"Jethro, if I do not get out of this house, I will lose it."

Ziva's voice was strong, and only half-teasing. Both McGee and DiNozzo could hear the exchange that was taking place in the Boss' bedroom from where they stood in the living room. They traded grins, both happy to hear the spitfire they'd loved and missed.

"And besides, you promised to give me a tour of Sanctuary. I see the sun—it's a good day to spend outside."

A mumbling rumble that could only be Gibbs could be heard, but it was brief, quickly cut off by Ziva's voice once more.

"No," the Shadow declared, "neither you nor Sergei will be carrying me anywhere. Except for the stairs. You win on those."

Another low utterance sounded.

"Do not make me use the battered-wife card, Jethro," Ziva threatened. "You might as well stop arguing. I'm going to have my way." They could hear the smile in her voice. "All you have a say in is whether you will be involved in the process or not."

A moment of silence followed, and then the sound of heavy footsteps moved across the upstairs hallway and down the stairs. McGee and Tony watched with stifled laughter as their Boss appeared, Ziva in his arms, moving them both down the stairs. As soon as he hit the ground floor Ziva was squirming, and her crutches were already moving to catch her weight as she left his grip.

Her feet were wrapped in padded cloths that wrapped up to mid-calf, providing both protection for the soles of her feet and stability for her stitched ankles. She had yet to regain the weight she so desperately needed—McGee and DiNozzo could see her clavicles jutting savagely where her shirt hung limply from her shoulders—but they were satisfied with the color that had returned to her once-sallow skin. And though she appeared to be frail, it took her almost no time at all to steady herself on the slender crutches, making Tim wonder just how much muscle still lay beneath the fabric of her shirt.

Brown eyes lit up when they spotted the two Council members, and with a speed that impressed all three men, Ziva swung herself over to them on the crutches that suddenly seemed to be extensions of her arms. Though it was not the first time the team mates had seen Ziva since her Rescue, but it was the most animated she'd been, and both were hard-pressed to not make fools of themselves as she came over to greet them. As it was, broad grins graced both their features when Ziva's attention shifted to them.

"It is about time you two came to visit again," she said brightly, "but you've caught us at a bad time. We are going to tour the facilities," she added triumphantly.

Tony smirked as he looped a light arm over his partner's shoulders, giving her a friendly—and gentle— one-armed hug. "We'd be offended that you don't have time for us anymore," he declared jovially, "except that we came to see you off."

Her brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, before she gave a roll of her eyes. Looking over her shoulder, she gave her husband a pointed stare. "You made me twist your arm for no damn reason, didn't you?"

Gibbs gave a smug grin. "Not for no reason," he contradicted.

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah," he scoffed lightly, smugly settling back onto his heels. "Was funny as hell."

McGee choked back a laugh, and only Ziva's close proximity kept Tony's reaction to a mere grin. She stared at Gibbs for a long moment, her expression hard, before finally wrinkling her nose at him playfully. She turned back to McGee, pegging him with an expectant gaze.

Tim froze, unsure of what was expected of him. He gulped nervously, his eyes darting between Tony and Gibbs in a silent plea for help. They watched him squirm with no small amount of amusement.

"Well?" Ziva's voice was impatient, and her unscarred eyebrow lifted into a familiar arch.

McGee gulped again. "Well what?"

Ziva sighed. "Are you really going to make the woman on crutches hobble over to you for a hug?"

"Yeah, McLazy," Tony chimed in. "Unless you're okay with being one-upped by the great and awesome DiNozzo. It's all right, I know it be intimidating—"

McGee preempted whatever else Tony was fixing to say by gently shoving him as he moved in to wrap his arms around Ziva. She leaned into her friend's embrace, but her reliance on the crutches limited her to placing a hand his waist in reciprocation.

"It's good to see you up and about, Ziva," McGee said, his words audibly heartfelt.

"Thank you, Tim," she replied. She pulled back, and gave him a grin. "It feels good to be up and about." She regarded both of her friends with a critical eye. "Now, are you just here to see me off, or will you two be joining us?"

The two men shared a look. Instantly, Ziva's interest was piqued, and her focus zeroed in on the two former agents.

"Well, that depends on you," Tim responded.

"Me?"

"Well, yeah," Tony explained. "See, we weren't sure if you would be comfortable with a huge entourage today, so we decided to let you decide whether we walk with you, or hover inconspicuously out of sight." He grinned shamelessly. "Cause you know, if we're there with you, the girls are gonna come flocking, and then the whole Sanctuary will be right behind them—"

"Uh huh," Ziva interrupted. "And will your Rosie be among the flocking ladies?"

