Author's note: So, I've been holding back somewhat from posting new chapters because I wanted to post something for each of the twelve days of Christmas… enjoy. Also, these scenes pretty much take place all at the same time, in case you're confused.
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She was back.
That was good.
He wasn't quite so sure about the big person standing over him, touching his hand.
"Hey, little guy- you remember me? I'm Tony. I'm your friend."
He yawned. Time for a nap.
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The door creaked open to reveal an apartment casually cluttered, as if Ziva had merely gone out for her daily run. A rumpled blanket covered in cat hair lay across the couch. A black winter coat had been sloppily across the back of a chair left under a lamp; apparently Ziva had stood on said chair to change a light bulb. A single tennis shoe on its side propped open the door to a closet.
McGee immediately noticed something he'd never seen before. "Hey, come here and look at this."
Abby and Eli came there and looked at that. McGee was holding a framed photo. A baby lay on a bed, swathed in a pink blanket. She looked like she was about to punch the camera. Next to her, a young boy lay on his stomach, one arm wrapped protectively around the baby.
"Is that-" Abby asked.
Eli nodded, staring at the photo with a faraway look in his eyes. "Yes. My children. Ari was so happy to have a sister…"
McGee smiled. "Yeah, I've been there. Playmate, cuddle buddy, best friend…"
"Victim."
The two men turned to stare incredulously at Abby. McGee sighed and shook his head.
"I feel so sorry for your little brother."
They walked into Ziva's bedroom, skirting a patch of carpet that, though it had been cleaned of any visible stains, they still saw as blood red. Some scars just never healed.
The room was as comfily cluttered as the rest of the apartment; the blankets on the bed had obviously been slept in, a hairbrush lay on the floor, and several books were out of place on the now-dusty shelves. McGee silently reached over and closed one, straightening the crumpled pages before he tucked it back in place.
Abby scanned the shelves quickly. No baby name books, but there was something she recognized. A small red-polished wooden box. She lifted it down, set it on the bed, and moved pieces of it around, revealing a hidden key, which she used to open it.
There wasn't much in there, as there couldn't be in a box that size. Another key. A piece of paper with three words written on it.
The Twilight Zone.
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Finally.
Ari teasingly grabbed his brother's cloth-covered foot, making the small baby giggle.
"I love you too."
Although still smaller than he should have been, Ziva's younger son had recuperated enough for him to be transferred out of the NICU and into a regular hospital room. Ari was happy that he could finally see his baby brother. Let's hope sissy joins us soon.
He gently lifted the warm bundle out of the small bed he had been sleeping in and held him close. So warm, so soft, so cuddly… so vulnerable.
The baby gurgled happily, eyes shut. Ari felt a surge of protectiveness towards his tiny brother.
"I love you," he repeated.
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It was still dark. Gibbs stirred, stiff from sleeping on the floor. He glanced at a clock. Ten o'clock? But I've been asleep for hours… I hate winter nights. They're just too dark for too long.
It occurred to him that there was still light in the room, even though the moon had disappeared from the window. What on earth-
Glancing around for the source of the light, he chanced to glance at the wooden chest and the nameplates. He stood dumbstruck for a moment, mouth wide open.
This is not happening.
Then he looked again at the nameplates.
This did not just happen.
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On the third day of Christmas, the three French hens had the misfortune of being called Freedom hens by "politically correct" Americans.