Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

August 2012

Wanting to get married, and actually planning a wedding, as both Tony and Ziva discovered, were two different scenarios entirely. They could both agree that they wanted something more personal than a perfunctory courthouse affair, but beyond that had no real picture of what that looked like. However, with two other weddings scheduled amongst Team Gibbs; Abby and Tim's New Year's Eve event at Mallard Manor, and the Florida destination wedding Jimmy and Breena were planning in October; they had no shortage of recommendations when it came to planning their own nuptials. Abby and Jimmy were particularly invested, printing out web pages from reception venues, or collecting brochures from nearby caterers. Ziva slowly built a pile on the dining table, both of them glancing through occasionally, dividing them into two categories, 'definitely not' and 'I don't hate it'. McGee provided a thumb drive full of suggested first dance music - Tony immediately relegated it to the first pile without a listen. Abby, not to be outdone, left a second drive, full of wedding dress ideas on Ziva's desk, which were given more consideration, and Jimmy printed a list of fun wedding reception game ideas, which promptly joined McGee's offering.

"So we know what we don't want." Tony pushed the latest additions to the 'I hate it pile' to the back of the table. "No nightclubs, no churches, no previous crime scenes and no... pinatas? Sometimes I think there is something seriously wrong with Palmer. I still can't believe you let him buy your car." The first denial was Ziva's, the second Tony's, the third mutual, while the fourth came from the flyer Tony quickly discarded.

"He looks after it better than I ever did." Ziva flicked through a florist's catalogue. Not that she had been a bad car owner save for the wild driving, but Jimmy treated the Mini with a care that was almost reverent. "I assume Abby circled the black roses for her, not for us." She pointed with a laugh.

"You never know with Abs." He chuckled. "She's probably got some gothic spectacular planned out and ready to go if we only ask. It could work, you always look stunning in black."

"Flirt." Ziva scoffed. "Do you have a preference for flowers?"

"Not pink roses." He shrugged, clearly trying not to get too in depth.

"Wendy?" He nodded reluctantly. "How big was that going to be?" Ziva asked gently. She knew enough to know that what had happened in Baltimore some years earlier had messed him up for a long time, and how that experience had made her own return so difficult for him to believe, the actual almost-wedding was more of a mystery.

"Oh, the whole nine yards, rental tux, church, crazy expensive reception venue, rehearsal dinner, about a million roses, something like a hundred guests." He shook his head. "Can we not do any of that again? I want this to be ours."

"So do I." Ziva agreed. "You may veto anything that is too similar."

"Do I need a code word for that?" Tony grinned. "Or at least to tell you the reason?"

"No questions asked, Tony." She answered as she skim-read a website printout and added it to the 'I don't hate it' pile. "Saying no will suffice."

"Where's your sense of fun?" Tony rolled his eyes playfully, and reached for another glossy book. "A pirate-themed wedding on the Potomac. You'd make a hot pirate wench, Zi."

"McGee would be seasick, and you are not as good looking as Johnny Depp." Ziva shot back with a playful smirk. "You are the one who wanted a reason."

"You deserve to be keelhauled for that Tia Dalma." Tony assumed a wounded expression and set the book aside, choosing a new one. "White-water rafting? Who wants to get married in a life vest?"

"No." Ziva took it from his hand, tossed it onto the discard pile. "Wasn't Tia Dalma more like a witch than a pirate?"

"Let me guess you were too busy ogling Johnny to pay attention to the plot? She was a soothsayer, and the spirit of Calypso in human form. Fickle and deadly, just like you." He leaned over and kissed her, making sure there was no real sting in his words, Ziva kissed him back too with a whisper that she liked him better anyway. "Okay, we don't need a code word, 'no' works just fine. Let's try and find something we both say yes to." He lifted another flyer. "Skydiving arrival at the altar?"

"No!" They declared simultaneously.

It seemed the more they knew what they didn't want, the more ideas their friends had to offer:

"Oh what if you find a castle? I mean you two are like the ultimate fairytale. The warrior princess and the..." Abby paused to snicker, "James Bond wannabe."

"Hey!" Tony complained. "Watch yourself Ms Sciuto."

"No castle." Ziva said firmly. "And we are not here to talk about weddings, we are meeting with our midwife and creating a birth plan, stay on topic."

*phoof*

"Tony, what about writing a poem for Ziva?" McGee suggested over lunch in the breakroom. "Instead of vows?"

"I'll give you a poem, McBard. There once was a man from Nantucket... ugh!" Gibbs appeared precisely on time to apply a swift hand to the back of his skull.

*phoof*

"A horse drawn carriage?" Tony echoed, looking at the paper Abby slapped in front of him.

"Yup." Abby nodded enthusiastically. "Ziva loves horses."

"Yeah, but horses don't exactly like me." He shuddered, remembering.

"Gotta stop letting 'em know you're afraid DiNozzo. Grab your gear."

*phoof*

"All I'm saying is if you use the air-conditioning and add a humidifier in your study to mimic the climate of spring, you could grow your own California poppies for Ziva's bouquet in time for the wedding. They have one of the shortest germination periods." Tim explained. "I could set the whole thing up with a thermostat and a timer so you wouldn't have to do anything."

"And have the neighbours thinking I'm growing something else? Pass." Tony bent down to place a yellow numbered card beside another blood spatter. "Get that McSnapshot."

*phoof*

"If you get married outdoors, instead of confetti we could throw rice." Abby suggested, relieving Ziva of the tub of evidence she'd just delivered. "Way more environmentally friendly."

"Isn't throwing rice supposed to bring fertility?" Ziva questioned. "I do not think that is something we need much help with, do we ahava?" She glanced down with a smile.

"You do have that bit covered pretty well." Abby conceded with a grin.

*phoof*

"Hey Ziva, Breena found this amazing lady on Etsy who makes custom wedding lingerie and garter belts..."

"Absolutely not, and if you think about my underwear again, you will not live to see my wedding, much less your own." Catching the look in her eyes, Jimmy beat a hasty retreat, leaving Ducky and Ziva to discuss the latest victim.

*phoof*

"Omigosh Zivvie I just had the best idea..." Abby sped into the squadroom. "If you wait till October the leaves will change and..."

"Whatever it is, no." Tony met her halfway, seized her elbow and hurried them both in the opposite direction as Ziva cursed at her computer in Hebrew. "Mood swing" he mouthed.

"I heard that, Tony!"

"How, how did she hear that?" He winced. "We need chocolate and tech support, stat! Where's McGee?"

"I'll get the chocolate, McGee's in the men's room." Abby fled for her lab and stash of desk treats.

*phoof*

"What about a photo montage during the reception?" Abby thrust the knife into the dummy experimentally and cocked her head evaluating the shape of the wound. "Nope."

"We're thinking more about dinner and dancing than a big presentation." Ziva took her turn with a new weapon and studied it critically. "The puncture is still wrong - try the kitchen scissors."

"Okay, just your baby photos on display then?" Abby swung, driving the point of the scissors in deeply. "I could totally use a program to combine the two and work out what Baby Tiva might look like."

"That is much closer." Ziva replied thoughtfully.

"You like that idea?" Abby turned to look at her friend in surprise.

"No, the shape of the wound, those blades are designed to come apart, yes? Try just one and aim downwards." Ziva moved to stand behind Abby, popping the shears into their separate parts and adjusting her arm for a different strike angle. "The baby photos are not happening."

*phoof*

"You need to think outside the box when it comes to wedding cakes." Jimmy insisted eagerly. "Choose something unexpected like carrot cake and cream cheese frosting." Ziva turned visibly green at the thought, something about the texture of cream cheese, which she usually loved, was utterly nauseating. "That's a no then."

"Yeah I'd say that's a no Gremlin." Tony wandered over to Gibbs' area, searching for the box of crackers he expected to find. "Breathe, Ziva. I'm looking."

"Food aversion DiNozzo, apples work better." Gibbs ordered as he strode through, tossing said fruit at her in passing. "Get the hell outta my desk."

"How did you...?" He glanced over at Ziva, her face returning to its usual shade and shrugged gratefully. Trust Gibbs to have noticed what Ziva reached for based on what triggered her now far less frequent nausea, and to have predicted this totally unexpected bout, she had eaten cream cheese for breakfast literally that morning. "Thanks, Boss."

*phoof*

"Hey, Tony..."

"Keep your eyes peeled, McRomantic." They'd been staking out the small convenience store for hours, and Tim had been full of suggestions.

"Yeah I am. But what if, when you get to the kiss at the end..."

"You leave kissing Ziva to me. Perp at your 4 o'clock, let's roll."

*phoof*

"I just find it hard to believe that you don't have any ideas, Ziva. I mean, don't most women..."

"Choose your next words very carefully, McGee." She warned.

"C'mon Ziva, you're literally pregnant." He pointed out. "Kind of hard to not think of you as female right now."

"That may be true, but I am still not 'most women.'" She added air quotes and heavy sarcasm.

"Right, sorry." He turned back towards the large glass wall that separated them from Interrogation. "You know I just want you guys to have an amazing wedding - right?"

"Yes, Tim. Thank you."

"You know something you do want!" Abby exclaimed. She'd cornered Ziva outside the lab for a wedding update. In the 10 minutes that Abby had been talking, Ziva had vetoed wearing a veil, Pachelbel's Canon in D, and both a dove and/or butterfly release.

"Not really, Abby." Ziva shook her head.

"But I've been designing and redesigning my wedding dress since I was like 16!" Abby persisted. "Surely you must have had some ideas?"

"At 16 I was learning how to dress to conceal the weapons I carried." Ziva explained. "A wedding was the furthest thing from my future at that point."

"Right, sorry." She apologised. "But you're going to have to make some choices soon. You've only chosen like the most popular time of year to have a wedding. So many venues are already going to be booked out! Did you know they can book two or even three years in advance? Then there's florists and caterers and a band, and dress making can take months."

"We will not be getting married in months, Abby. Just a few weeks." Ziva reminded her. "I still want to be able to see my feet."

"Exactly! This is why you have to get something done." She pushed a stack of brochures into Ziva's hands. "Tim and I were over in Sterling on the weekend, and I picked these up for you. Just try and find a venue. Once you know that, everything else will fall into place."

"I will look them over with Tony tonight." Ziva promised. "I need to go, I was supposed to be in autopsy, collecting something for Gibbs."

"Okay, call me the second you make any kind of decision!" Abby called after her.

In Autopsy, Jimmy had much the same idea, greeting her enthusiastically and offering her a book of fabric swatches for dresses.

"Thanks Jimmy." Ziva tucked the loose brochures from Abby inside to keep it all bundled together.

"There's cards for a couple of really great wedding planners in there too." He added "I know that you and Tony probably want to do a lot of it yourself, but having someone professional to organise it all really helps things fall into place."

"Ziva, here are the records Jethro asked for." Ducky joined them a moment later, handing over a manilla folder, catching sight of the bundle in her hands. "Ahh I see Mr Palmer has beaten me to the punch, I wanted to lend you a book, I know how much you value carefully chosen words. Perhaps some of the ones in this will provide inspiration for your ceremony." So saying, he placed an elegant leather bound book of poetry on top of the pile she already held.

"Thank you, Ducky." Ziva repeated. "Although, we have not even begun to plan anything."

"The best place to start is at the beginning." He offered sagely. "Once you have begun, the rest will follow naturally, or, as Mr Palmer suggested, fall into place."

"So far the only things we know are what we do not want." Ziva laughed.

"Sometimes the process of elimination is the first step." The ME replied with a gentle smile. "Go, before Jethro comes looking. I can tell Abby has already waylaid you."

Thankful she could use the elevator again regardless of who she shared it with, Ziva made her way back upstairs, delivering the folder to Gibbs' desk. Tony and McGee were out interviewing witnesses and it had been the two of them all morning, maintaining an easy silence, both with their own work to do.

"Took your time." He grumbled as she handed over the documents.

"Abby, Palmer and Ducky all felt I needed wedding planning advice." Ziva explained with a sigh. "I cannot go anywhere in this building without being given another pamphlet. Sometimes I wonder who is more invested in the wedding."

"Can't blame 'em, been a long time coming." Gibbs shrugged. "So's that report come to think of it."

"Yes, Gibbs." She took the hint and returned to her desk.

With the first round of offerings declined, Abby, McGee and Palmer felt it was time to up their game:

"Croquembouche!" Jimmy announced, dropping some kind of home and kitchen magazine on Tony's desk. "It's spectacular, it already comes in portions and no..." he dropped his voice, even though Ziva was elsewhere, "cream cheese."

"Gotta be a corpse for you to talk to Palmer?" Gibbs hinted.

"Sorry Agent Gibbs. But Breena and I found this last night, and if we hadn't already paid the deposit for our wedding cake..."

"He means leave, Gremlin. And take the magazine. Custard's just as offensive as cream cheese right now." Tony thrust the shiny pages back into his hand.

*phoof*

"Ziva, I was reading about this amazing retreat in the Appalachians with accommodation and a day spa I was reading about online. It turns out they let you book the whole venue for a weekend and they have a function room and incredible on-site catering."

"Why are you reading about day spas online McMasseuse?" Tony interrupted, hanging up his desk phone.

"You know Tony, sometimes women want more than classic movie marathons for dates." Tim informed him with a smug grin. "You'd be surprised how much they enjoy actual romance." He shot a wink at Ziva who smirked in return.

"I'm plenty romantic, McGeek. Tell him Ziva." Tony protested.

"Tony, last night we tried to pick a paint colour for the nursery and then you compared me to a planet. A little romance would not go astray." Ziva reminded him, and McGee tried and failed to stifle a laugh. It had been intended to be a compliment, something about the beauty of creating life, but had gotten away from him and ended up sounding like he was just poking fun at her steadily increasing roundness. "It sounds lovely Tim, and maybe Abby and I will take a weekend sometime, but I cannot imagine Gibbs at a day spa!"

"They can be very relaxing with the right company, Ziva. The rest of you, gear up!"

*phoof*

"Oh good you're both here. I have another idea for you." Jimmy stood between Tony and Ziva's desks, beaming. "No more food suggestions I promise." He added, seeing their dubious faces.

"Yes?" Ziva leaned her chin on her fist. The distraction from a long list of leads was welcome, even if the suggestion itself was less so.

"I found this amazing restaurant in Baltimore. They do murder mystery events, and they'll work a wedding into the script, so you could get married as part of the evening."

"We've got our own murder mystery right here, Palmer." Tony gestured at the plasma.

"Oh right, maybe not such a good choice." He acknowledged sheepishly. "Well if you don't like that, they do bank robberies and there's this other place that does a train holdup..."

"Thank you, but no." Ziva cut in. "We spend enough time with crime without making it a central part of our wedding."

"Well, if you're sure..." Jimmy began doubtfully.

"We're sure!" They answered in unison.

*phoof*

"Okay, I know you nixed the rice idea, but what about bubbles?" Abby met Ziva in the lab doorway with a tiny bubble wand. "You give all of your guests bottles of bubble mix, you can even get them personalised, and everyone can blow bubbles when you and Tony walk back down the aisle."

"Are we planning a wedding or a child's birthday party?" Ziva questioned dubiously.

"Try it!" Abby held the wand in front of Ziva's mouth. With an eye roll, she obliged, blowing a series of tiny rainbow hued bubbles.

"It is cute." Ziva admitted. "But cute is not exactly the vibe I want at my wedding, Abby."

"So I guess balloons are out too?" Abby asked with a grin.

*phoof*

"A champagne tower could be fun, you know where they build a pyramid of glasses and pour it into the top one till it overflows?"

"Mr Palmer, you know that Ziva cannot imbibe at present." Ducky reminded his assistant impatiently. "And do try to stay on task, those drawers will not restock themselves."

"Thank you Ducky." Ziva sighed. "Now, let me see that tattoo - you thought it was in Arabic?"

*phoof*

"Now that you can't go anywhere, you have to hear me out on this." Abby declared as Ziva lay back on the hospital bed, while Eleanor prepared her belly for the major anatomy scan. "You're getting married in the fall - what about a barn wedding with hayrides?"

"Again with the horses, Abs?" Tony questioned from his position on the other side of Ziva. "You already know how I feel about that."

"It's like Gibbs said, you've just gotta stop letting them know you're scared of them." Abby reminded him.

"I am not..." Tony began hotly, ready to defend his reputation.

"Yes you are Tony, but quiet." Ziva interrupted, sharing an eye roll with the doctor. "Look at that." Eleanor turned the screen towards the trio and any further bickering fell silent.

"That is way cooler than a hayride." Abby murmured.

*phoof*

"Karaoke! You've got a great voice, Ziva!" Abby announced. "I know it's not exactly traditional, but it's fun!"

"No!" Four voices spoke at once, McGee and Gibbs chiming in as well

"Guess we'll save that for the hen's night." Abby shrugged.

"Still no!" Ziva called after her as she headed back downstairs.

"So, have you two actually done any wedding planning yet?" McGee asked across the bullpen. "Please tell me there's something. Abby's driving me crazy over it. you should have heard her in the car this morning. She's starting to think you don't actually want to get married, watch out for an Ab-tervention Ziva."

"Not a thing, McBest Man." Tony replied, smirking. "Haven't even set a date." The same evening he'd re-proposed to Ziva, as McGee had crouched, scene camera in hand he'd thrown out a casual "so you going to return the favour?" thus installing him as best man. Ziva had asked Abby equally simply, leaving a Caf-Pow! with a Post-It stating "Maid of Honour?" on it in the Lab while she and McGee had taken lunch together. Abby had made the stairs in record time that day, and had almost knocked Ziva clean off her feet with the running hug of acceptance.

"We are considering a few local venues, but haven't had a chance to visit them in person." Ziva put in. The 'I don't hate it' pile had been moderately useful. Even as she glanced across at Tim, her fingers kept moving on the keys, her muscle memory now taking over. "It will mostly depend on availability. Abby has warned me how popular September weddings are."

"But there are so many decisions to make! You need to have at least a date set to send out Save The Date cards." Tim pointed out; his and Abby's had gone out just a couple of days earlier. "There's this amazing website with heaps of suggestions, look." He beckoned them both over to his workspace.

"Floral arrangements?" Tony questioned as Tim scrolled.

"Table centrepieces?" Ziva read aloud.

"Artistic napkin folding?" They announced together, sharing an amused and slightly terrified glance.

"Yeah, the easiest way is to pick a theme for the wedding." McGee explained. "You know, Abby and I are using winter and Christmas to inspire us, and Jimmy and Breena have chosen this big kitschy effect."

"I thought the theme was getting married?" Ziva queried, as she laid a hand on her belly, responding to the tiny thumps from within. "You are awake now, hmm?" She added in a low whisper.

"Right?" Tony agreed, reaching toward her hopefully; although she was officially halfway along hitting 20 weeks that morning, their midwife had assured him it could be as long as another six weeks before he'd be able to notice anything himself.

"Once you have a theme, everything else falls into place. Choosing colours and flowers and everything becomes easier. Abby and I are having a table centrepiece made from pine cones, mistletoe, poinsettia and holly - all winter plants." McGee continued earnestly.

"Sounds prickly." Tony laughed. "Like a porcu-swine." He grinned sideways at Ziva.

"Don't tease him, Tony." Her face was straight, but the amusement was audible in her tone. "It sounds beautiful, Tim, and very romantic."

"Exactly, a wedding is a celebration. It needs to be..." He trailed off as his desk phone rang. "Hiya, Abs? On the way. She wants help with that laptop we took from the apartment. Keep looking though guys, see if you have any ideas." He hung up the phone and threaded his way between them enroute to the lab.

"This is... a lot." Ziva slid into McGee's recently vacated chair to scroll further. "Floral arches... cummerbunds... the shoe game? What is that?"

"Yikes." Tony pointed to an enormous bridal party wearing dresses that could only qualify as Pepto-Bismol pink. "I mean I want to marry you..."

"But not like this." Ziva finished firmly. "There's so much to weddings that is just... too much."

"Yup," Tony agreed. "Weird uncles who make inappropriate toasts."

"Rubber chicken, enhanced by cheap wine." Ziva sighed.

"Cheesy music, bad dancing, rental tuxedos." He continued in response.

"The bouquet, the garter, the cake, the..." She enlarged a photo of an elaborate multi-tiered wedding cake with a grimace. It looked more like a frilly doll dress than something edible.

"The fittings?" Tony mentioned with a groan. "McGee's got me booked for those already."

"The fittings!" Ziva agreed. "The fittings... I'm not even to the actual ceremony yet."

"Hmm..." Tony leaned over her shoulder to open a photo of a couple standing before a celebrant. "The vows..."

"The ring." She said thoughtfully, reaching for his left hand as he braced himself on the desk, his own ring finger as yet unadorned.

"The kiss." Taking advantage of the empty bullpen he pressed his lips to the top of his head.

"The ketubah." Ziva added, feeling the way Tony tensed for the expected Gibbs slap. "He is still in Vance's office, I think."

"I don't even know what one of those is." Tony shrugged. "But I also don't even know what I'd do if I had to deal with most of that."

"Elope?" Ziva suggested with a laugh, leaning her head back into his chest.

"The hell you will, Ziva, and quit playing grab-ass." Gibbs dropped a stack of papers on her desk. "French translation, the woman who usually does it is out sick. Vance sent it down, wants it ASAP."

"Oui bien sur, tout de suite." She smirked, crossing back to her chair. Yes of course, right away.

"DiNozzo! Get back to work." Gibbs called a moment later. Tony had kept scrolling the website, now studying a bewildering array of place card designs.

"Sorry boss, just some of these ideas for weddings are... never mind, getting back to work." Tony shook himself out of his daze, returning to his own seat. "Maybe we should just do the courthouse thing after all, Zi."

"Maybe." Ziva replied, eyes already on the papers.

"No one's saying you have to do any of it." Gibbs murmured almost to himself after a few minutes of silent work.

"Que veux-tu dire?" Ziva asked, still focused on the French pages in front of her. "Sorry Gibbs, what do you mean?" She translated.

"Think about what really counts to you two. All that stuff..." He jerked his head towards McGee's computer, "It's just trimming."

"That might be some of the most useful advice anyone's had to offer, thanks Boss." Tony said. "You know, traditionally, the bride's father is supposed to be the one who foots the bill..."

"Pushing your luck DiNozzo." His boss growled. "Shut up and work."

"What's a ketubah?" Tony asked later in the evening. Ziva was curled into 'her' corner of the couch, a cup of tea in one hand, and a book about pregnancy and birth balanced on her lap, and generally oblivious to the world. They'd started out watching a movie together, but she'd quickly lost interest, returning to her reading.

"Hmm?" She questioned vaguely, turning the page.

"Sometimes I miss the crazy chick who used to read GSM at her desk." Tony laughed. "Earth to Ziva... what's got you so fascinated that you decided to ignore Bogie and Bergman?"

"First, we read GSM together in bed. Second, I wanted to finish the paragraph on breastfeeding." Ziva replied with a sip of tea. "Finally, I have seen Casablanca more times than I have been alive in years by now."

"Oh yeah, I hadn't thought about that." He admitted. "Guess she'll need to eat."

"Well, I did not end up with these purely for your amusement." She tugged the strap of her pyjama top with a suggestive smirk, turning her eyes back to the last few sentences.

"Shame," He eyed her appreciatively. "I rather like them."

"I noticed." She remarked dryly, tucking a bookmark into the pages and setting the book aside. "What did you want?"

"You said something about a ketubah, what's that?" Tony repeated. "Not really up with Jewish wedding traditions."

"A ketubah is a marriage contract of sorts." Ziva explained. "Traditionally it outlined the expectations of the marriage, particularly the husband's role in providing for his wife. There could also be financial aspects, if anything had been paid to the bride's family, or how much is owed if he files for divorce."

"Not paying Gibbs a cent for you, he already owns my soul." Tony laughed. "But the rest of it sounds kind of like a prenup... this a roundabout way of asking for one?"

"No, no there is no need for that." She shook her head, and wrinkled her nose with distaste at the idea. "The concept has been adapted to suit modern couples. It has become more like a promise to each other, a reminder of the foundation they built their marriage upon."

"That doesn't sound so bad." He said thoughtfully. "Could we write it ourselves?"

"Yes. We could have it say exactly what we want." She nodded. "I would like to have one with you."

"How kosher are we talking, Zi? Like, little hats and a rabbi?" Tony questioned motioning to the top of his head. "You're the one with the traditions and faith, DiNozzo weddings are all about the party afterwards, rubber chicken and all."

"No kippah, no rabbi." She replied. "Whatever we choose to do, it should be something we both understand and both want to be doing."

"So no save the date cards and fancy napkins?" Ziva shook her head emphatically in response. "Hey, is that the pomegranate one?" He motioned to her cup with a sheepish grin.

"I will not tell McGee how much you like it." Ziva rolled her eyes and handed over the remaining drink with a laugh. "There are a handful of elements I would like to use from my heritage, the ketubah being one of them. But not a full Jewish ceremony, and definitely no fancy napkins. What's important to you?"

"You." He said simply. "We could get married in our pyjamas in the basement, Zi. As long as I end up getting to call you my wife, I don't mind."

"I have never wanted a big wedding either." Ziva admitted. "Just for it to mean something to us... but maybe I would wear something a little nicer than my pyjamas!"

"Guess that's what the Bossman was on about, find what counts." He mused softly, leaning forward to deposit the now empty teacup on the table, before tucking an arm around her. "Kinda wish they'd all back off though. It's getting to be a lot. Did you know McGee actually suggested I write you a poem instead of vows?"

"I will spare you some of Abby's more fanciful ideas." Ziva laughed. "It is because they are our family, they're excited for us, and we are not exactly being very productive about getting married."

"It's only been two weeks, Zi." Tony said placatingly. "We have loads of time."

"Only about eight weeks until my feet disappear." She reminded him, "If you want to dance with me, I feel as though still seeing my feet is a requirement. We do need to decide something eventually."

"We already did, we're having a ketubah." He pointed out with a grin. "I'm totally on board with that."

"Then that is the first thing." Ziva responded with a smile, cuddling in a little closer. "Perhaps now, as everyone keeps insisting things will fall into place."

"The only place I want to fall into right now is bed." Tony yawned. "What the heck is in that tea?"

"It is good to help you relax, but it is not that powerful Tony. You being tired has more to do with the way you decided I should skip my run this morning... Not that I am complaining." She added with a satisfied sigh. "But if you feel like that, we had better go upstairs so you can braid my hair before you pass out on me."

"You know, I'm sorry I didn't do your hair the first night you got back." He dragged himself upright, and offered his hand as Ziva unfurled her legs. "I missed it as much as anything else." Two years and some since the first time he'd done her hair for sleeping (and coincidentally the same amount of time since they'd had their first major fight) hadn't lessened the importance of their pre-bed ritual to either of them.

"But you did the second night. That's when I knew you truly believed I was home." Ziva gathered her phone and book, leading the way up the stairs as Tony shut down the TV and lights.

"Yeah, you're home. Still not enough words for how good that feels." He followed her up, and they went through their bathroom routine in contented silence.

"Ahuvi..." Ziva said thoughtfully, sitting between his splayed legs as he worked on her hair a few minutes later. "I think that what counts, most of all, is that we are in our home, together. Why else have we both refused anything outside of DC?" There'd always been a reason, however flimsy; too gaudy, too small, too big, not big enough, too tacky, reminded Tony of a horror movie, even something as small as noticing a typo, but somehow every venue that was not within DC itself had made its way to the 'I hate it' pile.

"You're channelling Dorothy Gale now, Zi?" Tony questioned, tying off the braid, and drawing her back against his chest so he could wrap his arms around her. "There's no place like home, there's no place like home..."

"The baby is kicking exactly where your left hand is." She whispered, cutting him off. "But yes; DC is our home, the team is our family - everything they have suggested is bigger than the little world we have created. I think the whole reason we have not made any decisions is because we are thinking too far from the places and the people we love the most."

"Zi, everything we do is big. Big surprises, big cases, big announcements, there's always some kind of drama when we move to the next stage of our relationship." He said with a laugh, rubbing his thumb over the spot she mentioned. "Even our fights are big. Are you saying we go small this time?"

"That is exactly what I am saying Tony." She tipped her head back to make what counted for eye contact in the awkward position. "Small and intimate. Somewhere nearby with just the people who were there when you proposed, and your father of course. Keep it about the people who are most important to us."

"Home and family... that sounds an awful lot like a theme to me. You're a wise woman, Ziva David." He kissed her head. "Or should I say Ziva Maybe-DiNozzo. Have you made up your mind for sure?"

"Not yet." He felt the way she shrugged against his chest. "I like the idea that all three of us will share a name, but I do not feel right letting go of David entirely."

"Hmmm..." Tony hummed thoughtfully against her hair. "David DiNozzo, DiNozzo David... What if both of us have both names?"

"I thought you wanted to stay DiNozzo?" She questioned. "And I do not want a hyphen."

"Yeah, we did say that when we were talking about surnames. But I think I have a better plan." He nudged her off his chest gently. "So you know how Grandpa DiNozzo Trumanned my Dad?"

"Trumanned?" Ziva echoed, moving to her own pillow and settling on her side to face him. Her growing belly meant extra pressure on her hips when she lay on her side, but having her top leg bent and raised slightly at the knee relieved it; it was an accommodation Tony was happy to make, and he rolled too, automatically canting his own leg forward to provide the necessary support.

"You know, Harry S Truman, our 33rd President? He didn't have a middle name, just the letter S. Surely you know this Little Miss Citizenship Test. It's the same with Dad, Anthony D DiNozzo." Tony waited till her face showed understanding. "Then it repeated again when Dad decided he should make me Junior. And you don't even have a letter, you're just Ziva David."

"I know what my birth certificate says Tony." Her voice grew a little impatient.

"Okay, so we have a middle name that isn't really a middle name, and no middle name at all." He gestured between them respectively. "Then there's the bit where you call me neshama, and it kind of means a part of each other is that right?"

"In the most simple explanation, yes. You are part of me, and I am part of you." She tucked her arm up under her head. "What are you getting at? I thought you were tired?"

"That was before you inspired me, I do my best work at night, you know." Tony reminded her with a smirk. "So, why don't you take DiNozzo, and then we both add David as our middle name? No hyphens."

"You would do that?" Ziva asked slowly, sounding like she didn't quite believe him. "Even with all that David represents?"

"It represents you, Zi. Yeah, I would. And then I'll spend the rest of my life saying "It's LeviOsa, not LevioSA", because no one says David right the first time." He assumed his best British accent and grinned, pleased with the attempt, before growing serious. "You'd have my name, and I have yours, and then we really will have part of each other all the time."

"Neshama is more metaphorical than physical, you know Tony." She reminded him. "An emotional or spiritual connection? It means soul after all."

"Yeah, but I like the idea anyway." He gave a little shrug. "If you're okay with it, I'd like for us to do that."

"As you like to say about everything, that is huge." She said softly. "Are you sure?"

"You're changing your entire name, I'm just adding some extra letters." He shrugged lightly. "Look, I love that you're thinking about becoming Mrs DiNozzo, but I don't want either of us to forget where you came from. It works all the way around; middle names don't show up anywhere but passports and licences, so David isn't going to be the first thing anyone associates with you anymore, but it's still there to remind us, and the only people who do get it know you are so much more than a name. You get to keep your link to Tali and Rivka this way too, because I know that's what you've been stuck on about making your mind up for real."

"And you say I am the mind reader." She told him with an amused glance. "You are right, as much as I do not want to carry Eli's name anymore, it is also Tali's, and my mother's, and to change my name completely felt like I was letting go of them too."

"This way you don't have to, but you get to add the distance you want. Not to mention, the extra letters I'd be adding are A-V-I-D. Avid. It means a strong interest or enthusiasm about something. That something would be you. It's the perfect answer, Zi." He finished, proud of not only the solution he'd provided, but his wordplay.

"Okay. I like it." She agreed simply. "When we are married, we will both have David as a middle name. That is the third thing we've agreed on now."

"And all in one night too! We're on a roll." Tony said proudly. "Abby's going to explode when we tell her."

"Or cry with relief." Ziva added with a small laugh. "Can we sleep now?"

"Yeah, go build your pillow fort." Tony smirked. It was hardly a fort, just a pillow under her belly and one between her knees, but he found it amusing anyway, and she tolerated his humour about this far more kindly than any nausea-related topics. "Hey, Ziva?" He murmured into the dark a few minutes later.

"Yes Tony?" Now suitably nestled on her other side and comfortable, Ziva's voice was thick with fast approaching sleep.

He curled himself warmly around her back, threw an arm over her waist and found her hand to twine their fingers. "I can't wait to finish planning this wedding with you."

"Mmm-hmm." Ziva agreed sleepily. "It is much easier now that we have started saying yes."

"Let's keep saying yes then." He murmured against her neck.

"Yes." She agreed again, drifting into sleep.

It turned out saying yes was a lot easier after that. They set a date and chose a venue the very next morning.

Chapter Text

"Hey Ziva, bet you can't throw McGee anymore." Tony called across the gym. In between midwife appointments, wedding planning, and meetings with contractors after they decided to finish the basement in a kind of second living room/spare bedroom arrangement, work life for Tony and Ziva continued much as normal.

Ziva's combat training was now limited to solo punching bag work and critiquing McGee's form. Given his naturally gentle demeanour and the fact he'd been more or less afraid to spar with her even before she got pregnant, Gibbs had conceded there was no harm in letting her provide him with a few pointers to improve his stance and defensive technique, with very strict rules of play. They'd spent the last while throwing punches standing more than an arms' length apart so he never actually hit her, Ziva only coming close enough for contact after his arm was at extension, when she stepped forward to show where he'd hit or more often the expected defence from an opponent.

Meanwhile, Gibbs and Tony had been getting in some version of boxing practice, mostly Tony goofing off and getting his butt handed to him whenever he got too cocky. Gibbs however was content enough to let this arrangement stand, for one Tony could already hold his own well enough if things came to blows on the field, secondly McGee would learn better without Tony's commentary and Tony had already deliberately unnerved McGee on the way down to the gym with a reminder not to hurt Ziva or the baby. If kicking his senior field agent's backside was enough to keep him distracted, it was a sacrifice Gibbs was willing to make.

"I could still throw you Tony, and you are 40 pounds heavier than he is." She called back, catching McGee's wrist and raising her right knee to his midsection, stopping short before actually landing the blow. If he couldn't strike, neither could she. "You are still leaving yourself too open. Keep your elbow in." She let him go, demonstrating the stance again.

"Hey! More like fifteen... 20 tops." Tony argued, watching her move. "You're shifting your left foot every time you lift that knee. Your balance is off."

"Ziver?" Gibbs put in. "You better not be taking any risks over there."

"My balance is fine." She replied with confidence. The bulk of her weight had shifted as she'd grown, but she was adjusting rapidly, the opportunity to play fight with McGee at such a safe pace helped her learn her new limits too. "Go again McGee, block it. Yes, better!" His defensive position had improved, and her knee connected lightly with his elbow.

"You call it the second you're not sure." The warning was directed at McGee as much as Ziva. She stepped back again, nodded at him to repeat the action.

"Never more than a step away, Boss." McGee promised. "You know I'd catch you right?" He added in an undertone when she was back in his space again.

"Of course you would. But I will not fall." She stepped clear, gave him the ok, and repeated the action one more time. This time he pushed back with his elbow when she tried to knee him, not hard enough to throw her off, but enough to demonstrate the defensive action that should follow. "Yes, exactly. Good." Ziva nodded with satisfaction. With Gibbs' words still fresh in his mind, McGee extended his other arm to spot Ziva as she dropped her foot back to the mat.

"Nice work McGee." Gibbs acknowledged, watching the final run through. "Different when the person attacking you is actually trying to land it though."

"His technique is improving." Ziva turned to face the others. "When he is not afraid of the person he is fighting with, he will do fine." She shoved him playfully as he passed in search of his water, and he shot her a friendly glare.

"I'm not afraid..." The others all scoffed simultaneously. "Okay, maybe I am. Thanks for the tips anyway, Ziva."

"Anytime." She headed over to one of the punching bags to aim a few harder blows just for the sake of expending the energy, and tried the same knee manoeuvre she'd used on McGee at higher speed. It wasn't about preparing to fight anymore, but staying active and in control of her body against the rapid changes pregnancy brought on. Gibbs crossed quickly to keep an eye on her, under the guise of steadying the bag while she laid into it. Her foot did shift as Tony had said, but not unsteady, just trying to become aware of her new centre of gravity as instinctively as she had in the past. "Gibbs, I'm fine." He responded with a look that plainly said he was not going anywhere.

"You still look wobbly." Tony tossed at her with a cocky grin, slumping himself onto a bench against the wall. "No way could you drop me now."

"Come over here and say that." Ziva challenged. "The winner will choose our first dance song." A little over two weeks away, it was just the small details that needed to be finalised. Their first dance being one of them; they'd agreed to go old school, Tony angling for My One and Only Love, Ziva voting for Can't Help Falling In Love after it had been playing on the radio at their favourite diner, and Tony had insisted on dancing with her right there, purely to amuse himself and their favourite server, even with the other patrons watching.

"Oh that's my kind of deal. Coltrane here we come." Tony jumped to his feet, and approached the mat.

"Not on my watch DiNozzo." Gibbs cut in. "I don't want your bruised ego sulking around the office all afternoon after she lays you out. Ziva, stand down and go get ready for that talk Vance wants you at." They both groaned, Tony at the suggestion Ziva would beat him, Ziva at the reminder that she had to speak to a bunch of high school students.

"Because a pregnant agent on desk duty is such a good incentive to join NCIS." She grumbled. Vance had scheduled NCIS to speak at a number of career days with local high schools, and assigned Ziva as the representative. "I hate public speaking."

"It shows it's possible to create a work and family balance, and that skills can be transferred. McGee offered. "A lot of federal agencies have a bad reputation when it comes to that, and rightly so. You're kind of paving the way here."

"Hmm." she sounded entirely unconvinced, and threw a couple more punches to relieve her feelings.

"Speaking of balance," Tony started again, coming up behind her and making a show of steadying her hips. "You're still off centre, preggo."

"Flatten him, Ziver." Gibbs met Ziva's eyes with a nod. She did just that, seizing Tony's arms from her waist, pushing herself back till he was off balance, and using his own weight to create the momentum to slam him not too hard but precisely hard enough into the mat.

"There is nothing wrong with my balance, and do not call me preggo." Ziva stood over him with a proud smile. "I told you I could still throw you."

"No fair, you caught me off guard." Tony groaned, but grinned in spite of himself, it was worth it to see her smile the way she was. "Think my ears are ringing from that."

"That's Gibbs' phone." McGee hurried over before Ziva could offer her own hand to help him up. "Nice work Ziva, looks like you're dancing to Elvis." He pulled Tony to his feet.

"Ninja attacks don't count." He complained, shaking himself out. "Gibbs negated the bet anyway."

"I reinstated it. Ziva wins. Learn when to stop teasing DiNozzo." Gibbs said as he ended the call. "Let's go. Body found wearing a gunnery sergeant uniform downtown. Metro PD took the call."

"Marine?" Tony questioned. Ziva kissed his cheek, murmured a not very apologetic apology and made for the women's showers, ducking to avoid Gibbs' hand for breaking the no kissing on duty rule.

"No ID on the body. That's what we're going to find out, get changed and get the truck. I said change, not shower!" Gibbs called as the men headed towards the bathrooms. "Truck in five minutes, Ducky's already on the way."

"God, I miss having a Probie." Tony groaned several hours later as they returned to NCIS. Naturally, the body had been in a dumpster and a losing rock paper scissors round had seen him in there with Palmer when it came time to extract them. "Oh no... no no no..." He started digging through his desk drawers frantically.

"What is it?" McGee asked, removing the SD card from the scene camera to load the photos.

"I ran out of deodorant last week. There's gotta be a spare here somewhere!" He dug harder.

"Don't you have a go-bag in your car? I'll stall Gibbs if he shows up while you get it." McGee offered.

"Not in Ziva's, we picked up her new ride on the way in this morning. Caught a cab to the dealership - the trunk is still empty." Tony explained, continuing to shuffle items. "That's yours." He hurled a fancy looking pen at his partner.

"I've been looking for that for months!" Tim stooped to pick it up from the floor. "I was going to say you could use my deodorant, but apparently I'll never see it again."

"You have some?" The tone of his voice changed from annoyed to wheedling. "Come on McGee, I'll give it straight back, promise..."

"What have you lost Tony? Oh! Never mind. I know." Ziva had just exited the lift, bags of food in hand. They'd warned her when they were on their way back and given the hour, she'd gone on a preemptive dinner run. Her nose wrinkled when she got close enough to smell him, the sweat from the earlier gym session combined with the dumpster was not a good combination. She dropped the food on her chair and went through her own desk, seeking a nausea tablet, which she swallowed dry. "Here - not that it will help much." She tossed a stick of deodorant at him, followed by a pack of wet wipes.

"Thank you!" Tony sighed with relief, getting to work. "Didn't fancy smelling like Teen Spirit anyway, McCobain."

"I remember a time when you'd have eviscerated him for using your deodorant, Ziva. And when you would have whined all day about smelling like sandalwood, Tony." McGee commented, watching the transfer with a chuckle, and ignoring Tony's barb. Even when they were working professionally, little glimmers of domesticity still shone through in their smaller interactions. "Did you develop an immunity or something?"

"We have shared far worse things than that by now, Tim." Ziva answered nonchalantly. "You'd be surprised what you can tolerate when you are carrying around someone else's genetic material."

"Gross." McGee gagged. "Not before we eat, Ziva."

"Hungry?" She turned back to the food, handed him a serve with a smirk.

"Not with that mental image." Gibbs remarked, arriving promptly as always, but still took the next bag Ziva held out, and traded her for a can of ginger ale. "Or that one, put a damn shirt on DiNozzo."

"Thanks, Gibbs." Ziva took the can and sipped it gratefully. She'd been well for long enough that they'd stopped counting incident free days, and the acupressure bands that Abby had gifted her now lived in her bedside drawer, but the odour that followed Tony into the room had that unpleasantly familiar nausea stirring again.

"Ditto." He responded simply, opening the bag and inspecting the food with a smirk. "Feeling kosher tonight were you?"

"What's on the menu Zi?" Tony swiped the deodorant stick under his arms and threw the wipes in the trash, pulling a new shirt from the cabinet.

"Falafel wraps." Ziva dropped his meal on the desk. "As long as I am the one on the food runs, you are subject to my cravings." She informed them serenely, opening her own food with a look of satisfaction.

"Anything for the stowaway." Tony shrugged, getting stuck in. "The ones you make at home are better, though. Oh, how was career day?" He mumbled around his mouthful.

"So-so." Her tone was noncommittal. "A couple of them asked decent questions about becoming a federal agent, but I suspect they were thinking of the FBI rather than NCIS. More of them were interested in whether or not I have killed a person."

"If you're going to talk, make it about the case." Gibbs interrupted. "What have you got for me?"

"I took a statement from the woman who placed the 911 call already, and she is down with Abby providing a sketch of the man she saw getting into the car that drove away from the scene. I have got a BOLO out on the partial plate she gave me, and when the sketch is ready, I will update that - or if Abby can match the tire impressions you took." Ziva supplied what she had been up to with the information the guys had rung in from the crime scene. Fingerprints had provided no hit, but seeing as the body was in uniform, NCIS had taken jurisdiction until they knew otherwise. "I have spoken to the store that had a camera in that alley, the security footage is on its way. I told them to send it to you, McGee."

"Thanks Ziva." McGee took over "Wasn't a lot in the alley, Boss. We know the victim wasn't killed there - hopefully Abby and Ducky can find something that leads us back to where it happened, not to mention an ID, or at least who the uniform belongs to. He's too young to have made Gunnery Sergeant himself yet. I'm checking traffic cameras based on the time of the call to try and track where the car came from beforehand, or at least get a full plate for the BOLO."

"No hits on missing persons." Tony picked up. "But other than the whole being dead part, the victim looked a bit too clean and well fed to have been missing for long. Maybe no one knows he's gone yet."

"Well, they're about to find out." Gibbs answered his phone. "Yeah, Ducky? On the way. Keep at it." He indicated the computers and scene photos McGee had sent to the plasma on his way out.

"Carrying around my genetic material?" Tony said with a laugh the second their boss was out of earshot. "That's what you call the miracle of life I so generously gave you?"

"What would you prefer I said?" Ziva questioned. "That because you..."

"No!" McGee cut in emphatically. "I'd really rather you didn't say anything else about it. That's too many details as it is!" There was a minute or two of collective laughter

"Okay..." Ziva breathed, sobering. "We should get something done so we have a chance of going home this evening. McGee, send me the footage from the northern traffic cameras, where they exited the alley. I will go over those and try to track it after they dumped the body." She offered in atonement for the humour they'd gained at his expense.

"And what do I get for letting you flatten me in the gym earlier?" Tony asked hopefully, as McGee sent the files to Ziva's computer.

"First of all there was no letting, Tony. You were entirely at my mercy. Secondly, you get to take me home." Ziva finished her dinner, wiped her hands clean and started to load the videos.

"Take you home, or take you home?" He asked, the meaning behind the emphasis all too clear.

"Both if you're lucky." She shot back with a flirty smile.

"What did I say about no more details?" McGee groaned, as they settled down to work.

The case rolled on, the body identified not as a Marine, but a Marine dependent, wearing his father's uniform in an attempt to buy alcohol for his friends without needing ID. Ziva presented at three more schools, her opinion of public speaking unchanged, and the team were treated to two further chickpea-based meals before Tony decided he would do the lunch run, returning with burgers and falafel much to everyone else's relief. A receipt in the uniform pocket allowed them to trace the victim back to a nearby liquor store and eventually CCTV footage of a parking lot fight, the uniform and an earlier successful purchase giving the kid an inflated sense of bravado, ending with an unlucky punch and an unluckier fall on the edge of the footpath, corroborating Ducky's diagnosed caused of death as a massive intracerebral haemorrhage. Gibbs appeared at Casa De Tiva unannounced twice to 'supervise' the contractors Tony and Ziva had hired to work on the basement (still traumatised after kitchen remodelling, he had firmly suggested they outsource this renovation, but that apparently didn't stop him from wanting to know it had been done properly) Abby and Ziva went dress shopping, while Tony pursued McGee in an attempt to discover what had been planned for his bucks' night. Eventually, the other participants in the fight were apprehended, having panicked and dumped the body where it had been found by the woman who'd made the 911 call.

Somehow with much wheedling with the secondary teams, (mostly agreeing to several consecutive weekends on call) Team Gibbs were able to wrangle the last two weekends in September off duty, first for a bachelor party - Ziva was still reluctant to have a hen's - and the second for the wedding itself. A new case saw the week before the pre-wedding celebrations rush past, and before long it was the Friday afternoon, the team gathered in the bullpen, wrapping up for the night.

"Gibbs, tell Ziva she has to let me take her out!" Abby complained, she was seated at Tim's desk, he behind Ziva's finally taking care of that file cleanup he'd threatened to perform some weeks earlier. McGee and Ziva had already finished their paperwork for the night, having started a good natured competition about who could type faster (the answer was still McGee, but only just), and had subsequently finished their reports well before Tony. Now the team gathered, waiting for him to finish before leaving as a group for dinner, the main celebrations due to take place the following day.

"Don't bring Gibbs into this!" Ziva protested, leaning on the edge of her desk. "I do not want a hen's night. I am not in any shape to be dancing until dawn." Now definitely pregnant to look at, she felt more self conscious about her appearance, especially wearing anything that would be suitable for Abby's usual night out.

"Nothing wrong with your shape, bella." Tony added, with a glance upward from his keyboard, before resuming his laborious typing.

"I do not know what the guys have planned, Tony." She warned him with a smile. "You may always give me compliments, but don't expect it to batter me up enough to tell you what is happening."

"Butter." He smirked. "But it's the proverbial last night of freedom, Zi. Go dance on top of a bar or something. Get your Coyote Ugly on."

"I have never once..." She began, Tony raised a questioning eyebrow and she sighed, "Fine, once. But it was to keep cover. I hardly think it would have the same effect now."

"No bartop dancing, I promise Zivvie. And seeing as Baby Tiva means I can't see how many rounds of tequila it takes before you'll let me do a body shot off you..." Abby trailed off as McGee made a noise that suggested he had choked on his own tongue. "You right there, Timmy?" She queried innocently.

"Federal office, Abs." Gibbs reminded her in a low growl.

"Anyway, the point is, I have something planned that is more Ima-to-be friendly. We'll be home by midnight. An all-included day spa package, with lunch, massages, mani-pedis and then, once we're feeling amazing, we're going line dancing!"

"Line dancing?" Ziva echoed incredulously. "As in, country music?"

"Yup." She nodded, "It's upbeat, it's fun, and it's totally baby-bump safe. There's way less stretching than ballet, and it's heaps lower impact than clubbing. It's fine to dress down, you can wear those stretchy jeans you like, comfy boots and a full plaid shirt and you won't look out of place. Plus the classes are ladies only but they're taught by these absolutely gorgeous guys."

"I said no strippers weeks ago, Abby." She reminded her friend dubiously.

"Oh they're clothed." Abby giggled. "But there's enough eye candy to fill a calendar all the same." She opened a link on her phone, crossed to Ziva, showing her the venue she had in mind.

"Well..." She murmured doubtfully, glancing between the phone and Abby's eager face. "Everyone loves a cowboy." She conceded with a sigh.

"That's the spirit, Ziva!" Abby cheered. "You'll love it, I promise." She demonstrated a surprisingly well-practised grapevine step and bumped her hip against Ziva's with another giggle.

"I'm out before I have to fire one of you for inappropriate conduct." Gibbs stood, evidently at his tether with the minimal work taking place, although they were all technically off the clock. "DiNozzo hurry up and get out of here."

"See ya, Boss." Tony lifted a hand in farewell. "Five more minutes ladies." He added, apparently including McGee in that collective.

"Not gonna bail you out if you get arrested." Gibbs warned, before turning to Abby and Ziva. "You girls, call when you get home safe tomorrow night - clear?"

"Worry pimple." Ziva murmured as Gibbs dropped a kiss to her temple.

"Worrywart" Abby corrected, presenting her cheek for the same treatment.

"Brat." Gibbs retorted with audible affection, taking his leave. The women met each other's eyes with an amused, curious glance wondering who it applied to. "Both of you!" He called in clarification from the elevator.

"Come on Tony - type faster." Abby urged. "I'm starving already."

"Hey McGee..." Tony's began cajolingly.

"Nope. Not after you called me a lady - almost done with Ziva's hard drive and I'm clocking off." McGee shook his head. "Please, for my sanity Ziva, delete things occasionally."

"You never know when things will come in useful, McGee." She responded, leaning backwards to raid her desk drawer for a snack to tide Abby over.

"Zi... you're almost as fast..." Tony appealed to Ziva now as opened a pack of peanut butter cups, giving one to Abby. "You'd have it done in like two minutes I swear."

"After the way you made fun of McGee and I for having that competition in the first place? You are on your own this time Tony." She shuffled sideways to allow Abby to prop beside her while they ate.

"So much for matrimonial loyalty." He grumbled, turning back to his screen with a sigh. "Can't believe you'd side with McGeek over your future husband."

"You have eight more days before you can make that claim Tony. Tonight, I believe the applicable saying is 'bros before hos'." Ziva's rebuttal was met with a unanimous shriek of laughter. "Did I get that one wrong?"

"Oh the words were right... but the context..." Tony was actually holding his sides. "I hope you never get any better with American slang my Ninja. I live for these moments."

"But McGee is like my brother, doesn't it mean you should stand by your family first?" Ziva questioned.

"Not exactly, Zivvie." In between further cackles, Abby did her best to untangle the situation while Tony rushed through the last of his report.

A few minutes later, with another slang term added correctly to Ziva's mental lexicon, McGee gave a sigh of relief, pushing the chair back from the desk. "Finished! Thanks for standing up for me... Sis." The hesitation was a second too long and the whole effect was awkward rather than playful. Their eyes met with an uncomfortable grimace. "And I am never going to call you that again." He finished.

"No, please don't." Ziva nodded definitively.

"Wow. Awkward much?" Abby murmured and tucked her hand into his elbow as he joined them on the other side of the desk. "You'd never guess you two are actually fond of each other. In a more unspoken mutual sentiment kind of way." She added with a grin.

"Done!" Ziva and Tim agreed firmly.

"Speaking of done, so am I, no thanks to any of you!" Tony hurriedly tossed a few items in a drawer, creating a vague semblance of organisation on his desk and snatched up his jacket. "Let the celebrations begin!"

Despite her initial reservations, Ziva had to admit that Abby knew how to plan a night out. With Jimmy part of the bachelor party, Breena had joined them making a trio. Knowing Ziva's insecurities about having strangers at her back, Abby had chosen a familiar day spa, with workers Ziva had met before and trusted and the three had spent the early afternoon being thoroughly pampered; Abby talked Ziva into choosing a brilliant turquoise nail polish, while sticking with a classic black herself and Breena opting for a pretty shell pink. The body scrub was by far the highlight in Ziva's eyes buying a jar of the product to take home, and the massage had had all three of them practically asleep on the tables. There'd been a detour to the dress shop, to pick up their outfits for the wedding when Abby's phone had rung partway through a truly sumptuous lunch with the news they were ready to collect, and back to Abby's to get ready for line dancing. Given her enforced teetotal state, Ziva had agreed to drive instead of relying on a taxi, and followed Abby's directions to the bar she'd chosen. She'd always loved to dance, and even though the style was very different from ballet, Abby's enthusiasm and wholehearted participation was infectious, and the upbeat music quickly got her smiling, not to mention Breena's bubbly energy and surprising talent, and before long, Ziva was dancing right along with them, laughing when she tripped on her own feet, and learning the words to new songs, mentally filing the song titles away for kitchen dance sessions. By the time they dragged themselves out of the bar, red-faced from exertion and laughter, Abby and Breena were both definitely unsteady on their feet, Ziva had insisted they didn't need to abstain on her account, and they were all thoroughly exhausted and happy.

"I'll get a cab from here, it's fine!" Breena said as they stumbled across the parking lot, pulling out her phone and fumbling with the lockscreen. "You girls have been the best company tonight!"

