Whoops. I didn't realise that I told you Ziva was married. I wasn't supposed to tell you that yet. So, just for me, could you act surprised when I reveal it here. *Sigh* This is why you don't skip ahead. I shall write it chapter by chapter from now on.

The sound of chiming bells echoed throughout the basement. 'Sorry,' McGee muttered, pulling his futuristic looking phone from his pocket. 'Work,' he added by way of explanation. He climbed off his chair and hurried into the corner, mumbling to his colleague.

'Did you go back to NCIS, then?' Ziva asked Abby, filling the empty space created by the end of the previous conversation.

Abby shook her head dismally. 'Palmer called me up out of nowhere,' she explained, offering no more information about where she worked.

Ziva nodded. She didn't particularly care much about where Abby had ended up; she was sure that Abby had fared better than her at any rate.

Tony's hand crept to his belt, sticking his index finger through a loop. His shirt was only tucked in at that small space: a space the size of a badge, a badge which was now absent.

'You still keep a space for your NCIS badge,' Ziva remarked.

Tony looked down and pulled his finger from his belt loop. 'No, there was...something else here,' he replied, finishing lamely.

McGee returned to his seat, pocketing his phone once more. 'Work,' he explained again.

'Where do you work now?' Abby asked politely. He was clearly proud of his job and etiquette told her to humour him.

McGee glanced up, startled. 'Oh, somewhere,' he answered vaguely.

Abby frowned. She was sure that she could read McGee better than that. If he didn't want to talk about work, why did he bring it up unnecessarily?

Tony tapped his watch with his forefinger. 'When is Palmer coming?'

'If you have somewhere you need to be, Tony, just go,' Ziva snapped. 'Go. Nobody is keeping you here.'

Tony glared at her. 'I was just asking, Ziva. Aren't we allowed to do that anymore?'

Ziva returned the glower defiantly. 'Of course, Tony, but stop whinging.' She turned to Abby. 'I have to go home tomorrow, at lunchtime.'

Abby's face took on a pained look. 'But, we won't be able to find Jimmy's kids by then,' she protested. 'This isn't a game; two children are in danger.'

Ziva's expression hardened. 'I have commitments,' she said firmly. 'I must go at lunchtime.'

Tony dropped his cigarette onto the floor and squished it with the toe of his shoe. 'I'll need to go tomorrow as well.'

Ziva wrinkled her nose. 'You have to go to work?' she guessed.

Tony hesitated before shaking his head grimly. 'I have tickets to a baseball game.'

'Still support the same team?' Ziva asked, the hint of a grin curling the edges of her mouth.

'Yeah,' Tony replied, lighting another cigarette. 'But I'm going to the Eagles game tomorrow.'

Ziva raised her eyebrows. 'Philadelphia,' she noted. 'They're doing quite well at the moment.'

A chuckle escaped Tony's chapped lips, accompanied by a puff of smoke. 'Since when did you follow football?'

Ziva smiled for the first time. 'I don't. But my husband...' She stopped mid-sentence.

'Honey,' Larry called. 'It's almost time!'

'Coming,' Ziva called down the stairs. 'Just a minute!'

She tossed the rest of the clothes into the wardrobe and hurried down the stairs to join her husband in the living room. Flopping onto the sofa beside him, she wriggled into the crook of his arm.

'You almost missed it,' he scolded.

She grinned. 'You want me to bring the beer?'

He reached over the arm of the sofa and lifted up a six pack in a black cardboard box. He pulled two out and offered one to her. She pulled back to tab and sipped it slowly.

'You didn't like this brand last time I bought it,' she reminded him.

He shook his head. 'No, I didn't. That was the other one.' He took a swig to prove his point and spluttered, sending a spray of beer onto the coffee table.

Ziva smirked. 'See?'

He squeezed her shoulders. 'Ok, ok, you were right,' he accepted. 'Do we have any other beer?'

She sighed dramatically and stood up. 'Call me if anyone scores,' she ordered, hurrying across the hallway into the kitchen.

