A/N This is a short chapter, and it is fluffy, but necessary. Plz Review and Enjoy the new episode tonight.

McGee wandered up to the Director's office, fully meaning to have a job-related conversation with Director Shepard, only to collide with Chelsea. Although, he didn't know for sure, because this little girl had red marker all over her face.

"Hi Daddy!" she squealed, throwing her little arms around his knees.

"What happened to your face young lady?" McGee asked sternly, lifting her into his arms.

"Nuffin'" Chelsea said with a bashful face that clearly said 'somethin'.

"Chelsea!"

McGee saw a frazzled Cynthia run around the corner. Cynthia looked both relieved and embarrassed to see McGee standing there.

"I am sooo sorry!" the young African-American woman said, panting heavily, "She just, I don't know, slipped away!"

"It's ok Cynthia." McGee assured her, "I have found a sitter."

"Thank God!" she said, then her eyes widened, "I didn't mean-"

"I understand Cynthia." McGee chuckled, laying a hand on her shoulder, "Chelsea, you need to tell Cynthia sorry for running away from her."

Chelsea looked at him, to Cynthia, then to him again, this time with a pout. McGee just gave her a soft glare.

"I sowwy Cyntia." Chelsea said, still pouting.

Cynthia couldn't help but smile back. For a terrible two's terror, Chelsea was adorable.

"I think I'll just get Ziva and head home." McGee said, smiling as well, "Thank you for your help Cynthia."

Cynthia watched the two head down the stairs. They were nattering up a storm and they just 'fit'.

When Ziva exited the elevator, she watched McGee come down the staircase with Chelsea. They were a pair to watch, that was for sure.

"Chelsea!" Ziva gasped as the duo approached the bullpen, "What on earth happened to your face!"

"Nuffin'" Chelsea repeated.

"Red marker." McGee corrected.

Chelsea just blinked and grinned like she had absolutely no idea what her foster parents were talking about.

"Awesome war paint Chel-bell!" Tony said, earning himself a punch on the arm from Ziva.

Chelsea snickered at Tony's embellishment of his pain.

"Ziva, McGee go on home." Gibbs said from his desk, "Tony and I will work a little longer. And Chelsea…"

Chelsea turned to look at Gibbs, her eyes wide.

"No more markers." he said sternly.

Chelsea nodded quickly, actually looking sorry. McGee rolled his eyes. Of course she listened to Gibbs.

"So you found a babysitter for Chelsea?" Ziva asked, washing a plate before handing it to McGee to dry.

"Yes," McGee nodded, keeping their steady wash/dry rhythm, "Your next door neighbor."

"Mrs. Berkowitz?"

"Yes." McGee chuckled, "She said she was now to be called Nanny June."

Ziva let out a soft chuckle as well. She continued with the dishes and listened to McGee tell her about a nanny he had as a child, before his father's job caused them to move around. Ziva could feel goose bumps on her arms, but it wasn't warning her of danger. Ziva was getting goose bumps because of how domestic she felt.

"Ziva?"

"Wha- What?" Ziva stuttered.

"I asked if that pan you have been scrubbing for the last three minutes was clean?" McGee asked, humor in his eyes.

"Oh!" Ziva exclaimed, "Yes, of course."

"Are you alright?" McGee asked, concerned.

Ziva just nodded and did what she could to relieve the tension. She clammed up, a Mossad instinct that still remained.

"I am fine McGee." Ziva said, draining the water.

McGee fell silent. He noticed Ziva shut down, after almost six years of knowing her, he could just tell. And he couldn't believe how disappointed he was as Ziva left the kitchen.

"Boss?"

"What DiNozzo!?" Gibbs snapped from his desk, pissed at Tony's fifth or sixth interruption.

"What are McGee and Ziva gonna do when the case is solved?" Tony asked seriously, looking at Gibbs earnestly.

Gibbs almost groaned. Tony was like his son and annoyed him as such. But Tony was also a grown man and a great investigator. And as a father figure, Gibbs wanted to know all the answers.

"We need to actually solve the case, DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped, rising, "I'm going to see the Director."

Tony watched Gibbs stomp away.

"So he doesn't know either." Tony muttered, jamming the 'enter' key.

McGee's eyes burned as he glanced at the living room clock. 4:23.

"I no feel good Daddy."

McGee clutched Chelsea closer to him. She had woke him up four hours ago, saying that her tummy felt icky. She then promptly vomited next to his bed. So for the last few hours, McGee had settled her in the living room with a bucket he had cleaned out three times, a thermometer that continued to read 101.3, and other little comforting things.

"Tim?"

McGee turned to see Ziva standing beside him, bundled in her terry-cloth robe.

"She's sick."

Of course, his massive yawn muffled his answer.

"What?" Ziva said, a sleepy smile flattering her shadowed features.

"She's sick." McGee repeated, too tired to return the smile.

Ziva's features darkened as she knelt beside the couch.

"Does she have a temperature?"

"It has been 101.3 for the last four hours." McGee murmured, "I called the hospital. It isn't high enough to go to the hospital for."

Ziva nodded, brushing some sweaty strands of hair from Chelsea's flushed face.

"I no feel good, mommy." Chelsea whispered.

Ziva's hand froze. Chelsea had always called her by her name. Ziva looked up at McGee. But his face only shocked her more.

He was smiling at her. As if he were telling her that it was ok. That in letting her guard down, no one would get hurt. But Ziva always got hurt.

"I know Tetelah."

But maybe it was ok. Just for tonight.

POOMPH!