"Nope. You're coming home with us, Bree!" Abby argued, leaning against the car. "We're having a sleepover at Casa De Tiva. Tiva is Tony plus Ziva you know... Tony and Ziva sitting in a tree..." She began singing, loudly enough to draw the attention of the bouncer.

"You'd be welcome, or I will drive you home." Ziva offered, silencing Abby with a hand over her mouth. "Whatever you'd prefer... Abby!" Ziva whipped her hand away as Abby licked her palm, and she dried her hand on her jeans with a disgusted expression.

"Luca never learned not to do that either." Abby giggled with a satisfied grin. "Zivvie will totally have some jammies for you to borrow. Right?"

"Of course. The men are staying out all night, you can definitely join us." She hauled Abby off the side of her car, opened the door and pushed her into the seat amidst another round of singing and an attempt to feel the baby kick. "She still does not kick that hard, Abby." Ziva peeled Abby's hands off her waistline, and Abby subsided into her seat with a pout.

"I can't make my lock screen work." Breena complained, still fiddling with her phone, apparently oblivious to the recent antics. "Can I use yours, Ziva?"

"Get in." Ziva gave her a gentle shove. "You can stay the night." She leaned in, checked both seatbelts and shut the door.

"Zivvie, can we stop at Beltway Burgers on the way?" Abby asked as Ziva slid behind the wheel. "Hey, Breena, let's sing until she says yes! Tony and Ziva sitting in a tree..."

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Breena joined in. Ziva groaned and started the engine, finding a song that had been playing in the bar on her phone and turning it up louder than the chanting from the backseat.

It was three much more subdued and weary women that stumbled in the front door a little while later, the adrenaline had worn off on the ride home, and the greasy meal sat heavily in their stomachs. Abby was still clutching a packet of fries, Ziva had capitulated to the Beltway request, finding herself hungry anyway.

"First rule of Casa De Tiva is shoes off!" Abby announced, leaning on the side table and trying to toe off her boots, spilling her fries in the process. Ziva wandered ahead, turning on a few lights and making an obligatory 'home safe' call to Gibbs. Breena plonked herself on the bottom of the stairs to remove her boots.

"Just show me where I'm sleeping please." Breena requested with a yawn. "I had a call out at 2am yesterday, and I haven't been to bed yet. It's been so much fun, but I'm exhausted now." Abby, finally barefoot, staggered off towards the kitchen and they heard the kitchen tap start up.

"Do you mind paint fumes? There is a brand new fold out in the basement, but the painting was only finished yesterday." Ziva offered.

"Paint fumes are a step up from formaldehyde." Breena shrugged it off. "Sorry, no job talk, I know we promised."

"Sometimes job talk is hard to avoid." Ziva nodded with understanding. "Door to the basement is in the kitchen, I'll bring you some pyjamas and linen in a minute." She pointed Breena in Abby's wake and headed up the stairs.

"I want to stay up and party all night, Zivvie, but I think I have to crash. I'm not gonna be able to talk tomorrow otherwise" Abby croaked once Breena was settled downstairs; she'd absolutely sung her heart out on the ride home and her voice showed the strain. She'd spent the time while Ziva organised Breena's accommodation gargling salt water over the kitchen sink, trying to soothe her throat with little effect. "Sorry I know this is your night. If you want to stay up longer, I will."

"Oh no, I am ready when you are, achoti." Ziva agreed readily. "I have had fun though, thank you."

"Always." Abby turned, offered Ziva a wobbly 'forehead kiss' as Tony had dubbed their trademark affectionate gesture. "Am I on the couch?"

"No, you can share with me. But you may not have my body pillow." Ziva had recently upgraded to a pregnancy-specific pillow that Tony had dubbed Hadrian's Wall, being bigger than her initial two pillow 'fort'. "Come on." Abby stumbled away from the kitchen counter, and with a laugh, Ziva tucked her arm firmly around her friend's waist and guided her up to bed.

Ziva woke suddenly hearing a thud and whispering coming from downstairs, a bleary glance at her phone told her she'd been asleep for a couple of hours. There was more whispering and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor, followed by hysterical but muffled laughter. She shrugged off the arm Abby had flung over her back and sat up quickly.

"So much for Danny Ocean!" Ziva relaxed when she recognised the voice as McGee's. There were more hurried shushing noises, and she decided it was time to investigate, padding quietly downstairs. Tony, Tim and Jimmy were gathered in the entryway, in clearly much worse states than either Breena or Abby had been.

"Fell over these..." Tony was dragging himself upright, one of Abby's boots in his hand. "Hey... fries. Who brings fries to a casino?" He dropped the boot with a thud, inspecting the cardboard sleeve Abby had discarded earlier.

"Whoa Tony... you picked an awesome place to break into." Jimmy was turning slowly on the spot, admiring the entryway, despite the number of times he'd already visited, looking at the room as though he'd never been there before.

"I already told you, we're not breaking in anywhere." McGee insisted, waving the set of keys he'd obviously used on the front door at the pair, fumbling with the alarm panel on the wall. "Hey, Tony, what's the code again?"

"You were on recon, Timbo, you should know that. Charm and stealth were my areas." Tony answered, stumbling this time over Breena's shoes. "Pink boots, do we even have the right house? Ziva wouldn't be caught dead in these."

"Hey, they're cute!" Jimmy stopped turning to admire the shoes with a nostalgic chuckle. "Breena has a pair that's an awful lot like that, this one time she wore them..." Ziva cleared her throat emphatically before he could continue with what was obviously going to be a story she didn't want to hear.

"We've been made!" Tony declared, seeing her at the bottom of the stairs. "Split up!"

"Freeze!" She barked before they could move. "What the hell is this?" She demanded, not quite believing her eyes. "The alarm was never set, McGee." She took the last two steps and pushed his hand away from the unit. The three of them wore tuxedos in various states of undress, Tony's bow tie hung open around his collar, McGee's was stuffed in his top pocket and Jimmy's was missing entirely, someone's jacket was pooled on the floor, and another was tossed haphazardly on the entryway table, while Tony's hung over his arm.

"It's the new Rat Pack!" Jimmy responded cheerfully, resuming his slow 360 rotation.

"I thought you were staying somewhere?" She questioned. "Something about a beach?"

"Ocean. As in Eleven." McGee slumped against the wall, pushing a photo crooked with his shoulder. "It was a casino theme." He seemed more tired than inebriated, although he was still definitely the second as well.

"We went on an adventure!" Jimmy exclaimed. "We walked all of Constitution Avenue and took photos in front of the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument. But then we lost our keycard to get back into the hotel suite so we came here." His voice became despondent on the last sentence.

"Don't worry Zi, it was all fake money. But I won." Tony waved a fistful of coloured paper at her. "You know, Ocean's Eleven, Frank Sinatra..."

"Don't you dare start singing again Tony." McGee warned.

"Singing? I'm up for that!" Jimmy chimed in enthusiastically. "Oh, we need a fourth... Ziva, can you sing bass?"

"Oh my god." Ziva pinched the bridge of her nose and turned towards the front door, hearing more footsteps on the porch. "Who did you bring back with you?"

"Dunno." Tony shrugged.

"It's Leroy!" Jimmy had managed to get back towards the door to open it. "Can you sing? You can be our fourth, we were just about to do a barbershop quartet."

"Abba? Why are you here?" Ziva questioned - he was clearly fresh out of bed himself, his trench coat thrown over a ratty sweatshirt and pants.

"Making sure they got in okay." Gibbs muttered. "Heard them walk past about 5 minutes ago - someone left this in my letterbox." He displayed a few notes of the fake currency Tony had waved earlier, the hotel keycard and Jimmy's missing bowtie.

"Thank you." Ziva sighed. "Sorry."

"You weren't the one singing Hail To The Chief outside my house at zero-two-hundred." He rolled his eyes. "Need help getting them to bed?"

"Please. Take Curly to the basement, Breena's on the foldout." Ziva instructed gratefully, with a nod in Jimmy's direction. "I can manage Larry and Moe."

"Let's go, Palmer." Gibbs took the young medical assistant firmly by the arm and dragged him out.

"Night guys! Thanks for being my friends." Jimmy called over his shoulder. "Say Leroy, that grip you've got on my arm is really something..." His voice faded as Gibbs hauled him through the kitchen.

"You two..." She turned to face the others.

"Oh boy, I know that look." Tony murmured. "I think our goose is fried, McGee."

"Couch, now." She ordered sternly, pulling McGee off the wall, turning him to face the lounge, and sending him in the right direction with a shove between his shoulder blades. From downstairs there was a thud and the sounds of Gibbs' voice, obviously unimpressed. A second thud followed as McGee's knee connected firmly with the coffee table.

"Zi... babe... sorry, Ninja..." She took Tony by the arm with a grimace, both at the smell of whiskey and in sympathy for McGee's pained groan as he flopped onto the couch. "At least let me come to bed."

"Abby is already in your spot and I am not dragging your drunken weight up the stairs. How much did you drink?" Ziva walked him firmly towards the lounge. "If you hadn't had this brilliant idea about having an adventure you wouldn't be in this situation."

"Yeah, it kinda got away from us." He eased himself onto the cushions with more grace than McGee had displayed. "Got some good photos though." He added, feeling briefly in his pocket for his phone, but gave up a second later, his head dropping to his shoulder. .

"I'll say it did." Gibbs reemerged. "Palmer's down there with a bucket and an ice pack. Decided he was going to jump the last two steps, turned his ankle and the pain made him hurl."

Ziva groaned something in Hebrew, rubbing her forehead wearily. "How bad is it?"

"Everything's in the bucket, and the ankle is only a sprain. He'll be unhappy tomorrow though." Gibbs elaborated. "Breena's reading him the riot act now. You ok?"

"I am not thrilled." Ziva commented, with a glance at McGee, face down on the chaise section, and a gentle nudge was all it took for Tony to wilt into a similar position. "I did not expect the shlosha stooges to come barging in at 2am treating this like a casino break in."

"Idiots." Gibbs muttered, he'd assessed the situation quickly, and had gone into the storage chest under the TV, it was the same one Ziva had smacked her shin on several years ago in Tony's bedroom originally filled with DVDs, but was now serving a more domestic purpose, and found some throw blankets. "They were supposed to stay the night. Ducky and I left around 9."

"At least they made it here on foot and not in a police car." She shook her head, a smile curling her lips and lowered her voice. "It is more funny than annoying, if I am honest, and I will feel better when I get to make them all suffer in the morning. I am thinking Arabic pop and vacuuming in about 4 hours."

"Harsh." He commented with a smirk. "You've learned well."

"If my bridal shower is going to be crashed by... this..." She gestured expressively. "I am going to have fun with it." Gibbs gave a dry chuckle in response, and they busied themselves settling the guys in for the night, pulling off shoes, lifting legs onto the couch and tossing blankets over barely-conscious bodies. "Do you want me to drive you home?" Ziva enquired when they were finished.

"Nah. Take that gut of yours back to bed." He dropped a kiss on her hair as he passed. Ziva gave a self conscious laugh, realising her tank top had ridden halfway up over her belly while wrestling Tony's legs onto the cushions and pulled the hemline down again. "Night, kiddo."

"Goodnight, Abba." She waited, making sure she heard the lock snap shut as he saw himself out, before setting up two large glasses of water on the coffee table, and placing a bucket on the floor near each man's head given what had happened to Jimmy.

"Zi, you're a goddess. I am so lucky to be marrying you." Tony slurred suddenly, catching her hand as she pulled the blanket up further.

"Goodnight Tony." She bent and pressed a kiss to his cheek, pried her hand free. "I love you even if you're an idiot." She turned to McGee, tucking him in a little better too.

"Sorry, Ziva." He groaned. "Love you, Sis."

"Sleep." Ziva instructed with a smirk "And do not call me that."

"Sorry." McGee repeated, mumbling into the cushion. "Still love you though."

"I love you too, Tim." She reassured him with a laugh and tousled his hair for good measure. "Goodnight."

"Aww... it only takes drunken shenanigans to get you two to actually open up. What did I miss?" Abby stood blinking in the doorway. "Got up for the bathroom, realised you were gone." She added by way of explanation.

"You missed a lot Abby." Ziva joined her friend in the doorway. "I will tell you in the morning, very loudly."

"Oh I'm going to want every detail." Abby understood the plan with a giggle, and still laughing linked arms with Ziva before turning back to bed for the second time that night.

Chapter Text

Ziva was every bit as ruthless as she'd promised on Sunday morning when it came waking her unexpected party crashers, although it was slightly later than she'd intimated to Gibbs, waiting for Abby and Breena to surface, weary but unharmed first. Teacups in hand, they staged an enthusiastic dance party on the kitchen tiles, doing their best to remember the steps they had learned the previous night, and laughing when the male contingent of the party were jolted into consciousness and gathered on the couch, holding their heads regretfully, feeling somewhat worried about their fates. Too tired to really keep dancing, they moved to tidying up. Abby folded and replaced the spare blankets, letting the lid of the wooden chest fall with a thud each time she let go, Ziva busied herself with the dishes with distinct lack of her usual grace, while Breena ran the vacuum, cleaning up the dirt the guys had tracked in from their midnight 'adventure', watching with amusement as they flinched at every loud noise or peal of laughter as the women worked fluidly around each other, maintaining a steady stream of chatter as they did so.

With the house restored, another glance at the sorry row on the couch told them it was time to take pity; Ziva handed out jasmine tea with lime and aspirin, Breena went downstairs and cleaned out Jimmy's bucket, and Abby took the keycard Gibbs had delivered and borrowed Ziva's car to conduct a speed of light sweep of the hotel suite for forgotten belongings before checkout time. When Abby returned, bearing massive bottles of sport rehydration drinks, Caf-Pow!, and an ankle brace for Jimmy, they sequestered themselves in the kitchen, making a breakfast designed to cure even the worst of hangovers. With the carefully concocted balance of fats, sugars and electrolytes, and no "DiNozzo Defibrillators" in sight, the guys recovered somewhat, and by the time the group parted in the early afternoon, they could be qualified as human again although still worse for wear; Jimmy limping, Tim sheepish and apologetic, and Tony nursing a headache. As she'd suggested the night before however, Ziva was more amused than annoyed, and although she sent Tony back to bed to sleep it off, she joined him for a sleepy cuddle, letting him know he was forgiven.

Everyone was back to normal by Monday morning (barring Jimmy's ankle), but there were still plenty of regrets when Gibbs greeted each one of his late-night visitors with a stinging head slap and a stern word. The week rolled on; on Tuesday Abby hacked their computers and using a code that not even McGee could get to the bottom of, set everyone's screensaver to a countdown timer until the wedding. Ziva spoke at one final highschool on Wednesday, while the rest of the team attended a body found in a car parked down by the docks. Thursday brought two whole building evacuations; the first for the mandatory fire drill which went off smoothly, the second not half an hour after normal work had been resumed when someone managed to set the microwave in the break room on fire. This was followed promptly by a lead to the whereabouts of the person responsible for the case they'd started the day before, Tony and Gibbs heading out to apprehend them, while Ziva and McGee stayed back, coordinating warrants and paperwork. The suspect ran, leading Tony on a long and circuitous foot pursuit through several narrow, dimly lit back alleys, before Gibbs cut them off with the sedan; returning to the yard somewhere around dinner time, tired and sweaty but triumphant.

"Please tell me you were craving pizza tonight." Tony threw himself into his chair with a sigh of relief. "I need grease after all that running."

"No. But McGee was." Ziva pointed to the elevator as the man in question arrived holding a couple of fragrant boxes, and a plastic bag printed with the name of a nearby convenience store.

"Whoa, I've been trying to convince Ziva we should have pizza for a solid week, McGourmet, how'd you manage it?" Tony stood again to take the top one gratefully, flipped open the lid and chose a slice. "I can feel my arteries clogging already. Bliss."

"Bribery." McGee shrugged with a grin, setting the second box down on his desk. "Sometimes you've got to offer something in return to get what you want."

Tony gave an incredulous scoff. "No way would our Agent David ever be susceptible to a bribe, especially anything you could offer her. You're talking about a trained spy..."

"A pregnant spy who has a weakness for peanut butter." McGee finished, handing Ziva the bag. "Every Reese's product they had in stock, should keep you going for a couple of days."

"Thank you!" She peered into the bag. "That is too much, I will pay you back."

"Nope. Consider it a future investment." He shook his head. "Remember this next time we can't decide what to order. I figure that's good for getting your vote on at least the next three office dinners."

"Deal." Ziva agreed with a laugh, pulling out one of the bright orange packets, and setting the bag on the floor.

"She's pregnant and getting married in two days, McGoo. Not rocket science to work out that she probably wanted chocolate." Tony laughed, and took another bite. "If I had any idea you were so easy Zi..." He angled a mock disappointed shake of his head in her direction. Ziva threw a second package of candy at him as retaliation, bouncing it squarely off his forehead.

"I still have one more trick up my sleeve." A bottle of antacids appeared from McGee's inner coat pocket with a flourish. "Picked these up too." He tossed the bottle at Ziva, before reaching for his own slice.

"My hero! For that, four meals." Ziva caught the bottle. "You are truly my knight in shining armour right now."

"There's always Pepto Bismol in my drawer." Tony gestured with his pizza. "Don't give McGee a bigger head than he's already got."

"Pepto Bismol is not recommended during pregnancy, Agent DiNozzo." It was Vance finishing the sentence this time, joining them in the bullpen, Gibbs impassive and silent in his wake. "I came down to let you know, the whole team is off tomorrow, including Ms Sciuto, providing you get those reports done this evening."

"To what do we owe this generosity?" Tony questioned, surprised. They had organised an early finish for the following day, but had not taken any extra time off surrounding the wedding, most of their leave having been used during the summer, and preferring to keep what was left for family leave after the baby arrived.

"Mrs Vance was very clear what would happen if anything happened to her chance to dress up and leave the kids with a sitter on Saturday. I know the odds with this team, you'll pick up a case and end up on the next flight to Guatemala if you're in here." He gave a low chuckle "And I've had the starring role in a wedding myself before, there's always some last minute details to take care of. Right, Gibbs?" Only Vance was brave enough to show open amusement at the look on Gibbs' face.

"Thank you, Director." Ziva answered for them all, and chocolate fix achieved, she stood, heading for McGee's pizza box and reached for a slice.

"Consider it your wedding present then." Tony and Ziva had declined actual gifts. "As long as those reports are finished, I will see you all Saturday afternoon." Vance helped himself to a slice from Tony's desk and headed for the elevator.

"Thought you liked olives Ziva?" McGee questioned watching as she studied it with a frown and began picking off the olive slices.

"These are not olives." She informed him, dropping the offending topping onto a paper napkin. "Not real olives anyway."

"Arguing that olives on a pizza are anything like the kind she grew up eating is a battle you won't win. Don't go there." Tony cut in before the younger agent could make further enquiries. He'd been subject to a lecture almost as long and impassioned as McGee's speech on jetpacks when it came to the difference between freshly cured olives eaten a few yards away from where they had been grown, and the "cremated slices of rubber" that came on a pizza, and after having experienced it himself in Israel, he had to admit she was right. "So tomorrow, six extra hours to fill... what's the plan, Zi?"

"Much the same as before, only with more time to do it. There is some decorating to be finished, and Abby and I have a hair appointment at four, and your father is due to land at noon. However, if you are willing to drive to the airport instead, I will not argue." Ziva had been nominated as Senior's chauffeur being the least likely to be out on the field when he landed. "But we can have breakfast out at the diner seeing as we no longer need to be in early." She added with a smile; breakfast with Joyce at the diner near Tony's old apartment was their favourite (well, maybe second-favourite) lazy-morning activity.

"Yeah, I can do that. Should probably take him out for dinner now that we know we're free too." Tony suggested. Senior had been thrilled with both the wedding and baby news, declaring that it was about time both happened. He'd heard about Ziva's proposal and the accident that had killed Eli, but little from the intervening months; Tony had not been in contact with him during Ziva's absence, giving only the barest of dot points after the fact, mostly that Ziva had stayed back to continue finalising the estate and had come home when she'd learned she was pregnant, and he had assumed the baby had simply spurred them into action about actually tying the knot faster. As far as not discussing anything too personal with his father went, Tony was happy to keep it that way. "I'll find us a table then." He finished when Ziva nodded her acceptance of the plan.

"Table for two, DiNozzo. Ziver, you and Abs are with me for the night." Gibbs cut in.

"I thought you would be picking us up at the house in the afternoon?" Ziva's eyes flashed across to his desk, curious but hopeful. Tony knew Ziva had wanted to get ready at Gibbs' house with Abby, as she would have in Be'er Sheva with Tali by her side if things had been very different, but hadn't asked for this, worried about hitting Gibbs too close to Kelly's memory.

"Where else are you going to spend the night before your wedding... kid?" The last word was barely audible even inside the bullpen, but the message was clear, he'd known too.

"You realise that would mean we would be at your house on Saturday morning Gibbs? Are you ready for Abby in bridesmaid mode?" Ziva questioned lightly, although Tony could see how pleased she was at the invitation.

"I'll take my chances." Gibbs gave a sigh that was not quite defeated enough to be convincing. "And if you want anything other than potatoes with your steak, you bring it."

"Thank you. I will try to keep Abby's wedding explosion limited to the one room." There was the briefest glance of understanding between them, before Gibbs turned his eyes back to his files.

"Hey McGee, you in for the Adams House Grill if Abby is already spoken for? Beer and Magnum PI marathon at Casa De Tiva afterwards." Tony asked. "Figure it can't hurt to have a buffer between me and Dad, and if Gibbs is going to get all Spencer Tracy Father Of The Bride on us and claim Ziva for the night, it seems like a pretty good Best Man kind of job. My treat." He added when McGee's face revealed his feelings about being asked to play referee between the DiNozzo men.

"Sure, if you're paying. You guys mind if I head over earlier to wire up the speakers too?" McGee asked, wiping his hands on a paper serviette and settling behind his desk. "No sense in leaving it until after work hours if I don't have to be here."

"You know how to use your key." Tony agreed. Between wanting to keep their celebration focused on home, family and love, a lack of available bookings at actual venues and Tony's line about getting married in the basement in their pyjamas, plans were underway to turn the room into a temporary wedding reception space. The ceremony would take place in the Navy Yard itself, outside under the trees. After deciding they preferred an outdoor venue but realising most were ruled out by their clause not to get married at a crime scene, they figured the place that had housed almost every dead body they'd ever investigated was actually the safest way to make sure they didn't find a new one. When asked, Vance had given his approval surprisingly easily; too easily as it turned out; he had provided Ziva with the schedule of career day presentations the following morning, a clear you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours message.

"I am sure Abby will drag you over before you were thinking of coming anyway, Tim." Ziva laughed, de-oliving a second slice of pizza.

"You're not off the hook till I approve those reports." Gibbs warned without looking up. The three agents took the hint, finished eating and started typing.

On Friday night, armed with garment bags, and about a million other things he couldn't identify, Ziva and Abby dutifully appeared at Gibbs' house. Dinner was the usual quiet, fireside affair, the steak and potatoes supplemented by Ziva's salad and Abby's dessert, and afterwards they settled down to watch a western while Abby painted Ziva's toenails a metallic silvery-green. Just as the movie finished, but before they got ready for bed properly, there was a knock at the front door.

"Think you've got company, Ziver." Gibbs nodded his head towards the direction of the sound.

"Tony wouldn't knock." Ziva said, surprised. "He knows the door is always open."

"He would tonight." Abby put in, now busy with her own toes and a bottle of black polish. Gibbs rose and held out his hand, drawing Ziva to standing, waiting while she shuffled her now-dry toes back into her shoes.

"Yeah, she's coming!" Gibbs called as Tony knocked again, he walked her to the entry, dropped his own coat over her shoulders and nudged her towards the door. "Get out there."

"Hi, this is a surprise." Ziva stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm always awesome, just came to braid your hair." Tony bent to produce a hairbrush from the backpack he had dropped by the front door. "McGee and I were about to call it a day, but I realised something was missing."

"Oh, Tony." She studied him for a moment, the hopeful, proud smile that he wore when he knew he'd nailed a small gesture that made her feel treasured, and smiled too. "That is very sweet of you to remember."

"As if I'd forgotten, tonight of all nights. Sit down." He gestured to the lone chair on the porch and moved behind her as she did so, releasing her low ponytail.

"How was dinner?" Ziva asked, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

"Good... well, getting there. He's trying, you know? Sometimes too hard. But at least there's one thing we see eye-to-eye on now. I'm marrying the most beautiful woman in the world tomorrow." He pulled the neckline of the oversized coat back a bit to give himself room to move her hair.

"Flirt." Ziva gave a laugh.

"Always, and you love it." He responded with confidence. Well practised by now, he finished the plait quickly. "Want to go for a walk? I'm not quite ready to say goodnight."

"Absolutely." She slipped her hand into his, and they lapped the block twice, fingers twined, not needing to talk, but just enjoying the company and simplicity of a moment alone in the quiet fall evening.

"So," Tony paused reluctantly when they reached Gibbs' house again, walking slowly back up to the porch "McGee's probably waiting up for me before he passes out, I should go. But, first, I've got a present for you."

"We said no presents." Ziva chided gently.

"What are you gonna do, break up with me for spoiling you?" He chuckled. "So, you made your point pretty clear about garter belts a while ago. But... I got you something else to wear instead. My present can be getting to take it off you tomorrow night."

"This doesn't sound like the kind of present you should be giving me on our boss's front porch." She cautioned. Tony gave her a knowing smile, the 'wait a minute' finger and bent to the backpack again, hefting it to the chair before producing a long, thin wooden box.

"Happy night before our wedding, Zi." He presented the box with a flourish. Ziva accepted it with a whispered thanks, turning towards the house to see better in the porch light, tracing her fingers over the carved lid, noting the date for the following day had been hidden in the intricate pattern. "Here... I know you've moved on from the past, but I know how much you still like a good knife." Tony moved around a little too, and took the box back, lifting the lid.

"Oh, you shouldn't have..." Ziva breathed as she reached in, unwrapping the pale blue silk inside and lifting out a small, pearl-handled boot knife. Even in the dim light the fine crafting and lethality of the weapon was evident. Ziva took a step backwards, testing the balance and weight of the blade, spinning it on her fingertips, and flipping it a couple of times. "Perfectly balanced." This came on the tail end of an appreciative sigh. "It is absolutely beautiful, thank you." She offered sincerely after a few more moments, still running her thumb delicately along one of the finely honed edges.

"You're welcome, Zi." Tony gave a 'no big deal' kind of shrug, but his eyes spoke of how pleased he was with her reaction. Ziva drew the handle experimentally across her cheek.

"Cold... real mother of pearl." She murmured, lowering the knife to study it again. "This is incredible Tony."

"Oh, you can tell Abs the handle is vintage and recycled." Tony added at this revelation. "I know what she's like about cruelty-free products. The blade was made new for you though. Not a drop of blood on it."

"Thank you, neshama." Ziva glanced up again, smiled at him. "You have thought of everything."

"I also thought one of your usual thigh straps might be kind of weird under whatever you're wearing tomorrow..." Tony took hold of the segue and ran with it. He set the box on the porch railing, and rummaged in the backpack once more. "So, I had this made specially." A small package in the same blue silk. He traded her for the knife, carefully boxing it again as Ziva pushed the fabric back to reveal a white leather sheath, obviously custom made for the blade she had just received.

"You should have told me you were planning this." The silk wrapping fluttered unheeded to the porch, as she unwound the straps designed to tie around her thigh, and wove the soft leather around her fingers, inspecting the stitching and noticing, with a smile, her initials embroidered on the backside of the sheath itself. "Wow... This is beyond description, Tony. Thank you."

"I know it's not your usual style, but it seemed kind of bridal." He shrugged. "You like it?"

"I love it. I love you." She tucked the sheath into one hand, reaching for him with the other. "You really want me to be armed at our wedding?"

"Yeah, I fell in love with a badass Ninja chick. Wouldn't feel like I'd married all of you if you weren't, and like I said, I get to take it off." He gave a grin, his mind obviously fast forwarding to that moment, but distracted a heartbeat later by his phone chiming. "That'll be McGee, I really gotta get back now."

"I am ready for bed anyway. But this has been really special, thank you." Ziva sighed. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"A million percent." He gave a firm nod, his face growing thoughtful. "You know, I've never just walked you to your door before. Made out with you against it a couple of times... but you always let me in afterwards. This is new."

"I do not think Mrs Mendez ever forgave us for the time she caught us." Ziva laughed, remembering. "But no, that's never happened."

"It feels kind of like a first date, only something tells me we passed that point a while ago." He brought a hand down to caress her belly with a laugh. "C'mon peanut - one kick?"

"I think the walk rocked her to sleep, she has been quiet for a while now." Ziva said softly. "But the more you want it, the less she will oblige."

"Sounds like someone else I know." Tony teased, and kissed her before murmuring against her lips, "Okay... all I can smell is sawdust and coffee. Feels like I'm kissing Gibbs"

"Well, there goes the first date sentiment." Ziva pulled back with a groan. "That may be a new record for the least romantic thing you have ever said to me."

"I promise you that I will always find a new low." He quipped with a grin, kissed her again but retreated with a grimace, lowering his face to the collar. "Yeah, it's the coat. It's too weird."

"Tomorrow you will kiss me in my wedding dress instead, I am sure that will make up for it." Ziva took his face in her hands and kissed him quickly, a hint of what would come the following day. "I am going back inside before you come good on that promise and I change my mind."

"Well, seeing as it's the last time I get to call you this; goodnight, Ms David." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, keeping his eyes open. "I can't wait to marry you."

"Neither can I." She kissed him one more time, collected the box from the railing and stepped back towards the door. "Laila tov, neshama sheli."

"See ya, Ninja." He swung his bag back over his shoulder, and Ziva watched as he took the path to the gate in two long, bounced strides, before turning and letting herself back into the house.

"Took your time." Gibbs commented dryly, walking back through from the kitchen as Ziva paused to shrug off his coat and hang it up again. "Thought I was gonna have to turn the hose on you two. Here, it's that weird herbal crap you like, Abs raided your purse." He proffered a mug of tea.

"Thank you, and no. Your coat worked just fine." Ziva admitted with a laugh, accepting her mug. "Apparently Tony does not think the smell of sawdust is sexy." She fell into step beside him, moving back through to the lounge.

"Wasn't even trying with that." Gibbs shrugged, and passed Abby her drink. "Just thought it was cold out."

"Awww... look at you." Abby gushed, glancing upwards. "You're so in love you're practically glowing! Isn't she Gibbs?" Ziva stowed the gift in her bag, not ready to share it with anyone else just yet, and settled back down beside Abby on the worn couch, sipping her drink carefully.

"You'd hope so at this point." Gibbs murmured, flicking off the TV. "I'm gonna be in the basement."

"Abby, if you get the mattress, I will get the linen." Ziva suggested. "I want to get some sleep while my little stowaway is quiet too." At some point in the previous year, Gibbs had found himself the owner of not one, but two air mattresses and the assorted bedding to house Team Gibbs on the living room floor after a rough case. It wasn't a frequent occurrence, but the moral support of a late night chat and the comfort of a slow sleepy morning surrounded by chosen family, was important to every member of the team when things had been particularly bad, and little by little, his hallway closet had become home to the necessary items to make it a more comfortable situation for everyone involved.

"I don't know how you can be so completely calm tonight, Zivvie. I swear, come December 30 I'm not going to be sleeping a wink!" Abby tidied up the remains of the nail polish, leading the way to the closet. "Hey, it's not here - Gibbs, where's the air mattress gone?"

"Yeah I moved it upstairs." Gibbs called from the kitchen, as Ziva reached around Abby for the blankets and pillows. "First room on the right."

"Typical. Doesn't change anything for like 15 years, then he moves the one thing I'm looking for." Abby grumbled playfully, heading up the stairs. "Oh whoa... Gibbs! You sneak! Zivvie, get up here!"

"What, Abby?" Ziva set the bedding back on the shelf and followed Abby up, to a room to which she had never previously seen. Like Gibbs, the team were more or less limited to the ground floor and basement; they'd go up to use the bathroom, but come straight back down, leaving the other doors closed. She paused beside Abby in front of the open doorway, the room was clean and sparse, but obviously ready for them, with a freshly made up bed with a proper mattress, and a full-length mirror standing in the corner. "Oh, I see."

"Figured you girls needed somewhere better than a bathroom to get ready tomorrow." Gibbs offered quietly from behind them.

Ziva glanced over her shoulder at him. "You did not need to go to any trouble over this, the bathroom would have been fine, and the air mattress too."

"You deserve better'n that, kid. And you got your back to think about." He'd obviously noticed her stance had changed recently, her hands moving to the small of her back whenever she'd been standing for long periods. "'Bout time it was a guest room again, anyway." He added with a shrug.

"You planned this!" Abby declared. "I know how much stuff you had in here, there is no way you did all this since you asked us yesterday. You act like it was a last minute decision and you're so put out by having us get ready here tomorrow morning, but I see right through your act, Mister. You're just as big a pile of mush about this wedding as I am!"

"Night, Abs." Gibbs kissed her temple, neither confirming nor denying her accusation.

"Hmm..." Abby gave him a hard stare, but let it go and turned to enter the room, flinging herself into the middle of the bed. "New mattress! Yes! Dunno where you're sleeping, Zivvie."

"Thank you." Ziva turned to face him, rolling her eyes at Abby's antics. "This was very thoughtful of you." She reached for his hand, gave his fingers a gentle squeeze, letting that say the rest. Opening even one of the rooms that had been part of the life he had made with Shannon and Kelly was a big deal.

"Yeah, I know." He squeezed back, tugged her close enough to kiss her brow. "Night, Ziver."

"Well, this has not come a moment too soon. I cannot see my feet." Ziva looked down. Her toes, which Abby had so meticulously painted the previous night, had vanished beneath folds of white chiffon. The morning had passed quietly, the biggest preparations beginning after Ziva returned from Casa De Tiva, insisting on using her own shower once Tony and Tim had vacated. Abby had expanded her base of operations to include Gibbs' dining table, claiming the light was better for doing makeup. In response, he had retreated to the basement, waiting until they were back in the guest room getting dressed before attempting any getting ready of his own.

"It's just the skirt. You could still see them in your jammies last night." Abby pointed out, running the zip up the back of the dress and hooking the clasp at the top "And your feet don't matter - look at the rest of you!" She took Ziva by the shoulders, now that she was in the dress and turned her towards the mirror. "Those little lacy sleeves are so cute, but elegant all at once, and I would kill for cleavage like that, well not kill, I am strictly non-violent, but all those baby hormones and a plunge neckline? Tony's going to flip with how good they... I mean you look."

"Do you think Tony will like it?" She'd chosen a lace bodice, almost daring in its design with a low neck and semi-sheer effect, but balanced by the simplicity of the skirt that floated downwards, clinging gently but not too tightly around her belly before gathering at her ankles in the smallest of brush trains.

"Are you kidding? He's not going to be able to take his eyes off you!" Abby promised, bending to fluff the skirt at its hem for the full effect. "And I guarantee Timmy will blush when he sees you."

"I do not think he will notice me, achoti." Ziva murmured with a smile, pulling Abby to stand alongside her. "You look beautiful, Tim will love your dress." Ziva had simply given Abby her credit card and an otherwise free rein, saying that the dress was a gift and she trusted Abby's shopping process. Abby had argued hard on both points, but Ziva was immovable, and Abby finally ended up (while spending less than Ziva was prepared to shell out for, and more than Abby was really happy receiving) with a dress in emerald green with a black lace overlay; a mix of goth, vintage elegance, and something uniquely Abby.

"He does, he's already seen it." Abby admitted. "Well, I had to show someone, but I swear he didn't even get a glimpse at yours. Okay, final touches, we have... 8 minutes and 37 seconds before we're supposed to be downstairs to go. Earrings next."

Gibbs was calling for them from the foot of the stairs in five. But between Ziva's remarkably cool demeanour, and Abby's zealous over-preparation which had allowed time for photos and a 'big reveal', they were already ready to go, and were in the middle of taking selfies when his voice carried up saying he'd already brought the car around.

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! Wait till you see her! She looks amazing!" Abby clattered down the stairs first. "Whoa, you're looking sharp too! All sauve and freshly shaved."

"Steady on." He caught her at the bottom, gravity and momentum threatening to pitch her head first onto the floor. "It's a five-Gibbs kind of good is it?"

"I ran out of breath, would have been ten." Abby replied with a grin. "So what do you think of my dress?" Balance regained, she executed a pirouette in front of him.

"You're always gorgeous, Abs." He said warmly. "Is Ziva ready?"

"You tell me." Both heads swivelled towards her on the stairs. Abby, even though she'd been in the same room not a minute earlier, responded as though this was the first time she'd seen her giving a wide gasp and a step backwards to appreciate the view at a distance.

Gibbs was quiet for a moment, studying her as she stood two or three steps from the bottom. "Lemme have a better look." He stepped forward to take her hand, as she finished her descent, encouraged her to turn slowly, stopping her when she'd completed a full rotation, a quiet pride crossing his face. "Yeah... you'll do just fine." He murmured, his voice ever so slightly thicker than usual.

"Quit with the understatement Gibbs." Abby stopped taking photos to swat his arm. "She's stunning."

"Yeah, that too." He conceded, took another look at her, pointed at her leg. "Since when does a leg sheath count as a garter belt? Knife, right thigh."

"How?" Ziva gave a laugh of acknowledgement, checked the fall of her skirt to make sure it wasn't clinging in the wrong place. "There are no tells."

"I always know." He responded with his usual inscrutable smirk, before confessing. "Who do you think made the box it came in?"

"Quit with the weird knife guessing game already." Abby had moved to the front door, collecting their bags and her parasol. "Let's go get you married, Ziva!"

Once at the yard, Abby quickly took charge of the remaining preparations, while Ziva opted to wait in the car for a moment's peace. The rest of the group had gathered, and were mostly busy with the setup; Jimmy was still favouring one foot a little as he and Breena arranged a group of white chairs on the grass. Ducky, newly ordained as a legal wedding celebrant, was sitting sedately at a small table, going over some notes. McGee was fiddling with a speaker, while Tony and Senior stood a little way off, chatting. The Vances, and Jackson Gibbs who had driven straight in from Stillwater that afternoon, but would stay with Gibbs that evening, were in a group of their own, which Gibbs himself joined.

"Abby! Wow, great dress! Got a problem, there are more chairs than people." Jimmy approached her first. "I can set them all up, but a bunch of empty chairs is going to look kind of depressing in the photos."

"Jimmy! Didn't you read my planning email?" Abby rolled her eyes at his guilty expression. "There's 6 chairs for photos; one each for Kate, Director Shepard, Mike Franks, and Tony's mom, and two for Ziva's family one of her with her siblings when they were little, and a photo of her parents on holiday in Haifa in 1981... she chose them because they were from a time before everything went south. it was all in the email Jimmy! Ducky has them, come on!"

A few minutes later, the area was ready to Abby's satisfaction. Under the dappled shade, A row of chairs sat in a semicircle, parted in the middle, in the semblance of an aisle. Off to the side, the other six chairs stood, each adorned simply with a photo and a tiny battery operated candle. At the front a large area rug borrowed from Mallard Manor defined the official ceremony space, with the small wrought iron table and two chairs, similarly obtained, sitting slightly off centre, with the speaker Tim had been checking concealed under the central column leg. Senior was busy charming Breena, while the Vances Jimmy and Ducky had gathered by the table, talking in low tones, and Abby and Tim squabbled lightly over the camera placement.

"Wait a minute... where's Tony?" Tim stepped back, ultimately letting Abby have her way with the final adjustment of the tripod. "He was talking to Senior when you got here, but he's over there with Bree now."

"How do you lose the groom?" Abby questioned impatiently. "We can't have a wedding without him!"

"I didn't lose anyone Abs, he's an adult!" Tim turned towards Senior. "Did you see where Tony went?" He called.

"He told me he had to go check something. You know how Junior is, gets an idea in his head and off he goes." Senior replied. "He said he saw Ziva dashing off to the main building about five minutes ago..."

"What?!" Abby spun around, squinted at the bright yellow car, where Ziva was supposed to have been waiting, although the two Gibbs men stood a short distance away, the car itself was empty. "Where did she go... where did he go?" Abby exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention, as she hurried over.

"Abby, good to see you!" Jackson met her with a hug. "Where's the fire?"

"Oh you give the best hugs Jackson," She did at least slow down for a moment to enjoy the older man's greeting. "There's no fire, only we don't know where Tony or Ziva have gone."

"You lost them?" Gibbs questioned.

"Not lost exactly..." Abby hesitated. "More like, took our eyes off them for a minute."

"So when Tony disappears, I've lost him, but when it's Ziva..." McGee started.

"Well I would have gone back and been sitting in the car with Ziva if you had been setting the camera up right..." Abby bit back.

"Hey, timeout!" Gibbs cut in. "What do we know?"

"Tony was talking to Senior, and Ziva was supposed to be waiting in the car till it was time for you to walk her up. Next thing, they've both vanished." Abby supplied frantically. "What if they changed their minds, or they're fighting or..."

"Breathe, Abs. They'll be holed up together somewhere." Gibbs said, before adding with an eye roll, "Prob'ly making out if I know DiNozzo's reaction when he sees Ziva looking like that."

"Senior said Tony took off towards the building to check something, apparently Ziva was headed up that way in a hurry." Tim filled in. "He must have been following Ziva."

"But what was Ziva doing? She said she was all set to wait until we'd finished setting up. She brought one of her pregnancy books, and was just going to enjoy the quiet while it lasted." Abby's words tumbled over themselves. "Oh! She probably wanted to do a last minute makeup check, and no offence, Gibbs, but your rearview mirror is kind of useless for that... But what would Tony want to check? He's not supposed to see her in her dress until the wedding starts for real... that's like so much bad luck..."

"I'll round 'em up." Gibbs gave a weary sigh. "Abs, show Dad to his seat. Back in five."

"Hey, where are you off to?" Tony leaned on the wall opposite the door to the ladies' bathroom as Ziva exited the room

"Tony!" She paused, startled. "I went to the bathroom." She gestured at the sign behind her head, puzzled.

"Oh yeah, bathroom..." He looked at the sign as though reading it for the first time. "Uhh, why?"

"Seriously?" Ziva snorted. "Because I am 24 weeks pregnant and your daughter is using certain parts of my anatomy as a water bed. Is everything okay, Tony?" Her confused expression changed to one of concern.

"Oh, right." Tony had the grace to look embarrassed. "I uhh... Saw your little disappearing act. Kinda thought you'd changed your mind."

"If I had changed my mind, would I really end up in a third floor bathroom with no window?" She questioned in return. "We both know I am more capable of disappearing than that."

"Yeah I guess not." He gave a sheepish smile. "Still... saw you get a look at everything and then take off. Didn't fill me with hope."

Ziva shook her head, cupped his cheek. "Oh Tony. No. That is not what that was. I was coming straight back down after this." Her tone was gentle. "I am not changing my mind. I only came up here because the ground floor facility is never properly clean."

"Walk with me, my runaway bride." Tony invited, taking her hand. They made their way out of the dimly lit hallway, traced the familiar path back to the bullpen, pausing in the same spot they'd met seven and some years earlier. "Holy hell, Ziva, you're gorgeous." Tony sucked in his breath, as the better lighting from the window allowed him to take in the full picture, dress, hair, makeup, for the first time.

"You clean up nicely too, neshama. Very handsome." Ziva's cheeks warmed at the compliment, too genuine to be delivered with his usual eloquence. "The green tie suits your eyes." She reached forward and straightened it slightly.

"Seriously, I don't think you've ever looked so good." He turned her under his arm slowly in much the same way Gibbs had, and took in the ornate silver comb sweeping her hair over her right shoulder and the strings of tiny pearls Abby had carefully woven through the loose curls, and cast another sweeping glance over the dress. "That's your wedding dress, Zi. Holy crap, you're really doing this? You're actually going to marry me?"

"Of course, Tony." Ziva insisted. "I had no intention of doing anything else today. Did you really think I was going to change my mind on you at the last minute?"

"Not really... well maybe a little. It's not that I doubted you. But, just for a second when I saw you running up here... I got ahead of myself. Let what happened last time back in. I needed to make sure you were still in." He shook his head. "Guess I made kind of an idiot of myself. But it still doesn't feel real sometimes, you, the baby, the wedding. How'd a goofball like me end up with all of this?"

"I do not know if it was the drunken sex, or the jealous fit you threw when I danced with Gibbs, or that you got me pregnant, but for some reason I fell in love with you." Ziva replied with a laugh, before growing serious. "There is nowhere else in this world that I would rather be right now. Except perhaps outside actually getting married. But I promise you Tony, you are stuck with me."

"Stuck with you, huh?" Tony questioned with a smirk. "I can live with that." He shrugged off his fading anxiety with a cool nonchalance.

"Very stuck." She nodded, took both of his hands, closed the gap between them and pressed her lips against his gently. "I want to marry you, Tony DiNozzo."

"I want to marry you, Ziva David." He answered with a second kiss.

Ziva stepped back a little, keeping their hands joined, but to a distance where she could make eye contact. "I promise, if I ever feel like running again, the only direction I will run is towards you."

"In that case, I promise that I will spend every day giving you something that is worth running to." Green eyes locked with brown, and his thumb stroked the back of her hand lightly, emphasising his message.

"I will always have your back." Ziva replied, continuing the theme

"I will never see you without thinking how lucky I am."

"I will never give you cause to doubt my love."

"I will always correct your English."

"I will say yes to pizza a little more often."

"I will never forget that you can kill me eighteen different ways with a paperclip."

"I will never kill you with a paperclip, nor any other piece of stationery." They both shared a grin at that one.

"I will never stop picturing you naked."

"I will try to use more pop culture references, just to make you smile."

"I will never treat going to bed with you like a sure thing, and always do my best to seduce you properly instead."

"I will fall a little more in love with you every day. And a little more in lust as well."

"I promise it will never be just my knee."

"I like the sound of that." She broke the back and forth repartee with a sultry whisper.

"You do, do you?" He smirked, pleased.

"I do." She confirmed quietly. "Do you?"

"I do, too." Tony gave a grin, and looked down at their joined hands, the way they faced each other in front of the window as they should have been before Ducky at that very moment. "Did we just get unofficially married?"

"I think we did." Ziva nodded with a smile. "Are you ready to go do it for real now?"

"Yes, but first, if we just got unofficially married..." He smiled, tipping her chin upwards. "We need an unofficially married kiss."

"That seems reasonable." Ziva met him halfway, but leaned back a second later when Tony's fingers went to slide into her hair. "Hands off. Abby spent ninety minutes on this and I am not sitting through that again!" She pushed the cascading curls back over her shoulder and slipped her arms around his neck, seeking his lips.

A moment later a piercing whistle caught their attention, they turned to see Gibbs in the elevator, propping the doors with his shoulder and wearing an impatient facial expression. "Hey! You two getting married or what?"

Tony gave a laugh, and let her go reluctantly. "Ziva David, will you marry me for real? Right now?"

"Absolutely." She agreed with a smile, they joined hands and walked to the elevator to join Gibbs.

"Sorted it?" Gibbs questioned softly as the doors slid closed.

"Nothing to sort." Tony shook his head, punched the button for ground. "Just overthinking. Needed Ziva to ground me."

"I just had to visit the ladies'." Ziva shrugged innocently. "Tony followed me."

"Well, you're late for your own wedding, and nearly gave Abby a heart attack" Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Oh, and DiNozzo..." He added a few moments later as they retraced their steps back to where the rest of the wedding awaited them.

"Yeah, Boss?" Tony paused, looked at the older man.

"That lipstick ain't your colour." He answered with a smirk. Ziva laughed and swiped her thumb across the peachy gloss at the corner of his mouth. "Both of you walk in front where I can see you."

Hands still linked, Tony and Ziva made their way up to their friends to get married, officially this time.

Chapter Text

It was more like ten minutes before Gibbs returned with Ziva and Tony, by which point Abby was bordering on nervous wreck, convinced something had gone wrong. Nevertheless, a few minutes and several hugs later, peace and decorum was restored; Breena, in charge of the flowers with her funeral industry connections had handed out the men's boutonnieres and Ziva and Abby's bouquets, Tim had moved the video camera one more time, the guests were seated, everyone else was in their starting positions and only 15 minutes later than planned, Ziva - lipstick and hair both touched up - was walking down the aisle on Gibbs' arm to the tune of Puccini's O Mio Babbino Caro, chosen as one she remembered Tali singing in their childhood.

As they reached the top of the aisle, Tony, rocking between his toes and heels as he waited, moved a few steps forward to meet them, and Gibbs shook his hand with a serious mouth, but warm eyes. "Best work from here, Tony." He added softly.

"Always." Tony nodded. Gibbs turned to face Ziva, lifting her hand from his arm, and leaned closer, murmuring something no one could hear, but everyone saw the way her fingers tightened around his, and brushed a kiss to her forehead before laying her hand into Tony's waiting one. He paused half a beat, waited until the couple had turned, distracted by Ziva handing her bouquet to Abby, and slapped Tony - very lightly - on the back of the head.

"Thanks, Boss." Tony groused, not at all offended by the scattered laughter from the watching group as Gibbs took his seat beside Jackson. Ziva laughed too and reached to smooth the back of his hair. "Take it away, Ducky." He added when silence had fallen again.

Ducky cleared his throat, waited for the music to fade, and opened the black leather folder he held. "Welcome everyone, to the long awaited wedding of our beloved friends Tony and Ziva." He paused, glanced left and right, to Abby and Tim, looked across the group, the Vances, Jackson, and Gibbs on one side, Senior, Breena and Jimmy on the other. He turned slightly and inclined his head in deference towards the row of photo chairs, lingering precisely long enough for the gesture to be quietly respectful without adding sorrow, before straightening, faced the front and continued.

"In the words of Oscar Wilde: You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear. Indeed, most of us would attest that Tony and Ziva have shared that song from the first moment that they met. It is a tune to which we have had the honour of observing them dance, but rarely the opportunity to hear ourselves. As with all of the greatest journeys of love, there have been highs and lows, trials and misunderstandings, moments when even the simplest of challenges seemed too great a mountain to scale. But whatever they faced, however wide the distance between them, that same unheard song has guided Tony and Ziva to each other, and indeed, back home to share this moment with their family. Today, they have invited us to listen to some of the unique melody that they sing between them, and to witness the moment they become husband and wife.

"Tony and Ziva have chosen to begin their ceremony with a tradition that honours Ziva's heritage. In the Jewish faith, a wedding contract, known as a ketubah is signed to not only consecrate the marriage, but to outline the responsibilities the couple bear. Traditionally, it is signed by the family before the wedding itself. However, they have chosen to create their own document and sign it themselves to define and accept the foundation upon which they have built their relationship, and to acknowledge that upholding and nurturing their union lies with them. Tony and Ziva, if you would please take a seat."

"This is it." Tony steadied Ziva's chair behind the small table as she sat, before taking his place beside her. "You're still in?"

"Always, neshama." She murmured in return. "You?"

"Just try and stop me." He whispered back with a wink. Ducky leaned over and placed the open folder between them, the ketubah sitting on top. They had decided on handwriting the piece themselves as a way to feel like it was truly theirs. Neither of them being particularly skilled with a paintbrush, they had outsourced the paper design, a cream background with the same flora they had chosen for the wedding bouquet - olive leaves and white roses - hand painted in watercolour in the corners, with flecks of gold leaf highlights. The only drawback to the plan was the paper was a one-of-a-kind work, meaning they only had one chance to write on it. Subsequently, a long and painstaking evening had been spent, Ziva slowly printing their words in Hebrew with a threat to cuff Tony to the stair railing if he disturbed her, and he in turn adding a translation in English with a care he had not given his handwriting in years. But despite the laborious proceedings in crafting it, the finished result was immensely pleasing to them, both aesthetically and emotionally.

"I was privy to many of the discussions that occurred in crafting this ketubah." Ducky continued as he stood behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders. "There were long talks, the occasional debate, and more movie quotes than any man should have to endure. But ultimately, Ziva and Tony felt that the basic premise on which their relationship is founded can be summarised in just three simple points. The first is a rule with which I believe we are all familiar, 'Never screw over your partner.'" He paused as a ripple of laughter passed across the watching group. "This rule has served them well both professionally and personally, and is a reminder of their faithfulness, respect and trust for one another. The second has two translations; Hebrew and English. As Ziva would say; 'aht lo leh-vahd', or in Tony's words, 'Always got your six'." Another pause for laughter, the quiet seriousness of Ziva's chosen words, beside the flippant, yet equally sincere quip from Tony, amusing the listeners.

"This promise is more than one of physical companionship, it also encompasses the emotional, moral and spiritual support they provide each other. It is a promise that from this point on, they are never alone. Finally, the third is another one that will be familiar to us all. 'There's no place like home.' As well as being the only movie that Tony and Ziva both owned a copy of, the quote is a reminder, not only of the brick and mortar house that they share, but of belonging and of safety. That no matter what else the world may throw at them, they will always have a place to call home in each other's arms." Beside him, Abby choked back an emotional sob, and the older man smiled gently in her direction before drawing a pen from his breast pocket. "Ziva, you first. For those of us keeping count, although they are not yet legally wed, this is the first time that Ziva will sign as Ziva David DiNozzo." There was a surprised murmur among the guests, up until this moment only Ducky, and Tony and Ziva themselves had known of the name change plan.

"Two Special Agent DiNozzos?" Vance leaned across Jackson to murmur to Gibbs. "The Agency is not ready for that." Gibbs gave a snort and shook his head.

"Thank you, Ducky." Ziva tipped her head back to smile at him and accepted the pen, signing where Ducky indicated with a flourish that suggested it may have been the first legal use of her name, but definitely not the first time she had written it at all.

"And now you, Tony. Although Tony's signature will not change visibly, the meaning is now different. He has chosen to take David as his middle name both to honour Ziva and to finally give us all an answer as to what his middle initial represents." As with Ziva's decision, this was the first anyone had heard of it, but the pair shared a quiet look of relief and pride at the low hum of approval from both Senior and Gibbs.

