Chapter 23—

Once she was alone, the first thing Ziva did was rush into her bedroom to get dressed. Upon seeing the mess that it was, she panicked. Ziva, of all things, was tidy. Her clothes from the night before had been tossed to numerous places around the room. Hurriedly, she began to gather them. Pants, a shirt, even a hair elastic, but her undergarments were nowhere to be seen.

Convincing herself that they would surface soon enough, she rummaged in her closet for some fresh clothes. She pulled on a pair of jeans and shed her robe, leaving her top half bare as she searched for a shirt.

She was on the third button when she heard the clicking of the door handle and her sister's voice calling her name. "Ziva? Ziva?"

Ziva gasped. It was past ten in the morning – she had usually been up for hours by now (even in the days where she was up all night). Tali would suspect something, she knew it.

Nevertheless, she braved the living room and greeted her little sister with a hug, trying to calm herself down. "How was it? Did you have fun?" That was the most important thing, after all – that Tali make friends.

"It was okay. I couldn't really sleep."

"Why, were you girls up late?"

"No, Stacey's mom is really strict. When it hit eleven thirty she made everyone go to sleep. But I just couldn't."

"Did you get to know some of the other girls a little better?"

"I guess," she mumbled. "I don't think many of the other girls like me that much."

"Don't say that." Ziva wanted to cry. "You have not given them a reason to dislike you." She knelt down and placed a comforting hand on Tali's shoulder. "You made it through the night," she said. "Do you need to rest?"

"I'm okay." Tali shrugged and dragged her bag by its shoulder strap across the floor in the direction of her room, with her pillow tucked under her arm. It was as she walked away that Ziva realised how parental she was being about this whole thing. Girls at Tali's age were brutal, cliquey, and cruel. They had never liked her, either. All through high school, it had been painfully obvious that she was disliked by a good amount of people. Her mother – old-fashioned as she was – had claimed it was because Ziva was pretty and smart and intimidated them. That may have even been true, but Ziva never believed her. She convinced herself that she was too different – bilingual, Middle-Eastern, not afraid to beat a boy up if he got a little hands-y at a party.

Of course Tali felt disliked. She was different. Those other girls didn't know how to deal with it – it was no one's fault. And then, of course, there was the delicacy issue. Nobody teaches a twelve-year-old girl how to approach an orphan from the other side of the world.

Though she knew that being different was an inevitability, she wished that Tali could see how amazing she was.

...

Despite the night she'd had, Tali seemed to perk up when she drank a soda and propped herself up on the sofa with a book. She shuffled around, trying to get comfortable, then froze, staring at the coffee table, where the leftovers from the night before sat neglected. Tali further examined the room, and how it felt oddly askew. One of the couch cushions had fallen on the floor and a corner of the rug was upturned.

"Ziva," Tali called. "Tony came over last night, didn't he?"

"Yes, Tali," Ziva answered, trying to keep her voice as flat as she could.

"You didn't clean up dinner. Or the . . . couch."

Ziva scurried over and quickly tidied the dishevelled-looking sofa and the food. She looked over at Tali, who had opened her book, and didn't seem to give it a second thought. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up to read her message. It was from Tony.

Dinner for three later? I make a kick-ass casserole.

She replied immediately:

Sounds good. We have to talk to Tali. This is driving me crazy.

It was a few minutes before he texted back:

Agreed. Shall we say seven?

...

Ziva's endeavour to erase evidence of the night before continued into the evening, when she went into her bedroom to finish cleaning and to change the sheets. It took her a little longer than it usually did, for she kept getting distracted, remembering the night before. Oh, it had been perfect. She had wished she had more time to marvel in it.

It was incredible, the way he had changed in her eyes. She never would have believed it if she'd been told she'd fall for one of the men she'd danced for. And she'd never have believed that any man could be so delightfully sweet and loving and actually change her life for the better. And to be able to be with him in that way, in a way that was different to how she had been with anyone else.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Tali's footsteps.

"What's up?" Ziva asked.

"Nothing," Tali answered distractedly, fiddling with a Rubik's cube, which she quickly grew frustrated with and tossed across the floor and under the bed. This was nothing unusual when it came to Rubik's cubes, but even so Tali looked apologetic and dived onto the floor to retrieve it.

Her entire torso was under the bed when she said, "Ziva? What's this?" She crawled out from under there and held a navy blue silk tie in her hand. It was Tony's.

"It's a neck tie," Ziva answered, her voice smaller than she would have liked it to be.

"What's it doing under your bed?" It hadn't even been tied, and as she saw that, Ziva remembered pulling it off of Tony's neck without wanting to separate their lips. Oh, God . . .

"Knock, knock," a voice said, tapping on the door and pushing it open. Perfect timing on Tony's part, really. He frowned in surprise to see his tie in Tali's hand. "Is that –" He shut his mouth immediately when Ziva glared at him and shook her head in the subtlest possible way.

"Dinner, anyone?" he suggested.

...

Though dinner wasn't much better than the bedroom situation. It was almost silent, other than the sound of clinking cutlery and occasionally, chewing.

"Are you guys okay?" Tali asked, when they were almost finished. "You've been weird tonight. No offence."

"Actually," Ziva said, taking a deep breath. "There's something I – we would like to talk to you about."

Tali looked worried, and that only increased Ziva's hesitation. Tony felt bad for the both of them, and decided to start her off.

"You were right, Tali. You were right about all of it," he said, reaching across the table. "You somehow managed to figure out what I was feeling before I even felt it. You told me a while ago that maybe Ziva didn't think anyone would stick around for her." Ziva looked a little hurt, but she didn't stop him. It was true, every word. "But I'm going to. I'm going to stick around, I hope that makes you happy, because you know how much she loves you, right?"

Tali nodded silently.

"That's how much I love Ziva."

Underneath the table, Ziva felt for his hand and squeezed it tight.

"You guys are, like, together? Together together?"

Ziva nodded with a teary smile. It was not like her to cry. "We are."

"And you're happy?" It wasn't really a necessary question. She could see it in their faces.

"Yeah, Tals," Tony answered.

"Good," Tali said, and she smiled at both of them. "That's good." Tali crossed the distance between them and hugged them both.

"Okay," Ziva said, not sure where to go. "I'll go clean up." Really, she was overjoyed. She could let herself fall irrevocably and wholly in love with the man smiling at her from across the room, and that made her so, so happy.

"You really love her, don't you?" Tali whispered to Tony, so Ziva couldn't hear.

"Yeah, kiddo," he admitted.

"Good," she said with a smile. "Otherwise I might have to beat you up." She began to walk away, but then took a step back, adding smugly: "Oh, and, uh, told you so."

A/N: Remember to keep reviewing, thanks to all who have so far (: