Disclaimer : I own nothing, but the typos. Oh and the OCs.
Warnings : Rated T for language.
Author's Note : Thanks to everyone who read, favorited and followed so far. Extra, extra thanks to everyone who's left a review.
And to Patricia - I think it was terrible that they killed Ziva off on the show too. Unfortunately, for the purpose of this story, she is still dead. I just couldn't imagine her letting her child go halfway around the world with Mossad-an organization that she seemed to hate by the end. I'm sorry...
Enjoy.
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Tony doesn't tell Tim that when they visit a restaurant Tali transforms into a perfect dinner date. Since his self-imposed moratorium on dating—not many women are interested in an unemployed, single dad—she has been his constant companion to sample Washington's restaurant scene. The little girl that is a food tossing, temper tantrum throwing monster at home mutates into a perfect lady, ready to sit like a big girl at a table and watch the surrounding people.
Angel in the city and devil at home, Tony's father always says. Just like Tony's mother.
Tony doesn't remember enough of his mother to trust his father's memories. But Tali's hellfire tempered with a delicate grace in the presence of others reminds Tony of her mother.
Tony heads to the mall's only Japanese restaurant on auto-pilot. For where it's located, the eatery has a surprisingly elegant ambiance. Low hanging light fixtures hover above blue granite tables like tiny UFOs. Tableaus of stark Japanese battle scenes with Kanji characters tell a historic tale that no one understands or particularly cares out. In the corner, a huge fish tank gives customers a chance to look their lunch in the eye before it ends up in a sushi boat.
Tali excitedly points at them. "Fishy! Fishy!"
"You're right, Tali," Tony says. "Those are fish."
"Yum yum," she says, craning around in her stroller seat.
Tony bites back a laugh, shakes his head. "No, sweetie. Those aren't the ones that they use for lunch. They're just decorations. To look pretty." He shifts towards Tim and mouths, I hope.
Tim just shrugs while Tali continues her chorus of, "Fishy fishy. Yum yum."
Before they have a chance to get settled in the reception area, a rail-thin Asian man rushes a side door probably leading to the kitchen. He is barking at someone inside in a foreign language, but stiffens up at the sight of customers. The person in the kitchen lets him know what he thinks, but the man just closes the door with a forced smile.
"Mr. DiNozzo, it's great to see you and Miss Tali again," he says warmly. "It's later than usual. I thought we had missed you today."
Tony half-smiles. "We had a change of plans, Mr. Morimoto."
"An early dinner instead of lunch." Morimoto's eyebrows crinkle as he matches Tony's smile. "And you brought company. You certainly are breaking routine, Mr. DiNozzo. Would you prefer your usual table?"
"Please."
They end up at a booth smack dab in the middle of the restaurant with a clear view of the fish tank for Tali and the bar for Tony. Even though he doesn't drink anymore, he still likes to look. The temptation that nearly destroyed him in those years after Ziva still tempt him, but he's strong enough to resist their gravitational pull. He likes to sit there and watch other people indulge in oblivion because, damn it, he misses the clarity that comes at the bottom of a bottle.
Today, Tony sacrifices his view to slide into the seat next to Tali. Tim plops himself down across from them. After a quick drink order of sodas for the men and milk for Tali—mooing at Morimoto seems to get her point across—Tony sinks back into the booth seat.
Tim pours over the menu, obviously trying to avoid the conversation that Tony is sure they're about to have. Beside him, Tali ignores the children's playmat in favor of building a fort with their chopsticks.
That'll keep her occupied for hours.
Tony clears his throat. "So Tim – "
"What's good here?" he asks without looking up.
"Everything is good here. Just pick a fish."
"Fishy, fishy," Tali mutters to herself. "Yum, yum."
Tim presses his lips together like he is making a life or death decision. As long as they stay away from the blowfish, Tony is pretty sure they'll be completely fine.
Moments later, Morimoto reappears with their drinks. He asks them if they need more time. Tim is about to say yes when Tony orders a medium-sized boat and says, "Surprise me."
Morimoto collects their menus, backs away gracefully, promises that he won't let them down.
Once they're alone, Tony tilts his head as he stares at Tim.
"What happened, Tim," Tony says, more statement than question.
Tim blinks. "We're great, Tony. I love getting a chance to –"
"No, not that." Tony holds his hand up. "Between you and Delilah. When I left the agency, you were so ready to marry her. You had a ring picked out, a plan to move to Arlington, and get started on having kids. You had a chance at the American dream, you said. Just like you always wanted. What happened?"
"Things changed," Tim says flatly.
Tony's chest tightens. "Did Delilah…"
"Oh good G-d, no."
"And you didn't." Tony gives Tim a suspicious glance. "Did you?"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tony." Tim's jaw twitches. "No, I didn't cheat on her. We're happy. Everything is perfect."
"Then what's holding you back?"
"Nothing." Tim shrugs, frowning. "Everything."
But Tony still doesn't understand. "Well, you never did know how to roll with the punches."