"Grazie cara mia." Tony caught Ziva's hand that offered him the pen, and brushed a kiss to her knuckles before he added his name in his angular script. Ducky beamed, pocketing the pen once more. There was a small pause as they moved, Abby coming forward to arrange Ziva's train as they took their places back at the front.

Ducky now addressed the couple before him, rather than the guests. "Tony and Ziva, please turn to face each other, and take one another's hands. Before you accept your wedding vows, I will read to you a passage called Union by Robert Fulghum. Let his words remind you, not only of what you have to come, but to take a moment to understand and appreciate the person you stand opposite, and what it is that has brought you here today.

You have known each other from the first glance of acquaintance to this point of commitment. At some point, you decided to marry. From that moment of yes, to this moment of yes, indeed, you have been making commitments in an informal way. All of those conversations that were held in a car, or over a meal, or during long walks – all those conversations that began with, "When we're married", and continued with "I will" and "you will" and "we will" – all those late-night talks that included "someday" and "somehow" and "maybe" – and all those promises that are unspoken matters of the heart. All these common things, and more are the real process of a wedding.

The symbolic vows that you are about to make are a way of saying to one another, "You know all those things that we've promised, and hoped, and dreamed – well, I meant it all, every word."

Look at one another and remember this moment in time. Before this moment you have been many things to one another – acquaintance, friend, companion, lover, dancing partner, even teacher, for you have learned much from one another these past few years. Shortly you shall say a few words that will take you across a threshold of life, and things between you will never quite be the same.

For after today you shall say to the world –

This is my husband. This is my wife."

"Wife, I like the sound of that." Tony murmured. "Hurry up and make it official already."

Ducky gave a pleased chuckle. "I'm glad to hear you say that my lad, that's exactly what I intend to do. Ziva and Tony, do you take each other as husband and wife? To be wedded both in the eyes of the law, and by the definition of marriage which you have chosen yourselves. Do you promise to love one another completely, faithfully, and unashamedly, and to value that love above all else? Will you stand by one another for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." The answer was given simultaneously, a relieved smile breaking over both of their faces.

"Abby and Tim, please pass the wedding rings forward." Simple white-gold bands and hugs were exchanged with their respective wedding party members, before Ducky continued. "Tony, place the ring on Ziva's finger and repeat after me'I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine.'"

"Ani le-dodi ve-dodi li." The thin band slipped easily over Ziva's knuckle, and her eyes widened with surprise as Tony gave the Hebrew translation.

"You did not tell me you would learn it in Hebrew!" She exclaimed softly, "Toda, neshama."

"Prego, cuore mio." He smiled, proud before adding "It was easier than the proposal."

"Ziva, please put the ring on Tony's finger, and repeat the vow in... whichever language you prefer." Ducky gave a laugh.

"Soy de mi amado y mi amado es mía." Ziva offered in Spanish with a cheeky smile. "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine." She echoed more seriously, settling the band, slightly wider than her own on Tony's finger.

"Hey, McGee, grab a photo of this." Tony turned, and raised his hand. "For the office betting pool, I know they're gonna want proof I went through with it."

"Oh my god, Tony." Ziva sighed, as McGee followed the instruction with his phone, evidently having been pre-warned about this moment. The resulting image; Tony beaming with a mix of horror and pride, pointing to his new jewellery, Ziva a pace behind, face-palming, conveniently with her left hand, her own wedding ring glinting in the late afternoon sun, would eventually become the one displayed in the entry of their home.

"If I may redirect, before we get to the festivities." Ducky cleared his throat firmly although he looked just as amused, "Mr Palmer will join us for a reading of The Art of Marriage by Wilferd A. Peterson." Jimmy rose and walked to the front, looking somewhat misty-eyed, Ducky in turn, taking a seat with the rest of the onlookers.

"Thank you for asking me." He smiled widely. "I've chosen a poem that offers some advice on building a great marriage. Although you two are the first to actually tie the knot out of our little ragtag group of couples, Bree and I have been engaged the longest, so I think, as the more experienced man, that there's still something you can learn from me, Tony."

"Watch it, Gremlin." Tony growled without malice, amidst laughter, Ziva's included.

"But, I think you'll like it, it was the reading used at Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward's wedding." Jimmy continued with a look of pride at his cleverness.

"Cool Hand Luke... yeah, you're off this hook this time." Tony agreed. Jimmy pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, cleared his throat, and began reading.

"The little things are the big things.

It is never being too old to hold hands.

It is remembering to say "I love you" at least once a day.

It is never going to sleep angry.

It is at no time taking the other for granted;

the courtship should not end with the honeymoon,

it should continue through all the years.

It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives.

It is standing together facing the world.

It is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family.

It is doing things for each other, not in the attitude of duty or sacrifice,

but in the spirit of joy.

It is speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating

gratitude in thoughtful ways.

It is not expecting the husband to wear a halo or the wife to have wings of an angel.

It is not looking for perfection in each other.

It is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding and a sense of humour.

It is having the capacity to forgive and forget.

It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow.

It is finding room for the things of the spirit.

It is a common search for the good and the beautiful.

It is establishing a relationship in which the independence is equal, dependence is mutual and the obligation is reciprocal.

It is not only marrying the right partner, it is being the right partner."

Despite the initial silliness, the meaning of the poem and how well it suited their relationship was not lost on either Tony or Ziva, who had regained their composure, and resumed their original positions, facing each other, holding hands, and watching each other with a gaze so intense it seemed that the world had ceased to exist outside their own personal bubble. Ziva's eyes shone at the edges, and although Tony's were still dry, there was a love and admiration etched plainly on his face for all to read. They were so focused on each other at that moment, that when Jimmy finished reading and took his seat again, it took Ducky two or three tries to catch their attention, a firm cough and a hand on each of their elbows finally breaking the spell, and only just saving everyone from one of Gibbs' shrill whistles. Slowly they returned their attention to the ME turned celebrant for the day.

"Thank you, Mr Palmer for that beautiful reading. I think that no one present would argue with the sentiment that our very much enamoured couple here, are truly the definition of the 'the right partner', both in work and in love. However, Tony and Ziva, it is my very great honour, and even greater pleasure..." He paused, and nodded to Tim who set a new song playing. "...To inform you both that you are not only partners, but officially husband and wife. Congratulations on your marriage. You may now kiss the bride."

To everyone's surprise the first kiss Tony and Ziva shared as a married couple was not particularly long. After nothing more than a fleeting brush of lips, they both pressed their foreheads together and laughed long and hard. A second attempt ended similarly as they laughed at themselves and their unnaturally quiet, serious demeanours, with a touch of relief that it was finally official, with pure unadulterated joy and love, and at the sheer absurdity of Ducky solemnly giving them permission to kiss as though it was the very first time, despite the fact that Ziva, even in the flowing skirt, was visibly pregnant.

"Okay, let's try that again." Tony murmured. This kiss lasted about half a second, before he felt Ziva's lips quivering again and he lost it a second later. Her head came down on his shoulder, her own shaking with mirth and with nothing better to do, he wrapped his arms around her and laughed into the top of her hair as well.

"The hell is it with these two? The one time they're allowed to kiss on base." Vance muttered out of the corner of his mouth..

"Shh Leon. They're happy." Jackie gave him a gentle backhand and a reproving look.

"Friends and family," Ducky began again, deciding it was a lost cause. "Let me be the first to introduce you to the evidently overjoyed Mr and Mrs Anthony and Ziva DiNozzo!" The couple cracked up again at this announcement, amidst a scattered, slightly baffled applause.

"Hey Zi..." Tony exhaled hard, trying to sober himself. "You're my wife."

"You're my husband, Tony." Ziva let go of him to hold her stomach, the extra weight bouncing when she laughed, her eyes widened and she pulled his hand down. "Do you feel that?"

"Whoa, was that...?" His other hand joined hers on the top of the bump.

"That's the baby kicking." Ziva nodded. "She is celebrating too." Tony's face split into an even wider grin, if that was possible.

"That's the best wedding present ever. I love you, Mrs DiNozzo." He declared proudly.

"I love you, too." This time, when Tony swept his arm under Ziva's knees and hoisted her bridal-style across his chest and bent his head to hers, both the kiss, and the applause from their audience lasted much, much longer.

Chapter Text

The wedding ceremony was concluded with a general gathering and plenty of hugs and congratulations, not to mention Tony and Abby desperately trying to get another nudge from the baby, who did not oblige. Senior welcomed Ziva warmly to the family with a smacking kiss on each cheek and declared her 'truly ravishing'. Jimmy denied crying, even with red-rimmed eyes, but Tim had caught photographic evidence; the office pool was paying 3 to 1 on those particular odds and he'd had $20 riding on it. Gibbs crying was paying at 45 to 1, although no one had been brave enough to take that bet, while Abby was only paying out if she didn't cry, whether glistening eyes, but no falling tears counted would remain to be seen on Monday. After a half hour or so of noise and chatter, Breena had informed them that the caterer they'd hired - it turned out she also catered wakes, although they hadn't gone through Breena to find her - had messaged saying the food was ready back at the house, and they'd worked as a team to pack down the ceremony space quickly and make a move.

Gibbs had surprised Tony by throwing him the keys to the Challenger and telling him that he would drive back with Jackson to give the newlyweds a few minutes to themselves. However, the gesture was tempered by a stern warning to drive safely and not to use the car for anything other than driving. In response, Ziva had laughingly pointed out she was a long way from fitting in the backseat of a car anymore and received a swat on the head and a muttered "brat" for her cheek.

"Did I mention you look absolutely stunning today Mrs DiNozzo?" Tony glanced sideways as he drove; he'd interpreted Gibbs' instructions loosely, and although he was still driving safely, he had taken the scenic route back to Casa De Tiva, stretching out the rare opportunity to drive Gibbs' favourite car, and the time alone with Ziva.

Ziva nodded with a smile, "Several times," she affirmed. "But you may tell me as often as you wish."

"Seriously that dress... wow." He continued, reaching with his right hand to play with the lacy sleeve for a second. "Hey, did you do that whole, something old, something new... is that a Hebrew thing?"

"Yes I did, not it is not Hebrew or even Jewish. It's an English child's poem... a nursery rhyme." He could hear the thought, and then pride in her voice as she landed on the correct term before elaborating, "So, my dress is new obviously, as is the knife."

Tony tried to steal a glance at her thigh, too covered by the filmy skirt to be successful. "You're really wearing it?" The pleasure that his gift had been so well received was evident in his voice.

"Of course. You may find it later," Ziva responded with a wink and pointed to the silver twists dangling from her earlobes. "Jenny bought these for me when we were in Cairo, which feels like a lifetime ago. That is old enough. The comb is borrowed from Abby, and the ring I am wearing on my right hand is borrowed from Breena. We have organised a whole trade around that - my earrings, Abby's comb, and Breena's ring; we will each wear them at our weddings." Ziva raised her hand into his peripheral vision and displayed a small silver signet ring on her thumb. "That was one of Abby's better ideas when it came to making suggestions for today."

He gave a relieved laugh, glad to have avoided anything equine-related. "I wondered where that came from. What about something blue?" He gave her another once-over not taking his eyes off the road for too long. "You're a vision in white as far as I can see."

"Ahh, that one you can also wait to find out about later," She gave a quiet, mysterious little laugh, the kind that held promises that made Tony think about skipping the reception entirely. "Abba was very clear about what happened in this car."

"You're killing me here Dav... DiNozzo." Tony groaned, finding a space along the street to park the car. With the longer drive they'd taken, everyone else had arrived first, and the spots immediately outside their house were full, and the drive was occupied by Jackson's battered pickup.

"You love it, ahuvi." Ziva reminded him and waited for Tony to come around and open the door for her, he held out his hand, helping her to straighten up. "Did you see that?" She murmured in an undertone tilting her head toward the house they were parked alongside, as the curtains in the window fell back into place abruptly.

Tony chuckled and bent to gather Ziva's skirt off the sidewalk. "You mean our very own Mrs Kravitz? How could I miss it? I wonder if she'll stop giving you the evil eye now that I've made an honest woman of you." The neighbour three doors down had never favoured either of them with more than the briefest of glances, preferring a quiet observation through a gap in the curtains. However, since Ziva's waistline had started expanding with no wedding ring in sight, she'd evolved to include a disapproving head shake if they happened to make eye contact. During morning runs, Ziva's talks with other neighbours revealed she was militantly religious and horrified that they were 'living in sin right under her nose.' With this known, Tony naturally made it a point to try and kiss Ziva every time they passed her house and did so again after he locked the car, knowing full well they were still being watched.

"Oh, you know her name?" Ziva broke the kiss and fell into step beside him, Tony still holding her train clear of her ankles. "The most I have ever gotten from her sounded something like a sneeze."

"No, Mrs Kravitz is... never mind, another one to add to the list of things to watch when you're on maternity leave." They walked up the front path, and paused on the porch, already hearing noise and chatter inside. "Welcome home, Mrs DiNozzo."

"He says as though he was the one who paid for 80% of this house." Ziva gave a teasing laugh. With Eli's inheritance in Ziva's possession, the house was now officially theirs financially as well as legally, and other than some light-hearted humour, the fact that Ziva had technically been the one to pay for it was irrelevant, as far as they were concerned, it was theirs.

"Starting to understand why Gibbs calls you a brat." Tony rolled his eyes and opened the door with a sweeping gesture. "Come on, let's go party."

Casa De Tiva was filled with joy and noise that evening. They gathered first for a meal upstairs, the dining table at full extension was designed for eight, so accommodating twelve was rather cosy but no one was complaining as they found seats. Dishes left by the caterers were passed around amidst chatter and laughter, wine glasses were filled, the highlights from earlier in the day were rehashed, and Abby scolded Tony for disappearing right before the ceremony.

"That was seriously uncool! Where did you get to anyway?" She concluded. Beside him, deep in conversation with Ducky, Ziva gave the subtlest of headshakes. The vows in the bullpen were for them alone, and if Gibbs had overheard any of it, he wasn't letting on.

"Oh, everywhere and nowhere," Tony answered airily, Ziva nudged his arm and he pushed his plate towards her as she picked the cherry tomatoes out of her salad. "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, Abs." Ziva dropped the rejected ingredient onto his plate and held out her hand expectantly. Tony collected his cubes of halloumi and passed them over. "Turned up in the end, didn't I?"

Abby watched the silent trade, conducted without either of them breaking eye contact with the person they were talking to, and considered for a second. "I guess so, but I promise if you ever disappear five minutes before you're supposed to get married again, no one's gonna find your body."

Ziva laughed shortly, turning away from Ducky for a moment, "If he ever needs to get married again, Abby, you will not be able to find the body either!" She turned back to face Ducky again with calm nonchalance, "Sorry, go on?"

Tim laughed and checked his watch. "Two hours married and there's been a death threat already. That's gotta be some kind of record." He leaned back as Abby passed the bread basket past him to Jackie.

Vance grinned down the table. "Gibbs - I believe you're the authority on wives making attempts on your life?" Jackie flicked her hand sideways, swatting his chest with a barely concealed smile. Gibbs chose not to dignify the barb with a response, reaching instead for some kind of creamy potato dish.

Tony glanced sideways at Ziva, who met his eyes with affection. "Nah, this one's for keeps Abs," He shrugged coolly. "Pretty well crazy about her." He caught Ziva's hand and kissed her fingers.

"As am I, neshama." Ziva leaned across, pressed a kiss to his cheek and helped herself to the piece of cheese he'd missed on his plate, dropping the tomatoes from her second helping of salad as she did so.

"Ever think of ordering the food the way you like it?" Gibbs queried.

Ziva shook her head, gesturing to Jimmy who had just had a mouthful of both the cheese and the tomato, as well as the other ingredients, and looked blissed out at the flavour combination. "No. And that is why; the dish is better as a whole."

Jimmy gave an emphatic nod. "Sr'llygoob!" He enthused, still chewing.

"Besides," Tony lay his fork down to provide air quotes as he spoke, "'Things that burst' were not on Ziva's banned food list two weeks ago when we confirmed with the caterer."

"Things that burst, Ziva?" Tim repeated curiously, putting his hand over his wineglass before Abby topped it up again. "I know we've totally bonded over your peanut butter addiction right now, but you've lost me on this."

"Just keep me supplied with Reese's cups and you will be fine, McGee." There was a widespread communal laugh as he calmly reached into Abby's handbag which was hanging on the back of her chair, pulled out the aforementioned candy and tossed it across the table.

Tony shrugged and explained, "It's a textural thing. Cream cheese and custard are safe again, but grapes, cherry tomatoes, those things in bubble tea, and sunny side up are all out." He reached for the wine across the table. "Weird if you ask me." He added with a saddened shake of his head and a teasing grin at his wife.

"Oh really?" Ziva took the bait quickly. "And I am eating the halloumi from your plate because...?"

"Because I know how much you like it, and I'm just that generous?" Ziva scoffed and raised her eyebrows and Tony rolled his eyes. "Fine... If it squeaks when I chew, it makes me think there's something alive there." Laughter rippled around the table at this admission, Ducky chiming in with the technical explanation for the squeaking sensation, followed by a tale from a time in Europe with a cheesemaker.

The celebrations went on merrily, eventually moving downstairs to the basement where a dessert buffet and small bar area had been set up. Abby and Ziva had been busy with their decorating, long swathes of filmy fabric had been hung outward from the centre of the ceiling and enhanced with hundreds of string lights, and strands of small metallic stars dangled downwards, creating an effect somewhere between a tent and being out under the night sky. Ziva, who Abby had forbidden from climbing ladders, dragged what was now the dessert table around whenever she needed to be taller and simply stood on that instead. The same wooden chairs from the reception were gathered near the bar space, which would stay even after the party had disbanded. The foldout sofa Breena had used had been dragged off into a far corner, with a new slipcover and throw cushions in the same cream and pale green shades that had been used for the flowers and the ketubah. The centre of the room remained empty for dancing, and Tim had relocated the surround sound speakers from the living room for the night. Tony had supervised this action the previous day, but his warnings to be careful were quelled when reminded that Tim had not only recommended the purchase but set them up in the first place.

Senior quickly declared himself in charge of the bar and serving drinks, while Abby took control of Ziva's phone and subsequently, the music for the night. They opened with Can't Help Falling In Love, the only truly 'official' part of the reception, but even that wasn't very official, Tony and Ziva simply taking the floor when they felt ready after a few minutes of chatter and picking over the dessert table. They sang, softly enough that it wasn't a presentation of any kind, just to each other, but the odd snippet of Ziva's effortless harmony that could be heard over the refrain, or the way they alternated singing lines, gave their watchers an insight to the deep connection between the pair and added a literal meaning to Ducky's opening lines from the ceremony; this was clearly not the first time Tony and Ziva had sung together, but this was the one time they'd actually hear it.

After that, the music took a more lighthearted turn, although Abby was in charge of the phone, Ziva and Tony had constructed the playlist themselves (with a few suggestions from their friends) and their guests were spared the Sterile Puppets or anything else that might normally have had airtime in her lab. None of it was very formal, songs just played steadily in the background, and people got up to dance when they felt like it, chatting and eating in between. Abby added her own spin to the playlist a few times. She, Jimmy and Breena treated everyone to a loud rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, followed by a song from Ziva's hen's night and coaxing Ziva and Bree to demonstrate the steps they had learned one more time. Linedancing in a wedding dress was no easy feat, even once Abby had helped her find the loop at the end of the train and tie it around her wrist, and Ziva declared herself beaten after one song, preferring tunes that required a simpler ballroom hold.

For the most part, it was the younger three couples dancing, while the older half of the party mostly remained sequestered near the bar. The smaller room and guestlist meant any dancing was more obvious, although no one watched too closely. At one point, Jackie requested the song from her wedding to Leon and pulled him up to the floor, while Jackson pronounced himself too old, and was happy enough chatting and watching, and Gibbs just raised an eyebrow when asked if he would dance at any point.

The casual nature of the party meant there were no strictly organised dances. However, Senior and Ducky had both asked Ziva to dance at a random moment, Senior choosing I Get A Kick Out Of You, leading her with a dashing charm worthy of Sinatra. Ducky, meanwhile had chosen the opening strains of Dream A Little Dream Of Me, and he carried out the dance with his usual quiet elegance, relating a story of a time he had seen a Doris Day movie in his youth. Seeing this, Abby claimed her own dance with both men and decided it was her mission to get Gibbs to dance with Ziva at least once.

"Abby, it is fine. Gibbs does not want to." Ziva settled on the couch, a glass of water in one hand, a plate of dessert in the other. They were taking a breather, Tony chatting with Senior over by the bar, Tim, Jimmy and Breena in a group by the stairs. "We already know how he feels about weddings, dancing is probably a step too far." Beside her, Abby swiped her finger on the screen, scrolling song titles, trying to find the 'perfect' tune for Gibbs and Ziva to dance to.

"It has to be exactly the right song, something that makes him want to dance... or remember a time when he did... I got it!" Abby's face showed sudden understanding, she jumped up without another word and dashed across the room to cut in on the conversation between Tim and Jimmy, Tony taking the chance to claim the vacant space beside Ziva for a quick kiss.

"How're you holding up Ninja?" He slid an arm around her waist and helped himself to a bite of the brownie she held between her fingers. "The stowaway behaving herself?"

"She is being perfectly agreeable, I think she likes all the dancing, and I am fine," Ziva pulled her food out of his reach. "But if you continue eating my dessert, I will not be the one with 'something blue' later on." Her tone lowered significantly, eyes flickering ever so slightly south in case there was any doubt about her meaning.

Tony winced, as did Ducky who had come close enough to hear the last sentence, performing a rapid about-face and leaving the pair alone. "So marriage hasn't softened you at all my lovely wife... uh-oh, that's Abby's planning something smile." He changed subjects quickly and his head swivelled towards the green-clad bridesmaid as she turned to study Gibbs with a 'checkmate' facial expression.

"She has been determined to find a song that will make Gibbs ask me to dance," Ziva explained, with a slight eye-roll. "I have told her not to bother, but you know Abby."

"Well, whatever it is, she thinks she's got it," Tony said. The music faded, replaced by the introduction to something softer, slower, and immediately familiar. "That's the one..."

Ziva nodded with a reminiscent smile, "We danced to when we were undercover on that meth case at the charity ball, yes. That was why she went to talk to Tim!" Apparently, the groomsman was not the only one who remembered the song, Vance gave a sudden laugh, and Gibbs visibly sighed with resignation before standing and coming across to where they sat.

"Gonna pitch a fit if I ask your wife to dance, DiNozzo?" He questioned, holding out his hand in invitation. "They're playing our song, Aurelia." He added dryly to Ziva when Tony denied any knowledge of said fit. Ziva laughed and set her plate and glass aside, accepting his hand up.

"I did not think you would remember." Ziva followed Gibbs back to the floor and settled into a dance hold that was more relaxed than it had been the last time, without the odd pretence of an undercover role as a married couple, although the affection was far more genuine.

Gibbs smirked, "Couldn't forget that tantrum that husband of yours was throwing."

"He was very nearly not my anything that night!" Ziva said with a laugh; recalling the hours of tension and aggravation that had culminated with them agreeing to try dating officially. She dropped her voice to let the music cover their conversation, "Are you okay with this? I warned Abby that you may not want to dance."

"Abs went to the trouble of finding out this song." He gave a noncommittal shrug, obviously compartmentalising the memories and the present moment, Ziva took the hint and pressed no further. "But pretty sure you were smaller back then." He added with a downward nod.

"I think you can thank McGee for telling her the title," Ziva nodded her head towards the conspiring pair, Tim with the most innocent expression he could manage behind a pleased smile, and Abby was doing a terrible job of pretending not to take a photo. "Although, I seem to remember you saying much more flattering things to me at the time?"

He gave her a knowing look. "Fishing for compliments huh?"

"Not at all," Ziva shook her head lightly, "But surely there is a rule about only saying complimentary things about a bride's appearance?"

Gibbs laughed softly, and turned her under his arm, dropping his mouth to her ear when she faced him again. "Never seen you look happier kiddo, that's worth more than any wedding dress or fancy hair." The words were better than any praise he could have offered about her looks, and Ziva's hand tightened in his gratefully.

"Thank you for the dance," Ziva murmured as the song faded.

"Next best thing," Gibbs reminded her quietly, code for another three words that were spoken far less often, especially in company, but no less important or deeply meant.

Ziva nodded understanding, "Next best thing," she agreed, as Gibbs kissed her forehead.

"See! I told you a dance was a good choice - you're almost smiling, Gibbs!" Abby cheered, joining them on the floor. She wrapped her arm around Ziva's waist as the beat picked up again, encouraging her to start swaying with the rhythm.

"Don't think I don't know why you tried so hard Abs," Gibbs shook his head. "How much d'you win?"

Abby didn't even bother to look surprised that he'd called her out, "Twenty," She admitted with a grin. "Palmer was sure you wouldn't."

"You can buy your own Caf-Pow! for the next week then." He said firmly, retreating to his spot near the bar. "You bet on me, you pay the price."

"Worth it," Abby shrugged, turning to face Ziva and catching both her hands. "Come on Lady DiNozzo, my turn!"

The night wore on, the relaxed, fun vibe not fading, even as people grew weary, the Vances the first to make their departure.

"Thank you for coming Mrs Vance," Ziva leaned forward to brush a kiss on each cheek.

"Jackie, please, and thank you for asking me," She corrected, returning the gesture. "After everything Leon has told me about you two, I had to see it with my own eyes. And don't listen to his complaints about spamming him with baby pictures when she arrives either, I want to see them all!" Ziva agreed with a laugh and formally farewelled the Director, as Jackie turned to say goodbye to Tony, the couple heading up the stairs a few moments later.

Music still played in the background; Abby had relinquished possession of the phone to Jimmy, who had put on Can You Feel The Love Tonight to dance with Breena, while Ducky methodically packed down the scant remains of the dessert table. Both the Gibbs men and Senior were still near the bar - whiskey glasses in hand, sharing a story that involved much dry laughter, although the rumble of their voices was drowned out by Elton John.

Ziva, Tony, Abby, and Tim all sat in a tired, happy row on the couch at the far side of the room, watching Jimmy and Breena rotate on a spot the size of a nickel, totally oblivious to the world. "Do we look like that Zi?" Tony murmured against Ziva's ear.

"Yes!" Abby and Tim agreed in unison, Abby continuing, "Except you two make it way more obvious when you're undressing each other with your eyes..." Ziva reached for Abby's hand and guided her to the tiny flutters that had just become apparent by way of distraction. "Baby Tiva! Tim, you should feel this it's so awesome!"

"I'm good, thanks, Abs," Tim declined quickly. "Seriously, it's fine," He insisted when Abby pressed both the issue, and whatever lump of baby she was feeling and received a more solid thump from within, and a disapproving noise from Ziva.

"Oops, sorry Zivvie." Abby withdrew her hand and stopped leaning across Tony, turning instead to Tim. "You haven't danced with Ziva yet either... oh my god, he's gone all shy with how good you look, Zivvie, I told you he'd blush!"

Ziva shook her head with a smile, deflecting on Tim's behalf, "Abby, why are you so worried that I dance with everyone tonight? My feet are starting to hurt!"

"It's your wedding day, Zivvie - you need to have an awesome memory with everyone in this room," Abby explained.

"I did not dance with Director Vance or Jimmy?" She questioned, not following the logic.

"Yeah, but that's Vance - that's kind of weird." Abby shrugged off the contradiction. "You and Jimmy totally rocked out to The Middle as well - that counts." Sometime after her dance with Gibbs, Ziva had taken a break upstairs, feeling overwhelmed and a little hormonal. Abby had found her in the kitchen carefully dabbing her eyes with the corner of the teatowel and had decided she needed cheering up. After a few secretive words, Abby and Jimmy promptly staged a mutiny, changed the song and dragged Ziva back to the floor, promising the chorus was specifically for her, and two or three minutes had been spent bellowing the lyrics for her benefit. Ziva eventually succumbed to the catchy tune and sang the last couple of choruses with them. Although it had made Ziva smile again, Senior had been instructed not to pour any more drinks for the instigators, and Tony had taken over the music for a while.

"Hey," Tony cut in. "Does that mean you have to dance with me too Abs? Zi's not the only one who got married after all, pretty sure I was there too. Do I get an awesome moment with everyone in the room?"

She nodded eagerly. "You bet it does, are you thinking what I'm thinking, Robin Hood?"

Tony gave his best charming smile in response, "But of course, Lady Marian.Prince of Thieves it is."

"Robin Hood?" Ziva enquired, with a curious look at her husband. "Why do I feel there is a story to this?"

"There's not." Tony said, "I just know what she's thinking. A movie soundtrack is the only choice."

"Yep!" Abby agreed "Something so corny and over the top, you just have to ham it up. Right, my liege?"

"You know it, m'lady... hey, Palmer, hand over the phone!" Tony rose to put an end to the Disney soundtrack marathon Jimmy seemed to have planned, A Whole New World had just started playing.

"You're going to love this!" Abby announced, grabbing Tim and Ziva's wrists to pull them to standing. "I know you both know the song, I've made you watch the movie enough times. Trust me, the best way to do this is to just be so full on and into it, you're laughing too hard to feel embarrassed."

"Abby, come on, you know I don't dance that much, Tim protested as Abby dragged them both toward the middle of the floor.

Abby stopped pulling long enough to put Ziva's hand in his as Tony claimed the phone back. "Nope. You're dancing. It's Ziva's wedding you can't say no to her."

"I never asked!" Ziva put in. A piano introduction tinkled in the background, and Abby shoved Tim a step closer to Ziva before turning to Tony. "And this is a love song!" Abby couldn't or pretended not to hear the last protest, already adding actions to the opening lyrics as she danced.

Tim sighed, "It's fine, Ziva if you want to go sit down again, honestly..."

Ziva heaved a sigh too, "I do not mind, really. And it is easier than arguing with Abby," She lay a hand on his shoulder. "Just do not dip me like that!" She nodded her head towards the others; giving literal meaning to the phrase 'dance like no one's watching.' Jimmy and Breena, meanwhile, had not given up their close on-the-spot embrace.

"When you find me there, you'll search no more!" Abby sang behind them.

"Where do I..." His right hand hovered uncertainly.

Ziva laughed softly and caught his hand, "My waist McGee, or where it used to be anyway." She dropped the limb to her side and laid her hand back on his shoulder. "Unless I am actually having the baby, and you will not be there for that, you do not need to treat me any differently."

Tim gave a bashful shrug, "Sorry, awkward prom dates and slow dancing with Abs is about the extent of my knowledge of partner dancing. You do look really great tonight though."

"Thankyou, Tim." Ziva increased the pressure of her hands in response to guide him. "Just side to side, we do not have to do... whatever that is." He followed her lead, still somewhat awkwardly.

"You can't tell me it's not worth dying for!" Tony and Abby in unison this time as they performed another extravagant dip, every step greatly exaggerated, far bigger than necessary, and punctuated by laughter, mostly from Abby as she clutched the arm of Tony's suit jacket, trying not to fall backwards.

"Loosen up, Zi!" Tony called during the instrumental, "McGee, quit being so serious!" Abby gave another shriek as he spun them both.

"They're as bad as each other," Tim murmured. "Had no idea either of them got like this."

"Neither did I. At least you still have a chance to change your mind about getting married!" Ziva shot back, and the resulting laugh had them both relaxing into the song, moving more fluidly.

"Sing along!" Abby encouraged. "Take me as I am, take my life."

Ziva met McGee's eyes with a shrug and a what do we have to lose kind of smile, "I would give it all, I would sacrifice..."

"You can't tell me it's not worth fighting for," He joined reluctantly.

"You know it's true... everything I do, I do it for you!" Now four voices were singing, and before long, Ziva and Tim were just as into it, although less dramatic in their dancing than Abby and Tony. With almost 6 minutes to dance, Ziva even managed to teach McGee a neat double-handed turn. They laughed their way through the rest of the song, eventually letting go of their stiffness and enjoying themselves thoroughly.

"I told you!" Abby beamed triumphantly, as they made their way back to the bar for refreshments, still laughing at themselves. "If you don't go over the top you can't see what's on the other side. I expect an encore at our wedding!" Jimmy and Breena, still unaware of the carry-on, kept dancing to whatever started next. By now, the app was choosing random tunes to continue playing.

"I will be much rounder by then, I may not want to dance," Ziva warned with a laugh, settling back against Tony, who wrapped his arm around her belly. "And I am not sure if I want an encore from you, Tim. I love you dearly, but you cannot hold a tune."

"Never said I could sing. But the dancing was less awkward than I thought, like Tony said, it was kinda fun." Tim finished with a shrug.

"None of you can sing from what I heard," Gibbs cut in, "Calling it a night - keys, DiNozzo." Tony obediently fished them out of his pocket and handed them over. This announcement seemed to draw everyone's attention to the time, Ducky informing them that all the leftovers had been safely refrigerated and that he would drive Senior back to the Adams house, once they'd taken the extra leaves out of the dining table and broken it down again, while the McSciutos along with Jimmy and Breena who had finally emerged from their romantic dance bubble packed away the extra chairs into a corner, and stacked the dishwasher before calling for their own rides.

Before long, it was just Tony and Ziva alone in their basement again, the music barely obvious in the background, the volume had been dropped several notches to allow goodbyes to be spoken properly. They weren't dancing, just swaying along quietly, and humming the words when they knew them, enjoying the peace of having their house to themselves for the first time as husband and wife.

"So, Mrs DiNozzo. How do you like the sound of that?" Tony asked, winding one of her loose curls around his fingers as her head rested on his shoulder.

Ziva responded with a contented hum, "How do you like the sound of Anthony David DiNozzo?" She answered his question with one of her own.

He gave a cool, nonchalant shrug, that was belied by the shine in his eyes at the sound of his new, full name, "I think I can live with it. This might take longer to get used to though," He quipped with a smile, tapping his left ring finger on her hand as he held it, before guiding her into a graceful twirl. "Still feels kind of weird if I'm honest. Not bad, just different."

"Trust me, it will grow on you," Ziva promised, with almost ten months to get used to wearing her engagement ring, the addition of a second band had been less of a sensory change for her. "In a few weeks, it will feel wrong when you are not wearing it."

"That almost sounds ominous." He laughed and added a crack about Stockholm Syndrome, earning himself a playful swat. "Have you read the inscription I got in yours yet?" They had both arranged for engravings to be made on the inside of each others' rings and agreed that it would be a secret until after they were officially married.

"No, have you?" She released him to step back and work the ring off her finger.

"Nah, wanted to wait till we were alone." Tony mirrored her action, before realising the ambient lighting, while romantic and party appropriate, was too dim for reading a small engraving, and quickly moved for the main overhead light switch. "Hebrew, and after you sent Abby with me to make sure I didn't get yours to look like Lord of the Rings! Wait... that's aleph, I got that one. I think the next one is resh maybe?" Tony turned the ring slowly in his hand, and Ziva let him puzzle it out for a few more moments, trying to remember the few characters he had picked up.

"Ani le-dodi ve-dodi li." Ziva said, tracing each character on his palm when he declared himself beaten. Tony couldn't read Hebrew well and learned words and phrases by ear, but in a way that neither of them truly understood, he could feel the shapes and remember the sounds that went with each one when she drew them on his hand as she spoke. "That is why I was so pleased you learned it in Hebrew. This way you may carry my promise with you wherever you go."

"And you say I think of everything." He let her slide the ring back on and kissed her. "Did you read yours?" Her own rings were still tucked into the palm of the hand she had not been using to help him read the characters, and Ziva took her turn tilting the thin white gold ring.

"This was inevitable." The simple words brought a smile to her face, not only the reminder of long ago talks but also the difference in the inscriptions they'd chosen. Tony's wholehearted belief that they were always meant to be was balanced by her acknowledgment of the intentional promise they had made to belong to the other; somehow, even without knowing what their own ring would say, they'd reflected themselves honestly and complemented the other in a few simple words. "Nothing is inevitable Tony."

"We are inevitable Zi. Whatever went down, wherever we've been, this..." He took her hand, spun her again, and then gestured between them. "This was always going to happen. Even if Jenny had never created the liaison role and you'd gone back to Tel-Aviv, we would have found each other again in some other way."

Ziva smiled, as he returned the rings to their rightful position on her left hand with a gallant kiss on her knuckles. "Well, I will wear those words with great pride. I am still not so sure about fate as you are, but this feels right enough that it could be."

"Of course it was fate." Tony said confidently, "And even if it wasn't, I woulda helped it along. You made an impression that day Officer David, I would have wanted to look for you if our paths didn't cross again."

Ziva smirked, obviously considering whether to call him out that his intentions on looking her up after their first meeting had been a lot less committed than where they stood now, but thought the better of it. "I prefer Mrs DiNozzo." She murmured instead, leaning up for a lingering kiss.

"So do I." Tony agreed when talking was an option again, and stepped back to take another sweeping look at his wife, shaking his head lightly in disbelief. "You look incredible Ziva. You know those scenes in movies where they do the whole life flashing before their eyes montage? Yeah, this is one of them. I'm never going to forget the way you look right now."

Ziva's cheeks warmed at the sincere compliment and obvious admiration in his gaze. "For that one," She whispered, moving closer to punctuate her thoughts with a kiss, "You may treat going to bed with me like a sure thing tonight."

"I like the sound of that," he grinned against her lips. With that offer in play, they weren't long in heading upstairs, and when he discovered exactly what Ziva's 'something blue' was, Tony found another image to add to his montage.

Chapter Text

As with almost every new stage of their relationship, Tony and Ziva (now officially Mr and Mrs DiNozzo) had no time to wonder about changing dynamics and were thrown headlong into a case the next day they had work. The Monday following the wedding started at 0500 with a phone call.

"Honeymoon's over. Body at The Lazy Dog Motel. Past Richmond, on the I95, outside a place called Stony Creek." he barely waited for the line to connect before he started speaking.

"It's Ziva, Gibbs. Hold on. I will wake Tony," she had already been awake, about to head out for a run, but had answered the call on Tony's phone when she saw Gibbs' name come up. "Have McGee send me the details and I will start a background as soon as I have them," there was a little sigh at the end of her sentence at the thought of another long day spent researching.

There was a momentary pause on the other end of the line. "You still throwing up when you smell things?"

"No?" her response was more of a question than an answer.

"Demanding pit stops every quarter hour?"

"Gibbs?" Ziva pulled the phone away to glance at the screen as though that would provide some clarification for this oddly detailed series of questions.

"It's a two-and-a-half-hour drive, Ziver. Can you do that?"

"Well, yes. But I am not on the field?"

"You are today. Got a whole motel room to process. Need more hands. You up for that?"

Ziva paused, surprised at the offer. Except for her brief stint with the De Luca weapons trade, and that had been while defying orders, she had not even been present at a crime scene since before she'd left for Israel to bury Eli. "Yes, I can manage evidence. I would be safe... we would be safe?" her hand unconsciously moved down to her stomach.

"Troopers have already cleared the scene. No combat, just grunt work. Pick you up in ten. Guys can bring the truck," the call ended before she had a chance for more words.

There was a movement behind her from the bed, "Case?"

"What else?" she tossed the phone back on the comforter and turned back to the wardrobe to shed her running gear.

"But you're getting dressed?" Tony was vertical now, as was his hair. "You don't do crime scenes."

"Gibbs wants me out there," Ziva shrugged, yanking on a pair of stretchy jeans; ten minutes would be more like five with Gibbs. "He's on the way. He said this one's safe and wants an extra set of hands. You and McGee are to bring the truck. I guess getting to ride in the sedan is his equivalent of special treatment considering our little stowaway," she added a grateful pat to the rounded expanse of skin.

"What're we looking at?" Tony came up to press himself against her back, still warm and sleepy. "Mmm... morning, wife," he pulled back enough to hook her bra for her and kiss the nape of her neck simultaneously.

Ziva hummed approval of the new term and reached behind to pat his cheek. "Body, motel room, lots to process, long drive, that's all I know for now," she said. She shimmied the long black maternity tank down over her belly, pushing Tony's hand away as he searched for a baby kick. "Go and shower, my little porcu-swine. I will start coffee on my way out," she tugged her sweater down, the knitted fabric stretching to fit, then turned, ran an affectionate hand through his bed hair and kissed him quickly.

"Knew there was a reason I married you!" Tony called over the sound of the shower. "What were you up so early for anyway?"

"A run, as always, although it is not happening now," Ziva answered. She used the vanity mirror to glance behind her, watching Tony stick his face directly under the water as she deftly braided her hair up and out of the way.

"Is it really a run anymore, Zi?" the spray muffled Tony's voice. "More like a gentle kind of jog... maybe a brisk waddle... Ahh! Sorry!" Ziva turned the hot tap on in the sink to full blast, causing the shower to run cold, only relenting and turning it off once he apologised.

"If you use the word waddle again, it will be the cold tap next time!" she promised and headed down to the kitchen. A quick perusal of the fridge revealed two brownie squares still left from Saturday night and a tub of overnight oats she'd been soaking. Ziva hesitated briefly, glancing between the dessert and the healthier breakfast option until a well-timed kick from the baby cemented the decision that the brownies and a banana counted as a balanced meal. She was halfway through the routine of preparing their drinks one-handed and eating with the other when her phone rang.

"Yes, Gibbs?" she scribbled the name of the motel and location he'd given her earlier on the dry-erase board on the fridge for Tony when he was properly awake.

"You or your husband making the coffee today?" once again, he skipped the greeting. Ziva (or the baby) had come to terms with the smell again, although she found a new kind of torture in wanting to drink it but being unable, even the smallest sip tasted like she was chewing on tin foil.

"I am," she didn't bother smothering the giggle. Gibbs's feelings about Tony making coffee were blatantly clear. "I will make some for you too, Abba... seeing as you asked me so nicely," she added, tucking the phone under her ear and measuring out the coffee grounds as she talked.

"Brat," he snorted. "You're on duty the minute you get in my car," With a laugh, Ziva put the phone back into her pocket and reached for another travel mug and the second piece of brownie.

"Agent... Mrs... uhh..." Jimmy lowered the window as Ducky drew the Medical Examiner's van to a halt. Ziva had been sent back to the road to flag them down when they'd arrived. The signage was small and faded and the MCRT truck had overshot the entrance. As a result, the first five minutes on scene had been spent refereeing a spirited debate between Tony and McGee about who had screwed up. "Hi! Didn't expect to see you!" he finished cheerfully, albeit somewhat clumsily.

"Agent David, Mrs DiNozzo, Ziva is fine as always." she laughed. She and Gibbs had decided that verbally at least, Agent David would stick for the sake of simplicity. "I am here because Gibbs has decided that processing the evidence from a motel room is a three-person job. Good morning Ducky."

"Three and a half!" Jimmy added with a grin.

Ducky shook his head, not entirely hiding a smile that Ziva shared too. "Quite, Mr Palmer. Ziva, I take it you've been sent up to guide the way?" he waited for her confirming nod. "To which direction are we headed?"

"Take a left at the office building, then follow the road down the hill. He is in the white Dodge, outside room eighteen," she turned and pointed, stepping back to give them the right of way.

"Mr Palmer will ride in the back," Ducky said with a significant nod in the man's direction.

"I will? Oh!" Jimmy took the hint and made preparations to retreat to the rear space, handing several items to Ducky. "Hop in, Ziva."

"I am fine to walk, thank you, Ducky," Ziva declined gracefully. "There is no need to unseat Jimmy on my behalf."

"Ahh, but you will get the first pick of the pastries we stopped for if you ride with us," he raised a large white paper bag. "I happened to overhear your voice while Gibbs was calling me, I had a feeling there would be a need for an extra danish this morning."

"Why does everyone keep bribing me with food?" Ziva questioned with a smirk, climbing into the recently vacated passenger seat. "As a doctor, you must realise there are other facets to being pregnant besides eating!"

"Because, my dear," Ducky paused and settled the goodies in her lap so he could drive again, "you always accept."

"What do we know so far?" Gibbs wasted no time, getting what information he could from the state police and dismissing them summarily, before scattering his team to different jobs. The garbage truck driver had made the 911 call when he'd come to empty the dumpsters and instead found the body slumped in the car. The police, in turn, had referred to NCIS when they identified the vehicle as belonging to a Marine. With the scene to themselves, Ziva had turned her lockpick to the motel room assigned to the parking space occupied by the corpse. Ducky and Palmer were inspecting the body, and Tony was going through the trunk. At the same time, McGee was busy confirming the victim's identity and bringing up a record.

"The office is still empty," McGee began, stalling while the fingerprint scanner did its job. "It's almost nine now, so someone should be here soon so I can find out if the security cameras picked anything up." A sign on the door informed them that the office was only staffed for a few working hours for check-in and check-out. Calling the after-hours 'emergency' line had transferred to an answering machine they could hear through the door.

Gibbs' face was unimpressed, "I asked what we did know, Duck?"

"Single gunshot wound to the abdomen yesterday evening, sometime between 10pm and midnight," Ducky reported dutifully. "He would have sat here for some minutes afterwards before he succumbed to the blood loss. The entry angle, however, is unusual for his position in the car. I would have expected it through the right side of his body rather than his left. Help me lean him forward Mr Palmer... ahh yes, through and through. I daresay our lovely Abigail can tell us more."

"I'll call in the tow," McGee said quickly. The details he was waiting for finally appeared on his screen,. "Car registration from the State Police matches the fingerprint ID, Staff Sergeant Samuel Lawrence, stationed at Quantico. Nothing outstanding on his record in either direction, good or bad. Married to civilian Emma Wilson, she teaches at the middle school on the base."

"Ziver!" Gibbs raised his voice enough to carry inside the room.

"No signs of a fight, the door was locked and the lights were switched off," Ziva called back, her voice increasing in volume as she approached the open door again. "The room is fairly tidy overall."

"Too clean?" Tony asked, head still in the trunk.

"No, his bags are still here, and the bed and bathroom are used; nothing has been thoroughly cleaned. There are no signs of a cover-up. However, our victim had company and apparently, he was very fond of them," she announced, emerging with an evidence bag held at arms' length. "There were three of these in the bathroom trash. Yes, that is exactly what you think it is," she added in answer to Gibbs' questioning glance.

"Whatcha find Zi?" the open lid on the trunk meant Tony had no line of sight to Ziva but could hear her voice "And his spare tyre is in worse shape than the ones on the car," he added, continuing to rifle through the contents.

"Maybe you need to resit high school sex-ed, Tony. No wonder Ziva's pregnant if you don't know what those are," McGee laughed. He was closer, in the front of the car, extracting the victim's phone from his pocket and could see Ziva's unsavoury offering. Ziva shot him a repoving but slightly amused smile and tossed him the evidence bag to add to the collection to take back to base. "Ugh, thanks," he caught it with a grimace.

"What? Hey!" Tony stuck his head around the side of the vehicle enough to see and realised McGee was making a joke at his expense. "That's enough from you, McChastity! At least..."

Gibbs cut in impatiently, "Enough from all of you! Any idea who he was with?"

In response, Ziva displayed a second evidence bag: "Hair on the pillows, long, brunette, a little lighter than mine. They used the shower too, and I can still smell the shampoo, it would suggest a woman."

"This kind of brown?" McGee showed her the lock screen on the phone he'd just picked up; the photo showing the victim and a brunette woman on their wedding day. "Before you ask Boss, we'll need to override the security code back at base to find out what else is on here."

"Yes, about that colour" she nodded, holding the hair strands beside the photo for comparison. "So his wife was here?"

Tony chuckled. "Well, you know what I say about these things. It's always the wh-hi-I'm going to go up to the office to see if anyone's shown up yet," Tony changed words mid-sentence. No one was fooled by the cover, least of all Ziva, who smirked as he suddenly seemed to realise his ever-faithful 'it's always the wife' might not be so funny in front of his wife. Ducky hid a cough in his elbow, but McGee and Palmer were not so discreet, both grinning openly.

"You do that, DiNozzo," Gibbs shook his head. Tony beat a hasty retreat up the hill towards the office again. Gibbs turned to Ziva, "Keep scouring that room, David. Don't miss anything. I only wanna make this drive once."

"Yes, Gibbs," she turned towards the van. "The shower was used recently, there is still water in the recess. I suspect the shooter may have used it after the killing. I am going to test for traces of blood. Oh, McGee - you will need to check under the furniture for me, particularly the bed."

He paused, camera in hand as Ducky and Palmer began to carefully remove the body from the car, "Sure, I can, but why?"

"What was that about high school, McGee?" Gibbs muttered. He crouched down, inspecting the foot well now that it was empty. "Weapon, get that," he shone his flashlight under the seat.

McGee obeyed, calling to Ziva for a weapons evidence box and snapping a couple of photos, "What do you mean, Boss?"

Ziva returned. "The reason you need to help me finish processing the room..." the puzzled expression didn't leave McGee's face as he placed the gun in the box she provided. "There is only room for one person under a bed. Currently, I am two," she finished with a significant glance downward.

"Oh! Of course, you won't fit because you're so... I mean, I'll do that now." It was McGee's turn to change the subject on realising he was potentially about to say something that might not go over well. He picked up the tub of evidence bags and made a beeline for the motel room.

"There's nothing under the bed, is there?" Gibbs murmured, taking the evidence box from Ziva's hands.

"No," she admitted softly. "I checked it first. There were the wrappers for the condoms I found in the trash and a used tissue. Nothing more."

"Yeah, didn't think you were that big yet," the expected head slap landed as swiftly as ever, though more gently than it would have been a few months earlier. "Brought you out here to help, not bait the guys, even if they bite better than fish. Get back to work."

"I was only baiting McGee, Tony walked into that one himself..." Gibbs lifted his hand again in a mock threat. "I will go and check the shower for blood now," suitably chastised but hiding a smile, Ziva made her way back into the room in McGee's wake.

Ducky approached, leaving Palmer to finish securing the gurney and its occupant in the back of the Medical Examiner's van. "That's everything we need from here. We will take our Staff Sergeant back home and see what else he has to tell us," he said. McGee appeared in the doorway, dropping another collection of evidence bags into the tub that sat by the door, calling something back over his shoulder to Ziva as he did. "It's good to have all three back together again, however briefly isn't it?" Ducky questioned knowingly, turning towards the sound.

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs replied curtly, neither confirming nor denying the analysis.

Ducky cleared his throat softly. "Anyhow, it's Monday, so per my arrangement with Mr Palmer, I have the first choice of radio station. With any luck, we'll be able to pick up VMP for most of the drive back. I seem to recall they were planning to play a selection of clarinet concertos this morning," he nodded farewell, watching as Gibbs' head swivelled disapprovingly back towards the room when Ziva's voice sounded with a disgusted "oh no, another one!" followed by McGee's laughter. "And do take that scowl off your face, Jethro. You're not fooling anyone; you've missed having them together on the field as much as I have!"

Back at NCIS later in the afternoon, Ziva was in the middle of pulling together a background on Samuel and McGee on the standard paper-trail hunt. They'd taken the truck back together, Gibbs and Tony detouring to Quantico in an attempt to locate the victim's wife either at work or at home. They'd eventually talked to a staff member at the motel who had confirmed there'd been a second person in the car with Samuel when he'd checked in on Friday morning. However, the mystery passenger had stayed in the vehicle and could offer no better identification than her hair colour looked "about the same" as the photo on the phone. They also discovered the CCTV cameras were purely ornamental, the receptionist laconically commenting that they provided a "sense" of security rather than actual security. With this minimal information, they had little to go off, still waiting on ballistics and DNA from downstairs.

"Looks like they found Emma," McGee nodded towards the elevator as it dinged. The same woman from the photo was escorted by Gibbs and Tony, wearing a visitors' badge, and being greeted by one of the support and grief counsellors who worked in the building. Emma was obviously upset and had been crying, and the counsellor's face was gentle and sympathetic. "You two have something in common," he moved his hand in a rounded curve in front of his stomach.

"She's pregnant?" Ziva stood up to see over the partition. Emma seemed dressed for a day at work in a clean, semi-professional outfit and a lanyard with a bunch of keys around her neck. Tim was right; she was pregnant and from the look of it, considerably further along than Ziva. "She was not the one in the motel room," she announced firmly.

"How'd you know that?" Tim asked, "Did DNA come back or something?"

"No," Ziva watched as Gibbs, the counsellor and Emma headed towards the conference room. Tony turned back towards their desks instead. "But she was not the person in the motel room."

"The hair you found certainly looks like hers," Tim said, "and plenty of couples take one last holiday before the baby comes. I can think of better places than a seedy motel to do it, but..."

Ziva shook her head, interrupting, "the last holiday, maybe. But not with Emma," she repeated. "She was not the one our victim was sleeping with this weekend."

Tony reached over the partition to swipe at her braid, a semblance of office-appropriate affection, but in reality, tugging the elastic loose from the bottom. "Yeah, that's what she said too. You got proof?"

"Not proof exactly, but some of the evidence I found suggests that it was not her," Ziva replied. She sat down again, paused, obviously feeling something had changed and pulled the end of her hair over her shoulder. "Hey! Give that back."

"Give what back?" Tony asked innocently. He tossed his field jacket off behind his desk, trading it for his blazer. "You saying she didn't do it, Zi?"

"No, I am saying the victim did not do it with Emma," Ziva placed her emphasis to flip the meaning of the phrase. "She may have shot him for being there with someone else... I would," she added with a matter-of-fact shrug.

"No motel weekends with the mistress. Got it," Tony nodded with a grin. "So the house is okay if you're out with Abby then?"

Ziva sent him a withering look but did not dignify the question with an answer. "I believe that Staff Sergeant Lawrence was having an affair with someone else," she redirected.

"You've lost me sorry, Ziva," McGee said. "How can you know that?" Tony had nothing to offer, instead watching with apparent approval as Ziva unravelled the rest of her braid and let her hair fall loose again.

"There were used condoms in the room, yes? Why would they have needed them if she was already pregnant?" Ziva waited for them to make the connection by themselves but it was clear they were not going to and she heaved an impatient sigh. "Oh for god's sake! Emma was not in the motel room because a pregnant woman could not get pregnant again. Having safe sex is no longer a concern!"

"Oh yeah..." the realisation dawned slowly on Tony's face, and he gestured between himself and Ziva. "Because... ow! Thanks, Boss. Dunno how I missed that - good catch Zi," Gibbs' hand on the back of Tony's head cut short anything more detailed about his new understanding of the situation. McGee groaned quietly and busied himself with something on his screen rather than pondering the implications.