"Of course…"

"Then by all means, join us. I would like to meet her."

"Really?"

"To offer my condolences."

"Grea—wait, what?" Tony's features creased into a concerned mask of confusion. "Why condolences?"

Ziva's only answer was a devilish grin, but McGee had no problem filling in the blanks for his friend.

"For getting sucked into the swirling vortex that is the life of Tony Dinozzo," the tech advisor readily supplied, joining in on the fun. Ziva bumped him with her elbow in conspiratorial approval, her mirth clearly evident as Tony blinked in shock.

But then the theatrical mask of mock hurt came into play, and Tony clasped his chest in imaginary pain.

"Oh, tag-teamed!" he cried dramatically. He writhed for a moment, complete with agonized moans, then straightened suddenly, his expression instantly serious. "But, seriously, Ziva, that hurt."

"You're a big boy," she waved him off. "You can handle it."

Tony paused, then turned to McGee. "Yeah, and believe it or not I actually missed getting those tenderhearted verbal gut shots."

Still smirking, Ziva stretched her neck up to press an affectionate kiss to her partner's cheek. "Missed you too, Tony."

The Italian blushed, but waved it off with an air of nonchalance. "Come on, let's get this show on the road, before you start accusing us of trying to distract you long enough for the sun to set and Gibbs manages to put this off another day."

"I agree." Ziva straightened as much as her crutches would allow, and moved back to where Gibbs was waiting. "Let's do this, shall we?"

Gibbs held his arm out, ushering her to the door first, and she crutched her way to the threshold. Once there however, she stopped short.

McGee and DiNozzo exchanged flashes of worry and mild panic, no doubt imagining the same scenes of emotional breakdowns and proclamations of self-doubt. They knew that Ziva was potentially volatile—anyone would be, after what she'd been through—and in all honesty none of them had any idea of what to expect from her. Her recovery was undeniably quick, maybe even too quick. If this was the moment that broke through the veneer of normalcy they were in the process of rebuilding, then they would be intruders in what could quickly turn into a private moment of indecision on Ziva's part.

They looked back to Gibbs, but the Voice's attention was on Ziva, who twisted her head around to look at her husband.

"Jethro, could you braid my hair before we go?" she asked lightly. "I don't want to have to stop every two seconds to brush it out of my eyes…"

Gibbs revealed the small elastic he'd pocketed earlier, and within moments had her curly hair tied back and away from her face. It took enough time for McGee and DiNozzo to share twin sheepish grins of relief. They should have known better than to doubt Ziva's resolve.

As soon as Gibbs was finished wrapping the elastic around the end of the plait, he moved to open the screen door for Ziva, allowing her to crutch through the doorway unhindered. She moved out onto the porch with deceptive dexterity and then paused, waiting for the rest of the men to join her as she scanned the area in front of the House.

All across the grassy yard, Residents were hard at work. Several Menders were busy sawing away at some lumber, while others were even beginning to manufacture what might turn into a bench a few feet away. Residents on KP were peeling the vegetables that would undoubtedly be going into that night's dinner, and were tossing the naked roots into a pot that already contained water and a few leafy herbs.

A little farther away, a few Residents were darning socks and trousers, chatting away merrily as their eyes continually surveyed the scene around them. Still more Residents were bundling wood together, readying the already split logs into piles for Distribution. It seemed like dozens of Residents were either working or simply conversing amongst themselves intently, with Abby and Sergei nearby as well.

Tali was tottering back and forth between them, unable to keep her attention on either one for very long without getting distracted by the other. The Shirt in her hand trailed across the grass with each pass, and Ziva once again recalled the days in she herself used to wear that very same shirt. Only those Memories seemed oddly out of touch, with the grassy, sunny scene before her so completely irreconcilable with the cold hard walls of the Warehouse she'd left behind.

Gibbs moved up behind her, taking in the same sights as she. His lips curled into a smile, and even though Ziva didn't see it, she leaned back to whisper conspiratorially.

"Why do I find it hard to believe that the Residents on Duty always work in the front yard all at the same time of day?"

Gibbs' grin grew. "Because they don't."

"Then why—?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Gibbs couldn't keep the amusement and affection from his voice.

"So they—"

"Yes."

"For me—"

"Yes." Gibbs put a reassuring hand on the small of her back. "They missed you, Ziver. Your disappearance was hard on them too."