"Everything is so good between us right now." Tim sighs languidly. "What if I screw it up by asking her to marry me?"
"The woman moved back from Dubai to be with you. I think she is expecting you to propose. Don't you think it'll mess everything up if you don't?"
Tim's expression turns cloudy. "I didn't think about that."
Tony chuckles. "Of course, you didn't."
When Tim presses his lips together, his jaw muscles tighten like a spring. He takes a sip of his soda to try to hide it as his gaze wanders back towards the bar. After all these years, Tony knows his friend's tells.
"What else is there, Tim?" Tony pipes up.
His eyes widen as though he is surprised Tony could see through his terrible poker face. He takes another long sip of his soda before he sighs.
"Everything changed, Tony." But this time it sounds different, like the world as he knew it caved in a long time ago and he still hasn't dug himself out of the rubble.
Tony nods. "Okay."
"Everything changed after you left."
It's Tony's turn to look away. "It wasn't like I had much of a choice."
"I know," Tim sputters, grabbing Tony's arm. "Believe me, I know that. But you were a constant in my life at the agency. You were always there to harass the hell out of me, to keep me in line, make me stay on point. I could always count on you. I thought you'd be there forever."
Tony licks his lips. "Like Gibbs."
"I think I always knew Gibbs would retire someday. But you…"
Even though Tim doesn't say it, Tony knows exactly what he wants to: that Tony would never leave the job, that he would die behind the desk, that he would go out in a blaze of glory while in a shootout with some dirt bags, that NCIS would be his life until someone took it.
But Tim surprises Tony with: "…I thought I'd have your six for the rest of my life."
Swallowing hard, he wraps his around Tali's shoulders to let her ground him. She doesn't even notice as she smashes her stuffed horse against the tabletop.
"You're a damned good agent, McGee," Tony blurts out. "You don't need me. You never did."
Tim smiles sadly. "That's what you always thought, wasn't it? That we didn't need you."
Tony shrugs as though to say Well, yeah.
"You're wrong." Shaking his head, Tim drums his fingers on the table. "And maybe I'm overthinking things. But how am I supposed to ask Delilah to marry me if the one person who I thought would always be there walked away at a moment's notice? What's to stop her from doing the same?"
Every part of Tony wants to slam his hands on the table, wants to scream I'm right here for fuck's sake loud enough for it to be heard in the food court. But he just holds Tali tighter.
"Love," Tony says because he doesn't know what else to say.
Tim's smile turns even more miserable as he hangs his head. "I know and you're right. I've made a huge mistake by waiting this long. Like I've said all along, my reason wasn't very good."
"Most excuses aren't." Tony rubs Tali's shoulders. "And stop all of that talk about how much everyone at the agency needed me. You guys are doing just fine without me."
Tim genuinely laughs. "I never said anything, but the whole team went to hell after you left."
Tony blinks. "How so?"
"Remember how Gibbs passed over my promotion to hire Tess Monroe?" There's a surprising amount of malice in Tim's voice. "Let's just say that she isn't very special like you were. She used to be an 'interrogation specialist' – " he uses air quotes " – for the FBI."
Tony's eyes widen. "Oh, shit."
Tali giggles to herself. "Sheet, sheet."
"We don't say that word, Tali," Tony whispers.
Covering her mouth with one of her hands, she goes back to skewering her horse with a chopstick.
Tony turns his attention back to Tim. "How many cases has it impacted?"
Tim makes a face. "We had two confessions thrown out because her – " he uses air quotes again " – ' inappropriate techniques for dealing with suspects.' Then were the three that she forgot to Mirandize. And let's not forget about the guy whose jaw she broke. The JAG lawyers love her."
"What does Gibbs say about it?"
"Nothing," Tim says simply. "He loves that we get results. It doesn't seem to matter anymore if the confession sticks as long as we solve the case."
Tony hisses through his teeth. "Well…shoot. What about Bishop?"
"Already looking to transfer."
"And you?"
"I don't know anymore." Tim shrugs. "Maybe that's why I'm afraid to ask Delilah to marry me. I don't want her to give up her career when I take a transfer somewhere else. And I'm not sure we can survive long distance again. It almost destroyed us the last time."
"I still think that's a stupid reason."
Tim laughs. "Like you just said, most excuses are."
Before Tony has a chance to respond, Morimoto rushes over with a precariously balanced wooden boat in his hands. He slides it onto the table, then he breathes a sigh of relief. Pieces of fish are set up in a rainbow, nestled up against pristine white rice and ink black seaweed. They adorn the mast, the hull, and even a tiny gangplank that seems to have them marching towards Tali's plate.
Morimoto bows. "I hope you find your dinner adequate."
"That's enough to feed an army," Tony says.
"Yeah, it looks great," Tim adds, but he sounds unsure.
Once they're alone, Tony reclaims their chopsticks from Tali's play area. She is up on her knees, leaning across the table to pick sushi off the boat. She keeps reaching for the same kind of fish: a pale light blue one on a bed of white rice.
