coat. Seeing Ziva's bare feet beneath the ankles of her yoga pants, she toed off her shoes too, before following Ziva through the entryway and into the lounge. The piano earned a reminiscent smile. "Thank you for coming, Tony will be down in a minute."

"Thank you for inviting me," she returned a little formally. This invitation to glimpse into Tony's new life had been unexpected and still felt a little strange. "I thought you might like to see the finished article, Director Vance approved the change of tone - it portrays you all in a much more positive light. It's running tomorrow." She drew a piece of paper from her black leather portfolio.

Ziva took the sheet with a smile. "Turning Pain Into Purpose: A Special Agent's Inspiring Journey." She read aloud, scanning the rest of the article quickly. "I see Gibbs still insisted you keep him anonymous?"

Wendy laughed and nodded. "I could hear the discussion about that between him and the Director through the door!" After the awkward showdown in the lab, they'd all settled into an easier workflow, which had spared Tony the dressing down from Ziva he'd expected. The two women had been sitting at Ziva's desk trading last-minute notes for her article when Gibbs had appeared with Charlie in tow. Now 25, and freshly graduated from FLETC, she wanted to meet the rest of the team that had been responsible for identifying her parents' killer; the same man ten years apart.

Between the video footage McGee had finally decoded, and a mumbled confession from Shane, the one survivor of the shooting, they had finally pieced it all together. Colonel Delaney had recognised Eddie as the man who had shot his wife through Facebook Marketplace where he was selling an old gaming console. He'd arranged a meeting to purchase it. As was their usual MO, the plan had been for Shane to jump the buyer a few yards down the road so that the two men ended up with the cash and the console. However, it had taken a turn when the Colonel asked Eddie to confess to shooting his wife. Shane averred it had been calm at first, and that Delaney had been extremely level in making this request, only wanting justice for his wife's death. Unsurprisingly Eddie was not on board and pulled his gun. Shane had run in to try and defuse the situation, but Eddie had fired, hitting Colonel Delaney in the thigh, He'd staggered and fallen but managed to draw his own service weapon, and with better aim than the night of the robbery, put a bullet in Eddie's chest. Shane had reached for Eddie's fallen gun, but Delaney had fired one last time, wounding Shane, before passing out from blood loss.

However, it was Charlie's heartfelt gratitude, especially towards Gibbs, that had caught Wendy's attention. Charlie had shared that losing her mother at a young age had been challenging, but her father had done an admirable job as a solo parent. Despite feeling angry and hurt when the case went cold, she had never forgotten how Gibbs had spoken to her on the night of her mother's death, offering her a sense of calm and safety. This memory had a profound impact on her, and as she finished high school, the decision to become an agent herself had been clear. She wanted to help other families who experienced loss as she did and ensure that no family went without answers. A brief conversation with Charlie revealed her main angle for the article - a resilient teenager overcoming tragedy and honouring her parents' legacy with the assistance of NCIS. While the article also mentioned the self-defence nature of Colonel Delaney's actions, it had taken on a lighter, feel-good spin that was better received by all. Wendy had barely slept the night before, putting the finishing touches on her work for her editors' approval.

Tony appeared in the doorway at this point. "Wendy, sorry to keep you waiting, had to change a light bulb upstairs before Zi stood on a chair and did it herself." He cast a reproachful, yet affectionate glance in her direction. Ziva didn't offer any apologies, simply handing him Wendy's article. "Hey, not bad for a kindergarten teacher," he said after skimming it.

"Thanks." She smiled, shifting her feet on the rug for a moment. She glanced between Tony and Ziva, obviously hesitating.

Ziva nodded understandingly, "I will be upstairs, I have a bookcase to put together," she said tactfully, laying a hand on Tony's cheek. "Call me when you are done, neshama." Her lips replaced her hand before she headed for the stairs.

Alone now, Tony and Wendy regarded each other awkwardly for a minute.

"You realise what the date is, don't you Tony?" Wendy asked, not quite meeting his gaze.

