A/N: Here it is, as promised. I know, it's a little later than I originally intended, but hopefully it's worth it! Enjoy!

Gibbs stayed with Tali for a while longer, allowing her presence to calm him. But when she finally told him he smelled—an observation that was followed by a mischievous giggle—he stood and made his way back to the House, slinging her over his shoulder as he went. Her little feet kicked in the air as she laughed in delight, and he allowed a grin to cross his features for the first time in what felt like years. They returned to the House together, but Abby intercepted them before they could walk through the front door.

"Auntie Abby!" Tali squealed. "I'm potatoes!"

Gibbs watched Abby's lips crease into a tight, forced smile, and knew in an instant that being in the House had been too much for the scientist. "You mean you're a sack of potatoes?" Abby responded.

"That's what I said!" Tali returned, giving another squeal as Gibbs swung her back down onto her feet.

Abby knelt, so that she could look the little girl in the eye. "Tali, how would you like to have a sleepover with Sergei for a couple of days?"

"Really?" The excitement was tangible in the girl's voice as she heard her best friend's name mentioned. "Will he show me where he gets the berries?"

Gibbs blinked in relief, grateful that he would not have to worry about answering any questions of why from his daughter—for a few days at least.

"Maybe if you ask really nicely," Abby replied, her voice less strained than it had been before. "But that's up to Sergei."

Tali looked ready to respond, but whatever she was about to say went out the window when the Russian in question emerged from the House, a bag of Tali's things in his hands.

"Big Bear!" Tali exclaimed excitedly, dashing over to jump into his arms. "You're back!"

The big Russian chuckled at the familiar pet name, and swooped the child up into his arms. "Yes, Little One."

"I missed you!"

"And I you," Sergei replied, returning Tali's hug. He gave Gibbs a long look, and then a nod. No change. Gibbs nodded in understanding, and then the Russian's attention was back on Tali. "Are you ready to come stay with me for a few days?"

"Uh huh! Can you show me where the berries are? I like the berries you give me!"

"Ah, but would they be as sweet if you got them yourself?"

Gibbs didn't get a chance to hear the girl's response before the duo was moving off. He would have been offended, had he not been grateful that Abby had managed to take care of Tali's sleeping arrangement without him asking. In all honesty, he hadn't even considered the implications of Ziva's presence in their bedroom. He didn't want Tali seeing Ziva as she was—her delirium would only confuse the child, if not frighten her outright. And if Ziva didn't make it…

No. She would make it.

Tali's innocent words echoed in his mind. Heroes always get better. Well, Gibbs hoped his daughter's simple faith would prove true. Perhaps they all needed a little more of what she had. Faith.

Looking at Abby, Gibbs knew that her usual optimism couldn't hold up against the reality she had just witnessed. Ziva was hurting, back from the dead. Her features expressed vulnerability in the wake of having the world tilted off its axis. She had resigned herself to having lost yet another best friend, and had accepted the heartbreak. But that old scar had just been ripped wide open, and the wound was just as raw and tender as it had been the day of the Evacuation.

"Everyone is upstairs," she said softly, her voice shaky. "They want answers, Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded. "We'll assemble for a Council meeting in ten minutes, and explain everything." Looking intently at the younger woman's features, he moved closer in concern. "You been up there yet?"

Abby shook her head. "Not yet… I can't, Gibbs. I'm sorry, I just can't—"

"Hey." Gibbs pulled her into a hug, quelling her wavering platitudes with the warm contact. "You don't have to explain yourself, Abs."

"But she's my friend," she whispered. "She's strong enough to Survive, I should be strong enough to go see her."

"She wouldn't know you were there even if you did go, Abby," Gibbs reassured her. "And she won't think any less of you if you hold off on seeing her for a bit. Take the time to get used this while you can. She's going to need your help once she gets better."

"Better?" Abby pulled away in surprise, wiping her eyes.

Gibbs offered a small grin. "Well, yeah, Abs. You didn't think a little fever was going to take her out, didja?"

"A little fever, huh?" she sniffed, returning a tiny smile of her own. Gibbs knew she knew he was trying to comfort her by downplaying the situation, but she went along with it anyway, allowing his words to calm her. "No… no, I guess I didn't."

"Good. 'Cuz she would've kicked your butt three ways from Sunday if you did." Abby gave a short laugh. "She'll need you, Abby. You're right—you're her friend. And I won't be able to be with her as much as I'll want to once things calm down. I'll have to go back to Supervising around here, but she's going to be healing for a long time. And you're the best one to help her. She trusts you."

Wide green eyes regarded him for a long moment. Finally, she nodded. "And I'll be there when the time comes. I promise."

"Atta girl," Gibbs said with a grin, pulling hr close for one last hug. "Thanks for helping out with Tali." He sighed as he pulled away. "I need to go to her Abs."

