This is why I love reviews! I had planned on just starting this chapter later in the day but there was such interest in a Talia/Tony conversation that I ended up adding this...and it works beautifully and was the perfect set up for a conversation I have planned for a few chapters down the road, so thank you!

Haven't had a disclaimer in a while but you know I still don't own them right?

"How have you not seen anything with Peter Cook?"

Talia stopped the perusal of her magazine, her face screwing up in concentration as she pursed her lips. "Wait he's the one in those Pink Panther movies, right?"

Tony sighed dramatically from his spot on the couch, still clicking rapidly through the TV guide. "No, that's Peter Sellers. Another comic genius, but we're veering off topic…"

"Tony, I told you. I've never been much into movies."

"Even less so than your sister, and I never thought that'd be possible. She may be building up her DVD collection but her cable package is woefully lacking. I still can't convince her to get TCM," he whined half-heartedly.

Talia laughed softly. "We weren't allowed to watch a lot of TV growing up. And the cinema was usually out of the question because...well, just because…" Talia's voice trailed off, but Tony knew the reason. He had seen the charred shells of countless movie theaters on ZNN.

"So the David sisters turned to books instead," Tony offered as a change in subject, and Talia took it with a grateful smile.

"Mmhmm, me a little more than Ziva. She has always enjoyed reading but she never quite understood my absolute obsession with literature. Some of my earliest memories are of my mother reading me Austen and Cervantes and Swift. Books were always my form of escapism…"

"What was Ziva's?"

His voice was so quiet and intrigued that it startled Talia. She met his eyes, noting that the clicker lay forgotten in his lap as he studied her now.

"Ziva's what?"

"Her escapism. What was her passion; what made her happiest?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Talia's mouth. "Dancing." Tony's face registered true surprise at that revelation, and she frowned at him. "She's never mentioned it before?"

Tony's brow knit together as he tried to remember. "She mentioned in once in an interrogation. But I thought she was just making it up to relate to our suspect…"

Talia looked equally curious and disturbed by that, but she shook it off. "Ziva was a beautiful dancer: graceful, elegant. As far back as I can remember, she would spend hours and hours practicing. She would lose herself in it."

"She's always been light on her feet. I figured it was all the martial arts training."

Talia shrugged. "It's not all that different; both require coordination, athleticism, flexibility, strength...She's got all those in spades."

"So why'd she stop?"

Talia's face grew sad. "Our mother always encouraged her dancing, but our father was...less supportive. I was really young, but I still remember him coming into our room the night of Ima's funeral and telling Ziva that he was done indulging her empty-headed dreams. He refused to pay for more classes and instead sent her to a military youth camp with Ari that summer…" Her voice trailed off again, and Tony could see that she was reexamining this memory with older eyes now, wondering how he could have been so cruel.

"How old was she?" Tony asked, surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded.

"Thirteen."

He sat back with a small sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "She doesn't talk a lot about her past. Makes her a very hard one to figure out."

"You seem to have a better handle on my sister than most; I'm rather impressed actually how well you seem to read her…" Talia was studying him closely again, and Tony smiled his best joker's smile.

"We're venturing into topics on the prohibited list now."

Talia smirked back. "You started it."

"I did."

She looked down at her hands then, not meeting his eyes. "Tony I can tell you a lot of things about Ziva growing up. She loved figs and hated dates. She broke her right arm when she was twelve and couldn't swim all summer. She would protect me when Ari's jokes and pranks bordered on mean. And whether she will admit it or not, she liked Saul Rubinstein too." She paused, chancing a look at Tony's face; she couldn't read the expression she saw there. "Those are the types of things Ziva will never willingly tell someone though; she has never been one to dwell on the past. But you should keep asking her about them, keep trying to get her to open up. All those million little things make her the person you know so well today."

They fell into a comfortable silence then, Tony staring blankly at the TV while Talia watched him out of the corner of her eye. A knock at the front door made them both jump, and Tony was on his feet instantly, a hand on his holster. But they heard Agent Griffiths identify himself.

Tony ambled to the door and opened it, shooting an amused look at the slightly red-faced agent. Talia peeked around Tony's arm and smiled warmly, reaching for the bag that Griffiths held out.

"I can't believe you sweet-talked a federal agent into doing a grocery run for you. Ziva would kill me if she found out."

"She is out of cream cheese and walnuts! Besides, Jonathan was off duty when he volunteered. Thank you Agent Griffiths," Talia smiled charmingly. "We will save you some for tomorrow!"

