She yawns, as he pulls up to the curb. She peeks in the rearview mirror, and finds their daughter asleep in the back seat. He puts the car into park. She looks at the house to her right, and then to the man to her right.
"Tony, what are we doing here? It's late."
"I know."
"She's asleep. Why are we here? You have to go back to work tomorrow, and..."
He points past her, out her window.
"What? Why are we in this neighborhood?"
"The Gibbs neighborhood?"
"Yes," she nods.
"An anonymous source recommended it to me."
"What?"
"That," he points to the house on her left.
"A house? What about it?"
"Do you see the for sale sign?"
"Yes. Is there a point to this?"
"Why are you so cranky?"
"I spent sixteen hours at work today. I think that I am entitled to be cranky."
"Could you tone it down, for a minute?"
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to discuss something."
"If it isn't related to a shower, or bed, I am not really interested."
"That house has a shower."
"I would imagine that it does. Why are you bringing it up?"
"We have an appointment with a realtor tomorrow."
"Why?"
"We are going to look at that house."
She stares at the non-descript grey house, with an attached garage. It doesn't look like much.
"Why?"
"It is for sale."
"Are we looking for a house?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Zafirah told me to."
"No, don't blame her. Why are we looking at a house?"
"If you like it, we're going to buy it."
"I never agreed to this."
"Too bad."
"Too bad?"
"We have a daughter. A daughter who needs both of us. We can't shuffle her from apartment to apartment for the next seventeen years. This makes sense. With the market the way it is, we can get it for next to nothing. Gibbs lives on the next block."
"I know."
"Please?"
"Why?"
"She deserves this, even if you don't want it."
"I will think about it."
"I'll meet you here, at seven, tomorrow."
"Ok."
"What do you have planned for the day, tomorrow?" he questions.
"Sleep in," she replies.
"And then?"
"I don't know," she shrugs.
"Have fun."
"Is that a threat?" she inquires.
"Don't think about work. Just have fun, with her."
"Is that an order?"
"Yes," he nods.
"Tony, why are you pushing this?"
He looks at the sleeping angel, in the backseat. Then he looks at her mother.
"Because I want to give her the things that I never had. A nice house, in a quiet neighborhood. A two car garage, and a fence. A stable home. Loving parents, who are willing to give her anything. I may not be perfect. I never will be, but I want to give her everything that I can."
"Who are you, and what have you done with my partner?"
"I left him somewhere in the middle east."
"Oh?"
"There was a little girl, who melted his heart, and turned him into a parent."
"Do you feel strange?" she wonders.
"What do you mean?"
"You are someone's father."
"You are someone's mother," he counters.
"And every morning I wake up, and think that I am dreaming."
"I don't. I wake up everyday, thankful, that the man upstairs knows better than I do. I never would have thought this is what I wanted. The thought of playing blocks, and filling sippy cups used to make me cringe. Now..."
"Everything is different."
"How can someone so small, change so much?"
"The ties that bind?" she guesses.
"So can we buy this house?"
"We can sleep on it."
"Fair enough," he nods.
She climbs into bed, after her shower. Her wet hair hits the pillow. She climbs under the covers. For some reason her bed feels strangely empty. She looks at the clock. She turns on the fan. She closes her eyes, in an attempt to fall asleep. When sleep doesn't come she peels off her covers. She slides out of the bed, onto the floor, in her bare feet. She tiptoes into the other room. She stands at the end of the couch, and watches Tony as he sleeps. Zafirah sleeps on his chest. Her ear is pressed against his heart. A pink blanket covers her, and part of him. She smiles, and carefully maneuvers around the couch. She reaches for the sleeping toddler. A hand grabs her wrist.
"Wake her up, and you put her back to sleep," he warns.
"She'll be more comfortable in my bed."
"She likes to snuggle," he reminds her.
"I can snuggle."
"Where is your gun?"
"In the safe."
"We're a package deal. If she goes, I go."
"Whatever," she rolls her eyes.
"Did you just invite me into your bed?"
"It's easier to give in, than it is to fight with you. I'm too tired to argue."
"We're coming."
She turns, and goes back into her room. He follows her, with a sleeping baby in his arms. He climbs into bed, on the opposite side of Ziva. He places Zafirah in between them.
"Don't roll over on her," he warns, "You'll smash her."
"I won't roll over on her. I know that she's there."
"I don't want my kid to be a pancake."
"Go to sleep, before you wake her up," she warns.
He settles into the bed. She pulls the covers up, around her. She rolls over, to face Zafirah. She watches the little girl, as she sleeps. Within a few minutes all of them are asleep. The three of them make up a chorus of snores, that cannot easily be rivaled, even by a group of sailors, with emphysema.