Tony scoffed quietly. "The night you left? Yeah, kinda hard to forget that one." He shrugged. "We gonna do this?"

Wendy nodded and there was another long moment of tense silence. "So..." she began.

"So," Tony agreed, scratching his head. "Uhh... take a seat, I guess." He put himself in Ziva's usual spot before Wendy had a chance to occupy that corner.

Wendy settled herself, still somewhat stiffly a couple of cushions down. "This is a really nice place, Tony. You've done well. You look good." She glanced around the living room, the wooden chest near the TV looked familiar too, but everything else was new to her.

He nodded and shrugged. "Yeah, thanks, so do you. Pretty different from the rookie cop and the kindergarten teacher, huh? Where are you these days?"

"Over in Arlington, it's just Fred and me most of the time, he and Jared Vance were actually at the same elementary school until Jared moved up. Fred's dad's a PCA, more into his bottom line than people. We separated when Fred was three. Mom's in and out a lot, she helps with Fred when I'm working, and Julie's up in Boston now."

His eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Arlington? Fancy. Bet Julie approves." They both managed a laugh before Tony took a steadying breath and faced her directly. "So, Wendy Alice, tell me why."

Wendy studied her fingernails intently for a moment. "Because it wasn't meant to be, look at what you've got now. All of this was waiting for you instead."

Tony shook his head, not buying it. "Don't try that. You never believed in that 'meant to be' stuff. Why?" he pressed.

She sighed heavily, eventually meeting his eyes, her own sincere but regretful. "Because I wasn't ready, Tony. I thought I was, and I wasn't. You were sweet, and kind and wonderful... and I was too broken to see how good I had it."

"Could've brought it up any day sooner than the night before our wedding," he muttered, not quite able to hide the bitterness in his tone. "Or you know, not said yes when you didn't mean it."

"I wanted to mean it." She shrugged apologetically. "Do you really think I would have given up that hero cop I fell in love with and married the next stuffed shirt who came along if I was really in a good place?"

The tension in Tony's jaw softened a little bit. "Guess not," he acknowledged. "But still, you've got to admit, that was a lousy way to play it."

"Yeah, I messed that up pretty bad, huh?" Wendy agreed candidly. She hesitated before adding, "Look, even if I'd stayed we wouldn't have lasted."

He looked confused for a second. "Sure we would have," he said gently. Despite the reassurance, it was clear that it wasn't a hopeful thing for the present, only for what had been planned in the past.

Wendy sighed, a mixture of fondness and melancholy. "Still always finding the bright side I see. But, even if I'd gone through with it, I would have pushed you away eventually." She nodded in the direction of the stairs. "Besides, you never looked at me the same way you do Ziva. I've seen you together for maybe half an hour in total this week, and most of that, I think she's been trying not to choke you. But even with that, there's something there, that we never had. You two are a good match."

"Yeah." A smile crept around Tony's face, the exact look Wendy had just described appearing in his eyes. "She's something else," he acknowledged, his voice warm.

Wendy smiled too, with a tinge of regret. "I can tell. I know it doesn't mean much now, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm not asking you to forgive any of it. But at the very least, do you understand?"

Tony exhaled noisily and let his shoulders drop. "Yeah... I guess I do. Really, I should probably be saying thanks for not going through with it... Like you said this was waiting for me, Ziva was waiting."

Wendy laughed incredulously. "You just said-!"

Tony cut her off gently, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I said that you never believed in it. But you know that I always did." He looked at Wendy with a mixture of gratitude and understanding. "I get it, Wen, at least as much as I'm ever going to, I guess, so thanks for that."

Wendy regarded him carefully for a minute before deciding there wasn't any sarcasm in his final words. "You're welcome, and Tony... I did love you."

Tony hesitated for a second, not quite sure how to respond. "I know," he managed at last.

Wendy couldn't help but smile at his response. "Empire Strikes Back, good one," she said, a genuine, albeit tentative, laugh escaping her lips. "Try not to drive Ziva completely around the bend with your movie quotes, will you? She's good for you."