"But…"

"No buts about it, Ziva. Those first few months were chaos. You were their go-to, and when you suddenly weren't there, they panicked. A lot of people only stayed because they hoped you would come back. And now that you have…" His thumb traced circles through her shirt. "They've been waiting to see you for themselves."

Ziva was silent for a few long moments, as she gazed on the inconspicuously gathered Residents. Gibbs suspected that Abby had been the one to spread the word of Ziva's impending field trip, but he wondered if she had done so of her own volition, or if the Residents had been pestering her for information. Either were viable possibilities at this point.

But then Ziva took to a steadying breath, squared her shoulders. "Well, it's been two years," she stated calmly. "It would be cruel to keep them waiting any longer."

She turned to look at Gibbs, and beneath the furrow of her scar, her eyes were bright and strong. Her lips curled into a smile.

"Let's go."

The single step down from the porch to the grass of the front yard was easy enough for Ziva to traverse, even with the crutches, and she led the way towards the Residents, though Gibbs remained close on her heels. DiNozzo and McGee kept a more respectful distance, though they too kept an attentive eye on their friend.

It wasn't long before Natalia caught sight of Ziva's approaching form.

"MOMMY!"

The child's loud cry echoed in the suddenly silent yard, as the rest of the Residents focused their attention on the object of the little girl's excitement. Tali instantly began to pelt towards her mother, a grin splitting her features.

Alarm rushed through Gibbs when it became evident the child had no intention of slowing down before she connected with Ziva's legs—the legs that were still incapable of holding Ziva's weight unaided.

Before Gibbs could react, Sergei surged forward with a speed that belied his bulky frame, and with a heavily muscled arm snatched Tali around the middle inches before she collided with Ziva's knees. He swung her up into his arms, and almost instantly the little girl's features twisted with unpleased surprise.

"No!" she shrieked. "No, Big Bear! Want Mommy!" Tears welled in her eyes, but Gibbs stepped forward before she could get into full scene mode. She spotted him, and a familiar pout graced her bottom lip. "Daddy…"

"Do you remember what I said about being careful with Mommy?" Gibbs chided gently.

Tali nodded. "But she's not sleeping anymore."

"But Mommy's still healing, Princess. You still have to be gentle, or else Mommy could get hurt."

"Don't wanna hurt Mommy," Tali whimpered pitifully. She looked to Ziva, then extended her arms. "Mommy hold?"

Gibbs reached up and turned Tali's head towards him. "No, Tali. Mommy needs her arms to walk."

"But…" Confusion clouded Tali's eyes. "Mommy walk on legs."

Gibbs grinned. "She will, once she's healed a little more. And then she'll carry you all you want, okay?"

A pressure on the side of his leg prompted him to step to the side, and Ziva retracted the offending crutch in order to take a few short steps towards Tali. "I can't hold you right now, Natalia," she said carefully, the voice of a born diplomat. "But when we come back home later, we can cuddle like we did yesterday."

"Today?"

"Yes, today. I promise."

Bright, small teeth gleamed in the midmorning sun, as the girl displayed her approval before nodding vigorously. Ziva nodded as well, pleased with the outcome. She looked to Sergei then.

"Big Bear?" she asked gently, her tone lightly teasing. Her lips curled into a smile. "Really?"

"Not the most imaginative," the large Russian admitted. "But I enjoy it. It suits, I think. The perceptions of little girls are often honest ones."

"Indeed."

One of Sergei's arms detached from Tali, and reached towards Ziva in a warm gesture of welcome. Ziva smiled broadly, and let one of her crutches dangle from her arm as she returned the motion by clasping Sergei's wrist firmly. It was an exchange of brotherly camaraderie, that which could only be shared by soldiers who'd served on the same battlefield. It seemed almost intimate, but it served as a gateway, and slowly the other Residents began to drift over to offer their own welcomes.

Ziva weathered the gauntlet of well-wishers like a pro, her smile never faltering as she received welcome-backs and get-wells alike from the people she'd once thought lost to her. And to their credit, the Residents did not get out of hand. They welcomed back their Shadow with the respect she deserved, but also with the familiarity that came from having lived daily life with her so long, even if it had been years ago.

She shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, all while offering assurances that she would recover in no time at all. She looked forward to getting to know the new Residents, and reacquainting herself with those she already knew. She would be back on her feet and she would resume her duties, and things would quickly return to how they should. And above all, she was grateful for the prayers that had been offered in her name the past two years, and for the consideration they were giving her now.

