A/N: Hi, y'all. Sorry for the delay. This is a long chapter though. Like I said, updates won't always be daily. I'll try to make them as frequent as possible. A couple of people asked Ziva and Tali's ages – Tali is twelve and Ziva is in her early twenties. Younger than Tony, who is 25.

Ziva had trouble pulling away from her sister. She was growing up fast, and while that process lessened the stress on her, she'd never be able to see her little sister as anything but the little girl who used to follow her around and mimic what she did. Tali had always looked up to her big sister, with doting brown eyes. She learned her mannerisms and parroted almost whatever she said.

But Tali was smart. She was observant and sharp – she always had been. When the two sisters and Rivka had moved to America, Tali had been very small, having only really just learnt to string a sentence together. Rivka and Ziva both already spoke decent English, so Rivka encouraged her eldest daughter to speak it as much as she could so Tali would pick up on it. Soon enough she did, and now she could speak both very well. In the early days, they attended a synagogue where Hebrew was exclusively spoken, so none of them forgot their native language. Tali sounded completely American, though, so when people found out she spoke another language they were impressed, but with Ziva it was somewhat expected. She still had a hint of an accent, and of course, there was her tattoo, a Hebrew word.

Ziva realised, upon pulling back and looking at her sister, with her hands cupping her cheeks, that the little girl she had once known might go away forever if she was not careful. Even Tali's cheeks, once rosy-coloured and chubby, were different. Ziva felt cheekbones beneath her hands. The younger girl knew that her sister left her at night, and that killed both of them. Ziva hated hiding from Tali, and Tali hated having things hidden from her.

But unlike Ziva, who was very guarded – that had come from the sting of losing both parents, whereas Tali didn't remember their father Eli very well at all – Tali had something special within her. She had compassion. That was why, even though she hated the lies and fully comprehended their potential to damage the delicate system the two of them had learned to adapt to, she would never anger. How could she? The sister Tali knew and had always known only kept secrets if there was a very, very good reason. This was knowledge Tali depended on. She had to. What else did she have? She wouldn't ask where Ziva went at night, but she needed to know she knew.

"I will change," Tali said. "We don't get visitors often – I hardly think someone like Tony deserves to see me in one of Ima's old T-shirts."

Ziva's eyes were tearing up, but she smiled. For someone so young, that girl understood things better than most. "No, I suppose not. Go and put your dress on, hm? You look very sweet in that."

Ziva changed too, into an eggplant-coloured blouse and black pants and flats. She glossed her lips and curled her lashes and it occurred to her how long it had been since she had put makeup on for someone who wouldn't later have her strip of every garment on her body. With a sigh, she stared at her reflection. Seldom did she look at herself and feel happy. They...they told her she was beautiful, but she'd never believe them. If anything it lowered her opinion of herself and caused her to greet her own reflection with increasing remorse and disgust. She forced her lips into a tight smile.

Tony doesn't think those things about you. He likes you. He thinks you're interesting.

When it failed to cheer her she realised that her feelings had very little to do with Tony and much more to do with the fact that any love felt for her was in short supply.

God, she had to get out of that job.

A knock at the door startled her. When she had made her way from the bathroom to the living room, where the door was, Tali had answered it and let their guest in.

"Don't you look nice?" he was saying to Tali, bent over and smiling at her. A grin spread over Tali's freckled cheeks. In an instant, the knowing, solemn girl who was wise beyond her years had disappeared. Ziva longed for the days when she could make her sister smile like that, but at least someone out there could.

Tony's expression changed when he saw her. He stood up straight and his emerald eyes lit up. For a few moments, he let himself just blatantly stare, and she didn't shy away. She was used to eyes on her but there was something different about his. He was looking into her eyes, for one. After a minute long and lingering, he smiled again.

"Mr DiNozzo," she greeted, the corner of her mouth lifted slyly.

"Miss David," he replied.

Tali decided she was tired of long silences and spoke up: "Will dinner take long? I'm starved." After realising what that probably sounded like to Ziva she looked alarmed and gave her a look clarifying that it had been only an expression. Ziva tried to ignore her gnawing guilt.

"Well," Tony said, putting his game face on. "In my personal experience, the DiNozzo recipe for Bolognese sauce always tastes better the next day, so..." he pulled a big container of sauce from the paper bag under his arm. "Made with plenty of veggies just yesterday, all we gotta do is finish it off."

"What next?" Tali asked.

He handed her two packets of pasta. "We boil the water and then we put the pasta in."

The two set to it, and Ziva watched from the living room, intrigued. It occurred to her how easy it seemed for Tali to trust him. She did not often warm easily to strangers, but she had warmed to Tony in an instant. Was she faking, for her sake? Did she think for some reason that Ziva maintaining some kind of relationship with Tony had become crucial? Or was there something about him that really made her want to trust him.

As she watched them slurp pasta together, Ziva decided that it was the latter.

...