"She is," he agreed. "And Wendy... I did too, you know?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know." They stood and made their way towards the door, Tony pausing at the bottom of the stairs to call Ziva back down. Judging by the tension in her voice when she replied, it wasn't a moment too soon, and he made a mental note to invite Abby to come and finish the flatpack before he turned back to face Wendy.

"I'd say see you round, but I don't think we're gonna do that," he said. Sliding her shoes back on, Wendy shook her head, they'd reached peace, but wouldn't intentionally seek each other's company again. "How bout 'here's looking at you, kid'?" He offered with a grin.

Wendy laughed and groaned at the same time. "You're an idiot! This is not the beginning of a beautiful friendship." All the same, she offered a brief, friendly hug. "You take care."

"Yeah," he agreed, stepping back. "You too."

Ziva had hung back discreetly, letting them have their farewell in relative privacy, but joined them now, sliding herself alongside Tony, who automatically put his arm around her. "Do you know, the night we first got together Tony quoted Casablanca then too? Only he used it to insult me!"

"Hey, I used it when I said I loved you for the first time too!" He leaned to kiss her temple, receiving narrowed eyes, but also a playfully crinkled nose in response.

Wendy smiled, watching the exchange. "I'm glad it's you who has to deal with the movie quotes and verbal diarrhoea now, Ziva. Thank you for being so willing to work with me, I know this could have been a lot harder."

"It was a pleasure to meet you. No really," she emphasised, seeing the dubious look on Wendy's face. "And thank you for respecting this." She gestured between Tony and herself.

"Not at all," Wendy replied, offering a handshake. "You two have something really great, like I said, I could tell he was special just from your smile. Of course, I had no idea how special." Wendy and Ziva shared an understanding eye-roll as Tony visibly preened at the compliment.

"If your head gets any bigger, you will have to sleep downstairs," Ziva warned him, passing Wendy's coat off the rack.

Wendy donned it again with a nod of thanks. "I left my folder on the couch, would you get it please, Tony?" she asked, waiting till he'd left them alone, before meeting Ziva's eyes. "I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for how I put you on the spot when we met in the break room."

Ziva shook her head. "I did not know who you were then either, it is nothing."

"No," Wendy clarified, her expression gentle. "I mean when I asked if the baby was your first. It was an insensitive question... anyway, I'm really sorry for your loss."

The colour drained from Ziva's face and she wrapped an arm over her stomach. "I... I never..." She swallowed, unable to bluff it out. "How did you know?"

"You hesitated about answering. I saw it all the time when I was teaching. Mothers who had a loss never know whether to include that baby in the number of children or not and the way you specified "our" first... not "my" first." Wendy's expression turned from gentle to horrified. "Oh god, you never told him, did you? I am so sorry."

"I never told anyone," Ziva murmured, shaking her head.

Tony returned in time to hear that last statement. "What didn't you tell me, whoa, Zi you look like you're about to pass out." His light tone was gone in a second and thrust the folder at Wendy, his concern narrowing to Ziva. "What the hell did you say to her?" He kept his hand on Ziva's shoulder, steadying her, but turned his head to snap at Wendy.

"No, it is not her fault," Ziva choked. "She did not mean it."

"I should go." Wendy reached sympathetically for Ziva's arm, but Tony brushed her away. "I'm really sorry about this Ziva, I had no idea. Thank you both again for everything these last few days." She let herself out, receiving only a distracted grunt from Tony, and the faintest of nods from Ziva.

"Let's go sit down, Ninja," Tony said, ushering her into the lounge room. "Do you need some water? Or tea? What's going on?"

Ziva sat, tucking her knees up to her chest as much as her belly would allow, and took several long, slow breaths before speaking. "When I first met Wendy, she asked me something that I did not expect. I was cagy, but my answer was still one she could interpret. She was not prying, she was trying to be kind."

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to, Zi." He bent to make eye contact. "I can see how shaken up this has you."