"I know. She needs you. I'll make sure Tali stays out of trouble."

"Thanks." He turned to move back into the House, but Abby's hand on his arm stayed him a moment longer.

"Take good care of her, Gibbs." Her voice was suddenly strong, without even a hint of the tears that still sparkled in her eyes. It was not a plea, not a request. It was an order.

And it was an order Gibbs had every intention of fulfilling.

---

Ten minutes later, after seeing for himself that Ziva was sleeping—albeit fitfully—Gibbs stood in the Living Room, looking at the solemn expressions of the assembled Council. Tim sat on the arm of the couch, while Abby occupied the nearest seat cushion. One arm looped around her slender shoulders, his hand moving in comforting circles while her own long fingers gripped his knee tightly.

Tony stood alone, much to Gibbs' surprise. But then, the Voice doubted Rosie was fully aware of who Ziva was. She'd been featured in many a Whisper, but her disappearance had affected Tony a great deal, perhaps too much for him to be able to give his lover the scoop on his former partner. Looking at the man now, Gibbs wondered if leaving Rosie out had been the best thing for him, but he refused to make that call for DiNozzo.

Palmer remained upstairs with Ziva, allowing Ducky to join their impromptu Council meeting. The older man looked infinitely more weary than he had seemed only an hour ago, when Gibbs had first seen him among the Residents. Of all the Council besides Gibbs, only the Doctor had seen the extent of the damage, and the weight of that knowledge weighed heavily on his shoulders.

But Gibbs steeled himself, and with a deep breath, began the task of telling the story of how his Mission had been so drastically altered. He skipped the Journey into the City, and went straight to what they had found when they'd reached D.C. He told them of the destruction they'd witnessed, and the dead, empty streets that had slowly come alive with the presence of more Bloods than any of them had ever seen. He told them of how the Bloods were unified, acted as a unit and not as a mass of independently motivated psychopaths, under the strong hand of their new leader.

The team barely remembered Damon Werth, so many years after the fact. But they acutely remembered the injuries they had sustained in meeting him. Even Abby recalled Tony's broken nose, and McGee's dislocated shoulder. Her pale lips quivered as she remembered how Ziva had so fervently defended the Corporal's actions, how he shouldn't be vilified for how he had been trained.

Any jokes Tony and McGee may have once had about their teammate's potential affection towards the unstable Marine vanished in an instant when Gibbs described the condition in which she'd been found. He'd left out the details, about the Games, and what he suspected Werth might have used her for. But he did reveal that it had been Werth who had slashed her ankles—an injury all but Ducky had missed in their initial, brief glimpse of her.

By the time he had finished his story, Abby's green eyes were full of tears that trailed down her cheeks before dripping from the edge of her jaw. Tim held her close, offering silent support even as his own eyes darkened with uncharacteristic rage. Tony, without the calming presence of his wife, looked ready to kill. His hands were jammed deep inside the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans, the tension of his tightly clenched fists evident along the entire length of his arms. He nearly quivered with the need to get his hands on something to destroy, and Gibbs gave him ten minutes before his fist began putting holes in the wall.

Ducky, ever the stoic one, was the first to speak after Gibbs' story had ended.

"What do we do now?" the Scotsman asked, his voice heavy with sympathy and pain for what the young woman had been through.

Gibbs sighed. "We stay patient. We give her the support she needs, anything she needs. There will be no rumors—all the Residents need to know is that she Survived the Bloods. If they know more, some might question her loyalty. And she doesn't need that."

"But if it looks like we're trying to hide it, isn't that just as bad?" Abby asked. "She didn't do anything wrong, Gibbs. She did what she had to. That's all that counts."

"That's all that counts," Gibbs agreed. "And that's all they need to hear. The details are unnecessary."

He looked at her, and after a moment's hesitation, she nodded. "You're right."

"What's her prognosis, Ducky?" Tony asked, speaking up for the first time since the meeting started. His tone was dull, weighted with the realization he may not want to know the answer. But Ducky answered anyway, honest as always.

"If she survives the infection, she should make a full recovery. Sergei's care of her damaged tendons was exemplary, and if rehabilitated properly, I can foresee no complications in her regaining her ability to walk. But her fever is most worrisome. Her malnourishment and dehydration have severely weakened her immune system. She will have a hard time of it, but if she can pull through then it is likely that, through a healthy diet and appropriate exercise, she should return to full health."

A tense silence filled the House, as the team absorbed what Ducky was telling them. Gibbs could tell just by looking that they wanted to believe him. They wanted to believe that it could be so easy. Because Ziva wouldn't let a fever take her out, no way, so essentially he was telling them that she would be right as rain—in time.