"Well, we know now," Gibbs turned to Ziva. "So, another person in the motel room. You sure about this?"

"I cannot be completely certain. There may be another reason, an STI for example, but I cannot see anything that would apply in the victim's records. However, I do not have access to Emma's as a civilian," Ziva admitted. "But given what we do know, I do not believe Emma was the one in the motel room. It could, however, add motive if she knew about the affair."

"And you're going to find out if she had any clue," Gibbs said. "Conference room, go bond with her and get her talking."

Ziva did not look impressed with the idea, "I do not know how to 'bond' with pregnant women, Gibbs!"

Tony laughed. "She's not lying, Boss. We went out for lunch yesterday, and our server asked when the baby's due. Zi asked her why she wanted to know."

"Well, it is not like it was any of her business," Ziva added. "Besides, 'oh my God that's such a cute baby belly' is not the way to start a conversation with me!" she finished indignantly. McGee gave a snort of smothered laughter and earned himself a dirty look.

"Then, we go into the grocery store, and this old lady tried to touch her," Tony continued with a smirk. "If I hadn't got in between them before she made contact, it would have been clean-up on aisle three."

"Oh, stop exaggerating, Tony!" Ziva exclaimed. "I was only going to block her hand, I am not public property, and neither is our child."

He sent an amused but loving look across the bullpen, "Crazy 'bout you Zi, and you're gonna be one hell of an Ima. But as far as pregnant chitchat with strangers goes, you're about as warm and fuzzy as the iceberg that put an end to Jack and Rose's mid-Atlantic tryst," he grinned at his wife. Ziva simply rolled her eyes and turned back to her work, not rising to the bait.

"Enough with the flirting," Gibbs did seem to find the idea of Ziva nearly taking out an elderly woman amusing but was not deterred by the revelation. "You've been undercover before. Make it up as you go along. McGee..." he turned to the younger man.

"Confirm the mystery lover. I'm on it. Trying to find a paper trail, places he used his cards this weekend, to see if any security cameras picked up someone else with him," McGee responded quickly. "While they're processing, I'm going down to Abs to work on unlocking that phone, emails, texts, anything that might point to her."

"Work on it faster. If there was someone else there, we need to know already. DiNozzo?"

"Finishing Ziva's background because she'll be bonding with Emma. Looking for anyone who might have had an issue with our victim, Zi send it over."

"Thanks for the support," Ziva said sarcastically. "I will talk to her but do not expect me to become her new best friend just because we are both having a baby. We have not yet excluded her as a suspect."

"Quit growling, Mama Bear," Gibbs ordered, returning to his desk. "Start with 'that's so cute' and move onto 'when's the baby due?'"

"So, how's the first case as a married woman?" Abby questioned, back to the door of her lab. The music was low enough that she could hear the elevator heralding the arrival of company.

"Not married. Not a woman."

"Gibbs! I was expecting Ziva, she's usually the one who comes down for reports these days seeing as she's not allowed near suspects or guns," Abby jumped and turned in midair, surprised by the dry voice behind her, her face lighting up. "Plus I haven't felt the baby since the wedding, which was over a day and a half ago. I'm due another Baby Tiva kick!"

"You can still feel a kick if you don't get on with what you've found," Gibbs said significantly.

"You'd never, Gibbs!" Abby exclaimed, but the look on his face clearly told her not to try her luck. With a grin she changed gears, getting down to business. "So, the murder weapon is a Beretta PX4 Storm with standard issue nine millimetre bullets and was registered to Staff Sergeant Lawrence. Purchased legally through a weapons shop in Alexandria two years ago. Nothing hinky there. Prints on the rounds and magazine say he was the one to load it and the kill shot was the only one fired. But almost all of the rest of the gun was clean, nothing on the trigger, guard or butt," she paused to display a small specimen jar. "There was a thread caught in the trigger, whoever did the shooting probably used their clothes to wipe it down."

Gibbs nodded, "Does it tell us anything?"

"It's plain white cotton Gibbs - could have come from your shirt," she gestured to his neckline, indicating the trademark white crew neck that was visible under his polo. "I'll try to narrow it down, but that's going to be a while. But, there was one partial print on the very top of the barrel. It also matches the victim, and here's where it gets hinky."

"Hinky how?"

Abby spun to face her computer and brought up a diagram of the weapon on the screen. "I'm so glad you asked! It was a partial thumbprint from the victim's left hand." she tapped a few keys, and the thumbprint she'd mentioned appeared on the gun barrel. "So we know he's had his hand on top of the barrel, but when you compare the partial to the one on his file..." she said and brought up a complete print in a few keystrokes. Abby used the mouse to drag it down and rotate it until it fitted over the partial image. What had been the top of the thumbprint now faced towards the back of the gun.

"He had his hand on the gun when it was pointed at him," Gibbs finished.

Abby nodded enthusiastically, "Exactamundo oh great one! Ducky found skin scrapings underneath his fingernails too, DNA should be back any minute, but with the rest of the evidence that could easily be from what happened inside the motel room. But..." more rapid keystrokes and a new model, this time of the car's interior, the victim slumped back in his seat as they'd found him that morning. "Like Ducky said the entry angle and the trajectory are interesting. If he'd been shot by someone in the driver's seat, the bullet wound should have been more to his right, and more likely lodged in the door. But this, it's almost like... Ziva!" Abby's technical explanation was cut off as she realised her friend had arrived for real this time.

"I have left Emma with the counsellor. She is understandably shaken," Ziva began, with an expression that suggested she felt somewhat the same way. "She did not know about the affair."

"You find anything out?" Gibbs turned to face her.

"Emma believed her husband was away on a training exercise she expected him back early this morning, around the time we were at the scene," Ziva shook her head. "When he did not show up and did not answer his phone, she assumed he was still driving through a bad reception area and went to work as usual. When I suggested that we had found evidence of company in the room she became quite agitated."

"What else'd she say?" Gibbs questioned.

"Gibbs, the woman is going to have a baby in four weeks and lost the father of her child this morning. Then she learned he was cheating on her. She was not exactly talkative. Yes, Abby, she is kicking," Ziva said, reaching for Abby's hand while she continued talking. "When I asked if anyone could prove that she was at home, she volunteered her cell phone. She was chatting with her sister during the time of the shooting. McGee is tracing the location to be sure. The fact that she was coherent enough to provide an alibi was, frankly, impressive," she finished over Abby's excited cooing.

"Okay, get back upstairs and see if that alibi checks out," Gibbs nodded, turning back to the screen, "Unless you have some more secret bun-in-the-oven knowledge you'd like to share first?"

"Yes," Ziva gestured to the screen, still showing the bullet's trajectory through the victim's body and into the car seat. "The shooter was sitting in his lap. It is a somewhat crude but effective method of getting close enough to your victim to pull a weapon without being seen, even in public. You would be surprised what you can get away with when you are kissing someone," she added coolly, in response to the questioning look on Gibbs' face.

"You've killed a guy while you were making out with them? You are one sick chick Lady DiNozzo," Abby reluctantly peeled her hands away from Ziva's belly before turning back to her computer as an alert noise sounded. "Seriously, I don't know if that's kinky or scary, Zivvie."

"Who said it was a man?" Ziva's face twitched into a cryptic smile momentarily, before growing serious again. "I doubt the shooter was Emma. Fitting backwards, in the front seat, on another person's lap in her condition... it would not be comfortable. Again, I cannot prove anything, but I can imagine."

Gibbs opened his mouth closed it again and shook his head. "Don't wanna know what you're imagining, Ziver. If you say it wasn't Emma, work out who it was."

It was Tony who cracked the case in the end. Ziva's instincts about Emma as a mother-to-be proved true; her alibi checked out, and the whole team earned an impassioned five-minute lecture from Abby about differences in hair dye chemicals when her hair sample did not match the ones in the motel room. However, this new information didn't bring them closer to finding the actual shooter, and somewhat complicated by the fact that many of the prints and DNA swabs that were taken from the car matched Emma's, in the same way Ziva's DNA would be found in Tony's car or Abby's in McGee's. Although they were allowed home for the evening, the team was expected to hit the ground running the following day.

By the time they'd been chasing dead-end leads and watching security footage from stores where the victim had used his credit card for most of the morning, they were all feeling somewhat tired and defeated, and Gibbs was losing patience.

"Whoever she was did not travel in the victim's car on Friday morning," Ziva declared, closing another video file. She stretched her arms up over her head with a yawn and a groan. "He may have picked her up on the way, but it was not while he was buying the beer. There is just the stop at the gas station that I am still trying to reach."

"And he wasn't using this phone to contact her, or his laptop," McGee added. "Are you okay Ziva?" She'd leaned forward to rub the small of her back.

"She's out of shape," Tony spoke before Ziva could. It had been almost ten months since Ziva had last been at a crime scene. Although she'd kept up her jogging and general fitness routine, and had enjoyed the change of pace initially, spending most of the previous day on her feet had taken its toll. She wouldn't admit as much, but Tony knew her back and legs were killing her, and she'd gotten back up after they'd gone to bed and spent an hour soaking in the bath. "She's softer than most Probies now. I actually had to wake her this morning. I can't tell you the last time I was the first one out of bed on a workday," he grinned, clearly enjoying the switched-up roles.

"And this morning, someone who shot a Marine got to wake up and go about their day," Gibbs growled, returning from a coffee run. "Whatcha got?" There was an awkward pause as they all busied themselves back at their keyboards, no one really wanting to be the first to say they'd found nothing useful. A sharp, insistent demand from Gibbs broke the silence.

"We're finding a whole lotta nothing," Tony admitted first. "Abs phoned, the DNA of the guest in the motel room hits to a cold case from three years ago, another shooting, vic's own gun again. Again, not a professional clean-up job, but done just well enough there were no leads. They're sending over the notes and the evidence now."

"I am still chasing the gas station the victim used his credit card at for security footage, Gibbs," Ziva supplied, the phone tucked under her ear.

"Setting up an alert if the number associated with the motel booking becomes active again, so we can trace the phone if it's used," McGee said, typing away. "It's a pre-paid number from a convenience store, so there's no name connected to it."

Gibbs stood, gathering both his coffee and his impatience. "Well, she didn't just fly out of the motel - find something!" They watched him head up the stairs to MTAC in silence.

"This is ridiculous!" Ziva was the first to speak, although Tony had begun to hum the theme tune for the Wicked Witch of the West. "There is every sign that this was a completely amateur shooting, how can we have no sign of her?"

"You heard the Bossman, Zi..." Tony dropped his voice, mimicking Gibbs. "She didn't just fly out of the... Yo! McGoogle!" he snapped his fingers suddenly and pointed in his partner's direction. "I need the name and number of every cab company that services Stony Creek. Well, Ziva does. Sorry babe, more calls for you."

Ziva hung up the phone with a scowl. "I will do anything you ask if it involves staying seated today, providing they give me the answers I want," she conceded. "And do not call me 'babe!'"

"Sorry," Tony grinned, although he looked anything but. "How many you got, McGee?"

"A bunch. There's at least ten out of Richmond and one that operates out of Stony Creek itself," he answered. "What's the plan?

"We know she arrived in the victim's car, but she didn't leave in it, and as Gibbs pointed out, she didn't fly, but if they were trying to keep this on the down low, she wouldn't have phoned a friend, so a cab is the next most likely option. Zi, I need you to..."

"Call until I find out which of the companies had a pickup at the motel early Sunday morning. I will text you the details as soon as I have them," Ziva said, catching on quickly. The energy in the group switched from despondent to focused as Tim quickly sent the details to Ziva's email. "Go now. I will text you the details as soon as I know which company you need to contact. It is a two-hour drive to Richmond, and I have almost twenty companies to call, do not wait around here."

Tony grabbed his jacket and sidearm. "Come on, McGee, we got a road trip to make. See ya round, wife."

By the time Gibbs returned from MTAC, complete with a heating pad for Ziva's back and a knowing smirk, the guys were en-route to the shooter's house.

Tony and Ziva ate a late dinner in the main bathroom that evening. Tony sat on a chair he'd carried up, with a pizza box balanced on his lap, while Ziva stretched her aching legs out in water Tony had declared worse than lava when it came to the temperature.

"I am done with fieldwork," Ziva said firmly, reaching for another piece.

Tony brushed her hand away. "Don't drip on the pizza," he paused to pick the olives off before handing her the slice. "Thought you were going stir-crazy at your desk? You know... restless? All work and no play makes Ziva a dull girl?" He added catching the pause in her body language

"Investigating a murder is not 'play' Tony," she said reprovingly. "Especially one like that."

"Yeah, a bit close to home, hey? Crimes of passion sound sexy in theory but..." he shrugged. Ziva had found the appropriate taxi service on her eighth try, and with some clever wording had coaxed the name and phone number used for the booking from the person she had spoken to. McGee had told her over the phone how to run a trace on his computer, and they'd found the woman in question at her home not long after, in possession not only of the phone associated with the room booking but also the room key and her blood-spattered clothes soaking in her laundry sink. It was clear the Staff Sergeant had a 'type', as the woman, Holly as they learned her name to be, looked enough like Emma to have been her sister.

In interrogation, she had confessed freely, if coldly enough to the shooting. They'd been dating for around six months, but on the night of the murder, she'd seen the same phone McGee had unearthed at the crime scene with Emma and Samuel on the lock screen and they learned he had been using the second pre-paid phone to keep the affair a secret. They'd gone out to dinner, and she had plied him with more wine than usual, then with the guise of seducing him in the car as Ziva had described, simply shot him. The shot had not been immediately fatal, but she'd left him in the car to bleed out, showered in their motel room, packed her things and called a taxi. Holly had finished her chilling confession with a nonchalant "I don't take kindly to men who cheat" and seemed utterly unmoved by the knowledge that his widow was about to have a baby. Despite the amateur nature of the shooting and attempt to cover her tracks, her personality was far more unsettling. Her DNA and prints were immediately linked to the cold case Tony had mentioned, hiding in plain sight with an otherwise spotless social presence. 

Ziva made a noise of agreement around a bite of food and finished chewing before she spoke. "And no, I do not like spending all day at my desk, but she," Ziva tilted the pizza in the direction of her belly, "has made it very clear that maintaining that level of physical activity is out of bounds from now on. I would not put it past Gibbs to have been waiting for a situation like this to prove the point. He knows that desk work is grating on me, no matter how agreeable I appear to be."

"You had to slow down eventually, Mamacita," Tony said with a smile. "But after that, no more jokes about mistresses, deal?"

"Deal," she agreed. It had been too easy for them both to picture her in the same position as Emma, a month away from having a baby and suddenly finding herself alone.

Tony rinsed his greasy fingers in the water with a wince. "How do you deal with it so hot?"

"You compared me to an iceberg yesterday, did you not?" she said, dropping the crust into the box on his lap, and bent her knees up to slide herself fully under the water. She emerged again a moment later, dripping hair plastered to her forehead. "Perhaps it is the only thing that melts me," she finished with a satisfied sigh, tipping her head back against the edge of the tub.

Tony laughed and set the box aside, reaching for the shampoo bottle instead. The next few minutes were spent in silence, Tony lathering up Ziva's hair, her eyes starting to drift closed under his touch. "Hey Zi..." he murmured when he was done.

"Yes, neshama?" Ziva opened one and tipped her head up to look at him.

"What you said about shooting a guy who was unfaithful... not that I ever, ever would. But you wouldn't actually shoot me, right?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm..." Ziva seemed to consider the prospect. She slipped back beneath the water to rinse the bubbles from her hair, Tony taking her hand when she surfaced and steadying her as she stepped out of the tub. "I know you would not do such a thing, Tony. But I would not shoot you if you did."

"Phew, like I said, not that I ever would. At all, I meant that. But it's good to know anyway," he gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, handing her a towel.

Ziva paused, tucking the towel around herself and turned to him with a little smile. "I would let Gibbs do it."

Chapter Text

"Hey Tony, make any headway?" McGee asked as Tony returned from Interrogation with a suspect in the newest case, one Tony was eager to break with as little help as possible.

"Nope, not a thing. Still denying he even knows how to speak Russian. Never mind being connected to Volkov," he dropped back behind his desk. "He can sit there and stew in his own body odour for a while longer. He shouldn't have run from me if he was going to sweat like that. Ugh, I think it's on me now too." He lifted his lapel and sniffed it with a grimace.

"But all of those emails that Ziva's been translating were from his computer, and I'm still working on it, but so far, there's no sign of any hacking or other interference," McGee responded. "I'm checking every possible way in. Abby is still running prints, but at a glance, she thinks it's only one set too."

"Yeah, I got that, McGee!" Tony bit back. "But unless we can prove the connection between him and Volkov, we've got nothing."

"Well, find something." Gibbs entered and dropped a folder on Ziva's desk. "Leave forms, get 'em done ASAP."

"Spasibo," Ziva thanked him in Russian, set them aside and continued with the emails.

"Pozhaluysta," Gibbs smirked, you're welcome. He'd also been down and spoken in Russian with the suspect in question, receiving an impressively blank reaction in response.

"Gesundheit," Tony added, untroubled by the eye roll Gibbs and Ziva shared in response. "Hey, Ziva, how much Russian can you speak? Could you pick up a guy?" Ziva responded with a long string of Russian and a playful smile. "Stupid question. Of course, you can." Sure he didn't get the words, but the tone of voice and the light in her eyes were readable enough. "Maybe you should have a try."

"Nope, Ziva interviews non-violent witnesses only." Gibbs shook his head. "Not happening."

"I wasn't thinking of him. Ziva can flirt with me." Tony replied. "In Russian, of course."

Gibbs looked dubious. "We see enough of you two flirting as it is DiNozzo, you got a point?"

"So he's denied outright understanding Russian and stonewalled you, Boss. But, I figure, if he 'overhears' Ziva, being her usual irresistible self, he'll forget he's not supposed to understand and drop his guard," Tony explained with a grin.

"Tony, not every man on this planet is quite as easily distracted as you are," Ziva informed him with a smirk. "But thank you for the compliment."

"You didn't see the way his head turned when Grace from Resources walked past while we were taking him to Interrogation." Tony laughed. "He's not immune to a beautiful woman... not that Grace is even a patch on you, Sweet Cheeks," he added hastily.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Do you really think that will work? Or are you just wanting me to flirt with you in another language?".

"Oh, I always want you to do that. But yeah, it'll work. He's going to need a chiropractor after the way his head snapped round when he saw Grace; it was nearly as good as The Exorcist but without all the pea soup," Tony chuckled at his own movie reference. "Gibbs, all I'm saying is let hot stuff over there slink in, and stage whisper a few sweet nothings in my ear - he'll sit up and pay attention."

"And if that doesn't work?" Gibbs remained doubtful.

"We polygraph him, wait for McGeek to get more info, or you systematically break his spirit, whatever takes your fancy, Boss." Tony shrugged.

"This is one of your crazier ideas Tony," McGee added. "And you won't understand a word Ziva's saying."

"Don't need to understand her, as long as he does. It's going to be a heck of a lot quicker if we can get him to stop pretending than wait for all the analysis to come back and confront him with the evidence that he knows Volkov." Tony rebutted. "It'll keep Ziva's no contact with suspects rule, and he'll blow his cover in less than 5 minutes, it's foolproof."

"Except for one thing," Ziva cut in. "I do not 'slink' anywhere anymore. Our stowaway is not going to help the cause."

Tony shrugged, undeterred. "You're still gorgeous, Zi."

Ziva shook her head with a laugh. "To you, yes. Because she is yours. To most other men on the planet, seeing this..." she stood and gestured at her belly, "is a huge stop sign. As far as playing the honey trap goes, those days are over. Back me up here, McGee. You would not hit on me right now, would you?"

A look of shock and then extreme nervousness crossed his face, and it if had been possible to recoil through the partition behind him, he would have. "Oh no. I know a trap when I hear one, Ziva." McGee shook his head. "I'm not getting into that!"

"It is not a trap, McGee," Ziva coaxed. "Fine, you would not hit on any visibly pregnant woman then."

He heaved a sigh of defeat. "Fine, no, sorry," he admitted with great reluctance.

"Don't apologise, you proved my point." Ziva waved it off and sat back down. "I cannot go in there and turn his head like this."

Gibbs looked relieved Ziva had called this out. "Didn't want to be the one to say it. Got a Plan B, DiNozzo?"

Tony thought for a second, a grin spreading over his face. "Guess we'll just have to rely on your dulcet tones, Zi... what's the dirtiest thing you can say in Russian?"

Half an hour later, McGee and Ziva watched from the observation room as Tony did his best to piss Gibbs off, balancing on two legs of his chair, whistling when his boss talked, and generally being as distracted and unprofessional as possible.

"I know he told Gibbs it had to seem believable that he'd be the kind of guy to check his voicemail during interrogation, given that he was all business before, but I think he might be pushing his luck," Tim murmured. Ziva nodded with a quiet laugh.

"He is enjoying it far too much," she agreed. "Gibbs will make him pay for it later. Your father is getting himself in trouble again, ahava," she added, laying a hand on the side of her belly.

"Is she awake?" McGee asked, still watching the proceedings. Currently, the suspect was informing Tony he wasn't going to get all buddy over boring bosses, seeing as he didn't work for anyone anyway. "Do you mind if I uh... I have a go?"

"Right here." Ziva lifted her hand to make room for McGee's. Cautiously, he lay his hand where she indicated, the baby gave one small thump, and he pulled away quickly. He shook his hand as though he'd just touched something unpleasant he was trying to get rid of.

"That's way too weird. Sorry," he laughed awkwardly looking a bit embarrassed and somewhat grossed out.

"That was only a little one! Wait until she moves her entire body!" Ziva said, laughing at the look on his face. "But I will tell Abby that you have tried now. She keeps asking me if you've felt her kick yet."

"She asks me too!" he said, watching as Tony leaned back in his chair again and put both feet up on the table. "Wait, that's the signal. Ring Tony's phone, Ziva."

"Already on it," Ziva confirmed, phone in hand.

"You'd better not be thinking of answering that, DiNozzo," Gibbs' voice was slightly muffled through the glass, but the warning growl was still audible. Tony made a dramatic display of huffing and ditching the call.

"It's my wife though, Gibbs, you know how she is. Buy this, do that... never ends. You must know what it's like, I see the ring on your finger too," he added in the direction of the suspect, who shrugged in something resembling sympathy. "At least let me check the voicemail. It's not like we're learning anything else right now," Tony bargained, accessing the pre-recorded audio file rather than his mailbox. He didn't wait for an answer, and a second later, Ziva's voice, angry and impassioned, started to play.

"Weren't you supposed to be leaving him a dirty message?" McGee asked, flinching instinctively at the tone of voice.

"Oh, it's still dirty, that line in particular," she said with a small laugh. Although he had no idea what she'd said, they could see Tony responding quickly, assuming a very worried, then guilty look. "Do not tell Tony I said this, but it reminds me of that scene in..."

"In Harry Potter, when Ron gets the howler? Exactly." McGee laughed. "What'd you say?" he asked. They watched as the suspect carefully trained his face into a neutral expression, trying not to look like he was listening to the angry tirade. Gibbs, meanwhile, gave a very subtle wince.

Ziva shook her head lightly. "Trust me, you are happier not knowing," she said with a mysterious smirk. "He knows Tony does not speak Russian. It is not going to work."

The recording played out, and Tony stood quickly. "I ah... think I better go call her back, that sounded kind of urgent."

"You do that, DiNozzo." Gibbs rolled his eyes, not even waiting for Tony to close the door before throwing a casual line of Russian in the suspect's direction. The sweaty man chuckled with a nod, then froze, realising he'd just given himself away.

"Did it work?" Tony asked before he even got the whole way into the Observation room.

"Oh yeah, it worked," McGee answered, pointing back through the window. Gibbs was in fine form, now back to English and rapidly cornering the guy into a confession. "What'd Gibbs say, Ziva?"

"He said that I have a mouth that would make a whore blush," Ziva translated with more humour than offence. "Apparently, our friend in there thought so too."

"Not sure that I like the comparison, but you still got it, Ninja." Tony watched through the window now as well. "Hope you're never that mad at me for real, Zi. No idea what you said, but your voice, ugh." He gave a shudder.

"Of course not, neshama," Ziva reassured. Tony's slightly protective stance behind Ziva relaxed as Gibbs stood and left the room, joining them.

"Somehow, that ridiculous plan of yours actually worked. DiNozzo, McGee, he's all yours, agreed to hand over whatever codes you need to bring in Volkov." They turned to file out of the room, Gibbs landing a slap on Tony's head. "That's for having too much fun with it."

"Do you need anything else from me, Gibbs, or can I finish the translation?" Ziva questioned, pausing in the doorway.

"When you said you could speak Russian..." Gibbs looked her over for a second, almost as though considering her in a new light. "Go wash your mouth out with soap, Ziver."

Ziva scoffed. "You are one to talk! I understood you as clearly as you did me."

"Worked, didn't it?" The gentle tug on the bottom of her braid accompanying the sentence was not quite an apology but still a gesture of peace for how he'd spoken about her. "Jen taught you a thing or two, did she?"

"That she taught you as well, it seems." Ziva smiled, making it clear she'd taken no offence. "There is no point learning a language if you cannot use it to its full effect. Just be thankful I took a different route than the one Tony suggested. I assure you I can say things that are far less ladylike than that."

"I believe you!" Gibbs snorted emphatically. "And Jen learned them from me," he added with a smirk.

"When you promised me a dirty voicemail, I didn't expect the gates of hell to open, Zi," Tony cleared the plates very late that evening. It had been a long afternoon tracking and tracing the emails and Volkov. McGee, as far as they knew, was still at this computer but had told them not to wait, he wanted the peace to focus, and there were few things in the world so distracting as Tony when he was bored. "Thought I was going to get something more along the lines of you undressing me with your words."

"Ahh," Ziva followed him to the kitchen with the salad bowl. "Given that you cannot understand Russian, this was safer. The only person I could have 'undressed with my words' as you put it, would have been either Gibbs or our suspect. Frankly, neither one of those sights is on my mop list."

"Yeesh," Tony's expression conveyed his thoughts about the visual that flashed through his mind as he scraped the plates. "And it's a bucket list. What did you actually say anyway?"

"Oh..." Here, Ziva seemed to falter, missing the tub she'd been spooning leftovers into and dumping a small pile of tabbouleh on the counter instead. "It is not because I think you will, but because it is easy to sound angry about..." she began slowly.

Tony considered the pile of dishes and, on finding them acceptably small, began to fill the sink rather than loading the dishwasher. "You still carrying the Lawrence case, huh?"

"Yes," she agreed quietly, focusing more intently on her task. "I trust you with my life, you know that. And more than my life, with my heart. I know that you would never cheat on me. But, working with Emma last week has played on my mind. To be widowed so soon before the baby is born and then she finds out that he had been, well, I cannot imagine. Or rather, I can."

Tony added a squirt of soap to the sink and watched the bubbles form. "Not like you to hold onto cases this long, Ninja. What can we do to put your mind at ease?"

"It is not something you need to fix, Tony. It is in my own head," Ziva sighed, sweeping the grains of wheat that had missed the tub the first time back where they belonged. She slid the empty salad bowl down the countertop with a shove.

He intercepted it neatly as she turned for the fridge stowing the leftovers for later. "Still, we can do better than your brain doing overtime. Aren't you supposed to be the picture of serenity right now, stress is bad for the baby and all that?"

"If I wanted serenity, I would not have married you," she called over her shoulder. Despite the teasing tone, Tony could tell it was a little forced; Ziva was still at the fridge, rearranging the jars of condiments to busy her hands instead of her thoughts.

"Hey," he turned off the water. "That's just it, we got married. Should've had a honeymoon. You know, sunshine, white beaches, cocktails... well, mocktails for you. Waitresses wearing... never mind. But that's what's missing, days of doing nothing to just enjoy each other's company."

"I know exactly what the waitresses will be wearing, or won't be, but you know we have almost no leave left, and we have, we are saving for after the baby is born." She swapped two jars of mustard. "But Abby already promised to have her for a sleepover so we can re-do the honeymoon for our first anniversary." The mayonnaise was relocated up a shelf.

"Course I know all that," he replied getting set on the dishes. "But I'm thinking more of a... a staycation, I think that's what McGee said it was called. We'll fit as many of those honeymooning activities as possible into our downtime here instead. How does that sound?" He turned, glancing over his shoulder, where Ziva was stacking a tub of her homemade hummus on top of the butter.

"Sounds good." She opened the egg carton and made a quick count. "Did you have something specific in mind?" Shutting the door, she added a note to buy more on the dry-erase board.

"Hadn't got that far, but I figure it doesn't involve stocktaking the kitchen," he pointed out with a grin as she opened the fridge again and made an inventory of the milk cartons, shaking each one to test the weight.

"Oh... I suppose not." Ziva shook her head, clearing her thoughts and snatched the tea towel off the oven door, coming to dry the dishes.

He set another plate in the draining rack. "There'll be a website or something, we'll do some research and make a list. I'm thinking there'll be enough things we want to do to keep us going for a good two weeks. More than enough to create the perfect romantic atmosphere, and make sure you don't fry your brain overthinking." He stepped sideways gently to bump against her shoulder. "It's gonna be amazing Zi."

"You don't have to go to all this trouble you know," she said gratefully, taking the next plate he held out. "Being here with you is more than enough."

"Yeah, but we're only newlyweds once," he shrugged. "We'll start making plans as soon as we're done here -" his phone cut off any further thoughts and Ziva handed him the towel to dry his hands and answer, immediately turning to the coffee pot and turning it on.

"McGee has traced Volkov, yes?" she asked already measuring out coffee grounds, as Tony ended the call.

Tony thrust his hand back into the sink, pulling the plug and draining the water. The pans would have to wait now. "You know it. Gibbs wants us in ASAP. We're bringing him in tonight, but McGee sounds like he would kill for some... oh, you're already on it. You're a genius." He dried his hand again and kissed her cheek. "I'll grab your coat and shoes while I'm upstairs, sooner we're on the road, the sooner we can get our bad guy, and the sooner we can start our honeymoon at home."

What followed, once Volkov was in custody, were several peaceful, bordering on idyllic days. They found a multitude of ways to cram romantic interludes into their evenings and weekends at home. The body scrub Ziva had purchased on her hens' night saw use, there was a dinner cooked together and eaten under the stars in the backyard, leisurely massages, and slow dances. Tony pulled strings to get them a booking at a restaurant which, even considering Ziva's inheritance from Eli, was usually classed as 'too expensive', and piano duets of varying talent, not to mention a considerable amount of time spent in bed. There was new magic too, as the baby began to kick more noticeably. Though Ziva had been able to feel it for several weeks, Tony could not get enough of the new little nudges and thumps he could now find himself. In short, they were even more enamoured with each other than usual.

Try as they might to keep work and home separate, the attempt at creating the 'perfect romantic atmosphere' and distracting Ziva from her lingering tension about the Lawrence case eventually carried over to their behaviour at work. Thoroughly loved up, and trying to make sure everything stayed peaceful and romantic, they bickered less. The team dynamic was thrown even further off balance with Vance away at the Southwest Field Office in San Deigo, Gibbs had found himself in charge, often sequestered in Vance's office or MTAc and although work still got done, it was much less smoothly than usual.

This left McGee to bear the brunt of the situation, and he had been thoroughly weirded out by this odd lovey-dovey attitude they'd both adopted. They were rarely, if ever, disrespectful, but he was used to a certain amount of banter and playful insults, not the pair operating in complete accord and acting as though the other could do no wrong. As he'd put it to Abby, "if this were a cartoon, you'd see the love hearts coming out of their eyes!" Abby had a mountain of evidence to process on their newest case, was not privy to the display and was unconvinced.

"They just got married, Timmy! After seven years! It just sounds sweet to me," she insisted, not taking her eyes off the screen, typing with one hand as she reached for her drink with the other. The penalty week Gibbs had imposed was over, and he'd supplied her latest Caf-Pow hit. "Anyway, tell me you're not going to look at me and go all gooey once I'm your wife."

"Trust me, Abs, it's weirder than that." McGee decided it wasn't worth pointing out that it had been ten years for them, kissed her temple and chose to make his escape before Abby found any more italics in her vocabulary.

He'd tried directly addressing the matter with Tony and Ziva, but, it became clear they were oblivious to their actions, both swearing that nothing was different, or at least being unwilling to admit if they were doing it consciously.

"You will understand soon enough, McGee," Ziva had promised with an affectionate pat on the cheek, offering him one of the peanut butter cups she kept stashed in the drawer.

"Dunno what you're on about McNosey," Tony shrugged and lobbed a paper plane at his head for good measure.

Before long, he wished they'd revert to the URST that had been the soundtrack to the past seven years. Sure it was awkward, but he'd developed an immunity to their habit of undressing each other with just a look. Catching the weird newlywed glow every time their eyes met just felt like he was the third wheel. Not that he wished they weren't married, just that they'd turn it down a little.

Despite the smiles, the situation was no more perfect as far as Tony or Ziva were concerned. Reading each other's minds was one thing, trying to be in complete agreement a hundred per cent of the time was another, and it wasn't long before long cracks started to appear in their facade. It became evident that the total accommodation to each others' whims was wearing thin on them both. McGee had caught silent eye rolls and grimaces when they thought they were alone. At first, it seemed as though they each believed that the other could do no wrong, but as the novelty of having and being the 'perfect' spouse wore off, it created an odd strained tension that occasionally crackled with the wrong kind of electricity. The sparring and teasing that came so naturally had been absent in the last few days, and it turned out it was necessary not only for the team dynamic but for their own as a couple. The barbs that would usually be playful became serious and pointed, and the irritation real and long-lasting, with none of the good-natured laughter that followed a particularly witty comeback.

Two more days of the weird falsely cheerful, but clearly tense behaviour passed. Work now happened in a cooly professional manner that made McGee shudder to think of the atmosphere back at Casa De Tiva. Another attempt at addressing things, at least with Tony, had ended with another, more aggressive denial of the situation, while Abby reported that Ziva refused to be coaxed into talking. She'd had a pregnancy update, and discussed travel plans for Jimmy and Breena's wedding, but the moment she'd tried to broach the situation with Tony, Ziva had changed the subject entirely. The second time Abby tried, Ziva had simply left the room.

Towards the end of the second day, it became clear that things were not just going to blow over. Even the work faces they'd managed to maintain had slipped, and a fierce whispered argument had started near the elevator. As they got closer to their desks again, Ziva flipped seamlessly to Italian, Tony hesitating only a second before following suit. They had three foreign languages that they could both speak with varying degrees of fluency, but Italian was the only one that was just theirs. A hangover from his high school days, McGee could follow French at a conversational level, and Gibbs definitely understood more Spanish than he spoke. Choosing Italian meant that even though they no longer cared if they were squabbling in public, the conversation was still intended to be private. He did not, however, need to comprehend the words that Ziva hissed, nor the ones Tony snapped back as he returned to his desk and threw himself into his chair, to know that they were both pissed with each other in a more significant way than usual.

The following morning things were worse. The first clue was that they arrived separately, an event that hadn't happened since before Israel. McGee had just parked when Ziva whipped her car into a parking space with aggression he had not seen from her in the same number of months. It turned out the one thing that could permanently mellow Ziva behind the wheel was the knowledge of her onboard passenger, and her driving had settled to a level so sedate she almost matched his own caution. He lifted a hand in greeting, but she didn't appear to see him, briskly making her way up to the building alone with a stormy expression. Tony arrived a few minutes later and didn't even bother with a McNickname although he did make eye contact. However, his body language was standoffish too, and McGee decided it was best if he took the stairs. By the time they'd made it to their floor, Ziva had disappeared to the translation office for the morning, while Tony turned monosyllabic and buried himself in a cold case. Gibbs was still somewhere upstairs and McGee settled down to work with a sigh, when he wished they'd turn down the romance at work this wasn't what he'd had in mind.

The atmosphere remained tense at lunch; Gibbs had returned to his desk, dodging the demands of Vance's assistant, Ziva was moody and silent when she emerged from translation, and Tony pressed her buttons in search of a response. They were still stage whispering in Italian, but when Ziva swiped up her work, ready to head back to translation, Tony got in one last jab. McGee gathered from the inflection it was a sarcastic rhetorical question and Gibbs' head whipped around, glaring daggers at Tony's desk. Whatever that last word in the sentence had been, their boss had understood it and disapproved big time. Neither did Ziva judging by her response that sounded far from complimentary. McGee's knowledge of the language was still limited to words he'd find on a takeout menu, but he would have put money on whatever had just been said needing only four letters to be spelled in English, or possibly just asterisks.

There was a shocked silence for a moment; it was evident that whatever they'd said had crossed a previously uncrossed line. A moment later, the whole thing culminated in a spectacular shouting match in English this time. There was something about beard hairs on the sink, Tony rebutting with a comment about her hairbrush, and then a mess of incoherent noise. It seemed to be an airing of the pettiest of complaints, who cooked more (Ziva), who was more likely to make an effort on special dates (Tony), who cleaned more (McGee knew for a fact it was an impressively even split, probably better than his and Abby's), and who gave in more often when they couldn't decide what takeout to get (they each claimed the other.)

"Let 'em at it, McGee." Gibbs shook his head as McGee stood to try and intervene. He hadn't known what exactly he was going to do yet, but he figured his teammates having a monumental marital dispute in the middle of the squad room was not good for anyone. "They don't mean it anyway," he added with a shrug.

"You sure about that?" he asked, moving closer to hear Gibbs' low tone. The shouting didn't help. Currently, Tony was enquiring sarcastically if Ziva had been trying to communicate in Morse Code, considering how she'd slammed every cabinet door that morning and told her not to expect him to read her mind.

"Yup. It's just noise," Gibbs replied to the tune of Ziva's incensed comeback about Tony never knowing where the line was and when to stop teasing. "'Bout time they blew off some steam, this crap's been brewing for days. Problem is now I have to manage it because they couldn't wait till they got home."

At this grimly muttered statement that did not bode well for either of his co-workers, Tim tuned back into the argument, "I thought you liked it when I teased you?" Tony demanded impatiently.

"I do!" Ziva slammed the folder down in emphasis.

"Then why are you yelling at me?" Tony's hands raised in something between a shrug and a helpless what more do you want gesture.

"Why are you yelling at me?" she shot back, arms braced on the edge of her desk.

"I don't know!"

"Neither do I!"

"Oh..." realisation struck simultaneously, and it was a dead heat as to who looked more embarrassed, Tony or Ziva. They stared awkwardly at each other in silence for a few moments, finally dropping each others' gaze and finding small busy work to do behind their desks.

Gibbs stood before they had a chance to get comfortable. "Nope. You don't put on a show like that and get to act like nothing's happened. My office. Both of you... now!" The last word was added more sharply when neither of them seemed inclined to move. Reluctantly, and still not making eye contact, they stood and moved from behind their desks, heading towards the stairs up to Director Vance's office, where Gibbs had been located the last few days. "My office!" Gibbs barked in clarification, already halfway to the elevator. For the first time in two days, Tony and Ziva shared a look where they'd been thinking the same thing, of course, he meant the elevator, turned and followed their boss.

As was expected, the moment the doors had closed, Gibbs hit the emergency stop and leaned back against the doors fixing both of his agents with a hard stare.

"Suppose you're gonna tell us to kiss and make up now, Boss?" Tony spoke first. They'd taken opposite corners at the back of the box, uncomfortable not only with each other but with the coming reprimand they knew they'd earned.

Gibbs shook his head. "Nup," he replied shortly. "None of my business whether you do or not. What is my business is two of my agents tearing each other a new one in the middle of the bullpen. Get out of my workspace with these crappy attitudes. I don't have time for agents who behave like toddlers."

"Boss?" Tony questioned.

"I already told you. You don't get to go back to work and pretend nothing happened. Maybe you needed to get it out of your systems, but that room out there sure as hell isn't the place to do it. I don't care where you go, but be anywhere but here," he continued in a low, angry tone. "And just so we're clear, this isn't taking the day off. It's disciplinary leave."

"Understood," Ziva responded. Tony echoed something similar in affirmation.

Gibbs sighed heavily. "I ignore the flirting because I trust that you could still get the job done, hell maybe it's part of your process, I dunno. But when you carry on like that, it doesn't just make the pair of you look like idiots, it makes me look like one too."

"Gibbs, I..." Ziva began.

Gibbs cut in. "Don't wanna hear it. Nothing you've got to say can excuse screaming and swearing at each other at work... yeah, I understood what you called each other."

Tony looked puzzled at this revelation. "Didn't know you could speak Italian, Boss."

Ziva's face travelled through a series of emotions before settling on horrified understanding. "He can't... but Jen could," she murmured in explanation. "I did not realise that she had taught you..."

"Shouldn't have said it at work in the first place, whether anyone understood or not." Gibbs refused to be distracted. "It doesn't matter where it came from. What matters is that you two behaved badly enough to fire you on the spot. Even after all that crap after Israel, I said you were okay to work together, had your backs, and made sure you both kept your jobs. Now you want to put all that on the line over who makes the bed more often? You got lucky Vance is out this week and it's my call. Next time, it won't be. I put my own ass on the line because you're both damn good at what you do. But it won't matter how good you are if this happens again. Another stunt like that and Vance will take over."

Tony cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Boss, look..."

Gibbs was clearly not done and cut Tony off. "Nope. Don't wanna hear it now. If you two screw up by bringing your fights to work, people start to question my judgement. Makes it look like I don't know my team. Like I made a bad call. And after today, I'm starting to wonder if I did. You better prove my faith in you as agents, and that this second chance is still worth my time. This cannot happen again. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, Gibbs," Ziva replied softly.

"Crystal," Tony said with none of his usual pizazz.

"Good, get your keys and go. If there's even a hint of this..." he gestured between them, "tomorrow morning, I'll be asking for badges, not handing out slaps on the wrist." He turned and hit the switch again, and the doors opened immediately back on the squad room floor, having used the elevator for nothing more than a temporary conference space. Gibbs strode out ahead, returning to his desk in angry silence.

McGee caught the vibe, the look on his boss's face, and kept his head down at his computer as Tony and Ziva quietly followed orders and left. Separately.

"Ah, Jethro. Given that this young gentleman is not under your jurisdiction, I take it this is merely a social visit?" Ducky did not need to look up when he heard the automatic door hiss to know who had arrived. "You will forgive my lack of hospitality, but time is of the essence here. Our guest is Muslim, so I must return him to his family as quickly as possible."

"Just here to avoid Rachel," Gibbs said shortly, speaking of Vance's assistant. "She's worse than Cynthia ever was." He'd sent Tony and Ziva home about an hour earlier, and once peace had been restored, Rachel had decided it was safe to approach him again.

Ducky chuckled quietly, not buying it. "It's no secret that Miss Barnes is uncomfortable around the deceased, however, it seems unlikely that you would need to exploit that knowledge to avoid whatever paperwork she has prepared for you," he paused and cleared his throat softly. "I take it you've come due to the earlier disruption involving our newlyweds? It was inevitable, of course, whatever it is they've been overcompensating to avoid had to blow up eventually."

"You heard?" Gibbs offered dryly.

"Jethro, the entire building heard," Ducky replied. "Including the part where you put them both on disciplinary leave for the rest of the day."

"Had no choice, Duck," Gibbs shot back in a warning tone.

"No, indeed you did not," he affirmed. "And yet you still feel badly about being the one to make that call.."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at Ducky's back. "Didn't come down here to get my head shrunk."

"Well, whatever the reason for your visit, do make yourself useful and take that camera to record the injuries when I lift his head." Ducky gestured briefly to the desk behind him, leaving Gibbs little choice but to follow his instructions. "Thank you, I gave Mr Palmer the day off. He and Miss Slater had some final details to take care of before their wedding next weekend. Of course, I could not have predicted this young man's untimely demise. Still, if you are not here regarding your professional actions, which I have no doubt were fair and reasonable, however hard to mete out, I assume it's regarding your personal feelings about their, shall we say, lovers' tiff?"

Gibbs took a photo. "Hell of a lot bigger than some 'tiff'," he commented in an unreadable voice.

"So I heard. Get that laceration, please," Ducky's tone was equally neutral. "I imagine it must have been a very difficult situation to find yourself in. Were this any other couple having a fight up there, you would have sent them home and moved on. Your relationship with Ziva in particular means that you have a more vested interest in their marriage and the outcome of their current disagreement."

"Just down here to avoid Rachel," Gibbs repeated firmly.

Ducky gave another soft chuckle. "Of course," he answered calmly. "I was just thinking that I do not envy your position. I understand that you might feel a certain level of responsibility surrounding those two. Perhaps your connection with them as a mentor and surrogate parent has led you to wonder if it's your job to provide them with some guidance to work through this. Especially when you allow for the idea that neither Tony nor Ziva have had what could be considered a good role model for a healthy marriage." Ducky's tone suggested he found wry humour in the idea of Gibbs modelling a "healthy" marriage.

Gibbs snorted derisively.

Ducky understood the meaning of the snort and hid a smile. "Well, I was not saying that you should get involved, of course! Really, a clash like this was inevitable at some stage. Characters as strong as theirs are bound to collide from time to time. That is all the photos I require, thank you," Ducky paused and gently settled the corpse onto his back. "You must remember, Jethro, that as well as being very much in love, Tony and Ziva are adults who also happen to be professionally trained in conflict resolution. Of course, it may take them a little longer to work this out, this is the first time they have truly been at odds with one another. The challenge they faced over the summer was a much greater gap to close, however, there was much less animosity involved. The more personal way they spoke to one another this afternoon had added a new level for them to overcome. All the same, you can rest assured that they will make it up."

"Never said they wouldn't," Gibbs said, setting the camera back on the desk.

"Still..." Ducky mused quietly, speaking almost to himself. "There's a good chance they may be too caught up in their own momentary dislike for each other to see clearly. An outside perspective on the matter could offer some much-needed wisdom, and bring about a solution sooner rather than later..."

"Duck," Gibbs sighed. "Are you telling me I should go help them straighten this out or not?"

"Why Jethro, I am doing neither. I am simply making conversation while you take refuge from the demands of your additional duties," he sounded almost scandalised at the idea, still going about his work quietly, almost ignoring Gibbs' presence. "Of course, if something I have said struck a particular chord with you and you choose to act on it, that's quite out of my hands. Speaking of hands, have you finished making the frame for their ketubah? It may be a most timely reminder for them."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Think I'll take my chances with Rachel... least she's direct."

"As you like," Ducky chuckled as Gibbs took his leave. "Although I thought that was quite clear really, wouldn't you say Corporal Amir?" Ducky's "guest" had nothing to offer on the matter.

Later that evening, somewhat questioning the wisdom of this decision, Gibbs knocked on the front door of Casa De Tiva, the newly-framed ketubah in a paper bag. When Tony opened the door, it was clear from his reluctant expression and the dead silence in the house that they'd made no progress. Their evenings were surprisingly routined and by now, Ziva normally would have been cooking, with music in the background.

"Figured you'd show up. If you want Zi, I think she's painting in the baby's room." He stepped back and left room for Gibbs to enter. "Been steering clear of each other since we got back," he added with a shrug.

Gibbs followed Tony inside, pausing at the base of the stairs. "Ziver! Front and centre!" he called up. "Don't you take off either DiNozzo, I'm here for both of you." She descended a moment later, wearing a smear of pale green paint on her chin, her hair wrapped with a scarf, and a plaid shirt that looked suspiciously like one of Gibbs'.

"Gibbs?" Her voice was guarded, eyes flashing to Tony as he leaned on the archway between the entry and the living room. There was still a clear distance between them and he could tell that little had improved in the intervening hours.

"Go sit, got something for you," Gibbs nodded his head towards the couch. He waited until they'd both taken a seat, Ziva in her usual corner, Tony at the far side. "Picked up the glass yesterday." He handed over the brown paper bag he'd been holding to Tony before propping himself on the edge of the coffee table.

Tony peered inside, "Oh hey, that came out great. Look at this Zi," he slid across the cushions, still stopping with a cushion space between them, but close enough to pass it to Ziva, who held up paint-splattered hands in response. Instead, Tony removed the ketubah from the bag, angling it so she could see.

Ziva breathed in awe. "That is beautiful," she said softly, admiring the wood of the honey-gold frame. It was rustic and irregular in shape, slightly gnarled and marbled with lighter streaks in places. "Is that... did you find?" She reached for it instinctively, catching herself before she got paint on the oiled finish.

"It's olive wood, yeah," Gibbs nodded.

"That is really special... thank you," Ziva repeated. The choice of wood for the frame was beautiful but also echoed the themes from the wedding, including the olive leaves in Ziva's bouquet, now somewhat wilted but still in a vase on the sideboard.

Tony ran his thumb along the edge thoughtfully. "Oh... olive branch... a sign of peace. I get what you're saying, Gibbs."

Gibbs decided it wasn't worth mentioning he'd had McGee help him source and order the wood from California three weeks before the wedding when they'd first asked if he would make the frame. "About time you two remembered you're on the same team."

Tony set the gift carefully on the table beside Gibbs. "What the hell is wrong with us, Zi?" he sighed.

Ziva shrugged, rubbing her thumb absently over a nudge from the baby, leaving a smear of paint on her shirt as she did. "I don't know, I thought that we were trying not to fight."

Gibbs paused, his resolve not to get further involved crumbling, and he sighed. "Quit trying so hard," he added gently.

"Boss?" Tony questioned.

"You're only fighting 'cause you haven't been calling each other out on the regular crap. Getting married doesn't change the fact that you're immature," he gestured to Tony, then pointed at Ziva, "or that you're stubborn. You drive each other up the wall, always have. A bit of shiny new jewellery won't fix that."

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Guess we've looked kinda stupid these last few days," he admitted.

"Your words, not mine," Gibbs said, although the fact that he agreed was evident in his tone. "You already know how to be around each other. That tooth-rotting crap you were playing at isn't you. Being married doesn't mean you start over being perfect. Hell, maybe one of mine would've worked if it did," he added with a wry laugh that neither of the others was brave enough to echo.

Still sitting with a vacant space between them, Tony and Ziva caught each other's eyes hesitantly, considering the unusually pointed advice that Gibbs had just given. They also recalled their actions over the past few days; the harsh words, the harsher silences, the slammed doors and the rolled eyes. "God, we dealt with the fallout from Israel more maturely, and that was worth fighting over. Not... this," Tony said softly. "I'm so sorry, Zi. Shouldn't have said that stuff."

"So am I, Tony," Ziva agreed equally quietly. "I was out of line."

"You both were," Gibbs reminded them. "But you're better than that. Now, prove it."

"Thanks for the reminder," Tony said. "Guess we got some more talking to do."

"Nup. You both screwed up, you both fought dirty, now call it a tie and move on," Gibbs interrupted. "Don't keep living in this. But now you know how bad you can get, you've got something to actually try and avoid. Not whatever's got you spooked from that Lawrence case, we all know no one's going to cheat on anybody else, and no one's allowed to die on my watch. Quit projecting or whatever it's called."

"You are beginning to sound like Ducky, Gibbs. But thank you," Ziva said, a smile starting to curl at the corner of her mouth.

Gibbs was less amused by this comparison. "Gonna have to start charging you for my time."

Tony smirked, a little more at ease now that he and Ziva were back on equal footing. "You realise the irony in this, Boss, you telling us how to deal with a fight now that we're married?"

"Do as I say, not as I do," Gibbs shrugged. "Not always easy, but you got something worth fighting for, not fighting over. Specially not at work. Happens again, I'm gonna have to make a call, and if it comes down to it Ziva, that's you moving on. Can't go down another field agent. You got what... eleven, twelve more weeks on my team? Don't force my hand before then."

"I understand, Gibbs," Ziva replied. She sounded more at ease, despite the explicit warning. "Did you want to stay for dinner? I have to pack away upstairs first, but I will start cooking soon."

"Nah, got a perfectly good steak with my name on it." Gibbs stood and cast a serious glance over the pair. "You've already said sorry now move on." They walked with him to the door, Ziva receiving her usual kiss to the temple and a low "goodnight, kid" as he left.

"Let me tidy up in the nursery and wash my hands, I won't be long." Ziva made for the stairs as Tony closed the door after their boss.

"Hey, Zi..." he called before she disappeared entirely, "You know I love you, right?"

Ziva paused and glanced back at him. "I love you, too. I never doubted you. I just..." She trailed off uncertainly.

Tony understood anyway. "Didn't like me very much for a minute there?" he finished for her. Ziva nodded, looking a little embarrassed. Tony shrugged sheepishly too. "Yeah, I wasn't your biggest fan either. You go take care of the paint; I'll cook tonight."

Ziva smiled and shook her head. "No, we will order pizza."

"Who am I to argue?" Tony called after her. Ziva's laugh echoed back down the stairs for the first time in days.

"Well, that was one hell of a fight," Tony murmured. They'd taken Gibbs' advice that night and left it alone, eating dinner, watching a movie, and booking their flights for Jimmy and Breena's wedding. There seemed no need to rehash all of the things said and done that shouldn't have been, but rather it made more sense to go on as they meant to continue, or more specifically, go back to the way they had been before. But now, settled back into the rhythm they were used to, it felt safe to joke about. "Do you feel a bit like you were called to the principal's office and given detention too?"

"It was no more than we deserved," Ziva shrugged against his chest. "Still, I suppose we could not have put a fight off forever. As Gibbs said, we were trying too hard."

"Losing it in the bullpen, though? That's a whole new level," he paused and chuckled, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Good thing make-up sex is fun. I might have to argue with you more often if that's the outcome."

Ziva groaned in response. "You really need to think about something else sometimes, Tony." She aimed a playful swat at his stomach.

He laughed and caught her hand before she made contact, lifting it to her mouth and kissing her fingers instead. "You weren't saying that to me five minutes ago. If I recall correctly, what you actually said was..."

"Oh shut up, I know what I said," Ziva laughed. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his, ensuring he did just that. "Don't make me take it back."

Tony grinned once his mouth was his own again. "I thought we were supposed to be nice to each other from now on?"

"Not too nice," she punctuated the thought with another kiss. "It does not work so well when we try to get along all the time. The rest of it was nice though, especially the massages."