Tony chuckled, closing the door and following Talia into the kitchen where she was already pulling out bowls and ingredients. She turned to him with an appraising look. "Let's see if we can't put you to work…"

It was after eight before Ziva made it home that night, but her mouth started watering the moment she opened the door. It smelled so strongly of her childhood home that she half expected to round the corner and see her mother hovering by the stove, a smear of flour on her forehead.

As it was, her memory wasn't that far off from reality.

"Very stylish Tony," she snickered, giving him a once over. He was facing the sink; his dark slacks sporting a flour handprint over his butt where he had likely wiped his palms without thinking. The expensive blue dress shirt was unbuttoned at the cuffs and rolled up past his elbows. Talia had apparently unearthed the most girly, frilly apron she could find for the occasion (one Ziva was sure she had never personally worn and couldn't remember even buying) and tied it with a large bow behind him.

He froze upon hearing her voice, hands still holding up the bowl he was drying. He turned then to grin sheepishly at her. "Ummm, she promised me first dibs on the goods if I helped clean up." Talia giggled from her spot by the oven and winked at Ziva.

He turned bravely back to his task and almost managed to pull off the cavalier attitude until he heard the telltale 'click' of Ziva's camera phone.

"If you ever show that to McGee, I will tell him about the tattoo on your…"

"Tony!" Ziva said warningly as Talia's eyes widened.

"And just how do you know about that particular tattoo?" She questioned playfully.

"We went undercover once and I had the...misfortune...of showing him inadvertently. Right Jeanne Paul?"

Tony shot her a winning smile over his shoulder. "You got it sweetcheeks!"

"Ohhh so that was what you were faking on an undercover assignment?"

Ziva's eyes narrowed even as Tony laughed. "Apparently I need to have a little word with Abby and McGee...SO," she said, eager to change the subject, "What exactly are you making there?" She peeked down through the oven door. "Rugelah! My favorite."

"I know," Talia grinned. "It's been a long time since I made it, but considering I don't have to pretend to be Chilean around you..."

Ziva laughed. "You always had the baking genes."

"But Ziva is one helluva cook," Tony tossed at them. "When she bothers to invite me to her dinner parties, at least."

"One time, Tony!" She grumbled, heading to her bedroom to change.

"So what did you find in the recordings?" Tony called after her.

"Nothing much," she yelled back. "Major Jackson's men were right in their interpretation. But I think McGee may be on to something. It has not been a smooth transition of power for Crncevic Junior. Gibbs gets the feeling that the Major still isn't giving us a complete picture. We tried to talk to the NCIS team out of Rota...see if they could do some digging on their end. But the team leader is maddeningly unhelpful; got into a yelling match with Gibbs in MTAC and Vance had to call and smooth it over."

"Is that Ron Templeton's team?"

"No, some new girl named Barrett; really seems to push Gibbs' buttons." Ziva reappeared then in sweats and a long sleeved tee, attempting to wrangle her curls with a hair tie. Tony was apparently done with the dishes and had ditched the apron, sitting at the table with a beer.

"Zizi, what are the chances of me running up to New York tomorrow?"

"Just this side of impossible," Ziva said with an incredulous look, sitting across from Tony and swiping his bottle for a sip.

"I coulda told you that, Tali. Too dangerous," he added.

Tali crinkled her nose, twirling the potholder around her finger. "Well any chance I can go shopping then? I only packed an overnight bag when I came down here."

"You can raid my closet if you like."

Talia laughed. "Yes, cargo pants and teeshirts, I see a lot has changed in the last decade!"

Ziva ignored the jab as Tony snorted. "We can send a local LEO to your apartment and have them pack a bag and put it on the train."

"Leo?"

"Law enforcement officer," Tony chimed in. "NYPD cop."

"You want a stranger to root through my underwear drawer," she shuddered, opening the oven and removing the tray of sweets. "No thanks, I'll pass."

Tony raised an eyebrow, "You know, I could -"

"If you value your life, do not finish that sentence," Ziva said warningly. She sighed then, "Although not entirely a bad idea. I have more wire taps to listen to and can do so in the car just as easily as the office. I can be there and back within, oh, about seven hours." Tony and Talia exchanged a look - it would take a normal person over four hours one way with ideal traffic. "Your apartment is in SoHo, yes?"

Tony gave a low whistle, "Swwaanky." Talia smiled and looked relieved. "Yes, that'd be perfect, thank you! And now," she said with a little flourish, setting a large plate down in the middle of the table. "You're reward for being such a good kitchen boy."

"Ha ha ha, never coulda guessed you two were related," he grumbled good-naturedly.

"It should cool a lot longer, but Ziva can attest that it's good straight out of the oven. Ima used to say that she kept an extra spoon in her apron just to shoo her away from the goods."