Each Resident only heard bits and pieces, but Gibbs heard it all, and it amazed him that she spent most of her effort trying to reassure them. What little apprehension had been present in her frame slowly bled away, and some of the confidence she had lost returned. She slid back into her role with surprising ease, and not once did she recoil from their touches, though good fortune led to the Residents approaching one at a time, and only reaching out to touch her once Ziva had demonstrated that she remembered them.

Little by little, the crowd thinned as the Residents returned to their Duties, and then Ziva was left with only the Council Members, plus one more Resident she did not recognize in the slightest. But she then noticed her proximity to Tony, and the blonde tresses that caught the sunlight just like her partner had described, and she realized who the unfamiliar woman was.

"And you must be Rosie," she offered politely, crutching closer to the couple.

Rosie smiled in acknowledgement, and the two women shook hands in greeting.

"I am," Rosie confirmed pleasantly. "And you're Ziva." She grinned. "You're kind of like the worst-kept secret in Sanctuary. A bit of a hero, actually." Rosie grinned sheepishly. "Especially with this guy," she added, jabbing a thumb at Tony. "He's told me a lot about you."

"I'll have to return the favor, then," Ziva negotiated. She grinned when Rosie's expression lit up.

"I would love that," she said. "I have to twist his arm to get him to be serious sometimes. I swear he's embarrassed to himself."

Gibbs almost laughed. If she thought Tony was insufferable now, there was no way she would've been able to handle him when he'd been Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. The Incident and Ziva's death had taken their toll on his optimism and sense of humor, and for a while they'd been left with little more than a shell. Only in the past few days—since Ziva's Recovery—had they been able to see some of his old spark.

"As he well should be," Ziva returned, shooting Tony a mischievous glance. "But I think I will see how much I wrangle from him as blackmail before I decide what should be shared…"

"Oh, please," Tony spoke up finally. "DiNozzos never negotiate with blackmailers. It's below us, and besides, you have nothing to barter with."

"Oh, really," McGee joined in. "So you mean you told Rosie about the time you tongued the trans—"

"Heyheyhey, McFibber," DiNozzo sputtered defensively. "No need to be spreading lies now, all right?" He leaned forward threateningly. "And I thought we agreed to never ever mention that again."

McGee grinned. "I agreed. But Ziva didn't."

This time, it was Ziva who grinned mischievously. Tony paled, but cleared his throat in an attempt to save face.

"This is a conversation that can be finished later," he stated with finality. "Tour of Sanctuary first, right?"

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Yes," she agreed. She then turned to the Voice. "Lead on, mon capitan." She gave him a playful wink, which sent Gibbs' pulse galloping away. But he ignored his reaction, and focused on the task at hand.

He obliged her request with a patient, diplomatic smile, glad to see his team whole and engaging in the familiar banter that had once filled their squad room. Since the Incident, the struggle to Survive had preempted them from engaging in similar repartees, but now, in the leisurely atmosphere of the Sanctuary, it had somehow come back full force.

And it was a welcome sight.

He showed Ziva the entirety of Sanctuary, short of venturing into the Woods. He explained how everything worked, how the Chain of Command had changed in her absence. She listened and watched with rapt attention, and still managed to engage with anyone else they encountered on the tour. Gibbs watched as, even injured as she was, she slid back into her role of Shadow with the most natural of ease.

Her interaction with the Residents, all of the Residents, was both professional and familiar—that of a trusted leader. Once it was made clear to the Residents that Ziva was still the same person she was, their apprehension disappeared, and they spoke to her as they would have two years ago. The conversations came easy, and the Residents moved on relatively quickly, leaving the path clear for Tali to put in her own two cents.

She raced around the group with seemingly inexhaustible energy, picking small flowers to show her mother as they walked, or exclaiming excitedly at the butterflies that fluttered around the Sanctuary. She also regaled her captive audience with her own perceptions of Sanctuary, pointing out the more ubiquitous sites and the stories associated with them. Among them was the fence from which she'd toppled last year, and the crawl space beneath barn that in Tali's world was a deep chasm in which lay a nest of dragon eggs.

Ziva listened with rapt attention, asking the child questions and showing genuine interest. Gibbs saw the way her eyes lit up whenever Tali tugged on the hem of her shirt to get her attention, or when the child tried to pull her in another direction. It was during that tour that he realized he would have to look for the warning signs later—the signs that every person wrapped around Tali's little finger showed exhibited were well-known by all now.