"It really didn't." Tony agreed. "The romance can stay, but the teasing and the honesty have to come back. Tell you what, I promise to let you know when you're driving me crazy the first time. Before I call you an irrational bitch in front of Gibbs. Really thought he was gonna punch me for that for a second there. Oh, and you're not one, not really."

Ziva shrugged it off. "I was this morning." Still propped up on her elbow, she pressed a penitent kiss to his forehead.

Tony reached up to tuck the hair tickling his face behind her ear. "I suppose that means I really was a..."

"Mmm-hmm," Ziva nodded against his hair. "A big one."

Tony hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "I'll take it," he conceded with a laugh. Very creative, by the way."

"Thank you, but yes, I promise I will let you know before it gets to that point next time," she settled back down under his arm again. "And I like cooking as much as I do, you know."

"I know. We set that stuff up the way we did because it works. Why mess with a good thing?" His hand drifted down to her belly. "Is she awake?"

"No, she was for a while after I ate, but I think she has made herself comfortable for now. Oh, but McGee actually felt her kick the other day!" Ziva laughed. "When we were in observation, he looked like he was going to throw up. She did not even do the rolling thing."

"I want to throw up when she does the rolling thing sometimes!" Tony admitted and prodded hopefully anyway, searching for a sign of movement. "She really is asleep, huh?"

"You want to throw up?" came the incredulous retort. "Get back to me when you have something the size of a hatzil turning a somersault in your uterus."

Ignoring the biological impossibility of the suggestion, Tony paused thoughtfully, more confused by Ziva's choice of words. "Hatzil? You got me there," he admitted.

She sighed, 'writing' the Hebrew word on his chest with her finger and trying to translate. "Aubergine? You know, the purple vegetable, you like them baked with tomato and cheese, yes?"

"Oh, eggplant!" he announced with sudden understanding, 'measuring' Ziva's belly in the span between his thumb and his pinky. "She really is growing in there, huh?"

"Well, the book says she is that big now. Be grateful it is not happening inside of you! Stop poking." She pushed his hand away.

"If I had to be the one to do this, we wouldn't have kids. You're a braver man than I am, Zi." Tony laughed softening his touch to a more tender caress and was rewarded with the tiniest shift of weight from within. "See, it works much better when we say something that's bugging us the first time instead of sitting on it."

"It does," she agreed with a smile, laying her hand over his. "But if you poke until she is awake again I may smother you in your sleep."

"Well, here's to calling each other out on our crap." Tony reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and raised it in a mock toast. Ziva gave an amused but patronising snort and kissed him goodnight before rolling off him and searching out her body pillow to get comfortable.

"Hey... Zi?" Tony whispered a few minutes later, breaking the silence. He waited for the sleepy hum from Ziva's side of the bed. "What's the dirtiest thing you can say in Italian?"

Chapter Text

Ten Years Ago

St Regis Hotel, Washington DC (Friday 25th October 2002, 2230)

Tony opened the door to his hotel room, surprised there was a knock so late at night. "Tony... hi..."

"Wendy Alice, the love of my life." He stepped back to let her in. "I thought we weren't seeing each other tonight? Twenty-four hours before the wedding, bad luck and all that? Isn't that why we've paid for two rooms? Or are you wanting to skip straight to the honeymoon part?"

She gave a tight, nervous laugh as he shut the door. "Couldn't sleep."

"I get that. It's a big day tomorrow, lots to think about." He caught her hand and pulled her against him."Got about twenty minutes of Roman Holiday left so we can watch that and call room service for some wine if you want. A little bit of Hepburn and a glass of red, you'll be snoring before you know it."

She ducked away when he bent to kiss her and stepped back, exhaling slowly. "No, there's something I need to tell you.."

He paused, thrown a little by her odd behaviour. "What is it, Wen? Is Julie on your case that the roses are the wrong shade of pink or...?"

"The roses are fine..."

He snapped his fingers with sudden enlightenment. "Oh! She's back to dissing string quartets and Canon in D," he chuckled. "Look, I know she's your sister and all, but she really doesn't understand the difference between classic and cliche."

"No, nothing like that. If only it were that simple. Listen to me, please." She brought her palms together as though she was praying and rested her chin on her thumbs, tapping the sides of her fingers on the bridge of her nose with another heavy exhale. "I'm calling the wedding off, Tony. I can't do this."

Caught off guard, he froze for a moment, his mouth partly open. Wendy stayed silent, watching his confusion eventually meld into a smirk and he wagged his finger at her. "Ha... good one. You almost had me there. Did the guys put you up to this?" Something between pity and pain crossed her face and his smile faded as reality settled in. "Oh... you're serious? Wen... no, it's just cold feet. We'll be fine. Twenty-four hours from now we're going to be holed up in a honeymoon suite in Aruba, and you'll wonder what all the fuss was about."

She covered her mouth and shook her head, eyes wide and sympathetic. "Oh, my sweet hero cop. You always find the bright side, even with all the bad guys you see every day." She sighed heavily. "But it's more than that, I can't explain it. I just... I should never have said yes when you asked me. It's all wrong. I can't marry you... I won't marry you." She stretched out to take his hand. "I'm so sorry Tony, really."

"Don't." He yanked back before she made contact and brought his hand to his mouth, chewing the corner of his thumbnail for a minute, looking like he was on the verge of being sick. He seemed to try a couple of times to offer a comeback, but stopped again, taking in the look in her eyes and realising she was serious. "Can you... can you go before I say something I shouldn't?" He choked out at last.

She nodded slowly. "Yep... yes, I'll be in my room if you want to talk... or you can go home if you want, I'll take care of... well... making tomorrow not happen. Just believe me when I say that I'm so, so sorry." He flinched away from her touch again, and with a lingering look of regret, she was out the door.

Batar Zikim (Zikim Training Base), Israel (Saturday 26th October 2002, 0530)

Ziva doubled over on herself caught in a wave of pain. She wondered if sitting alone on the cold steel toilet and bearing this in silence was penance for the way she had wished it had never happened at all. Another wave, and then another, and she balled the neckline of her shirt, Star of David jangling against her dog tags, between her teeth to muffle her cry. There was a sudden feeling of pressure, and then a dull splash. She glanced down quickly, it was smaller than she expected for the agony she had felt. At least the worst of it was over now.

"Bevakashah, s'lakh li," she whispered, a request for forgiveness. "Zeh hakol be-ashmati." It was her fault. She had spent the two days since she'd found out alternating between wishing it wasn't real, cursing herself for being so stupid as to get into this situation in the first place, and ignoring it entirely. Still, no one who held as much bitterness in her soul as she did could ever have sustained life; it was no wonder she'd woken up that morning to discover that her body had made the choice her heart could not. It was ending before it had truly begun. The knowledge that this presence, however brief and unwanted, had gone now hit with a suddenness that she hadn't expected. She pressed her hands hard against her cheekbones, suppressing the emotion, she didn't have time to cry. Even if she had the time, she didn't deserve the relief of tears, there'd been a part of her that had hoped for this exact thing.

Swallowing her feelings, she cleaned up quickly, scrubbing the evidence from her legs and the toilet seat, the streaks of scarlet wiped away as though they were marks on a chalkboard. Somehow it seemed too simple that the evidence could be erased just like that. She rinsed until the water ran clear, hurrying now, she had already missed roll call, any second now someone would come looking for her.

As though she'd willed it, there was a pounding on the door. "David!" She glanced at her reflection quickly, hoping no one would notice her pallor. To say she was sick would have meant medical attention and discovering this, which would inevitably have gotten back to her father. He could never know; pushing through was the only option. Her commanding officer's voice sounded again, impatience growing. "David, miyad!" At once.

"Ken. Ken. Ani ba'a. I am coming." She turned for the door, trying very hard to ignore the little seed of relief that planted itself inside her. Now, she wouldn't have to tell a soul.

Anacostia, Washington DC (Friday 25th October 2002, 2130)

There were lights and noise everywhere, and if anyone in the quiet residential street had not been woken by the gunfire a few minutes earlier, the flashing red and blue along with the sirens finished the job. Curious bystanders wrapped in dressing gowns huddled on their driveways, watching as the bodybag atop the stretcher was carefully wheeled out of the house.

At the centre of the action, Major John Delaney and his daughter stood watching too, both of them wrapped in the emergency blankets from the backseat of a police cruiser.

"We're gonna be okay, baby," he promised shakily. "We'll find a way through, Delaneys don't back down - remember?"

She nodded, tearfully. "Okay, Daddy." The thud of the van closing drew a shudder from her and she pressed her face against him. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips in silence to the top of her head, distracted only when a new figure in a dark trenchcoat approached them.

"Major Delaney? Agent Gibbs, NCIS." A flash of a badge and ID in the dim light. "We'll be taking over the investigation from Metro. We don't take the loss of one of our own lightly."

"No sir, we don't." Something in the tone of voice spoke to a part of John that sat deeper than the newly widowed exterior, Marine talking to Marine, and he met the blue eyes steadily and shook the outstretched hand. "Charlotte, this is Agent Gibbs, he's here to help us."

Gibbs's eyes softened as she lifted her head. "Hi, Charlotte," he said, voice low and even. "I'm very sorry about your mom."

"Me too, sir," she murmured, sticking out her hand for a shake too. "Mom called me Charlie." Another sob caught in her throat. John kissed her head again, making a hushing sound.

"No sirs here, call me Gibbs." He bent at the knees lowering himself until he could meet her eyes. "So, Charlie, how old are you?"

"Fourteen, si - Gibbs." Like her father, there was something in the calm, steady way Gibbs spoke that soothed her enough to answer directly.

He nodded gently. "Okay, Charlie. We're going to find out what happened. You trust me on that?"

A car door slammed from the roadside and she jumped at the sound. "Are you here to ask questions? I stayed in my room like Dad said... I... didn't see a lot, but there were two of them when they left and I think one of them was hurt... and they took mom's car. I saw them out the window." The words came out in a rush, as though she was trying to share what she knew before she forgot.

An almost-smirk flickered in the corner of his mouth for a second. "Good girl. You hold onto that for me, we'll talk soon." He brushed her cheek softly and straightened, addressing John again. "First thing, we need to know if you have somewhere safe to stay until we've ruled out this being a targeted attack."

"Uhh..." he looked bewildered for a second, practicalities were a whole new level of reality. "My mother's in Peoria or... Lou's mom... oh, god I have to tell Martha..."

"Perfectly good suite at the St Regis going to waste." A new voice announced.

Gibbs regarded the newcomer with suspicion. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Found myself at a loose end, went into work, saw the dispatch notice." He shrugged. "Figured I'd come make myself useful."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked, with a more significant tone.

"Don't want to talk about it thanks, Boss." He produced a keycard from his pocket. "Room 524 is paid up for the next two nights. Turns out we won't be needing it. I'd appreciate it if you put Burley on protection detail though, I'd rather not go back there myself right now."

There was a long, hard look between the two men. "Your head better be in it," Gibbs growled at length, taking the card. "Well Charlie, looks like your safehouse just got an upgrade."

Present-day, Miami, Florida, USA (Saturday, October 20th 2012, 2230 hours)

"Hey Ninja, good shower?"

"I prefer a shower we can both fit in." Ziva emerged from the ensuite bathroom in their Florida hotel. "We are on holiday. You should not be working," she added reprovingly, seeing the interface for Tony's work email on his phone screen.

"I still don't believe we're all here," he said with a laugh. Somehow luck had been on their side, and the whole team had made it down for Jimmy and Breena's wedding. They knew, of course, that all of them being able to attend meant that Thanksgiving, Christmas, or likely both would now fall in a heap. Still, the day had gone off perfectly, the weather still warm enough to swim in the morning, the ceremony in the afternoon, and then dinner and dancing late into the evening. As planned months earlier, Breena wore Abby's comb, the earrings Jenny had given Ziva, and her signet ring. Even with the utterly over-the-top kitsch theme and Jimmy sobbing his way through his vows, the wedding had been a beautiful event. With the newlyweds happily ensconced in the honeymoon suite, Tony and Ziva had retired to their room, sandwiched between one of Breena's cousins on the left and Ducky on the right. Abby and Tim were a few doors down, while Gibbs had taken a simpler motel closer to the airport; he'd arrived shortly before the ceremony and was returning on the earliest flight the following morning. "Just wanted to check that something hadn't come up."

"I see..." Ziva perched on the end of the bed, combing out her damp hair. "Is there something I can do to help you believe we got two nights away?"

"Not remind us that this is our second night already," he groaned. "Do we really have to go back? One more night, fly back early on Monday and head straight to work from Dulles. What do you say?"

She gave a patient sigh. "You can if you want, but I will leave here as planned. I have my glucose test first thing Monday morning, and I am not doing that following a three-hour flight."

"Which one's that again?" Days away from her third trimester, Ziva's midwife Marlee had ordered one last round of tests to make sure everything was as it should be.

"That's the one with the sugar drink and the multiple blood tests... No, you don't have to be there," she added, seeing the reluctance on his face. Tony's aversion to needles was no better than it had been eight years after his run-in with Y-pestis. While determined to attend every pre-natal appointment he could, they'd quickly learned he was no better with blood tests, even if he wasn't the patient. On the other hand, Ziva had no such qualms and usually watched the proceedings, which awed and disgusted Tony in equal measure.

"Good," he said, relieved. "You have to fast for that, right? Are you going to be okay to drive afterwards? We still need a crib you know, now that the paint's dry in the baby's room. I could pick you up after and we'll go pick one out then?"

He missed the tension that passed over her face before she caught herself. "We still have twelve weeks, there is plenty of time to think about a crib, Tony. But I do not need a ride, Ducky offered to drive me when he found out," she answered, then gave a laugh. "Actually, he did not so much offer as insist. I think he plans to wait in the ultrasound suite with Eleanor. He will pick me up on Monday morning." They both shared a knowing smile, the sonographer who'd given them their first glimpse of the baby had been recommended to them by Ducky. It was clear from the way both doctors had spoken about each other that, at the very least, they were good friends.

"Don't suppose Marlee said we should go to see Eleanor again?" Tony asked hopefully. "Sure, it's good news for Ducky if he's got some dalliance with her, but I'd like another look at how that one's getting on," he said, indicating the baby.

Ziva worked the comb through a tangle as she spoke. "Unfortunately, no. But if we did, it would be because there is something to worry about. I would like to see her again too, but not having to is a good sign. Besides, now we can see her kick, so we know she is growing!"

"Yeah," Tony chuckled. "Please show McGee. He might actually hurl if you do that."

"I am not using our daughter to torture McGee!" Ziva scolded with a laugh. During the reception, the band played the same song the team had danced to at Tony and Ziva's wedding, and now, firmly declaring it "their song" Abby coaxed-begged-blackmailed her reluctant fiance into dancing with Ziva again. It had been fine for the first verse until Ziva leaned in to make a comment about Tony and Abby's antics. Two weeks bigger than the last time, and active from the sugar in the dessert Ziva had just eaten, the baby had booted hard against McGee's ribs. In response, he'd turned a colour no one had seen on him since the last time the team had been afloat. It clashed terribly with the aqua tuxedo Jimmy had convinced him to wear as part of the groom's party, put a swift end to anything resembling a proper dance hold and they finished the song holding hands at arm's length like sixth graders.

"But the look on his face..."

"No!" She cut in firmly, making another attempt to redirect. "We have an entire hotel room for... twelve more hours, surely we do not want to be talking about McGee?"

"Maybe we should talk about how you couldn't stop drooling over the Gremlin's abs in the pool this morning," Tony suggested. Still hyped from the reception, and probably a little drunk, he was far more inclined to tease, missing Ziva's cue.

"Oh please," she laughed, "you stared too!" He had, they all had. Ziva had spent much of the morning in the pool, relishing the weightlessness of floating, and tolerating Abby trying to balance things on her belly, hoping the baby would kick them off. The inflatable doughnut had been too large, but the ping pong ball she'd stolen from the rec room had been met with some success, although Ziva was sure it was just gravity. However, when Jimmy and Breena joined the party, Abby clutched Ziva's arm, demanding she that sit up and look, succeeding instead in completely submerging her.

When Ziva had resurfaced, spluttering and indignant, she was directed to look at Jimmy and what Abby described as "the best-defined six-pack this side of the Mississippi." Despite two full-time field agents (who were, theoretically supposed to maintain a high level of fitness) also being in the pool, Ziva had to agree that the young medical assistant was by far the best built out of any of the guys present. He was quite unconscious of this fact as he cheerfully invited them to play volleyball. Even when Tony loudly declared Ziva to be baptised in 'the name of the Father, Son, and The Washboard Abs' Jimmy remained oblivious although Breena could be heard giggling proudly.

"Tony..." Ziva tried one more time. "I did not mean we should talk about Jimmy and Breena either."

Tony looked puzzled, "Then what did you - oh!" he exclaimed as she stood and quite deliberately let her robe fall. "That's your something blue... You don't want to talk at all, do you?"

They flew home as planned, much to Tony's disappointment, and Ziva arrived at work late on Monday morning. Her appointment although by no means fun had passed uneventfully. The long wait had been broken by a text from McGee warning her of a case, followed by one a little while later from Tony simply saying Gibbs and an angry face emoji. Ducky, who had as predicted spent the time with Eleanor, had been called out as well, leaving Ziva to catch a cab back to base when she was finished. On arrival, she noticed that none of the team was at their desks, although there were several sticky notes on her keyboard. A quick glance at the hasty scrawls led her to the decision that tea was necessary to manage them.

As she waited for her drink to steep, she realised that the communal coffee pot was empty. Even if she still couldn't enjoy it herself, her sympathy lingered for those who needed it and set it to brew again. Just as she settled the carafe back in its base, she realised she wasn't alone and turned to face the newcomers. Ned Dorneget was escorting a well-dressed brunette woman with a visitor's badge. "Agent David! Hi!" The young probationary agent paled visibly at the sight of her.

"Hi Dorney," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"Uhh, I was just escorting Ms Miller here to see Director Vance... but Rachel said he wasn't ready for her and I should bring her for a coffee... I..." He flicked his eyes nervously between her belly and the coffee pot. "But it's not ready yet, maybe we should go and see if the break room in accounting has some..."

"It's fine, I don't mind waiting," the woman said. Dorney shot her a desperately uncomfortable look. "Or we could go to accounting?" She offered, clearly puzzled.

"I have it from here, let Rachel know that Ms Miller is with me," Ziva intervened before it got more awkward. Dorney uttered a faint noise of gratitude and all but bolted for the door. She turned to face the newcomer. "Sorry, Agent Dorneget seems to live in fear that I will go into labour in front of him." She explained with an eye roll.

"No matter," Wendy shrugged it off. "Thank you for waiting with me. Agent... David was it?" Once again the name came out wrong.

"Ziva is fine." She turned back to the coffee pot. "Take a seat, Ms Miller, the coffee will be ready in a minute."

"Call me Wendy. I'm here to talk to Director Vance about reporting a case one of your teams is investigating. I write for the Globe." She slid into a chair at the table closest to the bench where Ziva stood. Suddenly the mystery text from Tony made sense.

"Ahh, well I can't discuss that with you unless I have clearance," Ziva warned.

"Oh, I wasn't asking," Wendy said with a slight chuckle. "I used to know someone who worked here, I understand the chain of command. So, I know you're not supposed to assume, but seeing as you already brought it up, how long do you have left until the baby arrives?"

Ziva reached for a paper cup. With the real reason for Wendy's presence being off limits until further notice, of course, she wanted to know about the baby. "Long enough that it feels like forever, yet soon enough that I cannot imagine being ready in time... about twelve weeks. How do you take your coffee?"

"Don't worry, the last month will feel like a decade, you'll have plenty of time," Wendy said with a sympathetic laugh. "Milk, no sugar."

"Do you have children?" Pregnancy small talk with strangers was still not an area Ziva enjoyed particularly, but she was learning, and at the very least it kept them both clear of the case.

Wendy nodded with a smile. "Yes, Fred. He's almost nine. Do you know...?" She gestured towards the bump as Ziva returned to the table.

"Officially no, we are waiting for a surprise." Ziva set the drinks down and slid herself into the chair opposite Wendy. "But I am sure she's a girl."

Wendy picked up her cup and sipped it. "Does your partner think it's a girl too? Fred's father and I disagreed the whole time until we had a scan to find out."

"My husband," Ziva smiled at the correction, Tony had unquestioningly referred to the baby in the feminine since the night she'd returned from Israel and broken the news. Although the memory was pleasant, it was far too intimate to share with a stranger. "Well, if he does not, he knows better than to argue with me!" she deflected with a laugh.

"Good move," Wendy shared the laugh and took another sip. "Is she your first?"

"Oh..." Ziva's smile faltered. Her hand moved unconsciously to cradle her belly before she answered. "You are the first person to have asked that, Wendy..." another long pause. Wendy's eyes narrowed subtly, and Ziva quickly redirected. "Yes, she is our first," she answered softly glancing down.

Wendy gave her a curious, thoughtful look, and opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think the better of it, shook her head and changed the subject. "How long have you been married?"

"Not long," she said, hand still splayed over her stomach. "We got engaged at the start of the year, but never made plans. Then someone decided she wanted to be there for the wedding." She patted affectionately, her smile returning at the sensation of a kick. "Yes, we are talking about you," she added with a laugh.

"Babies work to their own timelines, you'll find out soon enough," Wendy said with a knowing smile. "Congratulations though, I can tell your husband is a special guy from how you smile about him." She glanced at her own left hand, bare of any rings briefly. "So, pregnancy's no walk in the park. What do you miss the most?"

"I have not had a coffee in six months!" They both laughed then, Wendy relating an issue with the pulp in orange juice. They were interrupted when they finished their drinks and Ziva was trying to explain exactly why "things that burst" were so offputting.

"Excuse me, ladies?" Ziva turned to face Rachel, Director Vance's assistant. "The Director is ready for Ms Miller now, and he has requested that you come up as well, Agent David. All I know is that he asked for you too," she held her hands up innocently in response to Ziva's questioning look.

"Very well," Ziva rinsed her empty cup quickly. "Thank you, Rachel, follow me, Wendy."

In Vance's office, the atmosphere was less amiable. "I'm not negotiating on this, your team will be liaising with the reporter. This was an extremely public situation and it's already made news reports that a senior officer was involved," Vance said firmly. "I have orders from higher up that we will release the outcome of our investigation ourselves, try to counteract the rumours that are taking place. I've spoken with the editor from the Globe who has assured me that the reporter he's sending over will work with us, and tell the story appropriately. " Neither Gibbs nor Tony looked impressed with this command.

"I don't have time for this Leon..." Gibbs growled. "Got a murder to solve. We already let this guy down once ten years ago when we didn't find his wife's shooter. We're not doing that again."

"Your team will make time. And if you value your job do not use those words in front of the reporter." Vance turned his head at the knock on the door and rose to open it. "That will be her now. Ah, Agent David good to see you too, I trust everything went well this morning?"

Tony turned towards the door, some of the aggravation leaving his face on hearing Ziva's voice. "Thank you, Director. Yes, we're both doing well."

He nodded, pleased. "Good to hear, and you must be Ms Miller?" There was a polite murmur in response.

"Come in, both of you and take a seat. Thank you, Rachel. Hold any calls until we're done here." He stepped back to let the women enter the room.

"Hey, pretty lady... Wendy?" Tony's affectionate greeting for Ziva was cut short, his smile quickly replaced by an expression of shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Tony!" Wendy paused in the doorway, sounding equally surprised. "Well, that's a warmer welcome than I expected after this long."

Vance cleared his throat before Tony could offer a rebuttal. "You've met before then?" he inquired, ushering Wendy further into the room and shutting the door firmly.

"Well, that's one way of putting it." Tony nodded stiffly, still looking uncomfortable. "Are you okay, Zi?"

She glanced around the room, puzzled at the sudden tension. "Fine?" It was more of a question than an answer. "Why wouldn't I be? I got in about fifteen minutes ago and was having coffee with Wendy until the Director called us." Ziva found herself caught in the middle of Tony's deer-in-the-headlights expression, Wendy's uncomfortable surprise, rapidly being covered by a professional coolness and Gibbs' generically unimpressed glare. She took a step backwards, getting out of the odd staring match that was taking place, and ended up closer to Gibbs.

"You had coffee with her?" Tony echoed blankly, pointing at Wendy. "You two sat down and had a coffee with each other?"

It was Wendy's turn to look confused now. "Yes, Tony. What's so strange about that?" She turned instead to Gibbs, greeting him politely but showing no more inclination to sit than anyone else. Everyone was scattered around the office, ill at ease. "Good to see you again."

"Wendy." He gave a curt nod in return. "Still with the Evening Tribune?"

"The Globe, now," she replied.

Tony now made a noise somewhere between a choke and a scoff of disbelief. "You stayed in touch?" he managed.

"It's called reading, DiNozzo." The eye-roll was evident in the team leader's tone, even without the body language. "You should try it sometime."

"Please don't tell me you were married to her, Gibbs," Vance said sarcastically.

Gibbs snorted quietly. "Not me."

Suddenly, the penny dropped for Ziva. "Oh... Wendy. I get the photo..." she murmured.

Wendy glanced at the others for translation "Photo?" she mouthed. Tony wouldn't make eye contact, and Gibbs offered a mysterious smirk, although Ziva felt his pinky brush hers reassuringly.

Vance looked perplexed for a second too, less used to Ziva's muddled idioms than the men who worked with her more often. "I think you mean picture, but whichever one it is, I don't have it. Someone needs to fill me in, now!" He demanded. "I take it you all know each other?" He looked between the four of them expectantly.

Wendy recovered first. "Ton... Agent DiNozzo and I were engaged several years ago. Obviously, that did not turn out as planned."

Vance sighed and rubbed his face. There had to be thousands of reporters in the DC area. Naturally, the only one with a personal history with his MCRT had shown up. "Of course you were," he said wearily. "So, Ms Miller, you've also met Agents Gibbs and David before?"

"I met Gibbs when Tony and I were still together, but I only met Ziva a few minutes ago," she explained.

"So, you've never met Agent David before today? You have no idea who she is?" Wendy shook her head curiously at these new questions. "Well, I hope you two got off on the right foot because she will be your liaison."

That finally stirred a response out of Tony, "Director! You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack, DiNozzo. You and Gibbs made it very clear that neither of you was willing to work with a reporter." There was an odd smirk around Vance's mouth, he obviously found strange dark humour in the situation. "With Agent David unable to assist with fieldwork, this seems like an excellent use of her time."

"That was before I knew it was Wendy!" he exclaimed. "When did you stop teaching four-year-olds to sing The Wheels On The Bus anyway?"

Wendy looked him up and down thoughtfully. "About the time you stopped dressing like one of the T-birds and started wearing thousand-dollar suits, I imagine. Are you saying you want to work with me?" She finished in disbelief.

He looked horrified at the suggestion. "No! That's not what I mean. I don't want Ziva working with her either, Director. McGee can do it."

The Director's gaze narrowed in Tony's direction. "And which part of you is making that request, DiNozzo?" he asked in a warning voice.

"Whichever one is least likely to get me fired," he mumbled, realising the futility of arguing that line further. "Which is none of them. Consider it withdrawn."

"Look, I know you like to be in charge of things Tony, but I get the idea this is not your call," Wendy said impatiently. "Can we please just get on with it? Ziva?"

With Wendy's attention on her, Ziva had to decide fast how she felt about it all. Although she had worked out how Wendy fitted into the situation, it was clear that Wendy still had no idea why Tony was being so difficult, and just expected professionalism from one woman to another. The absolutely bewildered look on Tony's face made it clear he hadn't expected the sudden appearance of his ex-fiance any more than the rest of them, and judging by the way he glanced at her, half his worry stemmed from whatever reaction he was expecting.

"Of course," she said with a nod and exaggerated calm, hoping Tony would get the message. This was about the case and work, not any personal connections, she was prepared to leave their marriage out of it for the sake of keeping everything on an even keel. "I'll need time to be read in first-"

"Would you stop talking to me like you know me? It's been ten years a lot's changed!" Tony shot back, cutting Ziva off. "I'm not the same person you walked out on the night before our wedding." Ziva sighed, Tony had completely missed her cue.

"I know how long it's been!" Wendy scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not the same person either! What's your problem, Tony?"

Vance retreated back behind his desk with a sigh of his own. "Do you want to handle this, Gibbs?" He gestured vaguely. "You're the expert when it comes to exes and cases overlapping."

"Nope," Gibbs shook his head. "DiNozzo, you want to do the honours?"

"Honours?" Tony repeated blankly.

"Oh for god's sake!" Ziva exclaimed impatiently. She crossed the floor in a couple of brisk steps, putting herself in front of Wendy. The women assessed each other quietly for a moment. "Wendy, given the situation, we weren't properly introduced before."

"Ziva..." Tony began. "Do I get to..."

"It's fine, Tony." Ziva shook her head, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, now he wanted to keep quiet. "I've got this."

Tony tried again, weakly. "Because I'd really rather we didn't..."

Still facing each other, both women extended a hand in his direction, clicking and raising their index fingers at him. "Not now, Tony!" they exclaimed in unison, in a tone so similar that, save for Ziva's accent, it might as well have come from the same mouth.

Tony recoiled visibly. "Oh, I'm screwed," he muttered. Vance swallowed a laugh and sat down again. Even Gibbs seemed to be having a hard time keeping his mouth in a straight line. Wendy looked at Ziva curiously for a second, realisation becoming clear on her face.

"Oh... I see now," she said. She drew a line between Tony and Ziva with the finger that still pointed at the stunned Senior Field Agent. There was no accusation in the gesture, only an action connecting snippets of information. "That could only have come from someone who's lived with Tony."

"Yes," Ziva nodded. "If I had known when we were introduced, I would have corrected things. I still go by my birth name at work. We should start over, Ziva DiNozzo, Tony's wife."

There was a moment of tense silence as the two women locked eyes again. Although Ziva's tone of voice had been pleasant and calm, her meaning was clear and she straightened her shoulders, her body language drawing a firm but unspoken line in the sand about what exactly she would accept from Wendy in this situation. A second later, Wendy nodded, accepting the message Ziva sent. An understanding was reached, and they both relaxed.

"I'm still Wendy Miller, but I guess he never told you my surname before?" Ziva shook her head and they shared an awkward but kind of understanding laugh before they turned to face Tony, who still looked like he had just been slapped. "Well, when you said a lot's changed... Congratulations, Tony."

Tony regarded her with suspicion despite the genuine tone. "Thanks, I think?" he choked out uncertainly. "Is it always so warm in here?" He ran his finger inside his collar nervously.

"Well," Wendy turned back to Vance. "Who am I working with then, Director?"

Vance rubbed his forehead and looked between the four people in the room. Gibbs' mood seemed to be more to do with Wendy's occupation than who she was as a person. Tony looked thoroughly uncomfortable in general, while Ziva and Wendy were still sizing each other up although with curiosity than animosity. Suddenly, he was struck by the similarity in their appearance, petite, brunette, and well-dressed with apparently expensive taste in boots. He choked on a dry chuckle.

"You know what? Duke it out amongst yourselves. I don't think I need to remind any of you what will happen if I have any complaints about unprofessional behaviour from Ms Miller," he said at last. "I also think you all understand the importance of ensuring this investigation reaches a swift and palatable conclusion."

Gibbs was clearly in the mood to make no promises. "It'll reach whatever conclusion it needs to."

Vance sighed again. "Why don't I like the sound of that? Dismissed. Ms Miller, please stay. We have a few more details to cover before you get started..."

The three MCRT agents filed out, making their way down the stairs in silence.

"Okay, what did I miss?" Ziva spoke first as they reached the squad room floor. "What is big enough that we have a reporter on the case?"

"Shootout, broad daylight, the middle of Anacostia. Marine Colonel John Delaney got in the middle of it. Two dead, including the Colonel. One more in ICU. Witnesses said the Colonel shot first. Journalists were there before we were, and it's already being televised as vigilante justice." Gibbs said.

"Wait, are we just going to pretend that didn't happen?" Tony exclaimed. "That we haven't just been ordered to work with Wendy? That my wife and ex-fiance didn't just have some kind of... what the hell was that anyway? Psychic connection? Women's intuition? Supernatural mind melding?"

"No happier about it than you are, DiNozzo." Gibbs shrugged. Ziva slid behind her desk, organising the sticky notes left into something resembling an order of priority. Cold case - 2002 and a file number was scribbled on one, daughter, Charlotte, FLETC on another, and a third was wholly illegible. "Ziva's got the lead with liaising. Only one who seems to be acting like an adult right now."

Tony didn't believe him, at least about the first half of the sentence. "Oh, I doubt you feel even half as awkward as I do right now, Boss. Zi, are you really okay?"

"I got a medical student during my blood test this morning, and I have had enough sugar to last me a month, that drink is disgusting. But other than that, yes, I am fine." She rolled up a sleeve, revealing a bruised needle-stick wound. Tony winced sympathetically. "The other side is just as bad. But as far as Wendy goes, there is no problem there. She seems nice."

"Yeah," he scoffed quietly. "That's what she wants you to think."

"Tony! You liked her enough at one point to propose, yes?" She waited for the grudging nod. "Besides, if she had stayed, who would I have met sitting at that desk seven years ago, hmm?" One eyebrow raised meaningfully.

"Yeah but..."

"But what?" she asked. "We have been told to work with her. I can separate your history from what we have to do now. The rest of this talk can wait until we are home, I need to catch up on the case."

"Like I said, the only adult. Going to get Charlie from FLETC. DiNozzo, bring Ziva up to speed." Gibbs ordered, walking briskly towards the elevator. "On the case!"

"Of all the cases, in all the towns, in all the world..." Tony was grumbling. Ziva, thumbing through files ignored his groans. "It had to be this exact one? This case?"

"What about this case Tony?" She asked, eyes still on her papers. McGee had returned upstairs in time to give a slightly more objective retelling of the facts. Ducky's latest guest was the same Delaney - although he'd been promoted in the intervening years - who Gibbs and Tony had attended the night Wendy ended the engagement.

Two masked men had broken into Delaney's house late at night and fatally shot his wife Staff Sergeant Louise Delaney who had fallen asleep on the sofa watching a movie when she woke up and tried to stop them. Delaney had heard the ruckus, taken his own weapon downstairs and shot twice at the intruders who had fled with Louise's keys and taken off in her car while he was attempting to stop the bleeding. By the time the police arrived, they were long gone. Delaney's statement at the time said he believed he had hit one of the attackers, and a few drops of blood at the scene corroborated this, however, there were no reports in the following days of unexplained bullet wounds presenting at local emergency rooms, and no prior DNA records. Louise's car had been found dumped and burned out so thoroughly that the forensic scientist at the time (who Abby had replaced three months later) had been unable to find any remaining evidence to track them. In time the case had gone cold, despite their best efforts to solve it, and remained a sore spot in all of their minds. Meanwhile, Charlie, his daughter was on her way to becoming an NCIS agent and was training at FLETC in Cheltenham. On this point, Gibbs had been incredibly clear that he would be the only one to speak with her during the investigation.

"Sergeant Delaney's shooting was the first case I was on after Wendy called it off. Walked out of the hotel and straight back to work... and Colonel Delaney's murder is the case she ends up reporting? There has got to be some kind of karmic retribution going on."

"Pretty sure karma falls under Rule 39," McGee murmured. He was trying to load surveillance videos from a store across the road hopeful that the camera angle had caught even part of the shooting.

Tony was unconvinced. "Almost ten years to the day? You're telling me that's not one hell of a coincidence, McGee?"

"Did any of the witnesses give you the same story?" Ziva attempted to redirect, now thumbing through a bewildering array of events from the Colonel being unarmed and being accosted, to the Colonel being the one to instigate the shootout. Abby was working on ballistics and recreating the scene as fast as she could in an attempt to corroborate any of the information they'd been given.

"No luck." McGee shook his head. "Abby's working on ballistics as fast as she can, she said the lab is a no-baby zone till she's done, by the way, something she's swabbing with is no good for you."

She nodded, taking in that piece of advice, before continuing on with the active case. "So of the three involved, two are dead and the third is unconscious, and there are eight witnesses who cannot get their stories straight. Including one who seems to have imagined the whole thing to be a 'pistols at dawn' style duel." Ziva sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Good, and I have to convince..." she caught the look on Tony's face, "the reporter that we are investigating this thoroughly. Right now, I am going to go and talk to her now and try to get her to give us all some breathing room."

"Hey, if you word it right she'll give you ten years of breathing room," Tony murmured sarcastically. This time he caught the look on her face. "Sorry, Zi... I'm not trying to..."

She cut him off firmly, but not unkindly."I know you're not. And I also know this running commentary is how you work things out. But I have had so much sugar today that it feels like my skin is crawling, and there is heartburn radiating from my ears to my kneecaps. My patience is hanging on by a thread." She swept her files into a bundle against her chest as she stood. "I love you, and we can talk properly when you are ready, but it will drive me crazy if I have to listen to this anymore. McGee, he is all yours, I will be in the conference room with Wendy."

"You owe me for this," McGee mouthed silently before raising his voice. "Thanks, Ziva, emotionally repressed Tony is my favourite afternoon entertainment," he said with heavy sarcasm.

It worked, Tony was immediately distracted. "I've seen your superhero jammies McFreud. You're one to talk about being repressed," he shot back.

"Really? I'm not the one who..." 'McFreud' began indignantly. Thankful for the diversion, Ziva left them to it and headed for the stairs.

Tony did manage to redirect his energies into a more productive conversation at home later that evening. Ziva and Wendy had stayed more or less out of sight for the rest of the day, and Wendy had eventually gone home, at which point Ziva had sequestered herself in the gym working off the last unsettled feelings from the glucose drink. Gibbs had stayed invisible, although he was glimpsed heading to the morgue with a young woman at his side. "So... What did you talk about with her?" An attempt at sounding casual, even when paired with a lean against the doorjamb, wasn't convincing.

"Not you." Ziva was sitting in the centre of the soon-to-be nursery, a flatpack that was allegedly a bookcase in pieces around her. Currently, she was searching for the Allen key, which had apparently vanished. She shuffled two 'Part A' pieces and shook out the instruction manual. "The only way it's going to work between us is if we stay professional, we spoke about the case... only the case. I am not getting in the middle of what happened between you. If you want answers, you'll have to find them yourself."

"Who said I want answers?" he shot back, again a little too quickly to really sound disinterested.

She gave him that look that said she wasn't buying it. "Tony, she broke it off without explanation the night before your wedding. Of course, you have things you want to know. Look..." she sighed, and rattled the bag of fittings hopefully, but unsuccessfully. "When it comes to my exes, things ended long before it was that serious..."

Tony snorted quietly. "Or you killed 'em."

"But right now, the woman you were going to marry is in front of our noses," she continued ignoring the remark. "And if you want to use this opportunity to find out why, I will not stop you. Where is it?" She flapped the instructions again and leaned back on her hands with a frustrated growl. "These things are more trouble than they're worth!"

Tony groaned "Just once, can't you be one of those crazy wives who threatens to castrate me for even thinking about an ex? Stand up." He crossed to where she sat and took her hands, pulling her to her feet. "Here. Someone was hiding it." He stooped and presented the little L-shaped hex tool; it had slid off Ziva's leg where she'd balanced it and disappeared beneath her belly when she looked down. "Should probably get a crib at some point soon too..." he mentioned. The room was a fresh, airy shade of sage green with white trim, and while a dresser and a bookcase had been chosen there was nothing to distinguish it as a baby's room yet. 

Ziva's eyes flickered in a barely perceptible wince and gave a noncommital hum. "In good time." She swiped the key with an impatience not directed at him and considered it for a second turning it around in her hand before tossing it into the middle of the scattered components. "I will get Abby to do it when the case is done. She loves puzzles."

Tony looked surprised. "Not Gibbs?"

"The only way I could insult him further is if I asked him to assemble it with power tools! He has strong feelings about flat packs." Ziva laughed momentarily but refused to be distracted, using their proximity to capture his face in her hands. "Whether or not you talk to Wendy about what happened is up to you. Do not try and get me to forbid it so you do not have to decide."

"Can you stop mind-reading me already?" he grumbled. "I don't know how I feel about it yet."

She kissed him softly, gentling her tone. "That is fine too, but don't use me as your way out of it. Everybody has some moment in their life that they will always wonder about. How things would have been if it had gone differently. This is yours."

"Really?" Tony tried to deflect again. "What's yours then?"

She shook her head lightly. "Ah, we're not talking about me right now, are we, neshama? Look, Wendy and I will work in the conference room as much as possible, so you do not have to go out of your way to avoid her. But, I think she would like to talk to you."

"Oh!" Tony's expression was gleeful, clearly thinking he'd caught her out. "So you did talk about me?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, we already reached an arrangement in Vance's office."

"Can you stop saying we? You have no idea how weird it is to hear you grouping yourself with her like that. You two are nothing alike!" Ziva smirked; apparently, Tony was the only one who didn't see the similarity. McGee and Abby had both not-so-subtly hinted at the likeness during the day, and Gibbs' wry smile had said more than his words would have. "And what do you mean arrangement? The only thing I heard was you two having some weird psychic connection."

"It was not psychic Tony, it was all in the body language. But Wendy knows where she stands with me. She will not ask me about our marriage, and I will not ask her about what you had back then." She leaned in and kissed him lightly. "If you want to tell me about it I will listen, but do not ask me to get involved between you two."

"Hmmm." Tony didn't look impressed, apparently, the line about Ziva being the overly possessive wife was not entirely a joke. As far as he was concerned, it really would have been easier if she'd just said no. "And you're okay with this? Really okay?"

Ziva nodded gently, but sincerely. "Yes, really. It was over ten years ago Tony, whatever was there then is obviously not now. I promise this is not going to affect our marriage, I am not jealous, and I am not worried." She thought for a second and the corner of her mouth twitched. "It will only be as weird as you make it."

"Great," he sighed. "Like I said earlier, I'm screwed."

It did get weird the following day, but despite Tony's predictions, it had nothing to do with Wendy. Given that she was required to be accompanied by an agent her whole time on site, and that removed Ziva from her ability to work on the case itself, they decided it was best for everyone involved if Wendy only visited towards the end of the day, so she and Ziva could head to the conference room to debrief and provide updates. The two women kept to their agreement, sticking only to the case, or other completely neutral areas of discussion. Although during some downtime, Ziva did ask about Wendy's experience with prams and infant seats and she shared what she knew, allowing for the nine years interval since she'd needed the information herself. However, the conversation was polite and entirely surface-level, no deeper than what would be exchanged between two strangers passing each other on the street.

Gibbs remained mostly absent, although he checked in occasionally, frustrated by McGee's long-winded explanations about the difficulties with decoding the video files they'd obtained from local surveillance cameras, and annoyed that he was down an investigator while Ziva worked with Wendy. . Otherwise, he seemed to be elsewhere, occupied with the Colonel's daughter. Tony had filled them in on Gibbs' promise to Charlie the night of her mother's death, which heightened the significance of solving either one of the shootings as soon as possible.

The rest of the time, Tony avoided the situation at all costs. Between the reminder that they hadn't solved the first murder ten years earlier and Wendy's presence, he was not in the best frame of mind. Fortunately, the complexity of the current case and conflicting evidence helped keep him busy enough without manufacturing excuses, though he seemed to have plenty of those too. However, when he tried pressing Ziva for details about Wendy again, he quickly found she was unwilling to play into it. She switched to work mode, responding with an indifferent formality that she usually reserved for lawyers and commanding officers. It didn't take him long to decide he much preferred living with Mrs DiNozzo rather than Agent David, and he dropped the topic.

Things became weirder still when a bullet Ducky had found, lodged in the other corpse that didn't match any of the weapons collected at the crime scene. It got more confusing when Abby declared that not only had it not been fired from any of the guns she'd been given to process, that it had not been fired that day at all. It got weirder still when to the best of Ducky's estimations based on scarring and cyst formation, it appeared that the bullet had been in there for several years. This, of course, didn't provide any new answers but offered a whole host of new questions. The third victim/suspect remained stable but very much out to it in hospital and therefore useless at present

It was Wendy's turn to become annoyed, her editor wanted a good article soon, and the dead-end leads were not conducive to that either and there was only so much stalling under the guise of understanding the criminal investigative process that Ziva could help provide.

"Ziva," Wendy sighed. It was the third day, and she had returned for another update. "There has to be something you can tell me. My boss and readers aren't going to accept an inconclusive result on all of this, especially with it being linked to a cold case from ten years ago."

Ziva met Wendy's gaze with determination. "My boss is not going to accept an inconclusive result either," she replied sharply. "You know everything I know. We cannot fabricate details to allow you to finish your article."

Wendy sighed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I'm not asking you to, I just... that can't be all of it. Whenever Tony-" She stopped herself abruptly, this was the first time either of them had referred to Tony by anything other than Agent DiNozzo or referenced their history together, breaking the unspoken rule they had established. "Sorry, I know we're trying to keep our personal lives out of this."

Ziva paused. Annoyance flashed across her face for a second and Wendy tried to apologise again. "No, it is okay," she said, her face softening. The intimate knowledge they both shared but had been avoiding mentioning was exactly what made it possible to explain this situation to the woman she was working with. "Of all the reporters we could have been assigned, you may be the one who best understands what we are dealing with. You've seen Tony at work before, you will know how hard he - and all of us - are working. Surely you learned back then that results, interviews, and evidence all take time. It is not like television, it can sometimes be days. We are doing our best but we also need to be patient."

Wendy nodded, her frustration easing as she listened to Ziva's words. She could recognise the proverbial olive branch that was being offered, although she recognised the subtle possession in the way Ziva's left hand splayed over her belly as she spoke, a reminder of where Tony's affections now lay. "Does he still talk it out?" she asked, a peace offering of her own. "This constant stream of words, like he's thinking with his mouth instead of his brain?"

Ziva chuckled, a fond smile crossing her face. "Yes!" she agreed emphatically. "It is endless, as though he is afraid of silence."

Wendy nodded again, a sense of understanding settling in. "Well, at least some things never change," she said with a faint smile.

Ziva smiled back, a glimmer of camaraderie between them. "Indeed," she replied. "He has always had a way with words, and often too many of them!" A knock at the door drew their attention, and Ziva rose to answer it.

"We're heading to the hospital, the other shooter, Shane Leonard, is awake at last. And Tony sent these," McGee explained, subtly palming her mid-afternoon dose of antacids he'd brought up. "Abby wants someone ASAP too, or specifically, she said 'tell Ziva it's safe to come down.'"

"Thank you." She winked, adding double meaning to the words. Truth be told, the information was the smaller part of her gratitude, the tablets now dissolving under her tongue were far more welcome. She bid McGee farewell and turned back to her temporary colleague. "This may be the 'something' you were looking for, Wendy, you should probably come with me."

What Ziva hadn't planned on when she invited Wendy to follow her downstairs was that Tony had received the same summons from Abby. For the first time since the awkward standoff in Vance's office, Wendy and Tony were in the same room.

Tony was already in Abby's lab when they arrived, still sharing a mutual chuckle about Tony's loquacity as they entered the room. Their laughter faded suddenly on realising he was there too, and an uneasy tension settled over them all.

"Tony!" Ziva said with surprise, "I thought you were going to the hospital with McGee?"

"Nope. Gibbs decided he was going." Tony answered shortly, eyes flicking suspiciously between the two of them. "So are you two best friends now or something?"

"Tony!" Wendy objected. "You don't get to-"

Ziva put herself firmly between the pair and cut in, her tone clipped. "And which part of you is making that enquiry, Tony, my husband or my senior agent?" She echoed Vance's words from the first meeting. Tony's jaw tightened uncomfortably; that voice meant trouble whatever hat he wore. He also didn't miss the possession in her tone. "Husband" had been specifically used to cut off Wendy's complaint. No one got to tell him off but Ziva. A hint of a smile flickered in the corner of his mouth but faded at Ziva's narrowed eyes. Staking her claim or not, he'd overstepped and he was pretty sure he'd hear about it later.

"Oooh, this is fascinating!" Abby cut in, eyes bouncing from person to person with a grin. "We are so going to talk about this later, Zivvie. But can we focus on my genius for a second? I know who shot Louise Delaney ten years ago." The announcement had the desired effect, and the tension dissipated quickly.

"And sometimes, Wendy, it is like television, and everything falls into place all at once," Ziva murmured, turning to face her friend. "What do you have, Abby?"

"This!" She picked up a specimen jar and rattled a very old, corroded bullet at them. "The bullet Ducky dug out of Eddie, the guy who shot Colonel Delaney. When a bullet stays in the body, especially for that long, it starts to leech lead into the bloodstream, and with a bit of scientific brilliance, you can work out how long it's been in there... in this case..." She rattled the jar again, for emphasis. "About ten years, give or take. I can't be exact, but it did make me think. I had Gibbs get Charlie to bring in her father's personal weapon, and you'll never guess...

Wendy guessed first. "Colonel Delaney did hit one of the intruders the night Louise was killed?"

Abby hesitated, her eyes narrowed, not liking Wendy entering the Team Gibbs dynamic she valued. "Yes," she nodded. "The striation pattern is an exact match for Delaney's personal weapon. It's as distinct as a fingerprint," she added, her words laced with condescension and a hint of hostility in Wendy's direction.

"Breathe, Abs," Tony warned softly. Wendy and Ziva shared a questioning, silent eyebrow arch at his subtle defence. "So the guy who shot Colonel Delaney four days ago..."

"Is the same person who shot his wife, Sergeant Delaney ten years ago." Ziva finished. "Presumably they recognised each other again after all this time?"

Tony shrugged, more at ease now that at least one case looked like it was coming to a close. "Hopefully that's what the Bossman and McGuff The Crime Dog are finding out now. Actually, it's just like the movie..."

"He still does that too?" Wendy interrupted. Ziva nodded with a wry smile. "Looks like some things stayed the same after all, Tony." She smirked.

Tony spun to face Wendy properly for the first time, looking offended. "Like the way you interrupt me all the time. That hasn't changed either."

"Old habits die hard," she shot back. There was another tense pause. Ziva bristled although whether she was ready to snap at Wendy for overstepping the boundaries they'd drawn, or Tony for making her job harder was unclear, and Abby's eyes were wide and cautious.

To everyone's surprise, Tony chuckled and nodded his approval. "John McClane, Die Hard 2... nice one, Wen." There was a collective sigh of relief as he turned back to face Abby. "So, Abs... It's never just one detail with you, what else have you found out?"

Wendy double-checked the address she'd been given before knocking on the front door the following evening.

Ziva opened the door a minute later. "Wendy, come in." Wendy stepped over the threshold and hung her coat. Seeing Ziva's bare feet beneath the ankles of her yoga pants, she toed off her shoes too, before following Ziva through the entryway and into the lounge. The piano earned a reminiscent smile. "Thank you for coming, Tony will be down in a minute."

"Thank you for inviting me," she returned a little formally. This invitation to glimpse into Tony's new life had been unexpected and still felt a little strange. "I thought you might like to see the finished article, Director Vance approved the change of tone - it portrays you all in a much more positive light. It's running tomorrow." She drew a piece of paper from her black leather portfolio.

Ziva took the sheet with a smile. "Turning Pain Into Purpose: A Special Agent's Inspiring Journey." She read aloud, scanning the rest of the article quickly. "I see Gibbs still insisted you keep him anonymous?"

Wendy laughed and nodded. "I could hear the discussion about that between him and the Director through the door!" After the awkward showdown in the lab, they'd all settled into an easier workflow, which had spared Tony the dressing down from Ziva he'd expected. The two women had been sitting at Ziva's desk trading last-minute notes for her article when Gibbs had appeared with Charlie in tow. Now 25, and freshly graduated from FLETC, she wanted to meet the rest of the team that had been responsible for identifying her parents' killer; the same man ten years apart.

Between the video footage McGee had finally decoded, and a mumbled confession from Shane, the one survivor of the shooting, they had finally pieced it all together. Colonel Delaney had recognised Eddie as the man who had shot his wife through Facebook Marketplace where he was selling an old gaming console. He'd arranged a meeting to purchase it. As was their usual MO, the plan had been for Shane to jump the buyer a few yards down the road so that the two men ended up with the cash and the console. However, it had taken a turn when the Colonel asked Eddie to confess to shooting his wife. Shane averred it had been calm at first, and that Delaney had been extremely level in making this request, only wanting justice for his wife's death. Unsurprisingly Eddie was not on board and pulled his gun. Shane had run in to try and defuse the situation, but Eddie had fired, hitting Colonel Delaney in the thigh, He'd staggered and fallen but managed to draw his own service weapon, and with better aim than the night of the robbery, put a bullet in Eddie's chest. Shane had reached for Eddie's fallen gun, but Delaney had fired one last time, wounding Shane, before passing out from blood loss.

However, it was Charlie's heartfelt gratitude, especially towards Gibbs, that had caught Wendy's attention. Charlie had shared that losing her mother at a young age had been challenging, but her father had done an admirable job as a solo parent. Despite feeling angry and hurt when the case went cold, she had never forgotten how Gibbs had spoken to her on the night of her mother's death, offering her a sense of calm and safety. This memory had a profound impact on her, and as she finished high school, the decision to become an agent herself had been clear. She wanted to help other families who experienced loss as she did and ensure that no family went without answers. A brief conversation with Charlie revealed her main angle for the article - a resilient teenager overcoming tragedy and honouring her parents' legacy with the assistance of NCIS. While the article also mentioned the self-defence nature of Colonel Delaney's actions, it had taken on a lighter, feel-good spin that was better received by all. Wendy had barely slept the night before, putting the finishing touches on her work for her editors' approval.

Tony appeared in the doorway at this point. "Wendy, sorry to keep you waiting, had to change a light bulb upstairs before Zi stood on a chair and did it herself." He cast a reproachful, yet affectionate glance in her direction. Ziva didn't offer any apologies, simply handing him Wendy's article. "Hey, not bad for a kindergarten teacher," he said after skimming it.

"Thanks." She smiled, shifting her feet on the rug for a moment. She glanced between Tony and Ziva, obviously hesitating.

Ziva nodded understandingly, "I will be upstairs, I have a bookcase to put together," she said tactfully, laying a hand on Tony's cheek. "Call me when you are done, neshama." Her lips replaced her hand before she headed for the stairs.