Tony laughed, blowing on the piece in his hand til it was cool enough to eat. "Mmmm fis is wally gowd," he sputtered through a large bite.

"Annoying and endearing...you were so right," Talia whispered conspiratorially to a grinning Ziva, shaking her head as she took a plate out to the agent in the hallway. Tony tried his best to give a wounded look, but he gave up after a moment and reached for seconds.

He studied the delicate pastry thoughtfully, his voice suddenly low and serious when he spoke again. "She's talked about your mom a lot today. Said she misses how easy it was to talk to her...not like she was putting you down and saying you're not," he amended and she snorted and gave him a look.

"Okay, well yeah, you're not," he acquiesced. "But she did say you told her about Somalia this morning. She wanted to do something special for you…"

Ziva smiled softly, reaching for a little piece of home and memories. "You'll watch out for her tomorrow?"

Tony kicked her gently under the table. "No question, Zi. She'll be fine."

As much as Ziva's gut twisted the next morning as she drove away from DC, she certainly trusted her team to protect Talia for the day. She only made it thirty minutes listening to the wiretaps before recognizing that she was too distracted to focus on the translations. Just as she had pointedly ignored so many of Talia's questions for the past few days, she had likewise been suppressing her own thoughts and musings. She needed this time to clear her head, alone with nothing but the soothing combination of music and the blaring horns of cars she passed doing ninety-five.

She wondered what her mother would have said or done if she were still alive. Normally sweet and soft-spoken, Rivka David had taken the brunt of Eli's shit without comment. But Ziva also knew she was a force to be reckoned with when her children were involved. Talia was too young, but Ziva remembered the entire winter they spent in Chile when she was nine. Rivka had waited until Eli left for work one morning and then pulled already-packed bags from under Ziva's bed and bustled them into a cab without a backwards glance. Ziva had enjoyed four beautiful months, playing on the beach with Tali and listening to her mother's carefree laughter before a single phone call ended their adventure. They returned to Israel, to Eli, and Rivka died in a car accident five years later without ever telling Ziva what he had said to make her come home.

She was in New Jersey before her thoughts drifted to more dangerous and painful what-ifs. If she had not been spurred on by Talia's death, would she have entered Kidon training? Or would she have sought a more stable assignment with a longer life-expectancy? If Ari had not piled Talia's death on top of his hoarded reasons to hate their father, would he still have been able to put a round through Caitlin Todd's forehead? Or would Ziva have still been able to stop him with a bullet of her own knowing that she would have to tell their beloved sister that she was the reason Ari wasn't coming home?

She blinked against sudden brightness as she emerged into daylight from the Holland Tunnel. With a sigh, Ziva resigned herself to accepting that these questions were futile. Without the lies and betrayal and deaths - both real and manufactured - she would not have her life today. She may never have worked with Jenny Shepherd, and almost certainly wouldn't have come to NCIS. She would not be an American citizen, living a life she loved with a team that had taught her a more healthy and complete meaning of the word family.

"Accept the things I cannot change…" she muttered quietly to herself, parallel parking in a minuscule spot in front of Talia's building. She knew it to be the prayer of recovering alcoholics and thought idly that there must also be a corresponding Gibbs rule.

"Very Special Agent Anthony D-"

"Tony, it's me," came Ziva's urgent voice from the phone receiver. "Why isn't Gibbs answering his cell?

"He's up with Vance, why what's wr-"

"Talia's apartment has been ranbagged."

Tony's Ziva-translator kicked into high-speed. "Ransacked? No one noticed anything suspicious and reported it?"

"No. The lock was picked cleanly and the doorman does not recognize the sketches of Verdol or Stankic. They are checking cameras to determine how they got in."

"You've got your bag right?"

"Yes. I am taking prints and photos now, but Tony, they clearly haven't given up on her…"

"I know, it's gonna be okay…"

"Talia is there?"

"Yeah she and McGee are having lunch in the break room. I'll go check on them."

"We need to arrange a safe house."

"I know Ziva," Tony said reassuringly, glancing up as Gibbs came into the bullpen. "Listen, boss is here; lemme fill him in. Finish processing the apartment and head back. We'll make all the arrangements here." He hung up his phone, looking to Gibbs. "Someone turned over Talia's apartment."

"Our suspects?" Gibbs asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Tony nodded. "Probably. Ziva is bringing evidence back with her. She wants to put Talia in a safe house."

Gibbs didn't answer right away but stared into the space above Tony's head as if he was trying to work something out. Tony couldn't imagine he would have any objections to the extra security. "Somethin on your mind, boss?"

