Ziva felt the steam of her tea on her face. It was cheap tea, probably added to the coffee shops menu as a postscript, to appear inclusive. The tea tasted no better than it smelt. It was too hot, and burned the roof of her mouth slightly.

The coffee shop was located in the one of the old Victorian arcades that litter the older districts of DC. The shops face each other, and are close together. Despite the ornate decoration, of red and gold, her mind drifts to the old city of Jaffa. Of the thick oppressive heat of a warm summer. She thinks of the little cafes. The men outside watching the world go by. Ziva and Tali snaking through the streets, while their mother tried to find the bits of herself their father had not taken.

"I mean it's weird," Abby babbled. She's been talking for a little while now, Ziva has been listening on-and-off. "I just got so used to having Tony there, and I mean Nick's great but it's different you know?"

Abby never did well with change. Ziva knew that Abby had taken a long time, to get over Ziva leaving the team. Now, almost a year and a half later, Abby was at peace with the whole thing.

"Yes," Ziva said.

She looked outside the window of the coffee shop. This arcade is filled with specialty shops. Across from the coffee shop, is a bridal boutique. The one that Ziva has an appointment with in fifteen short minutes.

"Tony's texting less," Abby said, also looking outside the window. "I guess he's settling in."

It's been three weeks since Tony started at Fletc. Ziva has finally gotten used to have him come home soon after her. It had been strangely wonderful to discuss their days over a dinner eaten at a reasonable hour. They had managed to get so much wedding planning done. Tony seemed lighter to, a peacefulness having come over him. He was happy.

They had also used one of their free evenings to sign up for pre-marital counselling, with someone recommended by the Rabbi who would be marrying them. The counselor had written copious notes, as they explained how they had gotten together. You two defy the odds, the older woman had said with a surprised smile.

"Yes," Ziva said softly. "He is making more friends. He was really not enjoying eating lunch alone."

In the first few days, she found him calling her around one pm. The other instructors at Fletc were older and stuck in their routines, and Tony was missing the instant commerdarie that came from working together with people you'd give your life for. Slowly, he started making connections, and had become buddies with one of the other younger instructors. A man who had been injured in the field, leading to the career change. The two followed the same sports teams, and had the beginnings of an easy friendship, that was starting to branch out of work. Tony had plans to watch the superbowl with his new friend.

"I miss him," Abby admitted, a frown briefly crossing her face. "But, I know this is good for him. Is he happier?"

Ziva moved her line of sight away from the dress shop. White, ivory and blush coloured gowns shone back at her. How delicate they looked, like something out of those princess books her mother had tried to read to her.

"Yes," Ziva said, thinking the animated dinners where he recounts his day. "He likes what is he doing, and many of the people he is instructing. He sees potential in many of the new agents."

"Yay," Abby said with a smile. Abby turned slightly, looking at the bridal shop.

The bridal boutique was miles away from where Ziva or Abby lived, and in an area which was a higher income bracket, than Ziva could ever dream of. However, it was well regarded for its selection. Ziva had found the website, through internet searches made when she and Tony first set a date, but deemed it too expensive at first. She had looked at other places, and even briefly browsed another store, but found herself going back to the website on her bus rides home from university.

Eventually, she had decided to at least make an appointment with the store, and see how it went. Would she say yes to the dress?

"Are you excited?" Abby asked. She was sitting down but still bouncy. Her dark hair was in her trademark pigtails.

Excited, was a strong word. There was a feeling of dread, the nawed at her stomach. She was waiting for someone to take it all away from her.

"Excited," Ziva echoed, with a heavy sigh.

"You know," Abby said, looking out to the window. The ornate designs. "Wedding dress is supposed to be every little girl's dream."

She had never been the little girl, who walked around the house in a toilet paper dress. That had been Tali. Tali who married her barbie and Ziva's GI Joe, while Ziva rolled her eyes having to sit through the tedious ceremony.

"I was never that little girl," Ziva uttered.

Breena had been that little girl. She and Ziva had talked about the dress shopping with an pure excitement, when they had all gathered for Christmas. Breena had sat with her hand resting on her huge globe-like bump. Ziva had listened as Breena described all of the wedding she had been a part in, as like Tony she had spent the summers or her late twenties attending one wedding after another as her college friends paired off. She had been a bridesmaid half a dozen times, and had a gallery of ugly bridesmaids dresses that had only been worn once. All in ridiculous pastel colours, and strapless cuts.

Breena was supposed to be with them for this. They were going to use her bridal expertise. However, at the tail end of her pregnancy, Breena only wanted to move if she had too. She was also fighting off a winter cold, which had crept in because of her low immunity.