Alone now, Tony and Wendy regarded each other awkwardly for a minute.

"You realise what the date is, don't you Tony?" Wendy asked, not quite meeting his gaze.

Tony scoffed quietly. "The night you left? Yeah, kinda hard to forget that one." He shrugged. "We gonna do this?"

Wendy nodded and there was another long moment of tense silence. "So..." she began.

"So," Tony agreed, scratching his head. "Uhh... take a seat, I guess." He put himself in Ziva's usual spot before Wendy had a chance to occupy that corner.

Wendy settled herself, still somewhat stiffly a couple of cushions down. "This is a really nice place, Tony. You've done well. You look good." She glanced around the living room, the wooden chest near the TV looked familiar too, but everything else was new to her.

He nodded and shrugged. "Yeah, thanks, so do you. Pretty different from the rookie cop and the kindergarten teacher, huh? Where are you these days?"

"Over in Arlington, it's just Fred and me most of the time, he and Jared Vance were actually at the same elementary school until Jared moved up. Fred's dad's a PCA, more into his bottom line than people. We separated when Fred was three. Mom's in and out a lot, she helps with Fred when I'm working, and Julie's up in Boston now."

His eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Arlington? Fancy. Bet Julie approves." They both managed a laugh before Tony took a steadying breath and faced her directly. "So, Wendy Alice, tell me why."

Wendy studied her fingernails intently for a moment. "Because it wasn't meant to be, look at what you've got now. All of this was waiting for you instead."

Tony shook his head, not buying it. "Don't try that. You never believed in that 'meant to be' stuff. Why?" he pressed.

She sighed heavily, eventually meeting his eyes, her own sincere but regretful. "Because I wasn't ready, Tony. I thought I was, and I wasn't. You were sweet, and kind and wonderful... and I was too broken to see how good I had it."

"Could've brought it up any day sooner than the night before our wedding," he muttered, not quite able to hide the bitterness in his tone. "Or you know, not said yes when you didn't mean it."

"I wanted to mean it." She shrugged apologetically. "Do you really think I would have given up that hero cop I fell in love with and married the next stuffed shirt who came along if I was really in a good place?"

The tension in Tony's jaw softened a little bit. "Guess not," he acknowledged. "But still, you've got to admit, that was a lousy way to play it."

"Yeah, I messed that up pretty bad, huh?" Wendy agreed candidly. She hesitated before adding, "Look, even if I'd stayed we wouldn't have lasted."

He looked confused for a second. "Sure we would have," he said gently. Despite the reassurance, it was clear that it wasn't a hopeful thing for the present, only for what had been planned in the past.

Wendy sighed, a mixture of fondness and melancholy. "Still always finding the bright side I see. But, even if I'd gone through with it, I would have pushed you away eventually." She nodded in the direction of the stairs. "Besides, you never looked at me the same way you do Ziva. I've seen you together for maybe half an hour in total this week, and most of that, I think she's been trying not to choke you. But even with that, there's something there, that we never had. You two are a good match."

"Yeah." A smile crept around Tony's face, the exact look Wendy had just described appearing in his eyes. "She's something else," he acknowledged, his voice warm.

Wendy smiled too, with a tinge of regret. "I can tell. I know it doesn't mean much now, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm not asking you to forgive any of it. But at the very least, do you understand?"

Tony exhaled noisily and let his shoulders drop. "Yeah... I guess I do. Really, I should probably be saying thanks for not going through with it... Like you said this was waiting for me, Ziva was waiting."

Wendy laughed incredulously. "You just said-!"

Tony cut her off gently, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I said that you never believed in it. But you know that I always did." He looked at Wendy with a mixture of gratitude and understanding. "I get it, Wen, at least as much as I'm ever going to, I guess, so thanks for that."

Wendy regarded him carefully for a minute before deciding there wasn't any sarcasm in his final words. "You're welcome, and Tony... I did love you."

Tony hesitated for a second, not quite sure how to respond. "I know," he managed at last.

Wendy couldn't help but smile at his response. "Empire Strikes Back, good one," she said, a genuine, albeit tentative, laugh escaping her lips. "Try not to drive Ziva completely around the bend with your movie quotes, will you? She's good for you."

"She is," he agreed. "And Wendy... I did too, you know?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know." They stood and made their way towards the door, Tony pausing at the bottom of the stairs to call Ziva back down. Judging by the tension in her voice when she replied, it wasn't a moment too soon, and he made a mental note to invite Abby to come and finish the flatpack before he turned back to face Wendy.

"I'd say see you round, but I don't think we're gonna do that," he said. Sliding her shoes back on, Wendy shook her head, they'd reached peace, but wouldn't intentionally seek each other's company again. "How bout 'here's looking at you, kid'?" He offered with a grin.

Wendy laughed and groaned at the same time. "You're an idiot! This is not Casablanca." All the same, she offered a brief, friendly hug. "You take care."

"Yeah," he agreed, stepping back. "You too."

Ziva had hung back discreetly, letting them have their farewell in relative privacy, but joined them now, sliding herself alongside Tony, who automatically put his arm around her. "Do you know, the night we first got together Tony quoted that movie then too? Only he used it to insult me!"

"Hey, I used it when I said I loved you for the first time too!" He leaned to kiss her temple, receiving narrowed eyes, but also a playfully crinkled nose in response.

Wendy smiled, watching the exchange. "You know, I haven't watched that movie... well in over ten years. I'm glad it's you who has to deal with the quotes and verbal diarrhoea now, Ziva. Thank you for being so willing to work with me, I know this could have been a lot harder."

"It was a pleasure to meet you. No really," she emphasised, seeing the dubious look on Wendy's face. "And thank you for respecting this." She gestured between Tony and herself.

"Not at all," Wendy replied, offering a handshake. "You two have something really great, like I said, I could tell he was special just from your smile. Of course, I had no idea how special." Wendy and Ziva shared an understanding eye-roll as Tony visibly preened at the compliment.

"If your head gets any bigger, you will have to sleep downstairs," Ziva warned him, passing Wendy's coat off the rack.

Wendy donned it again with a nod of thanks. "I left my folder on the couch, would you get it please, Tony?" she asked, waiting till he'd left them alone, before meeting Ziva's eyes. "I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for how I put you on the spot when we met in the break room."

Ziva shook her head. "I did not know who you were then either, it is nothing."

"No," Wendy clarified, her expression gentle. "I mean when I asked if the baby was your first. It was an insensitive question... anyway, I'm really sorry for your loss."

The colour drained from Ziva's face and she wrapped an arm over her stomach. "I... I never..." She swallowed, unable to bluff it out. "How did you know?"

"You hesitated about answering. I saw it all the time when I was teaching. Mothers who had a loss never know whether to include that baby in the number of children or not and the way you specified "our" first... not "my" first, it tells that it happened before you met Tony." Wendy's expression turned from gentle to horrified. "Oh god, you never told him, did you? I am so sorry."

"I never told anyone," Ziva murmured, shaking her head.

Tony returned in time to hear that last statement. "What didn't you tell me, whoa, Zi you look like you're about to pass out." His light tone was gone in a second and thrust the folder at Wendy, his concern narrowing to Ziva. "What the hell did you say to her?" He kept his hand on Ziva's shoulder, steadying her, but turned his head to snap at Wendy.

"No, it is not her fault," Ziva choked. "She did not mean it."

"I should go." Wendy reached sympathetically for Ziva's arm, but Tony brushed her away. "I'm really sorry about this Ziva, I had no idea. Thank you both again for everything these last few days." She let herself out, receiving only a distracted grunt from Tony, and the faintest of nods from Ziva.

Tony anxiously ushered Ziva into the loungeroom, not letting go of her until she was settled in her corner of the couch. 

Ziva leaned against the cushions wearily, tucking her knees up to her chest as much as her belly would allow, and took several long, slow breaths before speaking. "When I first met Wendy, she asked me something that I did not expect. I was cagy, but my answer was still one she could interpret. She was not prying, she was trying to be kind."

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to, Zi." He bent to make eye contact. "I can see how shaken up this has you."

Ziva met his eyes slowly, pain and gratitude in the same look. "I do," she said with a determined nod. "It is not fair that she knows and you do not."

"Okay, I'll listen." He settled beside her, placing one hand, warm and reassuring, on the top of her bare foot. "What did she ask?"

Ziva's voice was barely above a whisper as she replied, "She... she asked if this baby was my first." She paused and looked away. "I could not answer her so directly," she confessed, her voice even softer.

"But she is?" Tony said quietly although his voice wavered uncertainly. "I mean until Be'er Sheva, we were very careful about that, weren't we?"

"We were." Ziva shook her head, her voice breaking. "This is not about us Tony, this was back when I was still training with the Israeli Army."

"Oh, thank god," Tony heaved a sigh then caught himself at the flash of hurt in her eyes. "That came out wrong, I just mean that I..." He stopped again. The complexity of emotions, that whatever she was about to say predated their relationship, that this secret she had been keeping was not his too, mingled with guilt at feeling relieved when she was obviously so upset was too difficult to express. He searched his mind frantically for the right thing to say at this moment before realising it wasn't about how he felt at all. "Tell me about it," he finished gently.

Ziva's words took on a sharper edge as she spoke, clipping her emotions in favour of stating facts. "I became pregnant. It was not intentional, obviously. It should have been safe, but it happened anyway. By the time I found out, the man responsible was long gone. I did not picture a future as a mother, I expected to be dead before I turned 30."

"What happened?" he asked softly, already knowing the answer from the look on her face. "I mean... it's not like you turned up here with a kid in tow, I can guess..." his voice faded unsteadily, and his hand tightened over her foot in sympathy.

She nodded, hearing the unspoken end to that sentence. "Yes, I lost it... lost him," she confessed, and continued, her sentences still short, with a deep breath in between each one. "I was late, I suspected. I snuck out to find a test. I spent two days wishing it was not so. Then I began to bleed in the night. It was over. It was very early, no more than six weeks. But then, after he was gone, I saw him in a dream. His name was Aziel, and he looked like my mother. Perhaps the dream was saying goodbye, perhaps it was my own guilt for wishing him away. I do not know." She shook her head with a long shuddery breath.

He shifted closer, rubbing her arm gently. "Oh Zi, honey that's awful. I'm so sorry that happened."

"It was a long time ago now. I do not like to think of it." She almost shrugged it off but the look in her eyes belied her nonchalant words. "But the way I reacted when I found out... I all but prayed I would not have to make that decision myself. I have always wondered if I caused it."

Tony shook his head gently. "I'm no doctor, but we both know that's not how that stuff works," he said, trying to reassure her. "How long ago... I mean when did it happen?"

"It will be ten years tomorrow." She looked away from Tony, her gaze fixed on some distant point in the room as she spoke. "As you have never forgotten the date you should have been married, I have never forgotten this."

There was a hint of double-edged bitterness in her voice and the realisation hit Tony like a punch. "Oh god, and this whole time I've been rambling about Wendy and the wedding like there's nothing else going on... and you've been holding onto this," he groaned. He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. "I am so sorry. I had no idea."

"You were not to know." Her voice was gentler again, forgiving him despite her sadness. "You know as well as I do that until we saw Naomi being born that I had not planned on having children. When you chose to bear something alone, it means that you will sometimes hear things that hurt, however inadvertently."

"But still..." he stopped again, searching for anything lighter without changing the subject entirely. "Aziel did you say? It's nice. Hebrew I'm guessing?"

"Hmm." Ziva nodded affirmatively, eyes still far away. "It means God is my strength."

"You could have told me this before, Zi. I would have listened. Been... well... I wouldn't have teased you so much about not seeming like the maternal type to start with. Or pushed you to talk about why you didn't want to look at other options when we found out about her," he said, still mentally kicking himself for the multitude of thoughtless words over the years.

She shook her head. "Do you remember, we agreed that there would be things best left in the past, that those memories should die with us? This was supposed to be one of them. I was never going to tell anybody."

"That was for bad memories, Ziva, bad people." His tone was gentle but insistent. "Those monsters who don't deserve the power saying their name gives them. Not something like that... not a baby."

"It is not something I am proud of. I got distracted. I should have stayed focused on my training." Her face became harder, the self-disgust evident in her expression. "I do not like to think of all the ways that I could have done better. Even when I... I left you in Israel, the one place I did not return to was where I lost him. I could face up to every other life I have taken but that one."

Tony knew arguing Ziva around from her harsh self-assessment was probably a losing battle, and he took a deep breath. "Okay, but if you ever want to remember him somehow..." he paused and shrugged, not quite sure what was appropriate to offer. "Well however it looks, I'll be right there with you, to say his name or light a candle... whatever moms do. Well, Imas."

There was the ghost of a smile for a second at the way he applied an English rule to a Hebrew word. "Imahot," she corrected automatically

"Imahot," he repeated softly. "I mean it though. Whatever makes this easier."

Ziva lifted her shoulders in a slow, despondent shrug. "I did not think of myself as his Ima when it happened, Tony. I do not deserve to mourn and be comforted when I had wished for that exact thing." The same heavy look was back on her face, caught in blame.

"Hey," he said firmly. "Yes, you do. This wasn't your fault."

Ziva swiped at an unbidden tear, continuing as though he hadn't spoken. "There was very little space for mourning a loss like that in my life. Or in my faith; it is not seen the same as the death of someone who has been born. There are no prayers, no ceremonies. Many people believe that as early as it was, it is nothing more than water, not yet alive."

Tony brushed his thumb over her cheek, waiting until she looked at him again. "And if you believed that, you wouldn't be sitting here looking like your heart's breaking just thinking about it," he said.

"I did not say that I agreed, just that it was what I was taught," she replied, voice wavering again. "It was the outcome I was too ashamed to admit I wanted. I was too scared to seek help to make it happen deliberately, but I knew I could not have the child. Then it happened anyway... it was only once he was gone that I realised what I had lost."  

"Maybe if you'd told someone at the time..." he countered."You might have felt like you had other choices or at least help with processing it all." 

"Who could I tell?" she demanded. "Eli would have been angry at me for losing focus, and ashamed that I had not been married. My mother had been dead for almost two years. I was training, I did not have friends, I had fellow soldiers. Deena was away at college, Ari was deep inside Hamas by then, and Tali was still a child, and grieving our mother."

"You were a child too, Ziva," he pointed out, face etched with sympathy. "You were what? Nineteen? That's way too young-"

Ziva's fist clenched suddenly on the seam of the cushion, her knuckles turning white. "That is rich coming from you! Mr 'I was fifteen with a Rockette!'" she snapped, defensive. "I suppose you would rather I had stayed a virgin until I met you?"  

Surprised by her sharpness, he bit back on reflex. "Give me some credit Zi!" he scoffed angrily. "You could have slept with a hundred guys and I wouldn't care-"

"A hundred? What the hell are you trying to say?" She cut him off again, clearly angry at what she thought he was implying. 

"Ziva," Tony said with a hint of reproach. "Where is this coming from?" 

Despite his gentle tone, she flared again. "Do you really think that I did not ask myself the same questions? That if had not been so hateful perhaps I would not have lost him? Or that it happened because I was too young to be pregnant? Or if it was a punishment for being promiscuous? That I did not somehow, in some way make it happen?" Her voice caught on an angry sob. "Because I have wondered about that every day for ten years, I do not need your opinions on whether or not I should have been doing those things at a time when you did not even know I was alive. And let me remind you, even if I had chosen to wait for the man I would marry, there have been... others in Somalia... who I did not have a choice about." Her voice grew bitter, spitting the words at him as though he'd been responsible. 

"Whoa, timeout, Zi. " Tony raised his hands in a calming gesture, quickly looking for the words to defuse the misunderstanding. "Let's start this one over. God knows I'm the last person to judge someone by the number of people they've slept with, not like I've been a saint. And you think it doesn't kill me inside a little bit every day knowing that people have done that to hurt you? Uh, the guy responsible for this was a choice, right?" 

Ziva nodded. "A bad one," she muttered. "I let myself believe sweet but insincere words for a few moments of companionship. But a choice, yes, and not the first time I had made that decision." 

"D'you really think that would change how I looked at you?"

"No, I suppose not," she admitted, still tense. "But you think nineteen was too young-"

"Zi, look at me." He cupped her face, meeting the blazing look in her eyes steadily. "I only meant that you shouldn't have had to go through that alone when you were still in your teens. Hell, no one should face that by themselves, no matter how old they are. Nothing more. I'm sorry it came out sounding like I meant anything else, or that I was blaming you, it wasn't your fault." 

He watched as her hand and then her face relaxed. "Sorry," she murmured contritely, swiping at another tear. "But it is not so simple as hearing you say those words, Tony. Ten years of silence and guilt cannot be undone in a few minutes."

"Yeah, I figured. But, I'll keep saying it till you believe me." He dropped his voice, knowing the next question was a sensitive one. "I have to ask though. Even though you wouldn't end this pregnancy, you never wished she'd... you know... just 'go away' the same as he did?"

She flinched momentarily at the question. "No," she reassured, honesty ringing in the short answer. "Not even for a heartbeat. I cried when I saw the test, yes, but only because I should have been next to you when I learned about her. To wish that I was no longer pregnant and then to have it come true, it changed my perspective. I was relieved, Tony. I cannot forgive myself for being grateful it had ended. I promised that if I were ever lucky enough to have another baby, not that I planned to back then, but if I did, I would never feel that way about them. That every moment of their life, they would be loved. That they would be made in love, not in loneliness."

Tony smiled for a second, glancing at Ziva's midsection. "She was and she has been," he promised easily, in an equally sincere tone. "Every second I knew about her anyway. Do you think this is maybe why you didn't notice her for so long?"

"Perhaps," Ziva admitted. "But as I told you when I got back, there were enough conflicting signals to rule it out at the beginning. If I am honest, I am relieved I did not find out sooner. If I had, I think I would have spent the whole first trimester wondering if she would leave too." 

Realisation dawned on his face. "That's why you've been deflecting the crib question... because you're worried you'll jinx it. Oh Zi, honey... So much of this would have been easier if you'd told me before now. I'm sorry you didn't think that was something you could talk about. You've been playing along with the paint and the other furniture and the getting ready for my sake?"

Ziva swallowed and nodded. "I want to be ready for her, and painting her room I can handle... but the crib... it feels too much like getting my hopes up for something that I am not meant to have. I did not want to taint your experience of becoming a father with those bad memories and the anxiety." She looked down, tracing a hand over her stomach. Tony reached too, not just to catch Ziva's hand, but to feel the rise and fall of his daughter's limbs, coming as a relief after the weight of such a heartbreaking disclosure. "I failed my first baby. I did not want you to worry that I would fail yours too."

He spread his fingers out over the smooth curve of her belly, pushing in gently until the baby pushed back. "You didn't fail anyone, Ninja and you certainly didn't make it happen, no matter how much you thought about it. You were scared and alone in a really bad place. No one can blame you for thinking like that." He shook his head gently. "You're one of the strongest people I know, and you are going to be one hell of a fantastic Ima to our daughter. And you know something? You would have been fantastic back then too."

Tears welled up in her eyes in earnest now, and while she didn't cry fully, she also didn't bother trying to wipe them away. "I am not so sure I would have, but thank you," she choked. "I am sorry you had to find out this way."

"I'm just glad you're not holding onto a secret that had to be eating you alive anymore. C'mere." Ziva broke completely, and he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly as she cried. "You are never alone in this. Aht lo levad, remember? Always got your six, and if you need to slow down on getting her room ready, we will." 

Tony continued murmuring soothing promises to the top of her head for a few more minutes, waiting until Ziva caught her breath and relaxed against him. "Got it out for now?" he whispered, waiting for her nod. "Gibbs and Vance are out tomorrow, they're escorting Charlie to her father's funeral. We don't have any active cases, so if we keep our phones on, McGee can hold the fort. How about we play hooky, and find a way to make the day a bit better for both of us?"

The dark head moved against his shoulder in confirmation. "I would like that, thank you."

He stood and drew her to her feet gently. "All right, we'll do that then. But for now, I think a shower, hair braiding and bed are next on the list." 

They made their way upstairs, following through their evening routine slowly and gently, Ziva still a little fragile, though obviously feeling lighter.

"Hey, Ziva..." Tony paused, hair woven around his fingers as she sat on the mattress in front of him. "Why'd you get so defensive before? I get that I put my foot in it pretty bad, but even still, that felt like a lot." 

"I did not mean to yell at you," she said softly. "It sounded like you were blaming me. I could not carry that as well with the weight of what happened."

"I never meant it like that Zi, not for a second," he promised. "What nerve did I hit that I didn't know was there... D'you want to talk about it?" 

Ziva hesitated, her shoulders tensing and he could see the way her hand traced her belly in thought. "It is not a pretty story, Tony. I have learned to accept that those things occurred, but I am not proud of them. Are you sure you want to hear this?"  

He abandoned braiding for a moment to rub her scalp instead. "You can tell me anything you want. Not about to stop loving you." 

"When Ima died, Tali and I returned to live with Eli. He began to work to make sure that I would return to his command when I had finished my time with the Israeli army. I believe he knew even then that Ari would go rogue, I was his second chance. You know Eli was religious, but never so much as Ima, she obeyed the mitzvot - the laws - closely and had taught Tali and me to do so as well. I quickly discovered that learning to be an assassin and faith are not so compatible. I had to decide which I valued more... the choice was always to succeed, to survive," she sighed and drew breath. "One of the most confronting beliefs was sex. You may laugh to hear this, but for most of my childhood, I had planned to wait. But, the more I learned from Eli about my intended future, the more it became obvious that to succeed in the Kidon unit, using myself in that way would be useful, if not expected of me... particularly with field partners."

Tony did not laugh, he winced. "You mean Eli told you to...?" 

"Yes," she said bluntly. "Never in so many words, of course. "By any means necessary," he always said. But he knew what that meant. He had been in the Kidon unit too, after all." 

Tony made a low, disgusted noise in his throat. "I know you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but the only good thing he ever did was make you." He kissed the top of her head before he pulled back and began plaiting again. "I'm glad he got that bit right though. So you're saying your first time was because you were told to?"  

"Are you really sure you are comfortable talking about this, ahuvi?" Ziva asked quietly, waiting until he agreed, a mix of resolve and hesitance. "I was not under orders, but I did not truly want to either. The army gave me two years where I did not answer directly to Eli. I decided I would use that time to set my own rules while I still could. I met someone willing about two weeks into training, and that was that. I did not regret it, but I felt very guilty for a long time afterwards, as though Ima would be disappointed in me." 

"I dunno," Tony said gently. "She had to know what Eli would expect of you. I think she'd understand why you made that call." 

Ziva gave a noncommital hum. "Perhaps. It did not feel like that at the time. I rationalised the guilt with the idea that at least it was done on my terms, that I could not be asked to use my virginity as a bargaining chip; now that it was done I did not have to do it again until it was necessary... or I wanted to." Her hand moved to twiddle with her necklace thoughtfully. "Then I met Gideon. He was older, he knew women. He could talk his way around my walls and reservations. It was not romantic but it was... the attraction was real." 

"You're allowed to say you liked it, you know, not gonna take offence," Tony chuckled softly. 

"That was part of the trouble," she sighed. "I did. But I was not supposed to be doing this. Ima was less strict about the concept of marriage - especially after she learned about Orli. But she always emphasized loving your partner. Gideon and I were not in love. I felt guilty for doing it, I felt guilty for enjoying it, and yet every time he approached me..." she trailed off. 

"I get it," he murmured understandingly, nodding although she couldn't see him. "Moth to a flame and all that." 

"Hmm," she agreed. "After a while, it had become easier. The harder I had to grow to survive training, the less I felt the conflict with faith. But then when I found out I was pregnant, that guilt and the shame came rushing back, and when I lost him that morning, it increased tenfold." 

Tony gathered the strands of hair into one hand to rub her shoulder sympathetically. "I am so sorry that happened to you, Zi," he said gently. "So this Gideon... he was the one, Aziel's father I mean?" 

"No. We knew this was not a permanent thing and eventually, Gideon's unit was sent elsewhere. I moved on, I assume he did too." She shrugged nonchalantly. "But there was a training accident, a vehicle overturned, and Aviva was killed." 

"Wait," he said, pausing in his braiding. "Aviva is a girl's name isn't it?" 

Ziva gave a small hum. "Your Hebrew is getting better," she remarked with approval. "Yes, Aviva was a woman, yes we were involved. We had been together for about two months when she died. The next day... I turned to a man who had been trying to get my attention for weeks. Aziel came about because I was seeking a distraction from my grief." 

"Ohh,' Tony groaned with sudden understanding. "That's why you nixed the 'knocked up' comment so hard and focused on us being in love. I know this is hard to talk about, Zi honey... But the number of dumb things I never would have said if I'd known...." 

Ziva shook her head, loosening the twist in her hair before he had a chance to tie it off. Tony offered no reprisals and instead used his fingers to comb it out fully and start again. The conversation seemed easier without direct eye contact anyway.

"I was prepared to bear those smaller wounds that came from you being unaware if it meant not reopening these larger ones," she explained, reaching backwards and patting his knee comfortingly. "I knew you would never have said those things if you knew what they meant to me." 

"But you never really stopped feeling those wounds, did you?" He didn't need the heavy sigh to know he was right. "But you worked out how to let go, right? The Ziva I met way back when seemed pretty uninhibited." 

"Unhibited... broken. Two sides of the same coin." She shrugged. "Mossad hardened me even further, and Tali's death was the final straw. I no longer cared if I died, so it did not matter how I lived. But, since coming here I have been able to find a balance between faith and my job that feels comfortable. To focus on the areas that serve me with joy and peace, rather than shame, and to take steps toward being the daughter and wife that I had pictured myself becoming when I was younger. The sense that I caused Aziel's loss, however, has always lingered. Between this pregnancy and Wendy's question, it has been surfacing for a while." 

"Zi honey, it was never your fault," he said once more. "And just so we're clear I never wished that you waited or anything like that. If I could go back and make every one of the people you didn't want regret ever touching you, I would. But being your first... I know I'm old-fashioned to the point of being a jerk sometimes, but that's not one of those things. I get you now. That's more than enough." 

Ziva's voice was a whisper. "You were the first, in a way, you know."

"What?" He halted in his braiding again. "You just said..." 

"Since Somalia. You were the first." 

He recalled the night almost three years earlier. "You mean getting drunk in that snowstorm and..." Ziva made an affirmative noise. "You should've told me. I would've... I dunno... it would've been different. Careful at least."

"I did not want it to be careful. I wanted it to be normal." She shifted back a little, leaning into him. "The doctor had said I could whenever I was ready but until that night at your apartment, I had not wanted to. I was afraid that I might never again. You changed that. I was scarred and bruised... and you still wanted me." 

"Course I did, it's you. Can't think of a time I didn't." One hand left her hair to trace her spine affectionately. "But still. If I'd known that you hadn't since... or that it was going to be the start of the rest of forever... we could've gone out to dinner, got a hotel or something. I dunno made it better somehow."

She shook her head slowly, cautious of the tension he held on her hair. "You are thinking about this as my husband now, the one who wants to fix things for me. Not as the man who crossed a line with his colleague one night. It was not about where we were or what we'd done before. It was exactly what we needed it to be at the time. There is no hotel or romantic gesture that could have made it better. You saw me like a person, not a victim. That's all I wanted that night." 

"It was good, though... wasn't it?" he asked.  

Ziva's shoulders hitched in a gentle chuckle. "I would not have stayed for more if it had not been! But Tony, you should know, that in a way I did end up living the ideals that Ima taught." She paused for a moment as he gave a curious hum. "You are the only one I have loved. The only one who has said that to me."

"Oh," Tony said hesitantly. "I uh... you know I can't say the same, right?" 

"I know, you loved Wendy. I can see why you did," Ziva answered gently. "But if we had not had those experiences before, we never would have been who we are now. Those heartaches, however much they still hurt, mean that I can value this more." 

Tony hummed quietly in understanding. "You know, I wasn't fifteen," he admitted, looking for a sense of lightness in their conversation again. 

"Really?" Ziva remarked, her tone suggesting this wasn't exactly groundbreaking news.

"Really," he continued. "I was eighteen, and she wasn't a Rockette either."

"You don't say." For the first time that evening, there was a hint of humour in her voice. "I suppose next you will confess that it was much quicker than you told McGee as well?" 

"Oh, that's enough from you Little Miss Biting Wit." Tony wrapped the tie around her braid as he reached the bottom. "You realise if you tell McGee about this I'll make sure he knows you have a thing for watching Days Of Our Lives." He flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Ziva inspected the end briefly, making sure the elastic was secure and pushed it back. "I have never once watched that show!" she protested indignantly.

"Hey, he believed I slept with a Rockette, he'll believe that." Tony laughed, ducking as she turned and aimed a playful swat at his chest.

Ziva's eyes narrowed as he caught her wrist before the blow landed. "You are very lucky I love you, Tony DiNozzo, otherwise I would smother you right now."

"Yeah, I know it," he agreed, tugging her down onto the pillows alongside him "Luckiest guy alive."

Ten Years Later

Arlington Heights Elementary School, Virginia (Friday 26th October 2012 0815)

"You be good today, I love you." Wendy bent and kissed Fred at the school gate.

He grimaced, swiping the spot on his cheek. "Thanks, Mom, bye!" A second later he was halfway across the playground.

"At least he still lets you kiss him! It's getting to be a fight to even walk Jackson to school these days." A woman beside her commented as she straightened up. They shared a sympathetic laugh. "By the way, I saw your piece in the paper this morning, good job."

"Thanks, Cindy, it was an interesting one for sure," Wendy said. She smiled quietly, remembering the simple, but kind text Ziva had sent that morning, both a thankyou and forgiveness.

Cindy gave a cheeky grin."Oh yeah, the lovelorn fiance! I want to hear all about that." She paused, checked her watch and pulled a face. "But, work summons. Talk at pickup?"

"Sounds good, see you then." Wendy lifted a hand in farewell, turning away to where she'd parked her car.

"Excuse me!" She turned back, finding herself facing another parent. "You're Wendy... Fred's mom?" he asked.

"Yes, and you're..." she paused and wracked her brains, he was a newcomer to the school. "Mia H's dad - right?"

He nodded, passing his car keys to his left hand, a subtle but deliberate gesture that caught her eye enough to notice he wasn't wearing a wedding band. "That's right, I'm Mark," he said, offering a handshake, his right hand now empty. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I overheard you and Cindy just now - you're the Wendy Miller who writes for The Globe?"

She nodded, a little confused. "Yes, that's me, why?"

"I read it this morning too," he confessed "It was really good, I especially enjoyed how you found the silver lining in all that loss. You're a great writer."

"Oh, well thank you," she replied, a little taken aback by the unexpected compliment. "Always nice to meet a fan, I guess."

"Really," Mark nodded with a sincere smile. "I'm a bit of a hopeless optimist, I like finding the bright side to life. It was a good angle to take."

That brought a smile to Wendy's face too. "Do you write?" she asked, intrigued.

He laughed and shook his head. "No, but I'm one of the English teachers at the high school," he explained and gestured down the block. "So, I know good writing when I see it, and last night I marked 30 ninth-grade papers that were not 'it!' Your article was a breath of fresh air."

She laughed, flattered, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I used to teach kindergarten, it was more of an infinite loop of ABCs than essays in my class." They both chuckled at that, stepping a little closer to each other, clearly at ease.

Mark paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Look, I hope this isn't too forward, but would you like to have coffee with me tomorrow? It's Mia's weekend with her mom, so I'm free all day."

"Optimistic, indeed!" Wendy deflected, feeling a rush of warmth to her cheeks, and flustered, she took a second to regain her composure. "Um, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Fred's dad and I do handover at his soccer training in the morning, but I'll call you once I'm done?" She fished her phone out of her purse and opened the contact section before handing it to Mark.

He shot her a warm smile before dipping his eyes to the keypad and entering his details. "I look forward to it, thanks, Wendy." He passed her phone back.

"Me too, Mr Optimist," she nodded, grinning at the name he'd added to her phone. "But one more thing - you don't watch Casablanca do you?"

Mark looked confused for a moment, then shook his head. "Sorry, no, I hope that's not a dealbreaker. I prefer documentaries if I'm honest."

A smile spread across Wendy's face at the information. "No, that's absolutely fine by me. In fact, this feels like it might even be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Casa De Tiva, Washington DC (Friday 26th October 2012 1145)

Ziva added one last pat to the layer of mulch around the thin sapling, brushed her hands off and rose slowly from the ground. Tony was quick to support her and make sure she had her balance. Tears still glistened in her eyes, and he was unusually quiet and sombre, but there was an overwhelming sense of peace between them.

"Nice choice, Zi," Tony said quietly, admiring the new addition they'd just planted on the front lawn. Ziva had chosen a white lilac, a symbol of both memory and renewal. The tree would grow as their family did and blossom every spring, around the time Aziel should have been born; a simple, but poignant reminder.

"Hmm," she agreed, surveying the work with satisfaction. She settled herself in front of Tony, leaning back into his chest, so all four of their hands could rest on her belly, feeling their daughter move inside her. "And are you okay with everything? With Wendy?"

She felt him nod against the back of her head. "Yeah, I'm good. Got the answers I wanted. Thanks for not making it weird."

"You were weird enough for the both of us," Ziva gave a shaky laugh. She paused, lifting a hand to a neighbour who jogged by. "Besides, I trusted you. There was nothing to be weird about."

"Still, you shut Wendy down pretty hard a couple of times," Tony smirked. "Watching you get your possessive wife on was kinda hot."

She moved her head away as he nuzzled against her ear. "Not happening. I still have enough heartburn to outshine the fireworks on the Fourth of July."

"Gross." He winced.

"Never mind." Ziva turned and patted his cheek affectionately, even as she shut down more amorous advances. "Wendy told me that heartburn is supposed to mean the baby will have plenty of hair."

Tony grinned with anticipation, picturing a little girl with a head full of curls, much like the photo of Ziva in her ballet tutu that they'd found in Israel. "Look you, my furry little Israeli, of course, she's going to have amazing hair."

"You can talk, Hairy Butt!" Ziva laughed more genuinely now. "She also recommended a store to look at for buying a crib, it is about time we considered that."

He fixed her with a thoughtful look, reading the resolve on her face. "You really want to do that today?" he asked.

Ziva took a deep breath and turned back to study the tree. "Yes I do, we have spent enough time uncovering old secrets this week. It is time to look forward... if that is okay with you too, of course?"

"You got it, Sweet Cheeks," Tony agreed, then grinned, unable to resist one more movie reference. "Let's get back to the future."

He considered both Ziva's exasperated groan and the punch to his shoulder well worth it.

Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia (Friday, October 26 2012, 1317)

The final member of a long string of well-wishers filed past Charlie, murmuring words of condolences and support. The air was crisp, bordering on cold and they did not linger long, dispersing quickly to their cars. Still standing beside the open grave, she drew the folded flag carefully to her chest with a sigh.

"I won't back down, Dad," she promised softly. With a deep breath, she turned, looking for the two men who had accompanied her that afternoon.

Gibbs and Vance fell into step beside her, one hand each riding gently in the middle of her back in silent support, and they made their way back up the hill to the parking lot. "Thank you both for coming today," she said just before they parted ways. Gibbs would drive her back to her apartment, but the Director had travelled separately, intending to head back to NCIS afterwards.

"It was my honour, Ms Delaney," Vance inclined his head gently, his expression solemn. "Have you had a chance to consider where you want to be placed now that you're finished training? I know that you've been through a lot recently, but some of the positions are very competitive."

"Call me Charlie, please. I'd like to move into active field investigation," she answered with a glance at Gibbs, her resolve shining through her grief-stricken eyes. "The Carolinas Office seems like the best move for that. I'll make sure I have the applications filled out by Monday morning."

"Got a field position opening up in DC," Gibbs murmured almost irrelevantly, his eyes fixed ahead, deep in thought. Vance and Charlie both turned to face him, surprised by the unexpected offer.

"Is that an offer, Sir?" Charlie enquired, her curiosity piqued, a small smile playing on her lips.

Gibbs's mouth didn't smile, but his eyes did as he met Charlie's gaze. "Only if you don't call me Sir."

"Since when do you willingly take on new agents, Gibbs?" Vance asked warily, his eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"Gonna have an empty desk in about six weeks," Gibbs explained, referring to Ziva's rapidly approaching maternity leave. "Figure either I choose, or you choose for me."

Vance remained silent, studying both Gibbs and Charlie. Gibbs remained impassive and silent, but clearly determined, Charlie still shaken from burying her father less than ten minutes earlier, but quietly hopeful. He gave a dry chuckle and nodded, extending a welcoming hand to Charlie. "In that case, welcome aboard, Probationary Agent Delaney."

Chapter Text

"But what's she like?" Abby repeated, sitting on the corner of Ziva's desk. She held two fabric swatches up for Ziva's perusal.

Ziva glanced at the choices for a second before turning her eyes back to the screen. "I do not know. Remember what I said about not looking like a cabbage? That one is too cabbagey." She pointed at the muted green swatch. "I only met Charlie as the daughter of our victim and that was for about five minutes. I have no idea what she will be like as an agent!"

"We'll go full-length," Abby promised, setting the offending sample aside, and replacing it with another. She bestowed an affectionate pat on Ziva's belly. "No cabbages with legs allowed at my wedding! Has Gibbs said anything at all? Do you have any idea how weird it is that he chose a new agent?"

"I know!" Ziva replied, remembering her own trial by fire when Jenny had assigned her as team liaison. At least Charlie had a Marine family background in her favour. "He did not even bother to tell us that he was taking her on. Strictly speaking, he has not yet told us, the email from HR with her details is the only notification we have been given. That first swatch is still best." Charlie's unceremonious recruitment to Team Gibbs had been a surprise to them all. They had all known things would change soon, with Ziva now ten weeks away from her due date. Half an hour earlier, the email had arrived and had brought Abby up from her lab on a reconnaissance and bridesmaid dress shopping mission.

As well as the unanimous surprise, there was also some quiet doubt. Charlie had almost zero field experience except for controlled test scenes and firing on closed ranges. They knew from running her background during the previous case that she was about the same age as McGee had been when he joined the team, but he'd at least found himself roped (however unwittingly) into cases before his full-time appointment, while Ziva had been one of the youngest agents on record, her experience had more than outweighed her youth. Abby meanwhile, had not met her at all. They knew that Gibbs must have liked something about her to take her on without a fight, but on paper at least, the 24-year-old anthropology graduate with a minor in psychology and mere hours out of FLETC seemed like the last person he would have chosen.

Abby pouted at the lack of information, but brightened on realising it was the last of the fabric swatches to sort through. "Forest green it is, good choice! Now... dresses." She dumped the swatches on the file Ziva had been reading and displayed a magazine instead.

Ziva flicked her eyes between the glossy pages and her screen again. "They all look very fitting, I am going to be almost due by then. Anything we choose now will need some growing room. The dress I wore to Jimmy's wedding is already too small and that was less than three weeks ago."

"What if she's early?" Tony cut in at this point. "She's a DiNozzo, after all, we don't like waiting. I remember Mom telling me once I was supposed to come on Bastille Day."

The idea of a bonus wedding guest was obviously appealing to Abby. "Oh, a teeny-tiny flower girl dress! How cute would that be?" she gushed and flicked the pages of the magazine hurriedly. "There's a chance you know. Statistically, twenty-something per cent of first babies are born before their due date."

Only Tony caught the wince that passed across Ziva's face, something that she would not have let show even two weeks earlier. "Hey, that's fine by me if you want to have her a few days early, Zi." He deflected the 'first baby' comment on her behalf. "Means I'll get to start my leave sooner too." Given the flexibility the MCRT had been given the last few months for the DiNozzo-David and Palmer-Slater weddings, they were now on call right through until December 30th, when the entire MCRT would disband; Tony to paternity leave until the start of March and McGee and Abby for a three-week honeymoon in the UK and Ireland, while Ziva wouldn't be back at all for the foreseeable future. True to form, Gibbs was not taking time off and instead would head up a team of Charlie, and whatever temporary agents he was given.

"Can you all please stop making plans about when I will be giving birth?" Ziva protested, laying a protective hand on her belly. "If genetics do play a part, she is more likely to come in January, my mother said Tali and I were both born exactly on our due dates... But, you come whenever you are ready, my little stowaway," she added in a whisper.

"Should've known you were born punctual," Tony snickered.

Abby grinned, too but wasn't distracted. "The point is, Zivvie, we need to look at a neckline that lets you nurse, just in case Baby Tiva does show up," she pressed on. "So, there are actually some dresses that are designed to open in the front, you said you wanted to breastfeed, right?"

Ziva shook her head. "That is not a conversation I want to be having at work, Abby."

The elevator dinged at that moment, revealing Gibbs with Charlie in tow. Abby flushed a guilty shade of pink. While Rule 12 had gone up in flames, it had morphed into "don't look like you're dating a co-worker" and wedding planning while the man you were going to marry worked a few steps away was definitely a violation. She hastily scooped up the fabric samples, prepared to make a quick exit.

"Don't bother Abs," Gibbs said. "You may as well stay put. Charlie, Abby our resident wedding planner," he added with a strong hint of disapproval.

Abby froze, giving the young woman a once over. Although her outfit was federal office appropriate, there was something in the high waistline of her pinstriped trousers and well-tailored blouse that stood out compared to the other women in the room. "Oh... you're the one who's replacing Ziva," Abby said dubiously.

Surprise registered in Charlie's eyes for a minute. "Oh... I guess I will be. I hadn't thought about it like that. But I'm here to learn, not to try and fill anyone else's shoes." Arms full of wedding paraphernalia, Abby continued to regard her with suspicion.

Ziva stood, rounding her desk. "Charlie, welcome. It's good to meet you under better circumstances this time." She offered a handshake, covering for Abby. The guys joined the group a few seconds later, welcoming but obviously curious.

Charlie returned the gesture with a smile. "Thanks, Ziva... wait, is Ziva okay now that we're on the same team? Sorry, should I have called you Agent David?" She seemed to stumble over her words for a second, obviously trying to make a good impression. Tony and McGee shared an amused smirk, green was not only a good descriptor for Ziva's dress, but Charlie's status as an agent.

Ziva caught the guys' silent looks and swallowed a smile of her own. "Ziva is fine," she assured. "Charlie, this is Abby Sciuto our Forensic Scientist... Abby, Probationary Agent Charlie Delaney."

"Say hi, Abs," Gibbs prompted, passing by the group on the way to his desk as his phone began to ring.

"Hi," she murmured at length, still obviously sizing Charlie up.

Charlie gave a nervous laugh. "Look, I totally get it, having your group dynamic disrupted can be really challenging, but I'm nice, I promise, Abby," she said with a little shrug, then pointed to the items Abby was holding. "And I love sewing, it would be great to..." she faded as the heavily-lined eyes narrowed further.

"I'll be in my lab," Abby announced making a swift departure.

Charlie turned to watch her go a look of confusion on her face. "Did I do something wrong?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, she just takes time to warm up to new people. Gibbs, where is Charlie working?"

He replaced the receiver and looked up. "Not important now. Got a missing Petty Officer. DiNozzo, truck, McGee, take Charlie to get her field kit and meet down at the motor pool. Let's see what you know about scene processing. Ziva..." He paused, scribbling details on a sticky note. "Background check and leads. We're starting at her house, she lives off base. CO went to check in this morning, and raised the alarm, door was jimmied, and signs of a struggle."

Charlie watched, surprised at the sudden burst of activity. The group scattered around her. Everyone seemed to know what to do, reaching for their bags and coats, sliding weapons into holsters and double-checking that badges were secure on belts. Ziva meanwhile had moved far enough to grab the paper Gibbs waved impatiently and had already begun bringing up results.

Tony swung his bag onto his shoulder and paused in front of Ziva's desk, thrusting a heavy camera into Charlie's hands. "See ya, Ninja. Delaney, let's roll."

Still standing where she'd been a moment ago, Charlie turned to Ziva. "Do I just go with them?"

"Move it!" their boss demanded, now halfway to the elevator. He shot Ziva a pointed look if she won't jump, shove. She nodded, taking both pity on and charge of the bewildered probationary agent, and reached for her own scene jacket.

"Give me that, and wear this," Ziva said. She pulled Charlie's satchel off her shoulder and fed her arms into the sleeves. "There are never enough in this size. You can borrow mine. Always carry your badge and phone... McGee she needs boots and a cap... and do your best to keep up."

"Come on," McGee was at Charlie's side now. "I'll get you kitted out. First thing you're going to learn is when Gibbs says move, we're already late. Let's go."

Charlie did not look anywhere near as well presented when they returned to the bullpen. Ziva could tell from her ruffled appearance and disgruntled expression that Tony and McGee had had too much fun with a new Probie on the team and delegated the least pleasant jobs to her. She knew from experience Charlie would have bagged and tagged every item in the missing woman's fridge at a bare minimum. Still, when Charlie returned Ziva's jacket, she was clearly grateful that her cream blouse had remained covered.

"Ziva, what'd you find?" Gibbs started before they had even gotten back behind their desks - a piece of furniture which Charlie still lacked.

"Petty Officer Lisa Devine..."

"Skip it, Zi, got the background from the CO." Tony popped the memory card out of the scene camera and tossed it across to McGee. "Just a timeline of last known contacts. We need to know how long she's been missing." As with all missing persons cases, the first 72 hours were considered crucial, and Gibbs was barely giving them time to set their gear down on returning to the bullpen.

"Okay..." she glanced back down at the notes she'd been making. "I have spoken to her parents and her older sister. They both reported that she called them on Tuesday evening, as was customary for her, nothing seemed unusual in the way she spoke. The sister mentioned that Lisa said she had been trying online dating, but didn't know if anything had come from it."

"And she reported to the medical team yesterday with a sprain from training..." McGee was rummaging through his drawers for a cable to connect Lisa's laptop to his computer. "Signed out for leave at 1643. Not due back till tomorrow. Her CO stopped by to check on her this morning, so we're at... almost eighteen hours since anyone saw her for sure. CO is clean by the way, logs have her on base all night."

Gibbs nodded, taking it all in. " McGee get that laptop going."

McGee's fingers were already busy over his keyboard. "Give me a minute to get past her lock screen. Abby will have to crack her phone, I'll take it down once the decryption program is going."

"Actually, can I see it for a minute?" Charlie spoke up at last. She'd been watching the exchange quietly, noting how the tasks were divided up. "I learned a thing or two about breaking into people's phones in college."

Tony shook his head with a laugh. "Slow down Probie. Better to let Abby do it. The more we mess with it, the harder it will be for her to work with. Trust me, 'Stranger Danger Abby' is better for you than 'Who Touched My Stuff Abby.'"

"One go," Charlie bargained, holding out her hand. "And then we call it even for all the crappy tasks you guys assigned me earlier? I know all new team members get hazed in some way, and you've had your fun with me."

Ziva raised an eyebrow, quietly impressed, and a smirk flitted over Gibbs' face for a moment. "One go," he agreed gruffly. "Wear gloves."

"Now we're talking!" Charlie grinned, and a moment later having donned gloves, she was carefully extracting the phone from its evidence bag. "Okay, let me borrow your lamp, Ziva." She angled the screen under the light as Ziva swivelled it to the outside of her desk, squinting her eyes thoughtfully.

"What do you know, Delaney?" Gibbs murmured after a minute of silence.

"I know that this phone was released in 2010," Charlie began thoughtfully. "And looking at how beat up the cover is, she's had it since it was new. I also know that when you have a lock code, the screen gets marked differently from repetitive use, because you rarely change it. My study group and I used to break into each other's phones like that all the time. Mostly to make weird posts on the campus message board in their name." She grinned at the memory.

McGee glanced up from his keyboard. "Like the keypad on home security panels fading, I see where you're going with this." They'd all used that trick more than once.

Charlie nodded, tilting the phone a different way. "Exactly, and in this case... Lisa's code uses the digits two, three, seven and... zero."

"That's still... what? Like a hundred combinations?" Tony asked.

"Twenty-four," Ziva corrected him. "But that is still more tries than we would be allowed before the phone locked us out."

Charlie shook her head with a smile. "But I only need one. Since the dawn of time, people have been really bad at keeping secrets. They're always afraid they'll forget it themselves. Rock patterns or markings on trees that disclosed food or money stashes. X marks the spot on a map, there's always a clue that they won't forget, right up to really predictable passwords. What's Lisa's birthdate?"

"Ducky is gonna love her," Tony whispered aside to McGee, who grinned and nodded in return.

Ziva glanced at her screen quickly. "January 19th, 1988."

"Huh, we're birthday twins, that's cool. But it's not that." Charlie raised her eyebrows with a surprised expression. "What other numbers do you have?"

"Thirty seconds..." Gibbs warned. "Not wasting time on college pranks."

Ziva skimmed the file on her screen. "Height... weight... next of kin address. Her parent's house! 2703 Oakridge Drive, Murrysville, Pennsylvania."

"So, second most obvious." Charlie tapped the screen and was rewarded a second later as the phone unlocked. She passed it back to Tony with a triumphant grin. "

"That's the laptop done too!" McGee announced with relief. "She used the same code there. Nice work, Charlie."

Gibbs nodded his approval. "Right. McGee, look into the web dating her sister said she was doing. Ziva, make sure Charlie knows how to put together a timeline. DiNozzo..."

"Bank records and paper trail, on it." He nodded.

Gibbs hefted the box of evidence they'd retrieved from Lisa's house in explanation as to where he'd be. "And get Charlie a desk!"

After her initial success with Lisa's phone, Charlie was almost forgotten as the case wore on throughout the day and into the evening. She understood that this high-stakes case, with almost a third of the most vital time to find Lisa alive already behind them, meant that no one had time to focus on a very new, inexperienced agent in need of a lot of training, and preferred falling back into what they knew worked. While they tried to uncover where Lisa went, she tried to work out the team dynamic.

Any sense of hierarchy or chain of command was almost nonexistent, Gibbs still had the final word, but the younger three apparently viewed each other as equals; banter, insults and in-jokes were traded impartially. Personal space was invisible, they crowded each other with shoulders brushing and swapped or outright stole each other's snacks. Despite clearly defined workspaces behind desks, they'd cross into each other's area, and lean over shoulders to read computer screens. Official titles were irrelevant; first and last names were used interchangeably (except for Gibbs, who was always Gibbs) and Tony, in particular, had a penchant for using nicknames, frequently dropping "Mc-Somethings" and "Ninja."

Even discipline was unusual, in that there seemed to be very little. While Gibbs was out of the room, Tony tried to blackmail McGee into taking one of the more boring tasks with a threat to pin him down until he had felt Ziva's baby kick if he didn't comply. However, Ziva quietly raising a paperclip in the air was enough to get Tony to subside. Reappearing with almost uncanny timing, Gibbs smacked the SFA on the back of the head rather than offering a reprimand. Charlie flinched, but Ziva and McGee both wore a triumphant 'You had that coming' expression.

Trying to work out their personal connection was harder. Although she knew they knew her background inside out from the previous case, she'd had no opportunity to learn anything more than names. They seemed unusually close for colleagues, glimmers of personal details about each other's lives peppered the conversation as smoothly as details bout the case. Even Gibbs who remained more physically distant was not exempt from this knowledge, Tony earned a second slap with a cheeky quip about Gibbs' ex-wife, and a mention of this basement made it clear they'd all been to his house on multiple occasions. She figured after so long working together, their work and personal lives had become impossibly twined - an occurrence she'd been warned against in training.

Tony and Ziva provided a whole new puzzle. At first, they seemed like just part of the noise and flow of her new workmates as a whole, but the longer Charlie observed them, the more aware she became of an underlying connection that only they shared. Throughout the day; Tony tried Ziva's hair tie without being caught and pocketing it as a trophy after his rare successes. Ziva ignored it, simply rolling her eyes and fixing her hair with a new one from her desk. However, beyond this, their physical contact was minimal. Yet, they were always acutely aware of the other's presence; ending up side by side and mirroring each other's body language with fluid synchronicity. If Charlie hadn't known better, she would have sworn they were listening to the same piece of music that she couldn't hear.

Although they rarely touched, they seemed to have a multitude of other ways to make contact; the depth in Ziva's eyes when she glanced at Tony, was a visible caress, and Charlie could hear a specific warmth in Tony's voice that was only ever directed towards Ziva. Smiles lit up more brightly and lingered for longer, despite the seriousness of the case, and eye contact was held for a second too long. At one point, they shared a bottle of water, making Charlie, who had never liked sharing any eating utensils, gag at the easy way they passed it between them, both drinking without hesitation. Later, when Ziva sighed and rubbed her back as they stood in front of the plasma, Tony was as quick to react as if she'd spoken aloud, raiding her desk and disappearing to the break room, returning a few minutes later armed with a microwaved wheat bag and a fresh cup of tea.

She certainly couldn't say they were unprofessional in any way, but somehow observing the tender word of thanks Ziva offered Tony and the socially-acceptable-but-really-half-a-second-too-long brush of his hand on her shoulder, made her feel as though she was intruding on a private moment between husband and wife. However, despite the wedding rings she'd noticed they both wore, the sensitivity training workshop she attended the previous week had emphasized that married agents were the very rare exception rather than the norm. On top of that, Gibbs' Rule 12 was infamous at FLETC; her trainers had jokingly cautioned her about falling for a coworker upon learning of her placement at the DC office. Whoever they were married to, it couldn't be each other.

A moment later, Tony returned to his desk, stuffing another elastic in his pocket and reaching for his phone with a sigh. Charlie found herself with more questions than answers watching the way they both drifted back to their tasks as though nothing had happened. Even as they tried to avoid being overly touchy, they both seemed completely unable to hide a more instinctive, deep affection, and yet, based on the way McGee and Gibbs overlooked them, she was certain no one else was supposed to be aware of it.

Adding the photo she'd just noticed on Tony's desk into the mix (a pretty brunette with sunglasses on her head, posed beside a much younger Tony that gave her definite couple vibes), was an extra piece to the puzzle. She'd learned that "don't ask, don't tell" applied to romantic entanglements between co-workers, and got the distinct sense that whatever drifted just beneath the surface of Tony and Ziva's working relationship fell squarely into that category. All the same, given how thoroughly she'd been appraised of Rule 12 before she'd even joined the team, Charlie found herself wondering how no one else had noticed what looked like an affair that seemed to be happening right under their noses.