Even so, by the time the group was ready to return to the House, it was clear that Ziva was beyond exhausted. Her ankles had begun to throb under the burden of bearing her weight for so long, and her arms ached from being so overworked. Gibbs could see her wrists and shoulders trembling from the effort of keeping herself upright, but she gave no word of discomfort, so he refrained from offering his assistance. When McGee and DiNozzo looked to him in concern, seeing her fatigue for themselves, he gave a single shake of his head, and they too kept their distance.

The sun was about to dip below the horizon by the time they returned to the House. Ziva got herself through the front door on her own steam, but as soon as she was out of sight from the other Residents she slumped against the nearest wall. Her head leaned back against the painted drywall, her eyes closed in sheer exhaustion.

That was how Gibbs found her a moment later, and only when he brushed his hand along her arm did she open her eyes, though her head didn't move an inch.

"You ready to go back upstairs?" he asked softly.

All he got in response was a wordless moan of affirmation. He grinned, and moved to put his shoulder under one of her arms, relieving some of the burden on her upper body. Her hand immediately released its grip on the crutch, and Gibbs pulled it from her arm to give himself room to move. A hand reached over to take the crutch from Gibbs in turn, and both Gibbs and Ziva looked up to see Tony retrieving the second crutch from her as well, leaving both sets of hands free for the impending journey.

Ziva gave him a grateful smile, but then Gibbs was sweeping her up into his arms. Any word of protest she might have given earlier that morning was abandoned, and she remained limp in his hold as he took her upstairs. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she sighed in relief.

"Tali…" she murmured softly, recalling the promise she had made the little girl earlier in the day.

Gibbs chuckled. "Don't worry. She'll find her way over here on her own. I give it ten minutes before she's hogging your covers."

"Mmmkay." His response seemed to be enough for her, and the rest of the trip upstairs was silent save for the heavy footfalls of Gibbs' boots on the wooden stairs. When they made it to their bedroom, she was almost half-asleep, though she gave a short sound of displeasure when he deposited her on the waiting bed. With a soft smile he sat next to her, helping her shift into a more comfortable position. She settled for laying on her side, facing him, and her fingers slipped around his hand to continue their physical contact.

Ducky showed up for a few moments, though he limited himself to checking on Ziva's stitches. There was some increased swelling, but he said that it was to be expected after having remained on them so long. He advised Gibbs to keep her in bed the next day to recuperate, lest she re-damage the tendons. Jethro had merely shrugged with a grin, knowing that she wouldn't let him order her to do anything. He could only hope that she would sleep most of the day away.

And then the doctor was gone, leaving them alone once more.

"You did great today," Gibbs said finally, smoothing Ziva's hair from her face. By now there were curls working their way free of the braid she'd requested earlier, and they stuck to her sweaty brow even as he tried to get them to disengage.

"They're all still here," she murmured tiredly.

"Who?"

"The Residents." She sighed as her head shifted to find a more cushioned section of the pillow. Her eyes opened, but remained hooded and dark with encroaching sleep.

"Yeah," Gibbs affirmed. "Most of them." They'd lost a few to disease and injury, before finding the Sanctuary. But for the most part, the pre-Evacuation population had Survived.

"Thought they'd all be dead by now. Or Disbanded." She sighed tiredly. "But you kept them all together. You kept them safe."

"Yeah…" He wouldn't be telling her how close he came to leaving it all behind, or how much he wanted to abandon them in order to search for her. She didn't need to know all that. "They're pretty tough, for a bunch of mangy Survivors."

"They're not mangy," Ziva contradicted. "Too clean. Everyone's clean. And I know what mange looks like. No mange here." She blinked heavily. "You never told me how beautiful it was. So much color… And the smell…"

"Hey, you said it was clean…"

"No, it smells good. Fresh. No death. Just flowers and grass and trees and life…" She yawned. Gibbs knew her battle for wakefulness was slowly being lost. "Ten minutes yet?"

"Not quite, but…" A scuff on the stairs alerted him to a visitor. "I think you got lucky. She's early."

Sure enough, the scuff turned into the pitter patter of enthusiastic feet thundering down the hall. The door burst open, and Tali made short work of the climb up onto the bed with them. Once there, however, she slowed, and crawled gently over to where Ziva lay. A small hand patted a tired cheek.

"You sleepin' again?" Tali's voice was hushed and gentle—completely not Tali-like.

"Just about," came the exhausted mumble. "Waited for you though, sweetheart." She opened her eyes as wide as she could in an effort to seem more welcoming. She raised an arm, and beckoned towards the child, who immediately squirmed into the offered space. Gibbs almost issued another warning to be gentle, but then she settled, and both his girls relaxed beneath the blankets.