Seemingly hesitant on where to start, Tim picks up one of Tali's favorites. He pops it into his mouth. Suddenly, he freezes mid-chew and spits it out into his napkin.
"What the heck is that?" he gasps.
Tony shrugs. "I have no idea, but Tali seems to like it."
After chugging his soda, Tim turns to the safer salmon while Tony samples all the colors of the rainbow. But he is careful to leave all of the light blue ones as Tali meticulously picks her way through all of them. Once they're gone, she moves on to a dark red one.
Tim suddenly gestures to Tony with his chopstick. "Alright Tony, your turn."
"What do you mean?" he asks, eyelid twitching.
"You grilled me for my MOAS. Now, spill." Tim pushes a previously undiscovered piece of light blue sushi towards Tali like it's radioactive. She scoops it up, grinning with rice-filled chipmunk cheeks.
"I don't have any secrets," Tony says.
Tim shoots him a disbelieving look. "Come on, Tony. You didn't find out that you were a father until three months ago. That had to make you feel something."
Everything Tony has wanted to confess since he found out about Tali bubbles up to his tongue.
He desperately wants to tell Tim about all of the hours he spent pounding a punching bag to pulp in a blind rage, the circles he ran through the park to just get away from his life for a moment, the time he spent watching Tali sleep as he wondered how he was supposed to be a father.
He wants to confess the anger that he still has despite how much Tony hates to hold a grudge against a dead woman. She made her choices, but she took the reasoning to her grave. He wants to tell Tim how he tried to skip the other three stages of grieving, tried to land smack-dab in the middle of acceptance. But it's a lot easier said than done.
He wants to tell Tim about the night he took a dozing Tali to Abby Scuito's lab for a rapid-DNA test. Her cheeks were warm under his fingers when he did the cheek swap that Abby couldn't bring herself to do. Ziva would never have cheated on you, Abby reasoned. Never, ever, ever. But Tony didn't trust Ziva that way anymore. When the test came back positive, he half-expected some two-bit, talk show host to pop out of the office to scream, Tony DiNozzo, you are the father! In the end, it just added kerosene to the raging inferno that still smolders.
"Even I was pissed," Tim says, his brow knitting in thought. "How could she never tell us that she had a family? Your family."
Tony shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. "I don't know, Tim. I – "
"And it didn't make you feel anything?" Tim interrupts.
Enough with the psychobabble, McTherapist.
Tony squeezes one of his chopsticks hard enough to snap in half. Shifting in his seat, Tim's hands unconsciously stray to his throat.
"I was angry. Actually, McGee, I was fucking pissed. Is that what you want to hear?"
Tim's face turns relieved like he's glad to finally be getting something—anything. He leans forward, tilts his head in that annoying way therapists do. Tony starts to think his friend might have tried a weekend course on how to annoy people into spilling their guts.
"I get it," Tim says.
"Do you, McGee?" Tony snaps the other chopstick in half. "Have you ever had the director of Mossad show up to drop off your kid like she was something they were too busy to deal with?"
Tim's cheeks pale, but he remains silent.
"Someone I cared deeply about, that I thought shared my feelings, had a child—my child—and never told me. I missed out on everything so far in Tali's life." Tony pauses for a long time. "I can't even stand to think that if Ziva hadn't died in that fire, I never would have known I had a daughter. How is that supposed to make me feel?"
Tim frowns. "I have no idea."
At that moment, Tali stands up in the booth. She leans over to wrap her arms around Tony's shoulders and bury her face in his neck. Her tiny body smells like baby powder, stale crackers, and fish.
"Love Abba," she murmurs. "Love, love Abba."
"I love you too, Tali." Tony melts into her for a moment, then nods at Tim. "In the end, she is the only thing that really matters in this circus. She's happy and healthy, but I'm still learning. We're learning."
"Fatherhood suits you," Tim breathes. "Just like being an agent did."
Something that feels a lot like guilt smacks Tony square in the chest. Out of everything that happened, his only regret was walking out of the agency without even so much as glancing over his shoulder. He misses the action, the hours, the satisfaction that comes from wrapping up a case.
I should have thought about how I might be able to have it all before I made such a snap decision.
Taking a deep breath, he decides it might just be time to tell Tim about the call he got from Director Vance last week. The one that offered him his own DC-based team with more supervisory work and less time in the field. The one that he told Vance he needed to think about.
At that moment, Tali releases Tony's neck to pick up a piece of bubble-gum pink fish. She leans across the table, stretching over the sushi boat to offer it to Tim.
"Door, Maggie, door," she sings.
Tim's eyebrow jumps. "What does she want me to do?"
"We're learning how food gets to DC from Maryland through the Chesapeake tunnel," Tony explains. "But you've got to open the tunnel door first."
"Door, Maggie," Tali says, more demanding this time. "Door!"
Bemused, Tim opens his mouth. Instead of feeding him the fish, Tali slams her fist onto it and it explodes all over his face.