Ziva met his eyes slowly, pain and gratitude in the same look. "I do," she said with a determined nod. "It is not fair that she knows and you do not."

"Okay, I'll listen." He settled beside her, placing one hand, warm and reassuring, on the top of her bare foot. "What did she ask?"

Ziva's voice was barely above a whisper as she replied, "She... she asked if this baby was my first." She paused and looked away. "I could not answer her so directly," she confessed, her voice even softer.

"But she is?" Tony said quietly although his voice wavered uncertainly. "I mean until we were in Be'er Sheva, we were very careful about that, weren't we?"

"We were." Ziva shook her head, her voice breaking. "This is not about us Tony, this was back when I was still training with the Israeli Army."

"Oh, thank god," Tony heaved a sigh of relief, then caught himself at the flash of hurt in her eyes. "That came out wrong, I just mean that I..." He stopped again. The complexity of relief that whatever she was about to say predated their relationship mingled with guilt at feeling relief at all when she was obviously so upset was too difficult to express. He searched his mind frantically for the right thing to say at this moment before realising it wasn't about how he felt at all. "Tell me about it," he finished gently.

Ziva's words took on a sharper edge as she spoke, clipping her emotions in favour of stating facts. "I became pregnant. It was not intentional, obviously. We were careful, it should have been safe, but it happened anyway. By the time I found out, the father was long gone. I did not picture a future as a mother, I expected to be dead before I turned 30."

"What happened?" he asked softly, already knowing the answer from the look on her face. "I mean... it's not like you turned up here with a kid in tow, I can guess..." his voice faded unsteadily, and his hand tightened over her foot in sympathy.

She nodded, hearing the unspoken end to that sentence. "Yes, I lost it... lost him," she confessed, and continued, her sentences still short, with a deep breath in between each one. "I was late, I suspected. I snuck out to find a test. I spent two days wishing it was not so. Then I began to bleed in the night. It was over. It was very early, no more than six weeks. But then, after he was gone, I saw him in a dream. His name was Aziel, and he looked like my mother. Perhaps the dream was saying goodbye, perhaps it was my own guilt for wishing him away. I do not know." She shook her head with a long shuddery breath.

He shifted closer, rubbing her arm gently. "Oh Zi, honey that's awful. I'm so sorry that happened."

"It was a long time ago now. I do not like to think of it." She almost shrugged it off but the look in her eyes belied her nonchalant words. "But the way I reacted when I found out... I have always wondered if I caused it."

Tony shook his head gently. "I'm no doctor, but we both know that's not how that stuff works," he said, trying to reassure her. "How long ago... I mean when did it happen?"

"It will be ten years tomorrow." She looked away from Tony, her gaze fixed on some distant point in the room as she spoke. "As you have never forgotten the date you should have been married, I have never forgotten this."

There was a hint of double-edged bitterness in her voice and the realisation hit Tony like a punch. "Oh god, and this whole time I've been rambling about Wendy and the wedding like there's nothing else going on... and you've been holding onto this," he groaned. He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. "I am so sorry. I had no idea."

"You were not to know." Her voice was gentler again, forgiving him despite her sadness. "You did not mean anything by it. When you chose to bear something alone, it means that you will sometimes hear things that hurt, however inadvertently."

"But still..." he stopped again, searching for anything lighter without changing the subject entirely. "Aziel did you say? It's nice. Hebrew I'm guessing?"

"Hmm." Ziva nodded affirmatively, eyes still far away. "It means God is my strength."

"You could have told me this before, Zi. I would have listened. Been... well... I wouldn't have teased you so much about not seeming like the maternal type to start with." He said, still mentally kicking himself for the multitude of thoughtless words over the years.

She shook her head. "Do you remember, we agreed that there would be things best left in the past, that those memories should die with us? This was supposed to be one of them. I was never going to tell anybody."

"That was for bad memories, Ziva, bad people." His tone was gentle but insistent. "Those monsters who don't deserve the power saying their name gives them. Not something like that... not a baby."