She opened the fridge and pulled out a green box of beer. She supposed that she would have to drink all six cans of the other brand on her own, and soon since he seemed to constantly think that there was an imminent beer shortage and they should stock up. But, then, they never had enough time to use up the supply before he bought some more.

She smiled at the beer. All her friends complained that their husbands didn't do enough around the house. She guessed that she should just be pleased that he helped out with the weekly shop.

'They've scored! Ziva! They scored!' he shouted.

Kicking the fridge door shut with her foot and clutching the box of beer to her chest, she ran back into the living room to catch the end of the replay.

He looked at her in surprise. 'It still amazes me how fast you are,' he told her, kissing her forehead lovingly.

She smiled and kissed his cheek in return. Of course, he knew the general story of her past, but she has left out some of the less easy to stomach parts, mostly the quantity of killings.

They sat back down and, sipping their beer, they turned their attention back to the game. Ziva rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, content listening to his heartbeat.

'You're married?' Abby asked.

Ziva did not reply.

Abby looked as if she was about to press the matter but a knock on the door saved Ziva.

'That must be Jimmy,' Abby cried. She looked around, expecting someone to offer to go and let him in, but they were all looking at her. Abby looked at the daunting number of steps before tapping her walking stick pointedly.

Tony got up, griping, and trudged up the stairs. When he reached the top, he dropped his cigarette over the banister onto the floor below, and then spat, aiming for the cigarette to extinguish the faint glow, but missing it by inches. He snorted, as if to show his apathy, and disappeared into the kitchen to let the Autopsy Gremlin in.

There was silence once more in the basement; Ziva did not want to risk another inquisition from Abby, McGee did not want to say anything to prompt any questions, and Abby was worrying about how much help they were going to be to Palmer.

It wasn't that the team had stopped caring, but their own pain had chiselled away at their sympathy for others.

Tony appeared at the top of the steps, another cigarette already in his mouth. Palmer followed Tony down the stairs. He was younger than the rest of them and it showed. His hair had not shrunk or faded. Instead, it was now dyed a squirrel-brown. His glasses were almost identical to the pair that he had worn on the day of Gibbs's funeral: the last time that Tony and Ziva had seen him.

'Palmer,' Ziva greeted perfunctorily.

He looked at her; a strange expression on his face. He knew that he should be grateful for them coming, but he couldn't quite pull himself to lower himself so fast.

He had been very reluctant to call them. Twenty-five years ago, he had understood their actions and forgiven them for leaving NCIS. But, for eighteen years now, he had hated Tony and Ziva with a passion. And he hadn't liked McGee and Abby much more. It was only their expertise that had compelled him to enlist their help.

Palmer sat down on Tony's stool, formerly McGee's. Unlike McGee, however, Tony coughed pointedly and jerked his head in the direction of the other free stool. Palmer understood and dutifully moved.

'So,' Abby began after everyone was happily seated. 'I didn't quite catch all you said on the phone, Jimmy. You were talking fast and crying and...'

Jimmy interrupted sharply. 'My children had just gone missing,' he snapped defensively. His mouth contorted in a miserable grimace. 'Arthur and Poppy,' he murmured, before looking up and addressing them, deciding to put his anger aside and focus on saving his children. He could attack them for what they did later.

'They went missing two days ago from Breena's house,' he explained. 'We're divorced,' he added quietly. 'But she lives two roads away.' He looked round at them all. He hadn't quite caught their attention. He decided to skip the details and just go for the barest facts. Evidently, they didn't really care, he thought sourly.

'Two years ago, NCIS investigated a string of murders, mostly of low ranking officers on leave from ships. We traced it back to a married couple but we couldn't get enough evidence to prove it. Then, on one of the bodies, I found a fingerprint. It matched the wife. She got a life sentence. The husband got off free.'

'The husband threatened me and my family after the trial and we were given protection for a couple of months. Everything was quiet until, last month, the wife was injured in a prison brawl. The husband went to visit her in hospital and...I guess it fired up old desires for vengeance. I thought I saw him outside my house last weekend but I wasn't sure so I didn't say anything.' He put his head in his hands. 'Why didn't I say anything?' he moaned.