But life wasn't that simple. Not anymore. Not since they'd had to Scavenge and Forage and fight against nature and humans alike for every day they managed to Survive. She couldn't be dead for two years and then come back and be okay. As much as they wanted it to be true, the world just didn't work that way anymore.

And yet, Ziva had been dead for two years. And here she was. Wounded, sick, but here.

Alive.

And maybe, just maybe, she would be another exception to the cruel world they found themselves in. Maybe she would return to her former strength, and resume her duties as the Shadow, as Gibbs' second-in-command. She would prove Ducky right and pull through with flying colors, and their friend would be back in their lives, after they had resigned themselves to never seeing her again.

Gibbs squared his shoulders, Tali's reassuring words echoing in his mind like a mantra. Heroes always get better. Could fairytales really come true in their crazy, messed-up world? Even he had his doubts, but he knew that he had no other choice than to believe they could.

"I want you all to be visible for the next couple days," he said finally. "I'm going to be spending most of my time here, until Ziva's condition changes. That means it's up to you guys to make sure the Residents follow the regular schedule, try to make things as normal as possible. No details," he reminded them.

The Council nodded in understanding. When he was sure none of them had any more questions, Gibbs left them, padding up the stairs to the familiar bedroom that housed an unfamiliar sight. Palmer had situated himself in the armchair next to the bed, his gaze fixed on Ziva's distressed features.

She was still sleeping, Gibbs was pleased to see, though it was obvious that her unconsciousness was not as blissful as he hoped it would be. Her breaths came short and quick, a further testament to her discomfort, but except for the faint tremor of the shivers that wracked her body, she was blessedly still, a welcome sight after witnessing her feeble thrashing not an hour before.

A thin blanket had been draped over her, covering her from toe to hip while leaving her arms free and unrestrained. Gibbs could see that pillows had been situated under her lower legs, elevating her wounded ankles. The pillows Gibbs had placed under her shoulders earlier were still in place as well, and the IV in her hand was still delivering its feast of saline and antibiotics to her bloodstream.

As soon as Gibbs entered the room, Palmer had moved to rise from the chair, but Gibbs waved him back. He opted instead for a seat on the bed itself, taking Ziva's right hand in his. He felt the calluses of her fingers scrape against his, and her skin was abnormally warm under his touch. But Gibbs barely noticed. Relief washed through him, instead of disgust, and he simply sat there, gazing at her.

He lost track of how long he sat there. He didn't notice when Ducky relieved Palmer of his post, nor did he see Abby peek her head inside the room to finally catch a glimpse of her ailing friend. He didn't hear Tony receive a whispered update from Ducky, or McGee's quiet delivery of evening chow—Rations Gibbs didn't even think of touching.

What Gibbs did notice was the thin white scar the crossed the back of Ziva's bony hand. It was old, long-healed, and impossible to judge how deep it might have been originally. He noticed, for the first time, how both the ring and little fingers of her right hand were warped and twisted. The skin was scarred and pitted, stretching tightly over the broken and fused bones.

To Gibbs' keen eyes, they had been fractured, and someone—possibly Ziva herself—had tried to realign them. But the end result was a pair of crooked fingers that couldn't straighten completely, permanently bent despite her limp frame. He refused to consider what may have caused them to break in the first place, or the pain she must have endured during the long healing process. More than likely, they still pained her even now, when not eclipsed by the gash on her stomach.

He tore himself away from her only long enough to tuck Tali into bed over at Sergei's. It didn't take long, since the Russian was more than adept at wearing the little girl out to the point that she was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. But he took the time to finish a Memory anyway, taking comfort from remembering Ziva as she had once been, unscarred and unharmed.

As soon as it was over though, Gibbs immediately returned to the House, only to find that Ziva's earlier peace had vanished once again. She writhed weakly on the bed, her head thrashing from side to side in the throes of a panicked nightmare. Even Gibbs' comforting touch on her hand and forehead wasn't enough to fully pull her out of it, but after several long minutes, she quieted.

Soon, she only whimpered pitifully under the twisted blanket. Gibbs stroked her tangled hair soothingly while Ducky checked her wound, looking for any additional damage the frenetic movement may have caused. A silent shake of the head reassured Gibbs—no additional damage. It wasn't the only nightmare they helped her through that night, or the two nights that followed, nor was it their only concern.

They struggled to get her to drink, recognizing that the IV may not be enough to replace the fluid she was losing when her stomach rebelled, its meager contents too much for her to handle. But she was resistant to their ministrations, unable to recognize the hands that held her and pressed the glass of water to her lips. But somehow, they managed to coax her to sip occasionally, and as much as they hated to admit it, it was all they could do for her.