The David sisters kindly helped themselves to seconds, and Tali thirds. Thankfully, Tony had prepared for that and there was plenty for leftovers, too.

"Why don't you go wash up, Tali?" Ziva suggested. "It is nearly bedtime." They'd been talking for nearly an hour after finishing their meal, and time had flown. Reluctantly, Tali did. Tony gave her a little wink as she left.

"How old is she, again?" Tony asked.

"Twelve."

"She doesn't seem it." He looked rather perplexed.

"She is small for her age, and when our mother died she became very secluded. Despite the fact that she is too smart for secrets to be kept from her, she is young in her nature. I do not blame her. It was very hard for me to not act like a little child after losing our mother. And yet most of the time around me she is different. She acts older than she is. Maybe she thinks I need her."

"I think she'd be right," Tony said quietly, as if unsure if it was a good idea.

Ziva swallowed hard. "Well, we need each other," she admitted, frowning. "But around you she acts like a child again."

"I have been told I'm an overgrown child multiple times," he said, feigning pride. She laughed and lifted her hand to pick out the last, small (and slightly burnt because Tali and Tony had forgotten to take it out of the oven on time) piece of garlic bread. He reached for it at the same time, during a lapse in conversation. Their fingers brushed and he smiled, suddenly with the bashfulness of a teenage boy.

"You take it," he told her, and she did, biting into it with a satisfying crunch.

"It is delicious," she complimented. "Your mother's recipe?"

"My dad's, actually." He looked suddenly solemn. "He only started making it after she died, though. My mom."

"I'm sorry." She was, but a part her felt contented that they shared something. Perhaps he had more depth than she had initially believed. "For your mother and...for judging you too harshly."

He shrugged. "Hey, I'd have done the same thing if I were you. Some guy you don't even know tries to buy you groceries." He laughed nervously. "I was stupid."

"No, you weren't. You were decent. And my sister and I rarely see that."

"You deserve more."

"I am glad you think that."

"No, I mean, I may be able to help you out on the whole decency front. Down at the department the head of the Homicide Department – that's my department – he wants an office assistant."

She shook her head, laughing, which confused him. "Me?"

"You're smart. You watch and you learn. Tell me, which vegetables were in that sauce that you just ate?"

"Tony –" she protested.

"Ziva," he pushed. He watched her carefully.

"Uh...mushroom, tomato, eggplant, green and red pepper ," she answered, vaguely confident.

"Right. See? I didn't even tell you that."

"There is always someone so much better." Ziva stood up and walked into the living room , leaning against the back of the couch. "I stand no chance."

"You can't keep telling yourself, that, you know. You can't hold it together forever," he said, following her. He stood close to her.

She looked at him with a hard expression. "I have no choice."

"Yes you do," he said. "Look, I put in a good word for you. Just come in on Monday."

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Because," he answered, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. "You're better than this. What happened to trusting me?"

"You don't know me," she told him coldly, walking further away from him. She circled the couch so it was between them.

"Sure I do. You're a scared kid putting up a strong front for another scared kid. Your guilt's eating you alive. You're lonely. You think you're worth squat because that's what you tell yourself."

She stopped dead and sat down when she realised he was completely right. He came to sit beside her. "It's decent pay, Ziva. You'll work days, sure, but you're only around the corner if she needs you. The interviews are on Monday. Just come in. I'll swing by and drive Tali to school if you want."

Ziva looked into those emerald eyes again. They were honest and kind and at the same time, terrifying. "This cannot be happening."

"What?"

"I stopped telling myself that people like you actually existed years ago." Tears threatened to fall again. "And every day I was reminded of how right I was and then you..."

He was unsure of what to say. "You know I like movies? I think if we were in one this'd be the part where Here Comes the Sun starts playing and things start looking up."

She gave the softest laugh. "I do not know what to say."

"Say 'thank you, Tony'."

She touched his cheek. "Thank you, Tony," she whispered. Their faces were close, eyes locked. From the doorway of her bedroom, Tali watched them closely. Ziva opened her mouth a fraction but her phone beeped and she moved away.

"What is it?"

Her smile had disappeared. "Work. I had thought they would leave me alone, I was not booked tonight."

"Call him. Your manager. Tell him you're done."

She was silent and still with fear. He touched her shoulder. Baby steps.

"I'll see you Monday, right?" Tony said, standing up and picking up his jacket to leave. Ziva nodded feebly. He turned towards where Tali stood, much to her surprise. "See ya, kiddo." She gave a little wave and both girls watched him walk out the door.

"What are you doing out of bed, tateleh?" Ziva asked tiredly.

"Are you going?" Tali clutched the blanket wrapped around her. The child in her was scared of being left alone tonight.

Ziva stared at her phone. She'd never dared ignore a call from him before. There is a first time for everything.

"No," Ziva answered. "I am staying here with you." Whatever trouble she would be in, she didn't care anymore. Tali's smile was worth it all.