"It is not something I am proud of. I got distracted. I let myself sweet but insincere words for a few moments of companionship. I should have stayed focused on my training." Her face became harder, self-disgust evident in her expression. "I do not like to think of all the ways that I could have done better."

Tony knew arguing Ziva around from her harsh self-assessment was probably a losing battle, and he took a deep breath. "Okay, but if you ever want to remember him somehow..." he paused and shrugged, not quite sure what was appropriate to offer. "Well however it looks, I'll be right there with you, to say his name or light a candle... whatever moms do. Well, Imas."

There was the ghost of a smile for a second at the way he applied an English rule to a Hebrew word. "Imahot," she corrected automatically

"Imahot," he repeated softly. "I mean it though. Whatever makes this easier."

Ziva lifted her shoulders in a slow, despondent shrug. "I did not think of myself as his Ima when it happened, Tony. I do not deserve to mourn and be comforted when I had wished for that exact thing." The same heavy look was back on her face, caught in blame.

"Hey," he said firmly. "Yes, you do. This wasn't your fault."

Ziva swiped at an unbidden tear. "There was very little space for mourning a loss like that in my life. Or in my faith; it is not seen the same as the death of someone who has been born. There are no prayers, no ceremonies. Many people believe that as early as it was, it is nothing more than water, not yet alive."

Tony brushed his thumb over her cheek, waiting until she looked at him again. "And if you believed that, you wouldn't be sitting here looking like your heart's breaking just thinking about it," he said.

"I did not say that I agreed, just that it was what I was taught," she replied, voice wavering again. "It was the outcome I was too scared to admit I wanted."

"Maybe if you'd told someone at the time..." he countered."You might have felt like you had other choices."

"Who could I tell?" she demanded. "Eli would have been angry at me for losing focus. My mother had been dead for almost two years. I was training, I did not have friends, I had fellow soldiers. Deena was away at college, Ari was deep inside Hamas by then, and Tali was still a child, and grieving our mother."

"You were a child too, Ziva," he pointed out, face etched with sympathy. "You were what? Nineteen? That's way too young-"

Ziva's fist clenched suddenly on the seam of the cushion, her knuckles turning white. "That is rich coming from you! Mr 'I was fifteen with a Rockette!'" She snapped, suddenly defensive. "Would you rather I had stayed a virgin until I met you?"

Tony raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Whoa, timeout. That's not what I meant, and you know it," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "I meant that you shouldn't have been dealing with something like that on your own back then. Hell, no one should go through that alone, whatever age."

He watched as her hand and then her face relaxed. "Sorry," she murmured contritely swiping at another tear. "But it is not so simple as hearing you say those words, Tony. Ten years of silence and guilt cannot be undone in a few minutes."

"Yeah, I figured. I'll keep saying it till you believe me though." He dropped his voice, knowing the next question was a sensitive one. "I have to ask though, you never thought about... you know... with her?"

She flinched momentarily at the question. "No," she reassured, honesty ringing in the short answer. "Not even for a heartbeat. To wish that I was not pregnant and then for it to come true... it changed my perspective. I promised that if I were ever lucky enough to have another baby, I would never feel that way about them. That every moment of their life, they would be loved."

Tony smiled for a second, glancing at Ziva's midsection. "She has been," he promised easily, in an equally sincere tone. "Was that why you didn't notice for so long?"

"Perhaps," Ziva admitted. "But as I told you when I got back, there were enough symptoms to rule it out at the beginning. If I am honest, I am relieved I did find out sooner. If I had found out right away, I would have spent the whole first trimester wondering if she would leave too. But I promise you, I came home the same day I learned about her."

"I know, don't you worry about that." He nodded. "But Ziva, so much of this would have been easier if you'd told me before now. I'm sorry you didn't think that was something you could talk about."