She vomited multiple times over the next few days, which only served to concern Ducky more. Her condition rested on their ability to keep her hydrated, and it seemed as though her body was consciously working against them. For three long days the fever tore through her emaciated frame, keeping them all on their toes by alternating bouts of heavy coughing with shivers of near-seizure magnitude.

The only instances that Gibbs left her side were to follow his routine with Tali. Ducky was the one who notified him of the time—morning, noon, and night—and it was Abby who brought Tali back to the House so that he never had to go farther than the front porch. The small girl always asked about the Warrior Princess, but Gibbs was unable to provide any news worth sharing. He couldn't tell her that Ziva was in fact worsening, that the fever seemed to be proving too much for her to handle.

But finally, in the early hours of the fourth morning after their return to Sanctuary, the fever broke.

The sheets beneath her and the blanket covering her lower body became drenched with her sudden sweat, and for the first time in days, Gibbs could truly breathe easily. And when Ducky took a look at the wound on her stomach, and softly told him that it was healing well—that she was healing well—his spirits soared. Almost immediately, it seemed, her temperature returned to normal, and the shivering stopped when the sweating had started. As a precaution, they switched out the dampened blanket for a heavy one, to ward off any chill that might come from her now sweat-slicked skin.

And in those moments of growing relief, as her temperature remained normal, it seemed everything else had a chance to remedy itself. She relaxed finally, and when offered water, she did not fight them. And the water actually stayed in her stomach, though they kept the bucket nearby just in case. But her stomach remained settled, and her features slowly softened, until Gibbs was certain that she was finally resting peacefully.

Every so often, her eyes would flutter open, and Gibbs was right there to explain things to her, but each time they drifted shut again before anything could be said. But Gibbs was grateful—it was obvious she needed the rest, and Ducky reassured him that her exhaustion was to be expected. So he waited patiently next to her, with a ghost of a smile tickling his lips that seemed to be contagious.

Each member of the Council that visited them that morning left with a similar smile, or one more obvious. Tony's was the widest of the bunch, unabashed in his joy for his partner's improving condition. Abby and McGee had come up together to check on her, and upon hearing the good news, shared an affectionate embrace that Gibbs would have growled at had it been any other occasion. Ducky and Palmer had shared twin grins of relief, fully relaxing for the first time in days.

She rested for another three days, in a fitting example of reciprocity. Gibbs began to worry after the second morning dawned with no visible change, but Ducky reassured him that it was normal, even preferable, for her to sleep so long and so heavily. Her body was recuperating, the doctor explained, and the most efficient means with which to do it was sleep.

So Gibbs remained calm, and followed the he had followed for the past week. And he took joy in telling his daughter the good news, and relief in seeing the excitement in those familiar blue eyes when she heard the Hero was going to make it. Surprisingly, Tali didn't complain once about how long she had been banished from her own home in order to make room for Ziva. Like an angel, she asked only about the Warrior Princess and when she could meet her, to which Gibbs could only offer a proud and hopeful smile.

It was during his noon visit with Tali on the sixth day after their return to Sanctuary that Palmer came sprinting out of the house to find him. The quick whisper that only Gibbs could hear was followed by the Voice giving Tali an apologetic and happy kiss before passing the child off to Abby, whose own features were creased into a beaming smile. And then Gibbs was back in the House, climbing the stairs and traversing the hallway as quickly as he could.

He heard the soft sound of McGee's voice in the silence of the House, speaking unintelligible words of comfort. And when he turned into the room, he found the younger man seated in the armchair, pulled close enough to the bed so that he could easily clasp Ziva's hand in his. A comforting smile crossed the Storyteller's lips, and his eyes danced with warm delight. The younger man looked up at Gibbs' arrival, a familiar goofy grin on his lips, and to Gibbs' elation, the head of dark curls resting on the pillows tilted up towards him.

Brown eyes regarded him tiredly, but they were blessedly clear of both fever and pain. And then chapped lips curled into a tiny smile, and there was nothing else he could do but fall to his knees beside the bed, and take her hand in his.

McGee had wisely extracted his own hand, and moved to the door in order to give the couple their privacy. Ducky joined him, briefly clasping Gibbs' shoulder as he left. Gibbs barely noticed, his attention focused solely on the woman twinkled tiredly back at him.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. But then, three thin fingers curled around his, enveloping the appendages with a gentle warmth that had nothing to do with fever. It quickly flooded his entire body, and when he saw a silent tear leak from the corner of her eye, he felt his own composure start to crumble.

Not trusting his voice, Gibbs brought her hand up, and pressed a kiss to her scarred knuckles. She gave a firmer squeeze in response, her grip almost growing desperate. Gibbs reached up to brush her tears away, and then let his hand linger, tracing the line of her cheek with a tender touch as he forced himself to drag a deep breath past the growing lump in his throat.

"Welcome home, Ziver."