Ziva's warped fingers brushed lightly over Natalia's soft curls. And now her eyes closed completely, and within moments her breathing had evened out. Gibbs watched as Tali followed suit, her copious amounts of energy seemingly placated by Ziva's presence. She would be wide awake later in the night, or early tomorrow morning, but Gibbs would handle that when the time came. For now, he was satisfied with watching his family sleep.

He wanted to stretch out next to Ziva, to curl around her just like he used to, with his arm thrown over her waist, pulling her close. But if he did, he could scare her. Even thinking about it, the image of Werth laying with Ziva on the floor of the boxcar, his own arm latched possessively around her abdomen—exactly where Gibbs' own arm used to lay.

The flashback turned Gibbs' stomach, and he had to struggle to keep himself calm. He focused so intently on doing so that he didn't notice the pair of dark brown looking at him from beneath shadowed lids. His gaze remained glued to his folded hands in front of him until a soft whisper pulled him from his reverie.

"Jethro."

His head jerked up in surprise, and he glanced at his wife to find her looking at him with an indiscernible expression in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he whispered back, concern filling him as he banished all thoughts of Damon Werth from his mind.

"Cold," she replied softly. When Gibbs moved to retrieve another blanket, her hand snaked out and caught his wrist. She looked at him with mild apprehension, but her voice, though quiet, was strong and sure. "Come lay with us?"

Her tone seemed hesitant, but something in her eyes told Gibbs that she was more wary of him declining than she was of him accepting.

It surprised him, what she was asking. He thought she would be averse to physical intimacy. He'd expected the distance—it was a natural reaction to see in victims—and yet here she was, inviting him into her bed.

Go figure.

But still, he hesitated.

"You sure?" He didn't want to pressure her, and it was important for her to know she had an out if she needed it. But she nodded firmly. There was a silent please in her gaze, though her lips remained stubbornly closed, and Gibbs knew she was certain in her affirmation.

And so moments later he found himself lowering himself onto the bed behind her. He knew it would be wrong to leave a barrier of space, even if common sense told him not to crowd her, so he turned on his side as well, so that his body could follow the same curve as hers.

He accidentally brushed one of her many still-healing wounds on his way down, and she stiffened with a sharp hiss of pain. Gibbs froze, and then instinctively began to pull away. But yet again, a hand shot out and caught his wrist, pulling it back over her waist and drawing him even closer.

He almost whispered an apology, but refrained from doing so at the last moment. It was ultimately unnecessary, he realized, and not worth the risk of waking Tali. Instead he gently spooned against her back, and the loose curls of her hair tickled his nose. She was stiff in his arms for a few long moments, but when he didn't move, didn't pull away, she slowly relaxed.

Silence claimed the House, and the room darkened quickly in the growing night. Gibbs thought briefly of dinner—long missed by now—but found that he was content. The hunger that had been bothering him for the past two years was sated by the feel of the slight woman in his arms. He breathed in her scent, and a gentle, satisfied warmth ignited within him.

He thought Ziva had fallen asleep again, but a few minutes later, a soft utterance of his name drifted into his awareness. He hmmed gently in response, and Ziva shifted slightly to speak over her shoulder at him.

"The Residents today…" Her brow furrowed. "They didn't say anything. About the scars. They didn't stare—they didn't even look twice."

Gibbs smiled into her hair. "I told you," he murmured softly, "they don't mean anything. These days, lots of people have scars. Old Tom has a big one on his palm—maybe you remember the sheet metal he tore his hand open on." It had been what had prompted her to venture into Vector 9, after all. "Johnson sliced his calf last winter, trying to chop some wood. Damn near took his own leg off while he was at it." His hand ran lightly over her ribs, tracing a soft circle through the fabric of her shirt. "They've been looking forward to seeing you, Ziver. All of them. And today, the Residents saw you. Not the scars."

"I know," she whispered back. "I—I don't know…"

"It's okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Get some sleep. Things'll be clearer in the morning. Always are."

Her back pressed against him in a silent sigh as her head returned to the pillow. Her hand once again found its way to Tali's hair, seeking comfort from the soft locks that tickled her skin. Tali remained fast asleep, somehow worn out by a day of following Ziva around Sanctuary. Gibbs could see the new tension in his wife's frame, made all the more evident by the exhaustion that still plagued her.

"No," she whispered sleepily. "Not always."