The guilt surrounding Tali disappeared when Ziva sent her sister to bed, convinced that she knew she wasn't going anywhere tonight. But her anxiety only heightened. The phone kept ringing. Three times he called for her, leaving ten minutes in between each call. He wouldn't be happy.

Ziva's manager went by the name of Scorpion, which Ziva had always thought pretentious in the back of her mind (her survival depended on it staying at the back). His real name was Stephen, but he hated being called that because he was named after his father, with whom he had had a falling out with when he was eighteen. Remembering this, Ziva sighed. Even the most pretentious of people had a back story.

Scorpion was tall and thin with olive skin. He was of Middle Eastern descent, that much was obvious from his complexion, but he showed no connection to his roots. His limbs were long and gangly, and his hands had fingers that curled so easily around a girl's wrist. He had a small amount of tiny, wiry, black hair on his head and a poorly-maintained goatee surrounding his mouth and covering his pointy chin. He was terrifying to look at, with deep-set eyes so dark they were almost black and protruding cheek bones. On his finger he wore a gold signet ring that indented the face of every face his hand made contact with, including Ziva's, at some point in the past.

Remembering the feeling of a slap to her cheek, Ziva twisted the Star of David around her neck and then clutched it. She usually took it off on the nights she danced, though she had forgotten the night she met Tony, interestingly enough. Ziva's stomach twisted in fear at the thought of telling Scorpion she was not going to dance for him anymore. He was powerful and strong and incredibly threatening when he wanted to be. Other times he was civil, even cooperative. But those were the good days; the days with lesser alcohol consumption.

She knew now that ignoring his calls had been reckless. Not her best decision, by far. But the look in Tali's eyes, of betrayal, of dependence...she couldn't bear to see that look again. After all they had lost together, Ziva could not and would not stand to have their relationship torn apart. To each, the other was a necessity. If sacrifice was necessary for Tali, then she would welcome all trouble from Scorpion.

Besides, perhaps it would be worth it. If she could just get this job, things would change. She had given herself little hope in her potential over the years but for some reason she felt as if she could believe in herself again. Maybe it was having Tony around – another human prepared to tell Ziva that she was worth something. She had not had that in so long, and maybe that was what she had needed.

These thoughts circled through her head again and again through the night and into the early hours of the morning. Ziva indulged herself in a glass of wine and then welcomed sleep and the new day with all the hope she could muster, which, though not much, seemed more than normal.

...

On Sunday morning, it stormed, and Ziva rolled over, curling up in her sheets. Her curls were especially wild this morning, but she did her best to ignore them and sleep as long as she could. It was rare that she slept in on a Sunday. It was almost ten and she had heard no sign of Tali. But that could be Tali being courteous. She would often lie in bed and read till midday or later, lost in a story, just like always.

But then she heard a telltale patter of feet upon the floorboards and smiled into her pillow. Tali used to sneak into her room in their house in Tel Aviv when they were children. The feeling of familiarity was heart-warming and Ziva did not mind so much being woken up.

Wordlessly, Tali pushed open the creaky door and climbed into Ziva's bed and snuggled in beside her. Ziva listened to her breathe and she listened to the storm outside the window and she felt strangely whole, all of a sudden. She had lost so much, but still she had someone beside her. Someone to love. Ironically, she had forgotten that detail in the attempt to simply survive and adapt, but she thanked God silently that her little sister was still beside her. Something about the feeling of Tali's breath against her arm made her feel like maybe things should not be taken for granted. She was, after all, so very lucky.

...

As Ziva waited impatiently for their rather unpredictable toaster to...well, toast the bread, she heard Tony knock at the door. With a sigh (not at Tony, at the toaster), she spun around and took a banana from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and handed it to Tali.

Tali smiled, smoothing out her green-checked school dress as she stood, and answered the door. Tony stood there with a goofy grin. He held up a bag. "I come bearing toaster waffles!"

Ziva was amused, but as she was about to interject, the toast popped out, burnt black. "I would not trust our toaster."

Tony pursed his lips. "Oh. Well, in that case..." he reached for a banana, looking to her for what felt like permission. She made a gesture that he was welcome to take one. He did pay for it, after all.

"Hey, so how 'bout we walk up to the station and I'll take you to work in a police car, huh?" Tony suggested to Tali in an excited tone, with his mouth full of banana. Tony had done his fair share of workshops and school visits – kids almost always loved the cop cars. But Tali didn't seem to. She bit her lip and looked hesitantly at Ziva. "What's up?"

Tali was silent. So was Ziva. Tony swallowed.

"My car, then?"

Tali nodded.

"I hope you're not gonna be like that the whole way," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I need directions."

"You will be fine, tateleh," Ziva assured. Tony frowned but gestured for Tali to follow him.

"Interview's at twelve, Ziva. I'll meet you at the front entrance of the station, okay?"

She nodded as they left.

...

"You want to know," Tali stated after not long. She buckled her seat belt. "About the car."

"Well, I'd say I'm a little curious," Tony said, surprised by how forward she was.

"Take a left here." Then she visibly gulped. "The police picked me up in one of their cars when they found out about my mom..." she couldn't say anything else. Tony instantly felt guilty.

"Oh, God, Tali, I'm sorry."

"You didn't know. It's okay." She gave him a half-smile, and her appreciation was obvious.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Take a left again." He followed her directions.

"What's with the nickname? The tateleh thing? What's it mean?"

"It actually means 'little father', but our Abba – our Dad – he used to call us it anyway. Sort of his version of 'darling'."

"So it's like a term of endearment?"

"Sure. My turn now." She smiled coyly.

Tony smiled too, glad that she wasn't thinking about her mom anymore, but he was honestly a little alarmed. Tali was smart – he was not sure if he was ready for her questions. "Who says you get a turn?"

"I do. Turn right." Tali smiled and folded her arms across her chest in thought. "Do you like my sister?"

"Of course I like your sister," he answered honestly. His fingers gripped the wheel a little tighter.

"No, I mean, do you like-like her?"

Tony almost laughed out loud at the sight of the true twelve-year-old coming out in Tali. He clicked his tongue, searching for the right answer. "Grown-up stuff's a little more complicated than that, Tals." Tony stopped the car in front of Tali's school. She grabbed her backpack and tugged at her ponytail, making sure it was secure.

"It doesn't have to be," she said. "Thanks for the ride." She slid out of the car and waved as she walked through the school gates.

"You're a smart kid," he said, knowing full well that she wouldn't hear.