Even as she found herself wondering what kind of psychologist's nightmare she'd walked into, Charlie couldn't deny that the MCRT was good. She'd already learned to trust their work from the limited contact she'd had with them on her father's case, but seeing them in action was a new experience. The closeness she found so difficult to fathom paid off in an almost telepathic bond. Gibbs' instructions were anticipated and sentences were finished by another person without missing a beat. So much of their communication was non-verbal or even silent, jobs were delegated as impartially as the banter, and individual strengths played for the best result.

Watching them at work, she didn't know how to fit into an investigation so seamlessly and efficiently. She knew the mind-reading would come with time, but everything else seemed harder. Still bound entirely by rules and protocol, she couldn't imagine agreeing to Gibbs' instruction that McGee hack into the back end of Lisa's emails, or being more playful and... what the hell was Tony doing anyway?... with her colleagues. Still, she was working for the man who had made her want to be an agent in the first place, and she'd heard enough to know he didn't hire people for no good reason. Her promise to her Dad at his grave lingered too, she wouldn't back down from the challenge, however unorthodox the team seemed to be, she'd find her way to fit in and prove what she could do as well.

By evening, (at which point Ziva had given up and left her hair loose) a desk was unearthed and a partition moved, putting Charlie at the end of the bullpen beside McGee, and while she didn't have a lot of work to do, she did at least have somewhere to sit while the team hurriedly ate dinner (she also learned that no one questioned Ziva's food choices right now) and discussed Lisa's last known movements.

"Right." Gibbs seemed to be done after about three bites. "Update me, what do we know?"

"Lisa returned home immediately after she was discharged from the medical unit. She took a photo of her ankle once it had been strapped up, and uploaded the photo to Facebook. Last confirmed contact is now about 1800, she had a pizza delivered." Ziva recounted the only things they knew for sure.

Tony nodded. "The driver said she paid cash and tipped well," he added. "Just a sophomore padding out his allowance. Nearly wet himself when we showed up. Couldn't take down a kid, never mind our Petty Officer."

"We need more," Gibbs pushed. "What about that internet dates thing her sister talked about?"

McGee now quickly set his food aside. "Lisa had accounts on three sites, the first two were a bit of a bust. She made a profile but hasn't been very active. I'm just starting on the third now, it's specifically aimed at military personnel, CamoCupids."

This last bit caught Charlie's attention. "CamoCupids? My Dad used to use it." No one seemed particularly moved by this statement, letting it slide by unacknowledged. "I said my Dad used to use the site," she repeated more firmly, with little success.

She huffed, annoyed that no one had responded. Steeling her newly made resolve, she stood, rounding McGee's desk, then, following the behaviour she'd noted earlier, simply leaned over him and took control of the mouse. "Let me in here, I know how this place works. Hopefully, she's kept her details saved and yes... we're in." There was a second of surprised silence, McGee ducking his head out of her way.

"'Atta girl," Gibbs muttered under his breath, looking pleased.

Charlie suddenly realised her new colleagues hadn't been ignoring her, but rather waiting for her to jump in. As with unlocking the phone earlier, she had to offer what she knew, not wait to be asked. She took a deep breath and continued with a confidence she hoped was convincing. "Lisa used the username DivineInMD, obviously a play on her surname but only has one profile picture, so she probably wasn't paying for a subscription that allows you to upload more photos. Like most dating sites, there's a kind of wave feature and a messaging feature. Only to keep the theme they're called Salutes and Comms, it's pretty tacky if you ask me, but Dad thought it was funny."

"Salutes?" Ziva asked. "Why would you salute someone you are trying to date?"

Charlie took a glance at the generally blank faces around her. "Not an actual salute. Think of it more like making eye contact at the bar and smiling. You guys never tried online dating?" she questioned in disbelief.

"Engaged."

"Married."

"Pregnant."

"Nope."

"I meant before now," she said with an awkward smirk. "But seriously... it sounds like you guys basically live here, how else do you meet people if not online?"

"I mean, I chatted with women on gaming forums and met a couple of them at conventions and things... but that was years ago, before I met Abs." McGee shrugged. "Yes, they were actually women," he added wearily as Tony opened his mouth.

"Spoilsport," Tony grumbled at his colleague. "But as if I needed help meeting women the DiNozzo charm is more than enough."

Ziva rolled her eyes at him. "I did not see the point. You cannot tell when a person is lying."

"You don't," Gibbs answered shortly.

"Abs?" Charlie asked, still leaning over McGee's head to reach the mouse. "As in Abby? Dark hair, green eyes, really didn't seem to like me much?"

"That's the one, we're getting married next month," Tim confirmed, extracting himself from underneath Charlie's arm to let her continue navigating the site. "And she'll come around."

Charlie was less sure about the second part of McGee's statement but offered sincere congratulations anyway, taking his empty seat, and opening Lisa's profile for a closer look. "Okay then. So it starts like Facebook... you're at least on Facebook aren't you?" Given the apparently minimal experience the team had online dating, she was starting to feel like this was a necessary question.

"Take it easy, Babyface, we're not quite so out of touch," Tony grumbled. "Gibbs might prefer pen and paper, but the rest of us aren't ready for retirement homes yet." He grinned at the hard look Gibbs sent his way.

"Just checking..." Charlie held her hands up innocently. "So you get a login, put a photo up and add some things you like. Lisa's is pretty straightforward, she has bad taste in music and goes rock climbing on her days off. She's looking for something more serious and wants kids one day. Then, the algorithm shows your profile to other users who have enough overlapping interests with you. So, a salute is just all the users who match Lisa saying they've seen her profile and they like it. If the person returns the salute it opens up the ability to chat with each other." She paused for a second when she clicked again. "The real-world equivalent would be exchanging numbers to text. Lisa's been talking to three people, oh and she's blocked one. Blocking means..."

"Not ready for the retirement home yet either," Gibbs put in dryly. "What's the story?"

She opened the chat and scrolled back to the top. "So, this guy says his name is Alex Stanley. The red flag there is that he's told her his full name right away, which almost never happens, he's trying to force a sense of intimacy. They've been talking since August. But what also makes him interesting is that he hasn't confirmed his military status with the site yet. Because it's all based on screen names and as Ziva said, you can't tell when people are lying, the creators added this as a little extra security."

"Did Lisa confirm hers?" Ziva asked. "Has that put her at risk in some way?"

"Yes she has, but unless 'Alex' is also a site admin, no it hasn't," she answered. "You can't see any details, it's just a mark to confirm they're a member of the forces. You have to email a copy of your military ID to the site admins, and they add a star next to your name when you do, that's all. You can use the site without verification for four months before your account is suspended and without it, you don't get far, Dad wouldn't interact with anyone who wasn't confirmed military. DarkForce83... or Alex... whatever, hasn't done that yet."

"So we don't even know if this guy is actually military?" McGee asked a few minutes later. They'd run checks on the other two men Lisa had been talking to using photo recognition from their profiles. One was stationed in Japan, the other one somewhere in Florida, both were legitimate, and both were also exactly where they said they'd be. Alex meanwhile, did not exist on any military database, and they'd moved to more broad public searches. "That's gonna make him a whole lot harder to find."

Ziva nodded. "At least Stanley is a reasonably uncommon surname, but there are still hundreds."

Tony used the thumb of his left hand to spin his wedding band around his finger as he thought. "What's his profile like?"

Charlie shook her head. "Blocking works both ways he can't contact her, and she can't contact him. The only thing I can see is the chat that happened before she did. I can unblock him but..."

"That's dangerous because Lisa would appear online again." McGee finished. Charlie nodded in agreement.

Gibbs huffed impatiently. "Cut to the chase..."

"If we change anything and this guy is behind her disappearance and is still monitoring her profile, he could realise people are trying to find her," McGee explained. He didn't need to elaborate on the danger of their current suspect knowing they were onto him, and Gibbs nodded. "I can try and get into the server to take a closer look at his details..."

"Then why aren't you?" Gibbs hinted.

"Right, on it." McGee jumped slightly. "Need my chair back, Charlie." She stood, letting them switch back. Although she was confident in using the site from the front end as a potential date, McGee was the one who could find his way in as a site administrator, and she knew when to concede to someone else's expertise.

"Put the chats up on the plasma in the meantime, McGeek," Tony instructed. Charlie watched as he and Ziva found a position side by side in front of the screen, close but not quite touching as McGee gave a distracted nod and obeyed, before focusing back on his task. She joined them, near enough to see, but still keeping her distance. "Let's see what they tell us while you do your brainiac thing."

"Yikes. Talk about not taking no for an answer." Tony murmured a minute later. "He's asked from their first contact if Lisa would meet him, and stalled every time she said she wanted him to do the ID verification thing first."

Ziva nodded. "Pushy seems an understatement... he keeps telling her how perfect she sounds and what a good partner he would be, says he would give her 'everything she ever dreamed of.' Then he started asking about meetups again and she blocked him right after he mentioned a particular coffee shop only a couple of blocks away from Lisa's house."

"She didn't say where she lived in her chats at all," Charlie spoke up now. "Not even which base she's stationed at. Maryland is the closest she gave. He couldn't have known."

"McGee... hurry it up!" Gibbs urged.

Still focused on his screen, McGee nodded again. "Thankfully the site isn't protected by real military protocol, give me one more second. Here." A moment later the profile that Lisa had blocked was on the plasma too.

Tony's eyes flicked down the screen. "Says he's a Navy Seal out NSAB in Bethesda, currently on medical leave, something with a shoulder injury. Looking for the perfect woman to complete his "American Dream". Picket fence, a couple of kids, church on Sundays... the whole nine yards. Likes exactly the same music as Lisa has listed, and oh look, the hobbies are almost a perfect match too."

"He's baiting her," Ziva murmured.

Charlie nodded. "The term is actually catfishing, but close enough."

"Catfishing?" Ziva glanced at Tony, puzzled. "What was wrong with baiting?"

"Beats me, Ninja." He shrugged. "Baiting made perfect sense."

"What's fishing got to do with it at all?" Gibbs demanded.

Charlie gathered enough not to show amusement and hid a smile as she explained. "Not fishing-fishing. Catfishing is a term used for creating a fake profile, with the intent of getting someone's attention under false pretences. In this case, Alex has made a perfect profile to tick all of Lisa's boxes so the algorithm made sure they matched up," she said. "It made her more open to talking with him and building her trust from the get-go. It's always easier to talk to a person when you think you have something in common."

"Ugh, it gets worse." McGee opened the chat from Alex's side this time. A series of new, unanswered messages appeared. "He kept messaging after he was blocked."

Ziva read them quickly. "Why didn't they show before?"

"Because you don't get told you're blocked. So you can just keep sending messages, the only difference is the person who blocked you never sees them," Charlie said. "It's kind of obvious in the end really, because they never reply, but apparently, thinking the messages have been sent is good enough. I guess they stayed on the server, even if Lisa never saw them."

"Don't walk away from what we had?" Ziva read. "They only talked for a couple of months!"

"Uhh... we've got a problem." McGee scrolled a little further. "He's gone from begging to threatening. I'm closer than you think." They read on, each message getting a little more creepy and desperate as he scrolled. Finally, a photo of Lisa at the coffee shop he'd mentioned that had obviously been taken from a distance.

Tony whistled sharply. "Think we've found our guy, or at the very least, a stalking charge. Charlie, you know the site, is anything he's said real?"

She shook her head. "Unlikely at best. The profile photo, maybe, so that she wouldn't freak out if they did meet, but everything else, down to his name is almost certainly a lie."

"How do we find him then?" Gibbs pressed.

"Uhh..." Charlie paused as she felt everyone's eyes on her. With the most site knowledge, they were obviously waiting for her to provide the answer. "He's sent photos in chat! You can't do that without a paid subscription."

McGee got to work, keyboard rattling. "Credit card details, on it."

Gibbs nodded approval. "Trace him, find his address, we're going there tonight. Grab your gear." They split to their desks without another word, Charlie included.

"Well, Agent Delaney, not many Probies can say that their first case ended with recovering a missing woman." Closed cases meant report-writing, which Charlie was discovering was the quietest the team ever managed to be, until someone, in this case, McGee got done with their work and started chatting again.

Charlie, in the middle of dotting her last I and crossing her last T, lay her pen down. "That was all you guys... I wasn't much help at the scene."

"Well, if we overlook the part where you managed to punch Gibbs in the face, you did okay," Tony chuckled. "You were great with Lisa." Lisa had been recovered alive, but very shaken, about thirty hours after she'd gone missing. She had, understandably, been an emotional mess, but Charlie had proven herself to be very calming and had remained by Lisa's side from the moment she was in their custody to when her parents collected her after an all-clear medical exam and providing a statement.

They'd gone in gently at first, not wanting to raise an alarm too soon. McGee and Tony had waited in the car while Charlie and Gibbs approached the house. The idea had been for a simple "enquiry" about Glen being one of Lisa's last known contacts. However, Glen confirmed his guilt immediately, throwing a punch in Gibbs' direction and turning on Charlie, who'd panicked, tried to punch back and ended up connecting with Gibbs' cheekbone. The remaining scuffle hadn't lasted long, Tony and McGee arriving a second later as backup, Tony assisting Gibbs, McGee dragging a mortified Charlie into the house in search of their missing woman.

"Alex" - whose real name turned out to be Glen - had seen Lisa frequenting a local coffee shop, and quickly become infatuated despite barely exchanging words. When he'd seen her browsing CamoCupids on her laptop in the cafe, he'd set about crafting the "ideal" profile and opening a conversation with her that way. When his persistence had ended with Lisa blocking him, he'd taken it up a notch and broken into her house the night she'd hurt her ankle and abducted her. They'd found Lisa in a back bedroom, cuffed to the bedpost, scared but unharmed. Glen's obsession with her had not been of violent intent, but rather the twisted concept that with time and practice that she would 'learn' to love him and become the perfect wife. He'd been watching her for weeks; photos, a note of her timetable, even an entirely new array of clothing in Lisa's size, helping to confirm just how long he'd been planning it.

"Sor-" she bit off the apology. Gibbs had already made his stance about saying sorry clear. "I won't do it again."

"Better not," Gibbs muttered from his desk. "I see a lot of close combat training in your future, Delaney."

"Training is different from the real world, Charlie." Ziva offered compassionately. "You will get used to it, and learn more control in your fighting."

She gave a nervous laugh. "There's a lot I have to get used to here... like Abby." Although they'd spent reasonably little time downstairs in the lab and Abby had deliberately given the bullpen a wide berth, in the brief moments they had interacted, Abby had remained standoffish and uncertain of Charlie's motives. The news that she'd punched Gibbs, however accidentally, had not added points in her favour either.

"Abby did not like me at first either... she slapped me once," Ziva admitted. In the background, Tony could be heard muttering regrets that he had missed the standoff. "She was very close to the previous agent, Kate. She thought that I intended to replace her in spirit as well as practically, and was very guarded for a long time. We grew to understand each other, as you will too."

"Why did Kate leave?" Charlie asked. She was slowly putting together more pieces about where they'd come from, Gibbs' past as a Marine sniper, Tony's street cop origins, and McGee's specialty in cybercrime. Only Ziva was a little more censored in what she revealed and seemed to prefer to focus on her present life.

There was a pause, a moment of brief, silent looks, while the others decided who would tell the story. "There was a sniper during a case. Kate was killed," Tony said softly at last.

Although it was definitely not news to Charlie that the job she had chosen could, and did, end in the loss of life, a real-life example was more confronting. "I'm so sorry. When was that?"

"'Bout seven years ago now. That's her on my desk, there." Tony gestured to the photo Charlie had been analysing quietly over the past few days.

"Really?" she said, surprised. "That's Kate? I figured that was your wife." There was a smothered snort of laughter around the group.

"Calling Kate my wife?" Tony laughed and shook his head. "You better watch out for hauntings, Charlie. She'd find that so offensive she'd rise from the dead if she heard you say that!"

Charlie didn't quite understand the level of amusement Tony found in this. "Okay, Kate's not your wife, sorry. Can I ask why you don't have a picture of your wife then?"

"No need," Tony shook his head and grinned across the desks at Ziva. "Got something better than a photo."

This went clear over Charlie's dark, curly head. "What?"

"Hang on," McGee said with sudden clarity. "If you thought Tony was married to Kate...then you haven't worked it out, have you?"

"Worked what out?" she asked cautiously. It was clear from the amused looks being exchanged that they were all in on something she had yet to discover.

"This," McGee handed his phone over. "Figure you'll need proof."

Charlie looked down, finding herself confronted with a wedding photo. Tony was front and centre, beaming at the camera while pointing to a very new wedding ring, and even with her face hidden in her hand, his bride was immediately recognisable as Ziva. Given the visible but less pronounced pregnancy, Charlie gathered the photo was somewhat recent.

"Oh... wow, I had no idea," she managed faintly, passing the phone back and hoping the reason for her surprise wasn't obvious. "Congratulations."

Tony immediately burst into laughter. "You've been watching us every time we've even glanced at each other since you got here. You totally had an idea Probie, just the wrong one!" He paused, laughing again."You thought we were having a fling!" he declared with sudden clarity. The shared humour was less subtle this time around.

"They're too damn obvious to be a fling," Gibbs grumbled. "Gonna have to work on your observational skills too, Delaney."

Charlie felt her cheeks grow warm, realising that her surveillance had not gone as unnoticed as she'd hoped and decided it was better to deflect. "McGee and Abby, and Tony and Ziva? There better not be some kind of expectation that I marry a co-worker too! That's kinda weird." Her laugh sounded a bit forced.

Tony composed himself with a shrug. "Nepotistic marriages and tragic backstories. That's Team Gibbs in a nutshell. We've all got messed-up childhoods. You know, repressed traumas, lousy parents, or just plain dead ones oh... " He winced at the cut-it hand gesture and a stern look from Ziva.

Charlie faltered for a second. "Well, I guess I'm halfway there," she said after a deep breath. "I'll look out for my membership card in the mail." She shrugged it off with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"We have all had more time to come to terms with our losses, Charlie," Ziva said gently. "It is not so raw now. It is easier to make a joke than to dwell on the negative, you understand, yes?"

Charlie shrugged quietly again. "Humour is a coping mechanism, I get it. Just a bit soon for me, you know?"

"Mouth got ahead of me," Tony admitted reeling in any last signs of mirth. "Sorry, Delaney."

"Charlie," Ziva said, fishing something out of one of her drawers. "You said you like to sew. Maybe you give me some pointers about how to choose a bridesmaid dress." Gibbs grumbled softly in disapproval but understood the gesture and on realising they were all technically off the clock, he let it slide, simply heading out without a word.

The distraction was a welcome one, and Charlie joined Ziva at her desk, taking the magazine with an excited expression. "I took fashion and textiles in high school, I love it. Plus, this I can do without hitting anyone in the face," she said with a self-conscious laugh, then cast an eye over Ziva's outfit, black slacks with a stretchy waistband hidden by a long top and finished with ballet flats quickly. "So, from wearing your jacket, I can tell you're about my size, but a little longer in the legs. Looks like you're not afraid of a lowish neckline and you like your neck and collarbones, but you're offsetting your pregnancy with wider cut shoulders and long lines from the bust down. Is that the look you like?"

Ziva shrugged lightly, looking a little surprised. She'd only been offering a change of topic to deflect the awkward moment stemming from Tony's joke and had not expected such an enthusiastic response. "Yes, I suppose so. The wedding is not until two weeks before she is due, I do not think I will have much say in how big I look by then, but I do not know how to pick a dress that will still fit me in eight weeks' time."

"We can work with that." Charlie nodded, flipping a page of short, tight cocktail dresses that, seven months earlier, Ziva would have rocked. "So, you're probably going to want something in an empire waist, that's a high one that sits under the bustline, super popular in the 60s. The fall of the skirt is usually very forgiving." She paused on a page, grimaced and flipped again. "But anything satin or velvet is going to make you feel like you're wearing a tent. It'll sit heavy. We need something softer... chiffon, crepe, or jersey maybe. Something with a bit of flow anyway. It'll create long vertical lines and make you look taller rather than wider. I'd recommend full length too, not just because it's winter, but to help balance the top half."

Ziva gave a bewildered nod. "I wanted full-length anyway."

"Perfect," Charlie nodded, turning another page. "So, I think the best thing to do for you would be to go something kind of Grecian, think flowy, pleated, like a toga. Or a cowl neck would be really flattering as well, it wouldn't cover everything up exactly, but just make it all a bit less obvious and smoother. Still gives you that kind of low-cut look you seemed like in your wedding dress too. Oh, these designs are hopeless! Can I borrow your computer for a second?" She dropped the magazine on the desk with a slap.

"Sure." Ziva leaned back, letting Charlie reach over and find the site for a nearby boutique.

"See, I'd recommend something like this," the younger woman said a minute or two later. A long, flowy dress with a drapey bodice was now on the screen. "No, it's not being marketed as a 'bridesmaid' dress, but it's totally classy enough, especially with the right shoes and jewellery and look, there are three shades of darker greens, I'm guessing from the swatches Abby had that's the colour you're going with?"

"Yes, that middle one looks right," Ziva said thoughtfully. "It is pretty too. But is it available in maternity sizes?"

Charlie clicked on the back view. "Doesn't need to be. See the waist is actually elastic, so if you wore that over your belly, it wouldn't matter how big you were. The skirt has loads of flow and space. It's one you can get off the rack, so all you'd need to do is get something that's a size or two bigger than you'd wear normally to allow for bump space, and I can take care of the rest."

"What do you mean take care of it?" McGee asked. Although neither of the men had understood much of the rapid-fire conversation, Charlie's new confidence, compared to her slightly nervous, overly formal manner at the beginning, was intriguing, and they'd both been listening in curiously.

"When you size up dresses to make room for one body part, everything else gets bigger. In Ziva's case by the time she's got something that will fit her comfortably around the middle, it's going to be too big on her shoulders, and probably through the bust, no offence meant, of course," she added apologetically.

"Oh... None taken," Ziva replied, still looking a little like she'd just been blindsided. McGee just nodded sagely as though that had all made perfect sense to him.

Charlie looked relieved. "Oh good! The point is, the dress will need to be altered, and that's something I can do. When you're five foot four like me, everything is too long and even if it fits right, there's always room for improvement - replace the buttons or collar or add appliques or patches, something fun like that. Mom taught me how actually, that and thrift shopping. I get almost everything second-hand and then I customise it. I could probably find you a thrifted dress if you liked actually Ziva." Suddenly the difference they'd all noticed in Charlie's appearance but couldn't quite put a finger on made sense. Everything she wore was very uniquely hers, from the way her clothes fitted as though they'd grown on her, to the little bursts of detail that brightened her otherwise businesslike outfits. Today it was a row of gold filigree-look buttons shaped like daisies down the front of a silky black blouse, the day before it had been a ruffly tied neck that sat over one shoulder.

"Mmm," Ziva shook her head doubtfully. "I bought Abby her bridesmaid dress as a gift, I think she has her heart set on returning the favour with something new as well. But the alterations would be helpful, especially so close to the holiday season. So many places will be closed. I do like that dress, although I need to show Abby."

Tony cut in at the sound of the chain at Abby's belt jangling as she approached from the rear elevator. "I think you summoned her. I wonder if it's like her equipment, she knows when there's been a result and can show up a second before it arrives?"

"A result with what?" Abby asked breathlessly, joining them. "Where's Gibbs? Oh... hi, Charlotte." An afterthought greeting was an improvement on a silent stare, even if Charlie winced at her full name.

"Think he's gone home," McGee answered, standing to meet her. "Charlie and Ziva were just doing some dress shopping, Gibbs tapped out." He firmly, but gently emphasised their newest agent's correct name.

Abby immediately became suspicious. "Without me?" she asked, turning to face the two women, Charlie still squeezed in behind Ziva's chair. "I can't believe you'd do that!" She looked hurt.

"I would never choose anything without you, achoti," Ziva promised gently. "Charlie was explaining how to find something now that will fit me then. I just asked her for some advice, she did suggest something I like though."

"Hmmm," Abby remained unconvinced.

McGee turned towards Abby, kissing her temple. "Give her a chance Abs," he murmured. "She's still settling in."

"All right... let's see it then," Abby said reluctantly, she moved towards Ziva's desk, raising her eyebrows expectantly at Charlie, indicating she expected to be let in and take the place nearest her friend.

"McGee, give me the clicker," Ziva instructed. "There really is not room for three of us behind this desk, never mind four." Charlie took the hint, leaving quickly. Abby leaned back as she passed, clearly trying not to get any closer than she had to, and then inserted herself pointedly in the space Charlie had vacated. McGee tossed the remote over and Ziva sent the page on her screen to the plasma.

Abby's eyes widened momentarily, then seemed to remember she was supposed to still be uncertain about Charlie's presence. "Yeah, but it's not green," she said, crossing her arms.

"Thought everything would look green through Abby's eyes right now," Tony murmured in an undertone. Ziva offered him a death stare and mimed hurling a pencil at him.

"The default picture is blue," Charlie pointed out. "Ziva, if you click the colour you wanted it should change."

It did, and now, there was no denying that the silky gown would be perfect, and Tony hummed his approval picturing her in it. "Oh... well, it still has to be something she can nurse Baby Tiva in just in case," Abby grumbled, not quite ready to concede that she liked it.

"Abby, please," Ziva sighed. "The chance of that is so small! I am much more likely to go overdue."

"Early baby contingency plan..." Charlie tilted her head, considering the cut of the dress. "I can add another layer under the neckline for that. Just give me some time to look at patterns for how they're built and I'll make it work."

Abby turned to face Charlie slowly. "You can sew?"

"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "That's what I was trying to say when I met you. I'd be happy to alter Ziva's dress so she has something she's comfortable in for your wedding."

There was another moment of slightly stiff, awkward silence, although not quite as heavy as Tony had managed to bestow on them earlier. "You'd do that? Even though I've been awful to you?" Abby asked, looking guilty.

"Sure," Charlie agreed easily. "I know we maybe didn't get off on the best foot, but we're supposed to be a team, right? Even if I need more practice to be a good agent, I can still be a good person and share my skills with you. So yeah, if you trust me to do that, it'd be my pleasure."

"Oh..." Abby said hesitantly. "Well... I mean, I'm bummed I didn't get to choose it with you Ziva... but it is a great dress, and it's nothing like any of the ones we were looking at before. I can see why you like it so much."

"I still want to try it on, Abby. I have not decided for sure," Ziva added placatingly. "We can go after work tomorrow if you'd like?"

"Well..." There was a long pause, Abby's eyes flicking between the screen, Charlie and Ziva. "Only if Charlie comes too. If she's going to make it fit, she needs to see it on you as well," she said at last. The tension in the room dissipated rapidly, and Abby actually met Charlie's eyes properly for the first time.

"That sounds great, I'd really like that," Charlie said on the tail end of a relieved laugh that they all shared. "Look, Abby, I wasn't trying to take over, I just blurt sometimes, you know? I don't want to get in between what you already have with Ziva. She just picked a topic I love; I got carried away."

Abby nodded, a little more at ease now, although still a little sheepish. "Oh I get it, I'm a blurter too... it's just that everything's changing around here," she explained. "There're weddings and babies and new agents, and it makes everything feel hinky. I just want something to stay the same!"

"Yeah, I get it. My life's been turned upside down lately too," Charlie nodded, still resting on the corner of Gibbs's desk. "It's not easy."

"It isn't." Abby approached her slowly. "But I was kind of a jerk to you, and it's not your fault."

"Kind of?" Tony questioned softly. This time Ziva didn't just mime.

Abby winced in sympathy. "Nice shot, Zivvie. But, you gave me a chance, even when I didn't give you one... and Timmy told me how helpful you were on the case and with looking after Lisa. I should have known that Gibbs wouldn't choose someone awful." She hesitated, looking at her boots for a second.

Charlie shrugged lightly, understanding what needed to come next but was harder to say. "I already know about Rule 6, so let's just start fresh okay? I'm Charlie."

A proper, Abby-style smile split her face. "I'm Abby. Welcome to Team Gibbs. Do you hug? I'm a hugger."

Charlie grimaced and shook her head. "Not really... sorry."

"That's okay, mind hugs totally count." Abby shrugged. "It's nice to meet you... properly anyway."

"Yeah, you too," she replied, a little puzzled at the way Abby closed her eyes and crossed her hands over the centre of her chest for a second, wearing a zen-like smile.

Tony had squeezed himself in around the other side of Ziva's desk. "There we go, wasn't so hard was it, Abs?"

She rolled her eyes at him, cheerful now. "Bite me," she scoffed.

"Oh, with pleasure Ms Sciuto, but I think my wife would have opinions about that," he grinned, sliding a hand into the back of Ziva's hair and rubbing her scalp. "So, now that you're done hiding in your cave, have we got updates for you. Charlie asked me if I was married to Kate and thought Zi and I were having an affair with each other." Charlie groaned and hid her face in her hands, accepting that laughing over her rookie mistakes would be par for the course.

"And she asked Gibbs if he used online dating!" McGee chimed in. "Well all of us actually, but Gibbs!"

Abby looked scandalised. "Gibbs would never!" she exclaimed, although she couldn't quite hide her grin. "He really should try it though, it's pretty cool the kinds of people you can meet... well, most of them anyway."

McGee looked at her curiously. "Wait a sec, you've tried online dating?"

"Sure." Abby nodded pigtails moving with her. "I mean, not for years, obviously. But it was fun for a little while. Maybe we should try and get Gibbs to start a profile. Oh... but that would mean he'd need to learn to use a computer." They all cracked up at that.

"Can you imagine Gibbs going through profiles and sending Salutes?" Tony worked his second hand into Ziva's hair. "I think those personals in the newspaper are more his style, 'Greying bachelor seeks mature redhead. Must love boats.'" He quoted with a grin.

Ziva's head lolled back for a second before she caught herself with a start and pushed him away. "I am going to fall asleep if you keep that up," she said with a stifled yawn. "Still, if Lisa taught us anything it is that online dating seems to be more trouble than it is worth." She stood, stretched and began to gather her things, the others following her cue and preparing to head home for the night.

"Weirdos and stalkers and creeps, oh my!" Tony agreed. "It's a jungle out there."

"You think the sites are bad?" Charlie laughed. "Wait until I tell you guys about Tinder." She shouldered her bag and followed her team to the elevator.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were laced with a sense of anticipation and expectation, punctuated by various holidays and milestones, thanks mostly to Abby. When she realised just how many events were scheduled in the approaching months, least of all her wedding, and created a large countdown calendar in her lab, marking the special days and, gathering as many of Team Gibbs as were willing to indulge her every morning, crossed each day off in red marker with a satisfying swish.

Ziva's 30th birthday was first, the milestone number that, as a young recruit, she had never expected to live to see. She woke early, planning to start the day with her usual morning exercise, only to find Tony had for once, beaten her out of bed, and was brimming with excitement.

"Come down to the basement, birthday girl!" He thrust a cup of tea into her hands as soon as she switched off her alarm.

"Tony..." she yawned. The day for her was heavier, despite the excitement he found in it. "Please. I said I did not want a fuss, the team dinner tonight is enough." Remembering how many others she had known who had died well before they reached the same age, mixed with the pride and contentment of her own situation, had left her conflicted over celebrating the day at all and would have preferred to let it pass without fanfare.

"No fuss, but you need to see your present," he insisted.

Ziva set her teacup down on the bedside table with another yawn. "Well, I will need a minute. It is not so easy getting up these days."

"You're going to have to give up the morning runs eventually, Zi," he said gently. Runs had become jogs that were rapidly fading into walks and bedtime had gotten earlier with each passing week. "Good morning to you, too." This was not directed at her but rather a thump from lower down as he lay a hand on her belly.

She stretched slowly. "Yes, but not yet." She shook his hand off as he went to help her rise, a silent point that she was not fully incapacitated. "Knowing I will stop work soon is enough to contend with. I want to hold onto what I can."

"Well, you're gonna have to miss it today!" he called after her as she made her way into the ensuite. "Got something better for you to do for exercise." He began to strip the now-vacant bed. Another less pleasant side-effect of her third trimester was a role reversal in body temperatures when they slept. Tony had always been warmer, while Ziva seemed to remain effortlessly cool even in summer. However, despite the fall weather, she'd recently begun getting sweaty overnight and as they both preferred crisp sheets, near-daily linen changes had become necessary.

The toilet flushed and the sink ran before she answered. "Not before work. You know what happened last time you went in whistling about that." Her voice was muffled around her toothbrush.

Tony grinned, the antics that had made him whistle and earned him a head slap were more than worth it as far as he was concerned. "I didn't mean that, although..." he trailed off hopefully.

She paused for a second to spit her toothpaste into the basin. "No!" she reiterated firmly. Tony grumbled good-naturedly and remade the bed while waiting impatiently for her to finish, then all but dragged her downstairs.

"So I know you don't like blindfolds, but will you close your eyes? Let me build some sense of surprise. It was a bit too big to wrap." Tony asked as they paused at the door to the basement. Ziva obliged, with an air that she was only doing it to humour him and let him carefully guide her down the stairs and into the middle of the room. "Okay, open up."

"A practice barre!" she exclaimed a second later, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light. "Thank you, ahuvi. Did Gibbs make it?" She ran a hand along the polished wood with delight.

Tony shrugged. "Nah, he said he had bigger fish to fry, whatever that means. Wouldn't even let me in the basement, actually. But I needed some extra help getting one the right height for you and something to go under your feet. Figured the mats we use for sparring are too padded." He gestured to the non-slip matting that rested beneath the legs of the barre. Given the multipurpose nature of the basement, he'd chosen a freestanding one that could be put to the side to make room for the other uses for the space; party room, spare bedroom, and occasionally a boxing ring. "Went to a dance supply place in Arlington while Abby was treating you like a life-size Barbie with bridesmaid dresses. The saleslady took one look at me and said they didn't carry leotards in my size!"

Ziva gave a reminiscent laugh. "A good thing too, the one time you tried ballet with me, you fell on your butt!"

"Well, I didn't get it for me," he chuckled. "Figured not having to drive out to a studio when you want to dance might be easier on you, especially once the stowaway's here. You going to try it out?" he prompted.

Although she'd had enough trouble getting out of bed, it was much less of a chore to dash upstairs for a leotard.

The day grew only more interesting. Gibbs' version of a birthday gift was a team training session. However, they all knew it was probably for Charlie's benefit, who found the more she wished the team would forget that she'd missed their suspect and punched Gibbs, the more firmly they held onto the memory.

"Charlie, join Ziva on the bag," Gibbs instructed suddenly. Ziva looked up from her solo routine, surprised at the command. He'd grown more protective recently, now vetoing even the careful playfighting she'd been allowed to practise with McGee in earlier months. Specifically, he'd turned things up a notch following Kelly's birthday a few days earlier. However, no one, least of all Gibbs, would acknowledge this had played into it, instead using the planned phase-out of Ziva's active tasks to allow Charlie to move into her role more effectively as his reason. "Ziver, give some pointers. Slow and steady, zero contact."

Ziva managed to hide her grimace; slow and steady was the soundtrack to her life right now. At least she could spar with Tony at home, where with the implicit trust only they shared (and safely out of sight of Gibbs), he would still come at her fast enough to provide a challenge. Training a very green probie, on the other hand, was far less enticing.

"Tony, hold the bag and spot 'em." Their boss nodded. "McGee, take five, you did good." The sweaty agent who'd spent the last fifteen minutes trying to build Charlie's confidence enough to swing at him with her full force retired thankfully to a corner and his water bottle.

Five minutes later, Tony yawned, supervising what felt like the twentieth run-through of the same combination of punches. Keeping his arms braced to hold the bag steady, he turned his head, watching a younger recruit trying to lift a dumbbell that was obviously beyond his limit and keeping one ear turned to the drone of his wife's voice. She was taking it seriously, but he could tell she was bored with the simplicity.

"Here, hold my wrist," Ziva instructed, swinging carefully once Charlie had closed her hand as requested. "Do you feel how I do not flex the joint? That is what you need to aim for, too. You try." She watched with careful assessment as Charlie followed instructions. "Yes, better go aga-"

A sudden, jarring crash echoed through the gym, metal clattering against concrete as the dumbbell hit the floor. Everyone turned sharply at the sound, including Charlie and her extended fist, with her wrist appropriately aligned this time, crashing against Ziva's chin.

Ziva reeled backwards, her hand to her face.

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" Charlie gasped, taking a step towards her.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, already on his feet. No one had seen protective Ziva in action since the De Luca case, but a hit to the face while pregnant was not something he expected her to take lightly. "David, stand down!" he ordered preemptively.

Tony caught the warning note and whipped his attention back to the two women. "Charlie, move!" He reached forward and yanked her back, stepping between them.

"Ow..." Ziva whispered, running an experimental finger inside her lip, looking past Tony to where Charlie stood behind him, words of regret tumbling from her mouth. She studied the damage for a second, before displaying it and the tiny streak of red where her tooth had connected with the inside of her lip on her fingertip to the room. "First blood to Charlie," she acknowledged.

Tony broadened his stance defensively as Charlie redoubled her babbled apologies. "Go easy, Ninja, it was an accident," he warned softly as Ziva straightened up.

To everyone's surprise, rather than the reflex retaliation they'd all expected, Ziva wrapped her arms around her middle and roared with laughter. "The looks on your faces! Do you really think I cannot handle a simple punch anymore?" She caught her breath and smirked approvingly at Charlie, who still looked utterly stricken. "See what I mean about your wrist?"

Tony's shoulders dropped, relieved he wouldn't have to stop his wife from flattening their newest team member. "You ok, Zi?" he asked, half wondering if the laughter was a shock response.

She wiped her finger dry on the hem of her shirt. "Yes, it is nice that one of you is not treating me like I will break!" She stepped around him to offer Charlie a handshake and nod of respect. "Your strength is good. We will work on hitting your target next time, yes?"

"Uhh, yes?" Charlie replied uncertainly. "I'm so sorry," she repeated. "Do you need an icepack?" Still smirking, Ziva shook her head.

"Damn good thing your aim is better on the range," Gibbs said, hiding his relief that Ziva was not seriously hurt behind a warning growl. When it came to shooting targets, Charlie had a perfectly respectable average to her name, it was only hand-to-hand contact where she seemed to come undone. "Hit the showers."

Ziva's lip was noticeably swollen when they gathered for her birthday dinner that evening, although she said it didn't hurt. Abby had demanded money from the rest of the team, pooling the funds for an oversized pamper basket, loaded with an array of scented oils, soaps, candles and other paraphernalia all designed to make Ziva become, in Abby's words, "the most chilled Ima-to-be the world has ever seen." Even after Tony hauled it out to the car with a comical groan at the weight, the heavy lavender scent lingered throughout the meal, making everything from the flatbread to the felafel taste vaguely floral.

However, the relaxation Abby had promised had to wait. Naturally, a case intervened. A passerby had called 911 when they'd come across a man collapsed in an alley and on the discovery that he was both a Navy Officer and permanently unresponsive, Metro PD had alerted NCIS. Gibbs, ever protective of jurisdiction, had headed straight to the scene to await the return of Tony, McGee, Charlie, Ducky and Jimmy with the appropriate investigative equipment and vehicles. At the same time, Abby, Ziva, and Breena, who had ended up shuffled into the women's car as the dinner party hastily disbanded, camped out in Abby's lab and finished the desserts the waitress had thrown into takeout tubs for them to await further information.

It was after midnight when Commander Jason Bennett had been transported back to NCIS and down to Ducky. Breena had left on a work callout of her own, Abby was adding more decorations to her countdown calendar, and Ziva, two hours past her preferred bedtime and with nothing better to do until she at least had a name to go off, had the suit jacket Tony left hanging on his chair pillowed beneath her head, the one McGee had left wrapped around her, and had spent the last ninety minutes or so napping on the floor behind her desk.

"Guestlist for the charity event," Gibbs announced, waking her with a jerk as he slapped the blue clipboard onto the laminate surface on her desk. He waited until she got to her feet, ignoring his extended hand in an offer of assistance and passed her a vending machine cup of tea. "You okay... both of you?" He added the last in an undertone as she smoothed the wrinkles out of her shirt.

"Just having a batnap, it is late," she said, sipping her tea despite the scalding temperature. "What do we have?"

He gently took McGee's jacket as she shrugged it off, then bent to collect Tony's before she could try, returning them both to their desks. "Our victim was presenting at the WAIT fundraiser this evening."

Ziva shot her boss a questioning look. She was familiar with the Widows Advocacy and Inspiration Trust, better known as WAIT, for their work supporting bereaved spouses and children of Navy personnel. The charity had a long and respected history, and since its inception in Norfolk in the late 90s, it had expanded to include chapters in most East Coast cities that were also home to a Naval Base, including DC. The early November fundraiser was one of their biggest, gathering funds for a Christmas celebration to unite the families receiving their services and to provide company and support during the holiday season. However, the wording Gibbs used gave her pause for thought. "Victim? I thought he had collapsed, it sounded like a medical episode?"

"Looked like it, too." The reply was both non-committal and loaded all at once.

Ziva nodded understandingly. "But your gut says otherwise. Where are the others?"

"Still taking witness statements from the organisers. Your job..."

"Background the victim, then organise interviews working in an outward radius from his place in the seating plan. On it." She pushed a lock of hair out of her face, had another mouthful of her drink and settled at her computer. "Are we going fast before the trail gets cold, or just getting our geese in a row before it becomes a murder investigation?"

"The second," he answered with a bewildered shake of his head. How she could have 'outward radius' correct but confused 'ducks' for 'geese' was beyond his understanding. "Speaking of ducks, I'll be in Autopsy. And if you're gonna go back to sleep, do it in the Lab."

Ziva glanced up from her screen questioningly. "We have all slept at our desks on cases like this before?"

"Not a million weeks pregnant we haven't. Use the futon... and Abby can help you stand up. Not risking blowing out a knee hauling you off the carpet!"

Ziva missed her run for the second consecutive day the next morning, this time in favour of sleep. They'd eventually gone home in the small hours when Ducky had gently but firmly declared there were no more answers to be had at that time of night. The victim's liver was scarred, confirming the notes they'd found about a previous struggle with addiction, but beyond that, there were no immediate causes of either ill health or his demise, and certainly, nothing to be discovered at 3 a.m. Although they'd all had some time in their rightful beds, it was a row of weary faces that met the news that none of the basic tests Abby had left to run overnight had not come up with anything significant. Bennett was in generally good, but not outstanding health, liked fried foods perhaps a little more than was wise and had a blood alcohol level of zero. She'd started another series of tests and analyses, but for now, they had nothing more to do than be patient and let her work her magic.

In the meantime, Gibbs was adamant they continued exploring Bennett's background, convinced something was off as Abby, Jimmy and Ducky returned downstairs to continue their explorations, and the team set to work looking further into his background and involvement with the charity. Until a cause of death had been determined, they were limited in the information they could access without warrants, but his long history kept them busy enough for a while.

Commander Bennett, as they learned, was in his late 40s, and had made his career in the Navy, joining straight out of high school and steadily working his way through the ranks. He had several overseas tours to his name, two Commendation Medals alongside other smaller accolades, and other than an injury while stationed in the Middle East that had seen him struggle with painkillers and alcohol for some time, on paper, he appeared to be a model recruit. Disciplinary issues were infrequent and minor, and by all accounts, he was generally well-liked among his peers and respected by his subordinates. He had no record of a wife or children but had still developed a special interest in WAIT, often being the first to volunteer at events and as a spokesperson whenever the charity needed more public assistance.

A long rotation of interviews began, including the event organisers, Bennett's closest colleagues and the other guests at the table he'd been seated at, each one vowing, honestly, if sadly, that Bennett had been a good officer and friend. His behaviour on the night had been nothing out of the ordinary, he'd stuck to water or soda, as always, and was open in admitting he was intentionally sober when offered something stronger by wait staff. They hadn't even noticed him missing during the event, simply thinking he had gone to the bathroom or stepped out for air from the stuffy reception centre. It wasn't until the MCRT had politely crashed the party that they became aware anything was untoward.

"He's made them part of his will," Charlie said suddenly. Her desk still felt a little offset from the main bullpen, although she was close enough to talk without raising her voice.

Unlike the smatterings of personal touches the others had at their desks, Charlie hadn't yet brought anything in. Although no one verbalised it, they all knew this 'room over the garage' as Tony had referred to it was temporary, and in a few weeks, she would be moving into Ziva's space. However, she'd noted how unsettled her colleague was feeling about her impending departure and silently decided it was best to keep any 'homemaking' advances in check for the time being. This left her workspace oddly bare and impersonal despite the quirks in her appearance, today an emerald green corduroy vest and antique cameo brooch.

"Commander Bennett, I mean, he'd set up a college trust for his two nieces and a few token offerings for close friends and his brother, but besides that, WAIT was named the main beneficiary when he died," she clarified given how she'd broken the thoughtful silence with no lead-in.

"And the plot thickens, looks like you might be onto something after all, Boss," Tony said.

Given the near-spotless records to the Commander's name, the team had been beginning to feel a little like they were wasting time. The only reason they had not given up entirely (as well as the firm, blue stare directed at their heads when they got distracted) was that two days later, Ducky was still unable to determine why he had died. It had become clear that his heart had stopped suddenly, but something, in Abby's words, was hinky. While Ducky supported this opinion, what exactly was hinky was unclear, and they were looking deeper before making a final call. However, without an official cause of death, the information they could access was minimal, and much of their time had been spent arguing the need to start an investigation at all. However, Bennett's lawyer had, under heavy protest, faxed over a copy of his will and Charlie had been given the task of going through it

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs deadpanned. "McGee?"

"That'll get me a warrant for his laptop, personal files and emails," he replied without looking up. "Already on it."

"How long ago was WAIT added to his will?" Ziva asked. "If it was recent, we may have a motive."

Charlie shook her head. "It's been that way for years. So, the last change was when his second niece was born in 2005. He added WAIT in 2003, a couple of years after he got involved with them, before that, his brother was getting it all."

"Where is the brother anyway?" Tony asked. Bennett's younger brother, Andrew lived in Washington State, and although he had been informed of his brother's passing, no one had had a chance to speak to him formally.

"On a plane," Ziva replied. "He lands at Reagan four. I will be collecting him and bringing him directly back here. I should go now, actually."

Gibbs checked his watch and nodded. "Take Dorneget, get him to drive."

Ziva did not appreciate this new instruction as she gathered her things. "I can still manage a drive to the airport, Gibbs!" she replied indignantly. "And anyone but Dorney. He is terrified of me right now."

Gibbs shrugged. "S'posed to be winding back your duties. That includes playing chauffeur."

"It is a quarter-hour... perhaps half each way with traffic. Do not coddle me." Gibbs shrugged in response, unmoved. "Fine, but does it have to be Dorneget?" Ziva accepted defeat with a sigh.

"I'll take you," Tony offered. Ziva's mention of Dorneget being terrified of her was entirely his fault, she was still annoyed at him and he was trying to get back in her good graces.

The previous day, he, Ziva and Dorney had been in the elevator together. Already not quite sure how to behave towards Ziva concerning her pregnancy, the probationary agent had been clearly on edge during the slow ascent. Tony had been quick to take advantage of the situation and hit the stop switch subtly enough that the other two had both thought it was a genuine mechanical issue. A moment later, he splashed the drink he held at Ziva's feet. Ziva had not seen it coming and the resulting splash followed by a surprised gasp as the icy lemonade had soaked into her sock had Dorney convinced her waters had just broken. She set the record straight and restarted the elevator quickly enough, but not before the younger man had turned an unhealthy shade of grey and was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

Tony had come in from a reprimand from both Gibbs and Vance and was made to mop the elevator floor and apologise to Dorneget. Ziva had added her own two cents, berating him the entire way back to his desk and then most of the ride home, and Abby had cornered him that morning with an impassioned and detailed lecture about the complications of a premature birth. Despite the sincere apology Tony had offered, Dorney had still spent the morning doing everything he could to not be in the same room as Ziva, or even on the same floor.

"Got to the end of everything I can find till that warrant comes through now," Tony added, hoping to distract Gibbs from the reminder as well.

It didn't work. "Nope, you can go get the laptop with McGee. Charlie, drive Ziva." Ziva made an impatient noise in her throat as his boss directed the last statement at the young woman.

Charlie had the sense to understand it wasn't about her personally, shrugged apologetically and picked up her coat. "Sorry, Ziva." As much as she liked Ziva, her respect for Gibbs and the chain of command was not something she was willing to go against, and short of Ziva physically taking the keys from her, Charlie was going to follow orders and drive. Judging by the way Ziva scowled but offered no further arguments, she knew it too.

Gibbs watched the women go, waiting until the elevator closed behind them, before turning back to the guys. "You better be on the way to Bennett's house by the time I'm back from Autopsy." McGee took the hint and began making the necessary phone call to push the warrant he'd just requested through as fast as possible.

"Come on, McGee," Tony said as his colleague ended the call in triumph. "Wanna bet that by the time we've gotten back with it, Ducky will have said it was natural causes and we just spent the last three days on a wild goose chase?"

McGee chuckled. "Probably, but is it worth betting on Gibbs' response if we're still here when he gets back?" They cleared out, fast.

They got to eat dinner at a reasonable hour for the first time in days that night. Andrew had been collected and interviewed, no one finding fault in his assurance that he bore no grudges for the change in Bennett's will. He and his family had enough to live on comfortably without the inheritance and he explained that his brother had learned about WAIT when he'd met one of the families who the charity supported in late 2000.

After his own addiction recovery, Bennett became an AA sponsor and was paired with Christa, a widow and young mother, struggling with the death of her Marine husband and unhealthy coping mechanisms. He'd become involved with the charity when she sought their support in dealing with her loss as well. Christa recovered and the pair fell in love, but she was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer just weeks after Bennett had proposed to her, and when she lost her battle only twelve weeks after that, her older sister in Illinois had been given custody of Bennett's soon-to-be stepdaughter and refused to let him have any further contact with her. The resulting heartbreak had led to Bennett's bachelor lifestyle and to his changing his will, a final gesture of respect in Christa's memory.

McGee had spent the afternoon with Bennett's laptop, attempting to understand a series of coded files that he'd found buried within a labyrinthine series of folders on a hidden hard drive partition, and had left a decryption program running overnight. Abby meanwhile, had finally clued into what she deemed to be hinky but wasn't saying anything until she had final confirmation. She'd all but chased them out of the building, insisting they go home and let her work in peace. After an assurance that her Caf-Pow intake would stay at one and that she would call the second she knew anything, they'd headed out, grateful for the reprieve.

"And it's another perfect day in Hotel Foetus. Your climate control is set to a balmy 98.6 degrees, and the all-you-can-eat buffet is open for business 24/7," Tony said in his best radio announcer voice. The smooth mound of skin hitched beneath his cheek, first in an answering kick and then again as Ziva gave a sleepy, blissful chuckle. "Tonight's menu offerings include your Ima's roasted garlic hummus, half a box of crackers and the last peanut butter cup in the house, which she callously refused to share with me." Forgiven for the lemonade stunt, he lay sideways on the bed, his head resting gently on her belly, singing and talking nonsense. It was becoming a nightly ritual, the baby knew his voice now and would react in a series of squirms and thumps that he swore were Morse Code.

"I told you to go to the store, I said I did not have time to stop between leaving work and seeing Marlee." Weekly midwife visits were now on the agenda until the baby arrived and thankfully, Marlee was flexible enough to see Ziva after hours. Tony playfully added something about the housekeeping staff going on strike and scored a playful laugh and swat on his head for his cheek.

He moved out of reach and continued to address the baby. "We're experiencing technical difficulties, and hostility from Hotel Management. Please stand by. You will be returned to your regular programming as soon as possible." Placing his lips on her skin, he began to hum a Muzak-style version of The Girl From Ipanema.

"That tickles, stop." She drew a knee up gently, dislodging him. "Oh, I heard from Schmiel this afternoon too, he has extended his visit and will stay for all of Hannukah."

"Does that mean we're keeping Kosher?" He chased a ripple across to Ziva's navel as the baby shifted her entire body. "No bacon for eight days?"

"No bacon," she confirmed. Although most of her cooking naturally fell into the laws of Kosher, she did not always follow the rules closely, still finding a balance between what faith meant to her, what was convenient given their work hours, pregnancy cravings, and a husband who had an affinity for eating meat and cheese simultaneously. However, she was more strictly observant on holidays and while Tony followed her lead, he definitely missed bacon.

"You're lucky I love you," he grumbled. He sat up a little, settling his head on the leg she had bent up to face her, but where he could also keep a hand over the tiny gymnastics that were taking place. "Hey, Zi... I've been thinking... if she is a boy..."

"She is not," said Ziva's mouth. "Are you really going to question my intuition?" said her eyes.

"But if she is," he persisted. "Uhh.. you're not going to want to have her... him... I mean. You're Jewish. I grew up in New York. I mean, sure, it was Long Island, but there was enough talk you know. I just don't think it's a good idea."

Ziva sighed patiently. "Tony, talking it out only works when you finish your sentences. What isn't a good idea?"

"The party you have when the baby's about a week old," he continued. "Anyway, if she's a boy would she... I mean, he need to be uh..." He didn't finish the sentence but gestured downwards vaguely with a pained expression.

Realisation dawned. "Oh! A brit milah?" Tony looked blank. "You might have heard it called a bris?" she offered instead.

He was still, slowly, learning Hebrew. He now recognised all the written characters for the sounds they made, but could not read yet fluently and still learned most of the phrases he could speak entirely by ear and repetition. However, a childhood in New York meant that he'd absorbed a collection of Yiddish words, including this one, as evidenced by the sudden understanding on his face.

"Yeah, a bris. We're not going to have one if she's a boy are we?" Even as he asked about a hypothetical son, Tony could not let go of the weeks of thinking of - and referring to - this baby as a girl.

"No, no," Ziva said, shaking her head. "If I am free to choose which aspects of my faith I follow, and you to choose if you have one at all, then our children should be given the same opportunity. And yes, if she is a boy, we would wait until he is old enough to choose for himself."