"Makes me wonder what's really going on," Gibbs said quietly. "Vance and I just talked to that idiot Barrett again and McGee was right; Crncevic Junior black-balled Verdol and Stankic and has cut all ties to them. He is making no effort to help his father get out of prison. So why are they still after Talia?"

"Hoping to finish her off and redeem themselves?" Tony offered.

Gibbs grimaced, shaking his head. "We're still missing something. Let McGee know they aren't going back to Ziva's tonight. I'll take care of it."

"I have you to thank for this I'm assuming," Ziva said, looking around. They were in a very comfortable hotel suite, so unlike their normal decrepit safe houses.

Gibbs smirked. "Director was an easy sell when he found out who it was for."

"Well in any case, I am grateful Talia is not sleeping in a flee-infested pigpen."

"Pig sty."

"That too," Ziva sighed, sitting on the arm of the couch and looking out over the dark picture windows. She was tired, having returned to DC in the early evening laden with dozens of samples that produced little results.

Gibbs studied her tired face and the tension pulling her shoulders up nearly to her ears. "You should go home and get a good night's sleep. I've got tonight covered."

"You know as well as I do that I am not going anywhere. Not until we figure out what the hell is going on."

"McGee and Abby find anything?"

"No. A few unidentified prints from Talia's apartment, but they are definitely not Verdol and Stankic's; likely her friends from a dinner party she had two weeks ago. Nothing on the building's surveillance tapes either; they are good at what they do. Things just aren't adding up."

"We'll figure it out Ziver. Always do."

She simply nodded, her face hardly convinced and resumed staring into the darkness. He wanted to ask how she was feeling - how she was handling everything - but that wasn't his style or Ziva's. So he reached for his book on the coffee table and resigned himself to waiting.

He made it three chapters before her quiet voice broke the silence.

"I told her about Somalia yesterday." He looked up over his reading glasses; she was still staring out the window, and he sensed that she was talking more to herself than to him.

"All of it?" Gibbs prodded gently, cautiously, to keep the walls from crashing back into place around her.

She gave a half-hearted shrug. "Enough of the story. None of the truly ugly details or my own motivations for continuing the mission after…" She swallowed hard and Gibbs set the book aside, cringing inwardly as he remembered their conversation in the interrogation room; her admission that she had gone to Somalia to welcome death with open arms. "Enough to know why I can't forgive Eli," she clarified, picking at her fingernails.

"Does she want a relationship with him again?"

"She is...undecided. She is nervous about speaking to him and unsure how she feels about his lies." Her eyes hardened. "I, on the other hand, did not think it possible that I could hate the man any more than I already did. He stole seven years of time away from me, from us. Leave it to my father to literally play God and think he can manipulate life and death to suit his own needs."

Gibbs didn't answer that, mostly because he had no answer. He was thinking about what Eli had done, wondering not for the first time in the last several days how one man could treat two daughters so differently.

Something of his thoughts must have registered on his face, because Ziva was studying him and whispered, "I'm trying to make my peace with it. I really am, but…" she hesitated before continuing. "As a father, would you have done what Eli did?"

Gibbs took a minute to think about how to answer. "With Talia, yes. Any parent would forfeit the right to see their child again if it meant keeping them safe. But not with you, Ziva. I can't imagine breaking my daughter just to put her back together again how I deemed fit."

Her head dropped and her shoulders relaxed a millimeter. "So I'm not being overly dramatic?" She sounded a little bit relieved.

Gibbs gave a hard laugh. "You know my opinion of Eli David. I'm not exactly an...objective observer in matters concerning him. But never feel guilty for your anger and disappointment in a man that is supposed to love you unconditionally. You get to be pissed off and hurt and confused. Just don't let it consume you," he added as a soft afterthought.

She pursed her lips. "There is still so much to tell Talia. So much I am afraid for her to know. Especially Ari..."

"It'll come in time, Ziver. It's only been a few days, give it time." She gave a small smile and nodded slowly, trying to believe his words. He jerked his chin towards one of the two bedrooms, "Go catch a few, I'm not going anywhere."

She stood, yawning and stretching as her back and neck cracked loudly. "Geez a thirty year old body shouldn't sound like that…" He winced.

She smirked now, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. "Good night Gibbs. Thank you..."

Love for the Gibbs/Ziva moments!

Please leave a little note and let me know your thoughts...remember that it's a good way to point out opportunities for scenes and conversations that I may otherwise miss!

We've got a big break in the case coming next chapter and I'm on leave for a glorious 10 days so you should see an update soonish. Thanks for reading!