"Neither was I," Abby replied. "I loved playing the mud. There was a scrap yard near my house, I spent so many afternoons there."

Ziva looked up at her friend with a soft smile. They so seldom spoke of their childhoods.

"I mean I thought about wedding dresses once or twice," Abby continued. "Not that I've ever been close to a wedding with anyone, but I know I'd never wear one of those poofy princessey gowns. It just wouldn't be me."

Ziva nodded. She always imagined Abby to wear a black lace wedding gown, or at least something with ornate Victorian styling. Something custom made, because Abby was not an off-the-rack kinda girl.

"That is exactly it," Ziva declared. "I would like to find a dress that is me."

"We'll find something that feels like you," Abby said with a smile.

You know it doesn't have to be a dress, Ellie had said earlier in the week, when they had met up for Krav Maga it could be jumpsuit.

Ellie had learnt that Jake had already started dating, mere months after the separation and wasn't really sure how she felt about it. Ellie also wondered if Jake, had started seeing his new girlfriend before he had moved out. Ziva had let Ellie vent, while correcting Ellie's technique. She had felt so silly, to rant to Ellie about her wedding dress woes. Still, Ellie had listened, and offered advice.

It doesn't even have to be white, Ellie had declared as they continue.

White wedding dresses were started by Queen Victoria, Ziva had learnt that from Schmeil during their weekly telephone call. Ziva had found herself gravitating to the off-white dresses as she trawled through website galleries of gowns. She eschewed anything strapless, but zeroed-in on capped sleeves and v-necks. Lace details, but not too many embellishments. She had a vision, of a combination of everything she had seen. Would there be a dress that matched her vision.

"I know," Ziva uttered softly. "It feels so silly to obsess over something, I will only wear once."

Yet there was so much weight on this choice. The wedding industrial complex, Ellie had called it, as the sipped post workout smoothies. Even Breena, who had been a self confessed bridezilla, had said it was all a little bit silly at the end of the day.

"It's not," Abby answered. "And you're not really obsessing."

"Tony joked I would become on of those bride-raptors," Ziva said, with a smile.

Tony was turning out to be the more tense of the two. He had more vision, when it came to the day. Ziva, perhaps because of her practical nature, or because she earnt less was more money minded. Still, the two of them had quite a tense discussion over place settings the night before.

"Bridezilla," Abby corrected softly. "And you're definitely not. Some people get really crazy, my sister-in-law was kicked out of a bridal party for being pregnant with my niece."

Ziva's eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

"Wow," was all she could manage to say.

"Her friend thought it would ruin the pictures," Abby said with a frown. " It was a long time ago, and her friend apologised a few years later, but they're not friends anymore. I've only been to a few weddings, but I've never heard of anything so crazy."

"It certainly something," Ziva whispered.

She thought for a moment, about how many weddings she had been too. One when she was a child. She had been nine or ten. The bride had been a friend of her mothers, and a few years after her divorce was marrying another single parent. She remembered her mother drinking too much, and looking longingly as the couple danced on the huge dance floor. She remembered getting mud on her dress, and her mother's scolding words on the taxi ride home.

There had been wedding invitations through the mail box, but she had never made it to the ceremony, there was always something more pressing; a mission, a case, or a tradegy. Jimmy and Breena's wedding reception, had been the closest she had ever gotten.

A few moments passed between them. Abby finished her canned soda, because the store did not sell Caf-Pow!. Ziva nibbled on her half of the pastry they were sharing.

"What do you want me to wear?" Abby asked.

Ziva frowned for a second thinking. She and Tony had decided on an inclusive ceremony, involving all of their loved ones. Everyone would walk down to the terrace together, in a parade. Abby, Ellie, McGee and Jimmy would hold the chuppah. Ducky and Schmeil would each do a reading. Tony's father would walk him down the aisle. The other guests would walk behind them. Gibbs would walk her down the aisle, at the end of the parade. The photographs would include everyone, and would be fun. The wedding would be something to look back on.

"Clothes," Ziva muttered, with a smirk on her face.

"You know what I mean," Abby said. "I need to know if I need to buy something."

Ziva understood Abby's concern. Nobody wanted to buy a dress they would only wear once.

"You can wear whatever you would like," Ziva said, with a warm smile.

She had already fielded this question from Ellie, who had asked if she and Abby needed to match. Breena had gone one step further, and asked about colours and themes. Tony had replied, that their theme was wedding, and their colours were whatever everyone ended up wearing. Ziva had watched as confusion washed over Breenas face, before the others had filled the room with laughter.

Abby was quiet for a second.

"Really," Abby said. "Even black?"