They all stared at him dumbly, not sure what words of sympathy they could give.

He straightened up and continued his story, his eyes heavy with worry. 'Then, Arthur and Poppy went missing. We called the police and they said they'd start a search once they had been missing for over three hours and we had looked in all the likely places. We looked for them everywhere. We left Georgia with...'

Tony butted in. 'Who's Georgia?'

'My other daughter,' Palmer replied. 'She was upstairs sleeping – she's only three – and Arthur and Poppy were playing in the front garden.'

Ziva smiled. She recognised the face that Tony was wearing; it was his investigation face. It had evolved slightly over the years; becoming more sceptical and impulsive, but the undertones were still the same.

'We looked everywhere but we couldn't find them. The police set up a small-scale search. They were reluctant to start anything major because they said that NCIS would just take over anyway so there wasn't much point at throwing resources at it.' He balled up his fists.

'But NCIS didn't take it over. Oh, they offered me a couple of probies as a goodwill gesture but all they care about right now is stopping a terrorist attack.' As soon as the disparaging words had left his mouth, he looked ashamed. 'I mean, of course, the terrorist attack is very important, but there are two innocent children in the hands of a serial killer.'

'How do you know that it was him who took them?' Ziva asked. 'If they were playing in the front garden then surely it could have been anyone?'

Palmer shook his head vehemently. 'I got a note the next day. He wants me to get his wife out of prison or he kills them.' He shuddered and put his hand over his mouth. 'We have to find them,' he concluded flatly. 'There is no other option.'

Jimmy swung the door open and grinned. Two children flew at him, hugging his waist tightly in small hands.

'Hey,' he greeted, laughing.

Breena smiled maternally at the children before nodding at Jimmy. 'Poppy has a sleepover tomorrow night,' she told him. 'So I'll pick her up from there. Arthur wants to go to the football game on Wednesday and I think that you better take him.'

Jimmy nodded, grinning. 'You still won't go back there?'

Breena laughed. 'That man sat on me! He was like four hundred pounds! I don't think you'd want to go back there in a hurry,' she protested.

'Daddy,' Poppy wheedled. 'Can we have ice-cream for pudding?'

Jimmy looked at Breena who nodded slightly. 'Of course,' Jimmy replied cheerfully.

'Ah, cool!' Arthur shouted, running into the living room and colliding with the table football.

Jimmy smiled at his over-enthusiastic son. 'Say goodbye to Mummy,' he urged Poppy.

Poppy let go of his waist and wrapped her arms around Breena instead. 'Bye-bye Mummy,' she cried.

'Bye, sweetie,' Breena answered back. 'Bye, Arthur!' she called.

'Bye, Mum,' he shouted back.

'Bye, Jim,' she said, handing over a sleeping Georgia.

He took his youngest daughter in his arms and gave his ex-wife a half-hug. 'Bye, Breena.'

He watched her go to back to the car and waved as she drove off. He turned to follow Poppy into the house but stopped, a face peeping out from behind a bush catching his eye. It looked like... No, it couldn't be. It had gone now anyway.

'Jimmy, you're seeing things,' he muttered to himself, shutting the door behind him.

'I can't lose them,' he said firmly. 'They're all I have.'

Nobody spoke.

Jimmy looked around the table, at all the staring faces, and felt a gloom descend over him. He was upset and frightened for the safety of his children but, looking at the sullen faces he had enlisted to help him, he felt more depressed than anything else.

He wondered whether any of them had children. Surely, if they did, they would care more and help more. He needed them to care. He needed them to pull together and ignore the years between them. He needed them to save his children.

But, even if they found his children, he wasn't sure if he could forgive them for what they did.

After tomorrow, I only one more hard exam so I will be a little more on top of what I put in author's notes. I'm currently feeling guilty and stressed because I have been writing this instead of revising Chemistry – when the fuck will we need moles anyway? – so I lost my usual calm and got confused. Not more spoilers from now on, though.

Review?