"I did not want to taint your experience of becoming a father with those bad memories, to worry that I would fail this one too." She looked down, tracing a hand over her stomach. Tony reached too, not just to catch Ziva's hand, but to feel the rise and fall of his daughter's limbs, coming as a relief after the weight of such a heartbreaking disclosure.

He spread his fingers out over the smooth curve of her belly, pushing in gently until the baby pushed back. "You didn't fail anyone, Ninja, you were scared and alone in a really bad place. You're one of the strongest people I know, and you are going to be one hell of a fantastic Ima to our daughter. And you know something? Young as you were, you would have been fantastic back then too."

Tears welled up in her eyes in earnest now, and while she didn't cry fully, she also didn't bother trying to wipe them away. "I am not so sure I would have, but thank you," she choked. "I am sorry you had to find out this way."

"I'm just glad you're not holding onto a secret that had to be eating you alive anymore. C'mere." Ziva broke completely, and he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly as she cried. "You are never alone in this. Aht lo levad, remember? Always got your six, and that includes remembering Aziel however you want."

Tony continued murmuring soothing promises to the top of her head for a few more minutes, waiting until Ziva caught her breath and relaxed against him. "Got it out for now?" he whispered, waiting for her nod. "Gibbs and Vance are out tomorrow, they're escorting Charlie to her father's funeral. We don't have any active cases, if we keep our phones on, McGee can hold down the fort. How about we play hooky, and find a way to make the day a bit better for both of us?"

The dark head moved against his shoulder in confirmation. "I would like that, thank you."

He smoothed her hair down as he spoke. "All right, we'll do that then. But for now, I think a shower, hair braiding and bed are next on the list. What do you say?"

"Yes, I am exhausted." They untangled and traced their way upstairs, following through their evening routine slowly and gently, Ziva still a little fragile, though obviously feeling lighter.

"Hey, Ziva..." Tony paused, hair woven around his fingers as she sat on the mattress in front of him. "I wasn't fifteen." He admitted, looking for a sense of normalcy in their conversation again.

"Really?" Ziva remarked, her tone suggesting this wasn't exactly groundbreaking news.

"Really," he continued. "I was eighteen, and she wasn't a Rockette either."

"You don't say." For the first time that evening, there was a hint of humour in her voice.

He wrapped the tie around her braid as he reached the end. "You realise if you tell McGee about this I'll make sure he knows you have a thing for watching Days Of Our Lives." He flipped the braid over her shoulder.

Ziva inspected the end briefly, making sure the elastic was secure. "I have never once watched that show!" She protested indignantly.

"Hey, he believed I slept with a Rockette, he'll believe that." Tony laughed, ducking as she turned and aimed a playful swat at his chest.

Ziva's eyes narrowed as he caught her wrist before the blow landed. "You are very lucky I love you, Tony DiNozzo, otherwise I would smother you right now."

"Yeah, I know it," he agreed, tugging her down onto the pillows alongside him "Luckiest guy alive."

---

Ten Years Later

Arlington Heights Elementary School, Virginia (Friday 26th October 2012 0815)

"You be good today, I love you." Wendy bent and kissed Fred at the school gate.

He grimaced, swiping the spot on his cheek. "Thanks, Mom, bye!" A second later he was halfway across the playground.

"At least he still lets you kiss him! It's getting to be a fight to even walk Jackson to school these days." A woman beside her commented as she straightened up. They shared a sympathetic laugh. "By the way, I saw your piece in the paper this morning, good job."

"Thanks, Cindy, it was an interesting one for sure," Wendy said. She smiled quietly, remembering the simple, but kind text Ziva had sent that morning, both a thankyou and forgiveness.

Cindy gave a cheeky grin."Oh yeah, the lovelorn fiance! I want to hear all about that." She paused, checked her watch and pulled a face. "But, work summons. Talk at pickup?"

"Sounds good, see you then." Wendy lifted a hand in farewell, turning away to where she'd parked her car.

"Excuse me!" She turned back, finding herself facing another parent. "You're Wendy... Fred's mom?" he asked.