Ziva thought for a second. Black could be rather striking in the wedding pictures. Especially, if Ziva went with a white or off-white dress. It would be quite elegant.

"Of course," Ziva uttered. "Tony and I want everyone to be comfortable."

All that mattered was that all of their friends were happy, and had a good time.

"I think you might be the opposite of a bridezilla," Abby said with a smile. "Seriously, chillist bride ever."

Ziva let out a small chuckle. Abby laughed too.

A quiet fell over them. Abby ate her portion of the pastry. They had chosen to halve the treat, not out of fear of the calories, but to absorb the ridiculous price.

"Can I show you something?" Ziva asked. The voice that came out of her sounded far younger than her years.

"Of course," Abby said, with a warm smile.

Ziva picked up her bag, from under the table, and reached in.

She produced a photograph, sunbleached and age. The edges were ripped. Abby took it eagerly into her hands, and studied it.

"Is this your Mom?" Abby asked, as she looked at the photograph. Mom, sounded so American.

Ziva's parents, younger than she ever saw them, were standing under a chuppah. Ziva's father's hair was still brown, and his right arm was wrapped in a cast, from what he would later call an occupational injury. Ziva's mother was in a smock style white dress, with her dark curls loosely pulled back. The bouquet was held low, hoping to disguise a growing mid-section. Ziva had already made her presence known.

"Yes," Ziva said.

She had found the photograph as she pittered around the apartment that morning. Sleep had been evasive, the night before. With Ziva spending the night tossing and turning. She had woken early, careful not to disturb Tony. She had watched the sun rise, from the apartment. Her thoughts had turned to her mother, without warning. It had started with a craving for her ruggaleh. Then she had found herself humming one of her mother's favourite songs. By the time, Tony had gotten up, he had found the apartment a mess, and Ziva looking at the handful of photographs she had taken from the farmhouse. He had simply rubbed the sleep from his eyes, walked across to the kitchen flicked on the coffee machine, and sat next to her. Together they had shared memories of lost mothers.

"She was beautiful," Abby declared, with a huge smile on her face. "You look so much like her."

"Really," Ziva said, as she studied the photograph. Her mother looked so young. "People always say I look like my father."

"I think you look more like your Mom," Abby clarified.

"I suppose," Ziva replied.

"Do you miss her?" Abby asked. Voice soft.

"Yes," Ziva uttered, letting out a breath. "It seems I miss her more, the older I get."

Abby nodded. A heavy nod. An all-knowing nod.

"Me too," Abby admitted. "It's funny isn't it."

Abby's mother had died, during the summer where the team were split up, after Jenny's death. It had been a quick illness, but slowed down enough for Abby to fly to New Orleans and say her goodbyes, and then for the funeral. By the time, Ziva returned to the states, the storm of grief had mostly blown over. They had talked about it briefly, when Ziva had stayed over at Abby's when her apartment was being fumigated, but never since.

When Abby had discovered she was adopted, she had not rushed to find out about her biological mother. Eventually, she had asked Kyle about it, as he had not been adopted at birth, but rather had been placed in the foster care system as a toddler. He had looked for their mother, as a younger adult, but had found that a premature death had ruined any chance of a family reunion.

"Yes," Ziva said.

"We never really talk about it," Abby continued. "Not even on Mothers Day."

There had been so many Mothers Days, where they had all been together dealing with someone else's tragedy. The day always passed without comment.

"No," Ziva said. "We do not."

She and Tony talked about their mothers sometimes. Letting memories in when they knocked. Sharing their memories, over dinners, and in car rides. They vowed never to stop talking.

"I wish my mother was here," Ziva uttered, looking again across to the bridal shop. "For this."

For this.

For everything.

Her sister too.

She wanted a gaggle of women surrounding her, as she decided on a gown that made her look like a princess for a day.

Abby shifted in her seat. The conversation was heavy.

"She would have been one of those overbearing mothers," Ziva said with a smile, "She would have had an opinion about everything."

Abby laughed a little. Ziva let out a small laugh.

"Thank you for being here, Abby," Ziva finally said, as the laughter pittered out. "It is silly, but I am glad not to do this alone."

Abby's face lit up. She stood up, and walked across to Ziva's seat, and wrapped her arms around her.

The hug was warm and tight. Abby's hair tickled Ziva's face. Ziva leaned in tight.

"My pleasure," Abby replied. "It what families are for."

Family is more than just DNA.

A/N: I don't own a thing.

Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews, and faves. I'll reply soon.

Next chapter will feature baby Palmer being born. The last chapter, will of course feature the wedding of the century.

Also to answer some guest reviews, I'm not killing Dorney in this fic. He won't feature or anything, but I'm not killing him.