"Yes, and you're..." she paused and wracked her brains, he was a newcomer to the school. "Mia H's dad - right?"

He nodded, passing his car keys to his left hand, a subtle but deliberate gesture that caught her eye enough to notice he wasn't wearing a wedding band. "That's right, I'm Mark," he said, offering a handshake, his right hand now empty. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I overheard you and Cindy just now - you're the Wendy Miller who writes for The Globe?"

She nodded, a little confused. "Yes, that's me, why?"

"I read it this morning too," he confessed "It was really good, I especially enjoyed how you found the silver lining in all that loss. You're a great writer."

"Oh, well thank you," she replied, a little taken aback by the unexpected compliment. "Always nice to meet a fan, I guess."

"Really," Mark nodded with a sincere smile. "I'm a bit of a hopeless optimist, I like finding the bright side to life. It was a good angle to take."

That brought a smile to Wendy's face too. "Do you write?" she asked, intrigued.

He laughed and shook his head. "No, but I'm one of the English teachers at the high school," he explained and gestured down the block. "So, I know good writing when I see it, and last night I marked 30 ninth-grade papers that were not 'it!' Your article was a breath of fresh air."

She laughed, flattered, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I used to teach kindergarten, it was more of an infinite loop of ABCs than essays in my class." They both chuckled at that, stepping a little closer to each other, clearly at ease.

Mark paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Look, I hope this isn't too forward, but would you like to have coffee with me tomorrow? It's Mia's weekend with her mom, so I'm free all day."

"Optimistic, indeed!" Wendy deflected, feeling a rush of warmth to her cheeks, and flustered, she took a second to regain her composure. "Um, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Fred's dad and I do handover at his soccer training in the morning, but I'll call you once I'm done?" She fished her phone out of her purse and opened the contact section before handing it to Mark.

He shot her a warm smile before dipping his eyes to the keypad and entering his details. "I look forward to it, thanks, Wendy." He passed her phone back.

"Me too, Mr Optimist," she nodded, grinning at the name he'd added to her phone. "But one more thing - you don't watch Casablanca do you?"

Mark looked confused for a moment, then shook his head. "Sorry, no, I hope that's not a dealbreaker. I prefer documentaries if I'm honest."

A smile spread across Wendy's face at the information. "No, that's absolutely fine by me. In fact, this feels like it might even be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

---

Casa De Tiva, Washington DC (Friday 26th October 2012 1145)

Ziva added one last pat to the layer of mulch around the thin sapling, brushed her hands off and rose slowly from the ground. Tony was quick to support her and make sure she had her balance. Tears still glistened in her eyes, and he was unusually quiet and sombre, but there was an overwhelming sense of peace between them.

"Nice choice, Zi," Tony said quietly, admiring the new addition they'd just planted on the front lawn. Ziva had chosen a white lilac, a symbol of both memory and renewal. The tree would grow as their family did and blossom every spring, around the time Aziel should have been born; a simple, but poignant reminder.

"Hmm," she agreed, surveying the work with satisfaction. She settled herself in front of Tony, leaning back into his chest, so all four of their hands could rest on her belly, feeling their daughter move inside her. "And are you okay with everything? With Wendy?"

She felt him nod against the back of her head. "Yeah, I'm good. Got the answers I wanted. Thanks for not making it weird."

"You were weird enough for the both of us," Ziva gave a shaky laugh. She paused, lifting a hand to a neighbour who jogged by. "Besides, I trusted you. There was nothing to be weird about."

"Still, you shut Wendy down pretty hard a couple of times," Tony smirked. "Watching you get your possessive wife on was kinda hot."

She ducked her head away as he nuzzled against her ear. "Not happening. I still have enough heartburn to outshine the fireworks on the Fourth of July."

"Gross." He winced.

"Never mind." Ziva turned and patted his cheek affectionately, even as she shut down more amorous advances. "Wendy told me that heartburn is supposed to mean the baby will have plenty of hair."

Tony grinned with anticipation, picturing a little girl with a head full of curls, much like the photo of Ziva in her ballet tutu that they'd found in Israel. "Look you, my furry little Israeli, of course, she's going to have amazing hair."

"You can talk, Hairy Butt!" Ziva laughed more genuinely now. "She also recommended a store to look at for buying a stroller, it is about time we considered that."

"You really want to do that today?" Tony asked.

Ziva took a deep breath and turned back to study the tree. "Yes I do, we have spent enough time uncovering old secrets this week. It is time to look forward... if that is okay with you too, of course?"

"You got it, Sweet Cheeks," Tony agreed, then grinned, unable to resist one more movie reference. "Let's get back to the future."

He considered both Ziva's exasperated groan and the punch to his shoulder well worth it.

---

Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia (Friday, October 26 2012, 1317)

The final member of a long string of well-wishers filed past Charlie, murmuring words of condolences and support. The air was crisp, bordering on cold and they did not linger long, dispersing quickly to their cars. Still standing beside the open grave, she drew the folded flag carefully to her chest with a sigh.

"I won't back down, Dad," she promised softly. With a deep breath, she turned, looking for the two men who had accompanied her that afternoon.

Gibbs and Vance fell into step beside her, one hand each riding gently in the middle of her back in silent support, and they made their way back up the hill to the parking lot. "Thank you both for coming today," she said just before they parted ways. Gibbs would drive her back to her apartment, but the Director had travelled separately, intending to head back to NCIS afterwards.

"It was my honour, Ms Delaney," Vance inclined his head gently, his expression solemn. "Have you had a chance to consider where you want to be placed now that you're finished training? I know that you've been through a lot recently, but some of the positions are very competitive."

"Call me Charlie, please. I'd like to move into active field investigation," she answered with a glance at Gibbs, her resolve shining through her grief-stricken eyes. "The Carolinas Office seems like the best move for that. I'll make sure I have the applications filled out by Monday morning."

"Got a field position opening up in DC," Gibbs murmured almost irrelevantly, his eyes fixed ahead, deep in thought. Vance and Charlie both turned to face him, surprised by the unexpected offer.

"Is that an offer, Sir?" Charlie enquired, her curiosity piqued, a small smile playing on her lips.

Gibbs's mouth didn't smile, but his eyes did as he met Charlie's gaze. "Only if you don't call me Sir."

"Since when do you willingly take on new agents, Gibbs?" Vance asked warily, his eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"Gonna have an empty desk in about six weeks," Gibbs explained, referring to Ziva's rapidly approaching maternity leave. "Figure either I choose, or you choose for me."

Vance remained silent, studying both Gibbs and Charlie. Gibbs remained impassive and silent, but clearly determined, Charlie still shaken from burying her father less than ten minutes earlier, but quietly hopeful. He gave a dry chuckle and nodded, extending a welcoming hand to Charlie. "In that case, welcome aboard, Probationary Agent Delaney."

---

A/N: Congratulations if you made it this far! Please remember that reviews and kudos are life.

Loads of quotes from Casablanca this time, and everything was called out in the dialogue as it happened.

Episode references:

3x06 Voyeur's Web when Tony claims to have lost his virginity at 15 to a Rockette

9x16 Secrets which is the episode we met Wendy.

I always thought the timeline on the whole Wendy thing seemed sketchy. Gibbs had met her, but Abby didn't and Tony had already been at NCIS for 2ish years and was decidedly single at the beginning of S1, but when she appears in S9, they said they hadn't talked since she ended it, eight years ago, when it should have been at least 9, more like 10, so I adjusted the elapsed time and tweaked history to fit better.

Is it awfully convenient that all three stories occurred on the same day? Yes. Do I mind? Not at all. If Senior can be passed out in a car with a body in the boot, or Diane ends up embroiled in multiple NCIS cases and ends up being another one of Gibbs' ex's AA sponsors, then three unrelated events can converge ten years later. There will be no further discussion on the subject.

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Much love, M xx