"Oh, good," Tony looked relieved. "Just that talk of Hanukkah and Schmiel staying made me think. I remembered that's also a part of being Jewish, and I don't love the idea... It's a guy thing probably, but cutting her, I mean his... "

"I get it, Tony," Ziva held her hand up, stopping him. "If I were having a boy, which I am not, then that would not be our choice to make, it would be his. But you do not need to be so cautious about having an opinion about how we will raise her, she is your child too. I'm not going to get angry if you disagree with me about something. We are doing this together after all."

Tony sighed, rubbing his knuckles thoughtfully down her belly, something that was probably an arm shifting beneath the pressure. "I feel like I'm out of my depth here and she's not even born. You've got such a clear picture of how you want to do everything. You know, feeding her and swaddles and things. I'm just hoping I won't drop her on her head. I'm reading all the same stuff you are, but I can't picture it you know? That all that information is actually going to apply to a real baby in a few weeks, to our baby. I don't want to screw it up."

She smiled, touched by his concern. "You won't screw it up, my love. You are going to be learning, just like I am. Neither of us has cared for a baby before, we will work it out as we go. I have only picked the options that make the most sense to me."

"But that you can even imagine why those things would work." He shook his head. "You're at least a little bit scared about what it's gonna look like, aren't you Zi? All this cool, calm, collected thing has to be a front?"

Ziva reached for his hand with a reassuring squeeze. "Of course, I am scared. Like you, there are so many things from my childhood that I would not want our daughter to live through. At least, when it comes to meeting her physical needs, where she sleeps and how she will be fed, I know that I can give my whole self to those while she is small, I can get that much right."

Tony shrugged and smiled at her. "You're gonna rock it, Zi," he replied with his usual optimism. Then he leaned forward and planted a kiss on Ziva's skin. "You've got the best Ima in the world, you know that, kiddo?"

Ziva hummed softly at the answering thump. "You will rock it too, yekiri," She tugged on Tony's hand until he was up alongside her again, rolling to cuddle against him. "If you ever stop being difficult about which bassinet we want for in here that is." The crib had been purchased and assembled in the nursery, but something smaller for the first few weeks in the master bedroom still needed to be chosen.

He chuckled, tucking an arm around her as she got comfortable and smoothed her pyjama top back over her stomach. "That's the first thing she's going to sleep in, it feels like a big choice is all. How do we know they're actually safe?" Ziva groaned wearily in response, clearly sick of that discussion. "Okay, okay. I promise we'll choose one before she's here to need it," he amended quickly.

"Thank you." Ziva leaned up and left a lingering kiss on his mouth. "Speaking of parenting, I spoke to your father on the drive home as well. He is coming for Thanksgiving," she added quickly, while he was distracted, still basking in her affection.

Tony brought a hand up to cover his face. "Zee-vah..."

"To-nee..." she echoed the drawn-out whine. "He is your father, and he wants to see us. To see his grandchild."

"She's not even born yet! And Dad and holidays are... ugh," he groaned expressively. "Always trying to make these huge gestures, and bringing along dates who are like my age, or worse, yours and..."

"He wants to see me while I am pregnant, then. You have not sent him a single photo like you said you would!" she said firmly. "He kept himself very well in check at our wedding, and he is sleeping in the basement. As nice as we have made it, he is not going to bring a woman to stay there," she reasoned, more gently now.

"We've done it in the basement," he countered, grinning at the memory. "And the only reason he didn't bring a date to the wedding is that I told him Vance wanted everyone to have security clearance."

Ziva chuckled. "We live here, that is a different situation entirely."

"We're supposed to be at Ducky's for Thanksgiving," Tony found one last argument to clutch onto. "There won't be room."

Ziva had apparently seen this one coming. "I already spoke to him, in his own words, "The more the merrier my dear girl." Her imitation of Ducky's accent left something to be desired. "Besides, he has already begun to get ready for Abby and Tim's wedding and to move out in the New Year, he has sold many of his mother's things and there is more space for guests than usual," she concluded.

"Fine, but you can keep him in check if he gets any big ideas." Even as he complained, he accepted defeat with a kiss on her head. "So you're just going to run my social life now? Is that it?"

She nodded in response against his chest. "Yes. He is our baby's grandfather. I will try to make sure she has a relationship with the one person outside of this house who shares her blood." There was another noise of reluctant assent from Tony's throat. "You knew what you signed up for when you married me, my love."

"Yeah, losing the position of favourite child to my wife," he grumbled, then brightened with a new idea. "Wanna go do it in the basement again?" he asked hopefully.

"So romantic!" Ziva snorted. "And the basement is far too cold."

"Oh..." he dropped his head and kissed her thoughtfully. "What about here?"

A smile crept over Ziva's face as she returned the kiss. "Here would be just fine."

Despite the earlier bedtime, Ziva's phone was still an unwelcome interruption, her ringer starting even before her usual alarm.

"Leave it," Tony groaned as he felt her sit up, assessing the song that began to play, Abby had personalised her number on each of their phones setting specific songs to ring for her work and personal lines. However, she'd chosen music she liked and only Ziva was willing (out of sheer love, rather than enjoyment) to leave it in place. Tony had quickly reset his to default, while McGee had swapped out the tunes for something he preferred. Gibbs' phone, on the other hand, had been too basic to allow for the arrangement at all. "Voicemail exists for a reason, you know... nope okay, so much for full nights' sleep." He flopped back onto the pillow as Ziva stretched for the bedside table.

"That is her work song, Abby would not call this early unless she had something." The punchy alt-rock tune faded as she hit answer, lifting the phone to her ear. His phone shrilled with its usual ringtone not a second later. "Yes, Abby what is it?"

Not bothering to sit up, Tony reached for his phone before the call ended too. "Yeah, Boss?"

"Bennett was murdered, grab your gear." The line went dead. With almost a week gone since Bennett had died, Gibbs was obviously not willing to let the trail get even a few hours colder.

"Always so eloquent," he murmured. He allowed himself a few minutes more of regret before dragging himself upright and stumbling towards the wardrobe. "Nope, park it, Ninja. You stay home and sleep," Tony instructed, realising Ziva had already conducted a speedrun shower and was finding new clothes to wear.

"I am coming too. Until I am on leave, I will respond to calls." She turned expectantly, exposing her back to him pointing over her shoulder at her open bra straps. "Hook it."

"Zi, it's like half past four. What are you gonna do now? You can't interview suspects or take crime scenes," Tony reasoned gently. All the same, he followed their usual morning dressing routine, fastening the hooks and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. "You're supposed to be taking it easier now, you know."

"Tell me Gibbs will not be rousing some judge from their bed as we speak to get warrants pushed through immediately? Who do you think does all the paperwork for those at the moment?" she said, her one concession to the early hour to select yoga pants and a soft, oversized hoodie instead of her usual office wear. "Besides, who else will listen to Abby if you are all out investigating?" Dressed already, she headed for the ensuite and her hairdryer.

He followed her lead, showering just as quickly, choosing jeans and a hoodie himself and grabbing a dry cleaner's bag with a suit he had yet to unpack. "How am I s'posed to look after you if you insist on being right all the time?" he continued, stuffing his toes into his shoes.

"By looking after me in ways that I actually need help," she said, reappearing with her hair swept up into a neat ponytail again. "You can drive if it makes you feel better." Ziva paused long enough to choose something more formal to change into when the day teams began to arrive, slinging the clothes over her arm.

"You mean if it stops Gibbs giving you the evil eye for being in the office before dawn," he chuckled.

"That too!" Ziva was two steps ahead of him, snatching up her bag before he could reach it and beating him down the stairs.

Tony shook his head as she paused at the coat rack. "Crazy chick," he murmured with affection. "Alright then, let's go solve a murder."

Chapter Text

They all ended up listening to Abby's findings, the news that a seemingly natural death had become a murder needed more explanation. Despite the early hour and the fact she'd been alone all night, Abby was in her prime with a captive audience, who, until the warrants were approved by a decidedly cranky judge, couldn't really get started anyway. She met them in the bullpen as they arrived, Gibbs, Tony and Ziva appearing at the same time, with near identical commutes, McGee next and Charlie a few minutes after him, living the furthest away. She barely even waited for them to shrug off their coats before insisting they all follow her to the lab. They trooped down as a team, Tony making sure Ziva had at least (under protest) taken a seat and watched the obligatory calendar crossing off before Abby got down to business

"So, we were all running on the premise that he'd had a heart attack right?" she paused and turned towards them, waiting for their nods before making a game show buzzer noise. "Wrong! Now, his troponin and creatinine phosphokinase levels were crazy high, and definitely suggested that, but..."

"Abs..." Gibbs murmured.

She spun to her computer. "Patience, oh great one, you're going to owe me a Caf-Pow for this, by the way. So, as I was saying, Bennett did show all the usual markers of a massive cardiac arrest, but there was still something hinky about it all. Like, his cholesterol wasn't great, but Tony's is worse."

"Hey!" the man in question protested, offended.

Abby shrugged it off. "Well, it is. The point is, he wasn't at any greater risk from his lifestyle than anyone else. He shouldn't have just dropped like that. His diet wasn't the best, but it wasn't awful. Sure, he chose the veal parmigiana, and we all know the schnitzel is fried..."

"Abby," Gibbs cut in again a little more firmly.

"But the only reason I knew he had the veal from the dinner menu is because I had Major Mass Spec tell me that. Ducky normally IDs what our victim ate by sight, but when the food's been there longer and it's more digested, he needs help." Gibbs cleared his throat with a warning look and she rolled her eyes. "Gibbs, I've been here all night with only Bert and a single Caf-Pow for company. At least let me enjoy the big reveal!"

"Just get on with it," he sighed.

Abby sighed, too, and switched back to business. "If Bennett ate dinner at the benefit - and we know he did, it's right there on video - there was no way it should have been that mushy already." She pointed to her screen, replacing the photos of Bennett's heart with a petri dish of partially digested slush. Charlie, who was always more easily unsettled when it came to food, gagged and turned her back.

"That's disgusting," she groaned over her shoulder. "Warn a girl, would you, Abby?"

Abby closed the picture again. "Sorry, Charlie, it's gone now. It's so weird that you'd be put off by that, but not the time I showed you the splatter pattern that looked just like the lead singer from... oh seriously Gibbs?" she huffed as he gave her a hurry-up hand signal. "You must be awful at foreplay... always rushing to the main event and not enjoying the build u-"

"Abigail!"

She winced at the impatient bark, while the others shared relieved glances as they were spared any further ponderings of the forensic specialist's tired mind. "Ouch, full name Gibbs, no fair! I have been awake for almost 24 hours now, you know. Anyway, the whole time we were looking at this food like he'd had it for lunch. But it clicked this afternoon, they served dinner at the benefit and his food was way too digested for something he'd eaten in the last hour. So that made me look closer. Bennett was poisoned, there are only trace amounts and it took me forever to find them - it's designed to break down quickly to be virtually undetectable. The thing is, when it broke itself down, it broke down the food too, it was the only clue that we were dealing with anything unusual. I actually had to send the samples out to another lab to even find out what it was."

"And what was it?" Charlie asked. Like the others, she'd dressed down, but still appeared to have arrived from a different era; the t-shirt she wore knotted over one hip advertised a band that had released their first album long before she was born, while the pockets and hemline of her jeans bore brightly coloured hand embroidery and a hole in the knee was patched with what appeared to be a crochet lace doily.

Abby replied with a long chemical formula none of them really understood. "It doesn't even have a more common name yet, this is top-secret stuff. It acts fast - it basically paralysed his heart muscle. Whoever gave this to Bennett certainly didn't do it by accident, you'd have to have some kind of chemical or bioweapons training to even know it exists. You're looking for someone who knew what they were doing, and was trying not to get caught." She finished, obviously pleased with her work, but sombre at the discovery.

Gibbs nodded and turned to face his team. "The second those warrants are approved I want..."

"The CCTV footage from inside the event. Who handled Bennett's food and drink that evening."

"A background on the event guests and staff, to see who has that kind of training."

"Charity finances and correspondence, anything Bennett might have known."

"A motive, and a name."

For the first time since they'd first got the call about Bennett, the team split with a clear path to take in their investigations, each raising a hand to Abby in farewell.

She turned and watched them leave with a dissatisfied pout. "Aww, Gibbs, did you have to give them all jobs?"

Gibbs studied her thoughtfully, his face growing tender. It was only now that her monologue was over that the tiredness really showed through. Although her pigtails were still firmly in place, there were circles under her eyes and her lipstick had long since worn off. "Thought you liked working on your own?" he asked softly.

"I do." She shot a glance at her calendar, between big bold letters announcing 'Christmas' and 'Our Wedding' a square sat blank save for the tiniest of handwriting noting 'Ziva's last day.' "I just figured with a team of four right now, maybe I could get some company every now and again," she murmured with a shrug.

"Gonna miss her, too." Gibbs followed her gaze, understanding. "But, if you want Thanksgiving dinner to be a full house, we need this case closed. We're active until we've brought Bennett's killer in."

"Yeah, but..." Abby sighed expressively, allowing herself a second to wallow before switching gears. "Now that I know what I'm looking for, I'm gonna see if I can find out if it was in Bennett's food or his drink. You still owe me a Caf-Pow, by the way."

"You'll get it." Gibbs turned her towards the futon in the back of the room. "After you've slept."

"I'm still good for another 6 hours at least Gibbs... my record is 38 hours and still solving the murder, you know that. I don't need to sleep yet." Even as she protested, she let him guide her across the floor. The slightest pressure on her shoulders had her melting onto the bed, flopping her head onto Bert with a squelch. "Okay, maybe just a power nap first. The numbers in the test results were starting to blur together a bit."

"We've got it from here." Gibbs bent, and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders gently, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Good night, Abs."

She was asleep even before he hit the light switch by the door.

The next long, pre-dawn hours were spent yawning and filtering through the information as it trickled in. Although the team was up, the rest of the city wasn't and it was some time before the newly approved warrants could be put to use. Charlie tried her first, and last, sip of Caf-Pow declaring it sickly sweet and joined the guys in line for coffee. Ziva powered her way through a very small, very milky cup herself, pulling a face all the while, but seemed to perk up afterwards, no matter how little she'd enjoyed the taste.

Ducky's arrival a little while later, at an only very slightly more sociable hour was barely noticed at first. Everyone was focused on CCTV footage, those odd encrypted numbers on Bennett's laptop, and the backgrounds of the event guests. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that anyone realised he was standing in the middle of the room, and another few seconds for them to notice he was holding a tray full of takeout cups and a bag bearing the logo of a well-loved patisserie near Mallard Manor.

"Why do I suspect it's not my presence that you are all so grateful for, but rather the sustenance I come bearing?" He chuckled as one by one they rose from their desks with sighs of relief at the smell of coffee, and requests for food that were only thinly veiled as greetings. "Ah! One at a time. Miss Delaney first, I know you prefer your food untouched by others." He proffered the bag to her with a gentle smile, then handed her a drink once she'd made her selection.

"You remembered I like chai!" she exclaimed, studying the squiggles on the top of her cup. As Tony had predicted, Charlie and Ducky had meshed well, they both listened well to each other's overly long explanations and shared a fascination for understanding human behaviour.

He beamed at her kindly. "But of course, my dear. You realise however that chai is merely..."

"Another translation of the word tea? And that what I have is just a very Westernised version of masala chai that bears almost no resemblance to the traditional drink?" she finished for him. "Yes, but I also know how to order what I want, even if that means messing with traditional words from other languages."

Ducky laughed softly and nodded in amused defeat. "It seems I cannot pull the wool over your eyes," he said. There was a pause as he finished handing out supplies to everyone else. "Now, the reason I am here, besides providing you with much-needed brain fuel for the investigation-"

"For which I thank you, my ancestors thank you, and my future daughter thanks you," Tony mumbled around a mouthful of egg and bacon bagel. "Cheese on the side and everything. You are a god among men."

"You're welcome," he nodded in Tony's direction, before resuming the original topic. "I came to talk about Thanksgiving this week. Obviously, it has been taken for granted that I would host, and as the last year I will be at that address, I am more than happy to oblige. However, I have not yet given you formal invitations, so without further ado..." He drew out a set of elegantly inscribed cards that were as much a tradition of Team Gibbs' Thanksgiving as the last-minute scramble to solve a case and get there at all and began passing them out.

"Thanks, Ducky," McGee stood his invitation in the top row of keys to keep focusing on breakfast.

"Now, in return for the famed Mallad hospitality, I do ask that you bring along a token of your appreciation to share. Abigail, has, as always put her name down for cranberry sauce, and volunteered you for green bean casserole, Tim." No one paid heed to Tony's murmur of McGreen Bean in the background as Ducky continued. "Gibbs I trust that..."

"Bread rolls, I know." He swigged from his coffee again and tested the weight of the cup. "You got two mouthfuls left, Duck."

Taking the hint, he turned to Tony and Ziva, resting side-by-side on the edge of Tony's desk. "Anthony my lad, I trust that you can choose a bottle or two to compliment the dinner." Tony nodded easy assent. "Ziva, I have been speaking to Anthony Senior, and he assures me that Thursday morning will be spent baking up a storm between the two of you."

Tony rolled his eyes. "I told you, Zi. Grand gestures," he murmured.

She laughed it off, happier now that the almond croissant Ducky knew she liked best was in her system. "I am sure I can handle making a couple of pies with your father, Tony. I did not know he knew how to bake."

"He doesn't," came the dire reply. "You're gonna spend half the morning stopping him from burning the place down, and the rest of it cleaning up after him."

Ziva scoffed a little impatiently. "Would you stop exaggerating..."

Ducky chuckled fondly and left them to it, turning back to Charlie. "Now Charlotte, I haven't had the chance to get to know you so well, so I hope your favourite dish hasn't already been spoken for." He presented the final invitation with a flourish. Although she firmly went by 'Charlie' when anyone else was speaking to her, her full name rolled smoothly off the ME's tongue in a way that she minded far less than usual.

"Oh..." Charlie hesitated for a second, admiring the card. "Thank you, but no."

Ducky seemed taken by surprise for a moment. "If you have a partner or a friend, you were planning to spend the day with instead, they would be more than welcome too, this is not an exclusive event," he offered.

Charlie gave a slight chuckle, feeling a little awkward. "Oh, I am very single right now. But no, thank you. I think I'll spend the day sewing. I got a massive haul from a thrift store last week, and they all need a little magic, and with this case, it'll be the first chance I've had to get them done." She laughed again, a little more humorously. "I'm starting to understand what they said in training when they mentioned this job becomes your life."

"It's a national holiday, Charlie, you can't spend Thanksgiving alone," Tony put in, throwing back the last of his coffee. "And a Team Gibbs tradition, which is even more important."

"Look, I appreciate the offer. But this year... I think I just want to be by myself, okay?" she insisted. "Besides, it's not like I have anyone to spend the day with." There was a heavy, weighted pause as everyone remembered that this was the first holiday season Charlie faced since her father had died.

"Sure you do." The offer came softly from Gibbs' desk.

She hesitated again, dark eyes flicking towards the source of the voice and sighed. "That's just it. You're all looking at me like I need a new family because my Dad died. It's been changing slowly for years. Mom was killed, and then her Mom died only a couple years after that. Then, each Thanksgiving Dad and I used to drive up to Peoria to see my Gran, that's his Mom. We'd flip a coin to see who chose the music, it took me two years and about fifty hours of John Cougar Mellencamp's greatest hits to work out Dad had a two-headed coin. We'd stop for the night at my Aunt Carol's house in Ohio, and she'd come the rest of the way in the car with us. After Thanksgiving, we'd do the same trip in reverse. But Gran died three years ago, and Aunt Carol's in a home, she has Alzheimer's, and she can't even remember her own kids' names, never mind mine. We had our last Thanksgiving at home, just Dad and me. It's been changing for a long time, and I'm okay with that. Even if it means not having a family to be around this time of year."

"But that's kind of the point of why we do what we do," McGee said. "So that even when things change.."

Charlie shook her head. "I don't want to be rude, but you guys came together like you did because your own families were broken in some way and you're filling those gaps in your lives. It's not like that for me. Yeah, my Mom died when I was way too young, but Dad was the best even after we lost her. I like you guys, I like working here, and I like being your friend. But, I don't want... I don't need to replace what I had with a new family. This year, I just want to do the things I love and remember the people I love. It's sweet of you to ask me, Ducky. But I won't be coming," she finished firmly and passed the invitation back. Her final sentence, "Besides, you work together. It's kinda weird how close you all are." stayed in her head.

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed this. If any one of them was honest, after that first awkward getting-to-know-you stage, they had just assumed Charlie would simply fall into place as a younger sibling or cousin. After all, as she'd acknowledged in her first week, she was already halfway to meeting the unofficial Team Gibbs criteria perfectly with a tragic backstory, and for all the learning she had yet to do, she'd fitted in with them well, finding unique points to connect with each team member. None of them had thought for a second that she might actually prefer to be by herself on the upcoming holiday.

"Well," Ducky spoke first, "I hope the day brings you nothing but the warmest of memories. But rest assured that should you change your mind, your presence would still be very welcome. In whatever sentiment you feel fits your situation. Even if that sentiment is merely hunger." He folded her hand gently around the card with a reassuring pat.

Charlie nodded her thanks, just as Gibbs cleared his throat and pointedly tossed out his empty coffee cup. As always, his patience for chatter and personal matters lasted exactly as long as the caffeine supply. The hint was clear, Ducky quickly took his leave and the others retreated to their desks for more hours of combing through evidence.

By Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, it was beginning to look more and more like the table at Mallard Manor would have several empty seats, despite the recent expansions to the guestlist. The CCTV footage from the event when it was finally released was grainy and monochrome. Apparently, the security system hadn't been updated in some years. In addition, one particular guest, Captain Aaron Walker, who had sat at the same table as Bennett had large retracted passages in his files, requiring extra clearance to read. Of course, these omissions were immediately suspicious, but until they knew what lay beneath, their hands were firmly (if metaphorically) tied when it came to making enquiries about the Captain in question. Finally, despite Bennett's lack of formal IT experience, the amateur, personal touch he'd added in encrypting the files McGee was trying to access had fallen outside of standard algorithms and taken longer than expected to get into.

However, as was often the case, the details they needed all seemed to click at once in a last-minute Hail Mary.

"The money's gone," McGee announced suddenly.

Tony immediately looked guilty. "I told you I'd pay it back. I needed change for the vending machine."

He shook his head, puzzled. "No, not that money... What?" Suddenly realising, what Tony had meant McGee immediately pulled out his wallet and rifled through, looking increasingly annoyed. "When did you do that? You took a twenty! That's not change."

"Not my fault you don't carry anything smaller." Tony shrugged innocently.

"Here." Ziva was quick to defuse the situation, rubbing her eyes after squinting at footage all morning attempting to track the mysterious Captain through the event, and joined McGee at his desk, returning the money from her own purse. "What money do you mean?"

"Thanks, Ziva," he took the cash with a smile and then pointed at his computer. "The charity money. WAIT's bank accounts were drained sometime last night. Trying to work out where it's gone, but it's going to take a while. How's the footage coming?"

Ziva sighed and leaned her hands on his desk, stretching her calves out behind her one at a time. "Dreadful. I have had better images through a night vision scope."

"Do you want my chair?" Tim asked quickly, with a concerned glance as she switched feet. Tony, however, seemed used to the standing lunge she assumed, only admiring the shape of her legs as she stretched. "You okay?"

"Stay put, I am just glad to be standing again." She straightened, raising her arms above her head with a yawn. "There is no such thing as a happy medium right now. I sit too long and my legs ache, I stand too long and my back aches. But you all need to watch this and tell me if you can see it too. McGee, if you can make the image clearer, that would be helpful." He'd already run a basic enhancement filter on the recording, trying to lighten and remove the visual noise from the videos, but it had only offered marginal improvement. The event was four hours long, and there had been a total of five security cameras in the venue, so any more in-depth alterations would have taken far too long to complete, and the hope was that they could isolate the necessary moments with the footage in its near-raw state and polish only what was truly useful.

He nodded, opening the files on his own computer. "I'll see what I can do, which camera angle and what time did you need?"

Ziva answered as she moved back to the middle of the room, Tony coming to meet her. With Gibbs upstairs, still working on clearance to open the blanks in the Captain's file, he took the opportunity to rest his hand on the small of her back, rubbing the muscles there gently, support and affection all at once. Charlie joined them a second later too, emerging from the depths of another background check, and mentioning that whoever she'd been looking into had no apparent connection to access the poison used to kill Bennett.

They gathered around the plasma as McGee displayed the first video, Ziva narrating. "So, here, about half an hour before the 911 call was made, Commander Bennett refuses a drink from the wait staff - you can see that they are all wine glasses. Captain Walker talks to Bennett for a moment, then leaves the table. If you skip forward about three minutes, please, Tim... and then he returns with two drinks."

"That checks," Charlie nodded. "Gibbs and I interviewed the woman sitting next to Walker, She overheard Walker saying he was driving home, so he wasn't drinking either. He offered to get a tray of water for the entire table, but Bennett was the only one who wanted any, he'd just made his presentation, and he left his glass at the lectern, you can see it a few minutes earlier."

They continued watching the clip; Bennett lifted the glass to his mouth, had a sip, then removed the slice of lemon sitting on the side, before continuing to finish the water in a few large mouthfuls and continuing to chat with his tablemates. A few minutes later, he headed towards the bathrooms at the back of the room. There was no audio and the footage was too poor to determine his facial expression, but his body language seemed quite calm. About a minute after that, Walker rose as well, motioned to a nearby waiter to collect the empty glasses, and left the venue via the front door.

Ziva shifted from foot to foot as she spoke, still working out her restless legs. "We already know from the service corridor camera that instead of going into the men's room, Bennett began holding his chest when he was out of sight, and took the fire exit to the alley behind where he was found, which did not have surveillance. But now, find Walker on the bar camera, please, McGee."

McGee obeyed with a nod. The angle was up high, and they were mostly looking over Walker's shoulder as he ordered the drinks, the waiter filling both glasses from a bottle of what looked like San Pelligrino but their investigations had shown it to be a much cheaper alternative and adding a wedge of lemon to the rim. "There, did you see that?" Ziva pointed at the screen as Walker lifted both glasses, one in each hand and turned away from the bar.

Tony squinted closer. "The bottle looks new, Zi. I've seen silent movies that had a better frame rate, but you can see the way the waiter moved that he was breaking the seal, it was a fresh one."

Charlie shook her head as she leaned towards the screen. "No, it's Walker's left hand isn't it, Ziva?"

"Yes," Ziva glanced upwards, as Gibbs appeared on the catwalk above, still talking to Vance and stepped away from Tony. "McGee, can you...?"

He was already working on it. "Wait one second..." He played it again, zoomed in as far as he could manage and slowed down, almost frame by frame. Walker appeared to have his hand in his jacket pocket until the server placed both drinks on the bar in front of him. The new image revealed, barely, the way Walker's two littlest fingers uncurled as he placed his hand around the top of the glass to lift it, just enough to have released something he may have held discreetly palmed.

"No way," Charlie breathed. "That's some serious sleight of hand." The video quality was far too poor to see if anything had actually fallen in the drink, but the action, however small, was damning.

"Then, look -" McGee seemed to have caught on and switched feeds again. "He didn't walk straight back to the table, he went around the outside of the room, and he took longer."

"Enough time for something to dissolve." Tony agreed, nose almost pressed against the screen. "Nice eyes, Ninja," he added with an approving glance sideways.

"Quit flirting, DiNozzo. That's our guy." The three clustered around the plasma jumped as Gibbs appeared behind them. "McGee, play that again and make it bigger." He jabbed a thumb at the paused image, a closeup of the glass under Walker's hand.

"Does he have the know-how?" Tony asked, stepping back to let Gibbs narrow his eyes as he watched.

"And then some." Gibbs agreed, studying the replay again. "Dirty bombs, bioweapons, chemical warfare, whole nine yards."

"Making or breaking them?" McGee questioned. Like Tony and Charlie, he was already preparing to leave.

"Yes," Gibbs responded shortly. "Which glass did he give Bennett? We're not leaving anything to chance."

McGee switched files again, tracking Walker back across the room, confirming the drinks stayed in the same arrangement as he'd collected them from the bar, and then returned to the table, placing the glass in his left hand in front of the Commander.

"He could taste the poison, but he thought it was the lemon," Ziva declared with sudden clarity, as the recorded Commander took the garnish off for the second time. "He did not remove it for any other drinks."

"That'll do." Gibbs nodded. "Grab your gear. McGee..."

"Cellphone trace, I'm on it."

"Sorry, Zi, you're gonna have to get Dad from the airport now." Tony tossed his car keys across the bullpen amidst the flurry of activity. "Reagan at five. If you know a gate number, that's more than he told me."

She caught the missile and returned it just as swiftly. "I will organise a car to collect him and bring him here. I am not off call until you are."

Gibbs was suddenly in the middle of the bullpen and intercepted the throw mid-flight. "Not this time. Stand down, David."

"But..."

"But nothing. You're off duty for the day. Get some rest, spend some time with Senior, show off that gut of yours." McGee's computer dinged, and he read out an address somewhere near Bethesda.

"Rule 15," she rebutted. "I am still one of your team." The argument was delivered just a little too sharply to be professionally motivated. Being stood down before the case was closed had hit her personally, threatening to sever the last threads of her identity as an agent that she was still holding tight to in the last weeks of her employment.

Instead of throwing the keys back, Gibbs closed the gap between them and placed them in her hand. "Always, kiddo. But right now, family first." With the rule that superseded all, he dropped a kiss on her temple and headed for the elevator.

Tony woke late the following morning. Captain Walker had been located and eventually arrested, but the paperwork had taken time, followed by a preliminary interrogation, in which he'd refused to say a word until his lawyer was present. The lawyer never showed and they'd called it a night, sending Walker to a holding cell. By the time he was home, Ziva was in bed. She'd sat up long enough to let him braid her hair, inform him that his father was asleep downstairs, and was back asleep before he'd returned from the shower. Tony had not been long in following her and had barely noticed when she'd slipped out for her morning run/jog/walk a little while earlier.

However, the sleep-in he'd been promised as she'd kissed him goodbye was cut short when a loud metallic clatter, followed by a shriek echoed up the stairs. It wasn't early, but it certainly wasn't late enough by his standards either, and blearily, he made his way downstairs. It was not unusual for Tony to wake late on a holiday morning, and find Ziva already up and about in the kitchen, complete with music in the background. She was in the kitchen, and there certainly was music playing - Sinatra, presumably his dad had chosen the tunes - but as he rounded the corner with the intent to first ascertain that she was okay, and second to complain about the ruckus, that was where the similarity ended.

Normally, their kitchen was a pristine, well-organised space, and Ziva was an extremely methodical and tidy cook. This time, however, flour coated seemingly every surface including the floor, the island counter and the array of ingredients scattered across the cool granite surface, the pantry door... and his wife and father. He quickly worked out that the noise that had woken him had been a large aluminium mixing bowl hitting the tiles, and a full bowl at that. The shriek turned out to be laughter, Ziva's mostly, having apparently taken the bulk of the mess down her front. She was still laughing, leaving perfectly clean outlines of her bare feet when she stepped away to reach for the broom.

Ziva swallowed her laughter as she noticed him. "Did we wake you?" She asked, not quite hiding a smile behind a sympathetic face. She moved the broom through the flour a couple of times and gave it up as a bad job. "I think I will need the vacuum for this," she decided with another laugh.

"Morning, Son!" Senior beamed cheerfully. Like Ziva, he was covered in flour, but mostly below the knees. The upward splatter pattern - if it could be called that, considering it was a dry powder - suggested he had taken the worst of it on ricochet when the bowl had hit the floor. He was swiping, equally ineffectively, at the mess on the bench, however, the cloth he'd picked up had been damp and was beginning to create a kind of batter.

Tony could feel his hair standing upright as he ran his fingers through it. "What... what happened here?" He looked down at the floor, trying to find a clean path through to the coffee pot on the other side of the room. Ziva seemed to understand what he wanted and padded to the bench to start it, walking calmly through the mess and leaving a trail of floury prints in her wake.

"I asked Ziva if she could make shortbread cookies," Senior replied, giving up on the countertop, and picking out the other packages of ingredients to dust them off instead.

"Asking I could understand. This was not asking. This looks like a crime scene." He watched Ziva cross to the fridge, more footprints, to retrieve the milk.

Senior chuckled, "Well, with the pies in the oven, we got started. Just when she'd measured the flour, I asked her to dance."

He shook his head, still not quite sure if this was some bizarre dream. "You what?"

Ziva turned with an empty coffee cup in her hand. "A dance, Tony," she repeated. "The only problem was that the bowl was too close to the edge of the counter, and your father forgot that I do not dip so easily as I used to, I put a hand out to steady myself and well..."

"You dipped Ziva?" Tony rounded on his father in disbelief. It was starting to make sense now, she'd knocked the bowl down when she'd reached out. "She's eight months pregnant, Dad!"

"I'm not blind yet, you know," Senior chuckled disarmingly. "You make me feel half my age, gorgeous," he directed this at Ziva with a charming smile.

"Behave, thank you!" Ziva assumed a scandalised expression, shaking a scolding but playful finger at the elder DiNozzo. "That is no way to talk to a married woman!"

Tony grimaced. "Dad!" Ziva obviously hadn't taken it any more seriously than it was meant, but watching his father's dashing charm being directed at her playfully or otherwise was not on his to-do list that morning. "I'm half your age!"

The look in Ziva's eyes suggested she'd already done the calculations and he was wrong, although she merely smirked quietly to herself and said nothing. "And I may be pregnant, but I am not broken," she added instead. She reached for the coffee as it began to bubble, talking over her shoulder as she poured. "The baby and I are both perfectly fine. She likes dancing, you know that. Nobody got hurt, the bowl did not hit me, only the flour. Once this is cleaned up we will start again."

"I think you've done enough already." Tony surveyed the room dubiously. Senior rescued a jar of nutmeg from its dusty abode and set it next to the sink. Ziva stirred in sugar and added a healthy splash of milk. "Why were you dancing anyway?"

"The song we danced to at your wedding played, I couldn't resist," his father replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's not every day I get to bake cookies and dance with a beautiful woman in her kitchen at 8 a.m." Ziva had just turned to face the room again, and he caught her hand, tugging her back into a dance hold. Setting the coffee she'd just made down in a hurry, she obliged with a smile.

"Should've gone to work today, never mind Thanksgiving," Tony groaned. It really did feel like a bad dream, his coffee was on the far side of the island bench, blocked on one side by a minefield of flour and the discarded bowl, on the other by Ziva turning under his father's arm. Admittedly Ziva did look a lot more relaxed than she had since the Bennett case started but between the sudden wakeup, the mess, and the generally surreal situation, the whole thing was more than Tony could cope with, especially when Senior began to sing along with the music.

"Dad could you stop flirting with my wife?" he snapped over the strains of Judy Garland asking her lover to embrace her. "Or at least hold it in till I've had my coffee?"

"Steady on, Junior," Senior shook his head reproachfully. "It's just some harmless fun."

"It's not harmless when -"

"Enough," Ziva cut in gently. She had retrieved his coffee and transported it safely over the mess to his waiting hand. She leaned over to carefully press a kiss to his cheek making sure she didn't transfer the flour on her shirt to his robe. "I already told you, I am fine. Go back to bed, ahuvi, you got in late last night. I am sorry we woke you."

The first sip of coffee and seeing that Ziva really did seem to be enjoying herself soothed his nerves somewhat. Looking at the sparkle in her eyes, he understood that it had probably been a very long time since she'd had the chance to spend a morning in the kitchen with a parent (or someone close enough to it anyway), learning a recipe and creating a disaster or two in the process. After all, Gibbs was not exactly the father figure who was inclined to bake.

"Okay," he relented, still tired and confused. Senior murmured something about sprucing himself up and disappeared to the basement door. "This is what I mean about grand gestures, Zi. Something always goes wrong in the end."

Ziva cupped his face tenderly, her fingers roughing up the beginnings of the stubble he had not yet shaved away. "It was just some flour that got spilled. Nothing more. He was quite helpful with the pies if I am honest. Oh!" She turned suddenly and tracked her way back through the flour once more, bending and retrieving two golden desserts from the oven, bringing with her a warm smell of cinnamon and crispy pastry.

He watched as she set the pies carefully on the racks to cool. "They do look good," he said, perking up at the smell. "I don't suppose there's any chance of a preview?"

"No. You can wait until we are at Ducky's," she said, dusting down her front with the cloth she'd used to protect her hands from the heat of the pie dishes. It didn't make much of a difference, the dark navy sweater she wore was beyond redemption, her belly decorated with a swirling white galaxy that was settling deep into the weave. "There are cream cheese bagels on the dining table if you want to eat now."

"Oh fine, go ahead and starve me then," he groaned dramatically, setting his coffee aside and reaching for her again. "How do you know they're good if I don't test them first?"

"You will just have to trust that they are." She joined him, and he swiped a smear of flour out of her eyebrow, receiving an affectionate smile in thanks. "In the meanwhile, my love, why don't you go back to bed for a while and I will finish up here. At lunch, I believe they are replaying an old Buckeyes game. 2005 from memory. That is an important part of Thanksgiving traditions too, is it not? Perhaps we can watch together."

Tony smiled, already knowing Ziva would lose herself in a book and pay almost no attention to the game itself. "2005, huh? The Buckeyes beat the Wolverines by four points. Highlight of the year." He snickered at the eye-roll she offered. "Okay, second place. I also got to make out with my incredibly hot coworker pretending to be married assassins."

Ziva scoffed and shook her head, giving him the win rather than arguing that maybe their first meeting should have taken the title. "Does that sound like a fair exchange for waking you up so suddenly?"

He tilted his head to the side, pretending to consider this. "Throw in a makeout session with the incredibly hot coworker and you've got yourself a deal."

"Does an incredibly pregnant wife count?" She slipped her arms around his neck, still keeping her distance, trying to avoid spreading the mess any further.

Tony pulled her closer, flour and all. "That absolutely counts."

Despite the unceremonious start to the day, Thanksgiving dinner went off well. Gibbs was, as was customary, late, although he had managed to acquire the rolls this year. He'd been back to the Navy Yard, informing Walker that his lawyer was out of town for the holiday and wouldn't be returning until the following day. This had little effect on Walker's eloquence, and he was returned to his cell to ponder the error of his ways. McGee was a little distracted and annoyed, still waiting on decryption information from Bennett's files, while Ziva's heartburn was back with a vengeance, leading to her skipping dessert. Charlie too, was absent as she had intended, but had dropped by early in the day to bestow Ducky with a bottle of single malt and an instruction to toast Mallard Manor with her blessing but wouldn't be persuaded to stay until the others arrived.

Even with those imperfections, the meal was considered a success by all from the spiced butternut soup starter Ducky concocted, to the pies Senior and Ziva had made that morning. The wine disappeared even more rapidly and Ziva was kept supplied with a non-alcoholic version of mulled cider until her stomach rebelled. Senior was affable and charming as always, regaling the party with a tale Tony had obviously heard before and Charlie texted Abby several photos of her handiwork and assured them all she was thoroughly enjoying her solo holiday. Mallard Manor was toasted warmly before Jimmy and Breena took over the cleanup duty, ushering everyone else to the door and the tired and happy crew left Ducky, who was cheerfully burbling his way through a third chorus of Loch Lomond aided by the whiskey Charlie had left.

When Tony, Ziva and Senior returned to Casa De Tiva afterwards, Ziva stretched herself out on the chaise section of the lounge and asked Tony to make her tea. He'd been happy to oblige, and they all sprawled around the loungeroom with hot drinks to let the digestion process begin with another football replay in the background. After a while, Senior excused himself to his room and returned, bearing several wrapped gifts.

"Uh... Dad, you know Christmas is usually the gift-exchanging holiday, not Thanksgiving, right?" Tony took the present his father held out to him. It was boxed beneath the green and gold plaid wrapping, but the size of the parcel suggested a wallet.

"Of course, I know that," Senior chuckled in response. "But I won't be here then, so I thought I should spread some cheer early."

Ziva stirred herself from the controlled doze she'd assumed while pretending to watch the game and looked surprised. "I know we have not yet organised anything, but you will be included, of course. It will probably be a very quiet one this year, so close to Tim and Abby's wedding. Thank you." She accepted a small give box with a smile, the distinctive shade of powder blue immediately telling them where he'd been shopping. She sat up again to explore the gift, releasing the white satiny ribbon, and revealing a pair of simple drop earrings. "You shouldn't have, these are gorgeous!"

"And miss your first holiday season as a DiNozzo?" Senior ignored her protests with a laugh and kiss on her cheek. "Not on your life Sweetheart, Merry Christmas. And this one is for the baby." Pastel colours on the wrapping this time, he'd evidently used an in-store wrapping service with each purchase.

"I think this one can wait till she's older." Ziva smiled, folding the tissue paper aside and displaying a toddler-sized crockery set. Tony didn't recognise the brand by name but could tell it had come with a hefty price tag and not a lot of consideration regarding how practical it was. "Something tells me she will not appreciate the care porcelain like this needs when she is learning to eat food. It is beautiful though, thank you."

"Back to Christmas, what are you talking about, Dad?" Tony redirected. "Thanks, by the way, very nice." The predicted wallet was leather and embossed with a brand that suggested it cost more than Tony would ever be willing to carry in physical cash himself.

"I made other plans," Senior explained as he settled back onto the far end of the sofa. "Thought it would be easier this way, you can't exactly tell me you've rolled out the welcome mat for me this time, can you, Son?"

"Still, it's Christmas Dad, you should've known you'd be invited," Tony pressed. "And you're here now, aren't you?" he added.

"Because Ziva asked me. Until you called to check my flight, I've barely heard from you since the wedding. It's all been her. You've made your feelings about having your old man around on holidays perfectly clear. It's not your cup of tea." He raised the one he held in a half-hearted attempt at a joke. "I can celebrate without cramping your style this way," he added, seeing the discontented look appearing on his son's face.

"You could've asked if we were expecting you, Dad!" Tony looked hurt. "So what's on the agenda that's better than Christmas with us then?"

"Be reasonable about this, Junior," he chided. "You don't enjoy having me here to begin with. I got an invite from an old business friend. Caribbean island hopping, Bahamas, Puerto Rico, Saint Martin... sun, sand, a few games of poker, hopefully, some very good company... and I'll be back in time for the wedding."

Tony barked a laugh at the inflection on 'company'. "Whose wedding, McGee's or yours? What will this be, seven or eight?"

"Well, I hope it is a lovely trip," Ziva cut in with a warning look at Tony's jab. "We will miss you, of course, but I expect we will see more of you in January?"

Senior directed his attention back to Ziva, even tired she could shift the mood when it was necessary and distract him before he could rise to Tony's bait. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away then, Sweetheart. You just let me know when she's here. Another shortbread?" Ziva's second try had been uninterrupted by dancing and thus, far more successful and they'd been slowly nibbling on the cookies with their drinks.

The treats paused in front of Tony, who hesitated, considering whether to continue the debate. After a meaningful nod from Ziva, he reached for a new cookie. "These are amazing, Zi," he said, trying to distract himself from the tightness in his throat. "Didn't think these were an Israeli thing."

"They are not," Ziva said. "Senior said your mother used to make them, he asked if I would try. It is not a difficult recipe as it happens." She flashed a smile at her father-in-law, still contented with the kitchen session from the morning. She hadn't spoken much about her mother, but Tony did know that she fondly remembered cooking with her.

The memories she shared in detail were few and far between; even now, he didn't know anything more about how Rivka had died than "She became sick, it was very fast." In fairness, he supposed he wasn't any more descriptive when it came to his own mother's death. Although at seventeen, Ziva had probably been in a position to remember more clearly than he had at just eight. With a sudden pang, he realised if it had been something like 12 years since she might have had the chance to cook like that with her mother, it was almost three times as long for him. Not once in that time since his mother had died had his father ever mentioned her cooking.

"She did a good job, didn't she?" Senior beamed proudly as though he'd made them himself. "Not quite the same as your Mom's shortbread, but delicious all the same."

Tony paused for a moment, like most things Ziva attempted in the kitchen, they were good. The flaky little triangles almost melted away on his tongue, but the wording of the question suddenly made it feel like sawdust in his mouth. "Mom's shortbread?" he questioned. He wasn't even sure he remembered it clearly anymore, more like a memory of a memory. But now, hearing those words said together again, there was the vaguest hint of a warm buttery smell permeating his bedroom when he woke and an even mistier recollection of her imitating Sean Connery's accent as she told him about the summer vacation she had taken to Scotland where she'd learned the recipe. "Why now, Dad?"

Senior had settled back in his seat again. "Well, you're about to have a family of your own," he said, with a nod to Ziva's midsection. "Traditions need to start sometime."

"No." Tony shook his head. "I mean why not anytime in the last thirty years?"

"Come on, Son, you know..."

"No, I don't know, Dad! That's just it," he snapped, surprised by the hurt that bloomed in his chest suddenly. Beside him, Ziva murmured his name softly, concern laced with a warning. "I was eight. I needed to know that my memories weren't just my imagination. That I wasn't alone in feeling like my world had been turned inside out, that someone else missed her. Heck, you even got rid of all her photos, it's like she wasn't even real."

Senior gave an uncomfortable, tight sort of chuckle. "Junior. You know I did the best I could. Ziva's more at home in the kitchen than us both put together..."

"Don't bring Ziva into this, Dad. It's not about her!" His voice rose another notch. If he was honest, it was very much about Ziva, or specifically why she got to hear a memory that he'd been left to all but forget. "This is about you deciding that a cruise is more important than your own son at Christmas and then acting like Mom never even existed."

An odd look crossed his father's face for a moment, a mixture of grief and guilt. "Of... of course, she existed," he stammered. "She was your Mom..."

Tony clenched his fist angrily "Sarah!" he spat. Ziva leaned over and placed a soothing hand on his arm, but he shook her off with an angry jerk. "Her name was Sarah, and she wasn't just Mom. She was your wife, in case you'd forgotten!"

Senior was suddenly on his feet. "Anthony!" he barked in a tone that Tony had not heard since he was 16. He had a sudden understanding of why his father's rare business successes had been quite so successful; most people would back down at the hard gaze that was now directed at him. "She was my wife before she was your mother! There's not a single day I don't think about her."

"Oh, really?" Tony gave a bitter, dry laugh "Because -"

"Drop it. Both of you." Ziva cut in firmly. She stood, raising her hands in a clear stop signal and turned her head between them, waiting until each one in turn had focused on her. "This is not the way you want to do this."

There were a couple of mumbled apologies from them both, but she shook her head. "I am not the one who you should be apologising to. And do not try now, you will only end up saying something you cannot take back." She did not raise her voice but was absolutely level in her delivery, leaving no room for argument from either one. "This conversation is over until both of you have taken a breath and calmed down."

"I might just uh... turn in for the night," Senior murmured. Despite the earlier claim of feeling half his age, he now looked every one of the 72 years he had to his name and a few extras besides. Very slowly, he made tracks for the basement.

"Sure, duck out every time it gets hard." Tony sighed and buried his face in his hands. That whole scene was a disaster, and unlike a lot of the showdowns he'd had with his father over the years, not one he'd planned on, or even seen coming. He felt the couch sink next to him as Ziva joined him again. "I'm not mad at you, you know," he mumbled into his palms.

"I know," she said gently. "Your Mom's name was Sarah?"

"Yeah."

Ziva hummed thoughtfully for a moment and kept talking softly, almost to herself, although her hand moved soothingly along his spine. "Sarah is a Hebrew name, it means Princess. In the Torah, she is considered to be one of the matriarchs of Judaism, she is sometimes called the 'Mother of Kings'." She paused for a moment and patted between his shoulder blades affectionately. "It seems fitting if you ask me."

"I'd settle for my Mom," he huffed, sadly. Ziva's gentle tone had eased some of the rawness left by the abrupt feeling of loss and anger that had sideswiped him and he leaned back into the cushions, taking her with him, wrapping an arm around her. "Or being told something about her occasionally."

Ziva tipped her head up and met his eyes, steady and compassionate. "I know you would, neshama," she said. "I did not realise you had been told so little. I thought you just did not want to talk about it much. I am sorry if you thought I was overstepping your memory of her."

"Not much, nothing at all. What's the difference?" He shrugged. "Already said I wasn't mad at you."

"No, but you were jealous of me for a moment." There was that look he knew too well, she was reading between the lines again, denial was pointless. "Are you okay that he will not be here at Christmas?"

He shrugged again. "Gotta be, don't I? I'm used to him not showing up you know, feels different when he makes plans in advance, though. Worse than when he just finds something better last minute."

Ziva sighed and patted his chest. "To be fair, my love, you have not seemed pleased about any of it. I can see why he thought he was unwelcome."

"You couldn't have said that before I went off the deep end and said something I shouldn't, huh?" For all his anger, Tony had not missed the way his father had suddenly looked years older, or the grief in his eyes when he'd thought about Sarah.

"Most of what you said was reasonable. He did not handle things well back then and even if he did not know how to do it better, that does not change how it feels for you," she said gently. "But, it is not my job to act as your strainer, Tony."

The unexpected word distracted him for a minute and he mumbled through various versions of restrain and trainer before landing on her intended meaning. "Right, my filter!" He snapped his fingers as understanding kicked in. "You're right, Zi. Sorry. That's not fair to you. You don't need to get in the middle of decades-old sores being picked at. I know you like having him around."

"And so do you," she replied firmly. She cuddled into his side a little closer, accepting the apology.

"Yeah, I guess I do... but sometimes..." he faded off and shrugged.

She finished for him. "Sometimes he makes you remember things you would rather not think about."

"Exactly. But then I get mad at him for never letting me remember them too," he sighed heavily. "Glad we're back at work tomorrow. A poison we've never even heard of before and a couple of hundred grand disappearing into cyberspace makes more sense than trying to understand how this all feels."

"You will work it out," Ziva promised, leaning up to kiss him. "Will you braid my hair?" This time, the offer of the familiar, soothing ritual was as much for his frayed nerves as it was for her.

"Okay," he agreed, standing and pulling her to her feet as well. "And... will you teach me how to make those cookies sometime? I know I'm not that hot when it comes to baking but... it would feel good to know."

She smiled at him, sliding her hand into his, her wedding band pressing against his fingers as she squeezed her reassurance. "Anything you want, ahuvi."

Like most conflicts between Tony and Senior, the whole thing fizzled out without any real resolution. He stayed another few nights and dropped into the Yard to spread more holiday cheer but given how focused they were on the case headed out again just as quickly, and otherwise, kept very much to himself. Tony was similarly quiet, even on the Saturday evening when Ziva took herself to the opera to remember Tali's birthday and left them alone in the house together, the two DiNozzos gave each other their space, not exactly distant, but quietly cordial. He departed on Sunday, a cab arriving early in the morning. Tony quietly wished him a safe cruise, Senior offered a gruff "I know it wasn't very good, but it was my best," and he was on his way.

At work, they nailed Captain Walker on the murder, Abby had found traces of the poison on the suit he'd been wearing at the benefit when they'd searched his home. They even knew why he'd killed Bennett a few days later. McGee had managed to decrypt the files and discovered that Bennett had been quietly tracking WAIT's funds for months, suspecting something was up. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like he knew quite what was going on either but had recorded several withdrawals that took place slowly and steadily over the previous year with evidence that the recorded charitable purpose was not completed, or coming in far under budget despite the amount removed to finance them. It seemed obvious with this new information that Bennett had been getting dangerously close to uncovering something and had been taken out before he could sound the alarm.

The new challenge in this was that Walker didn't appear to be benefiting financially from whatever was taking place, they'd gone over his finances with a fine-tooth comb and found nothing linking him to the stolen money. Unfortunately, a complete absence of a financial windfall also removed evidence of a paid hit, their other leading theory. They were still sure that he'd committed the murder, but now, had zero motive, not that they needed one given the overwhelming video and physical evidence, but if they wanted to have any chance of recovering the stolen money or establishing if something bigger was at play, it would have been very useful.

"You know, at this point, I think even Gibbs likes the lawyer better than Walker, and that's saying something," McGee said with a yawn. Another long, impassive interview that morning had gotten nowhere, although the lawyer had heavily implied any form of compliance might be noted in Walker's favour come the trial, he was still saying nothing. Now, in the afternoon, Gibbs had decided to bend the rule banning Ziva from interrogation given that Walker wasn't actively violent. Considering Walker's involvement with WAIT, they'd hoped to stir some glimmer of compassion in him by having Ziva ask the questions for a while. However, Gibbs had also insisted that she wasn't going in alone and would not entertain a conversation about who would be her escort, claiming the role himself. Tony had been miffed at first and tried to argue he should be the one with her, but hadn't even got a sentence out before he was shut down.

"Rule 13, right? Never involve lawyers?" Charlie offered. "I spoke to her earlier, and she really doesn't know anything. She's quoting lawyer-client confidentiality, but that's her go-to answer to sound like she's on top of this." Everyone except for Charlie had known Walker's lawyer from previous cases and developed a sort of cool, politely professional nodding acquaintance with her over time. Despite how they all felt about having a defence lawyer in their midst again, they were beginning to sympathise with her given the way Walker had been taking his first Miranda Right to a whole new level, remaining literally silent about anything, not just the case. "Ten bucks says she'll drop him before the end of the day."

"You're on. She'll take at least another full day of fees to add to his bill before she calls it quits." Tony was quick to accept the wager. "By the way, you're learning fast, Probette. Rule 13 is indeed 'Never, Ever Involve A Lawyer', that reading people thing you do is freaky, though."

"Studying psych has its benefits," she answered with a faux-modest shrug. They could all read people to varying degrees; listening to details, watching body language and being alert to subtle changes in tone were all things they looked for as part of their job. However, Charlie's time at college studying psychology and anthropology had given her awareness of tiny cues that fell outside of the "classic lie" giveaways McGee and Tony knew to look for and taught a variety of tricks to change her phrasing in the repetition of a question to get a slightly different and more telling answer that Ziva couldn't always replicate with her more formal speech patterns.

He pointed a warning finger at her. "Yeah, well, just don't try your shrinky business on me..." He trailed off recognising the footfall behind him and forgetting all about Charlie. "Hey, pretty lady... oh... no luck?" He beamed as Ziva returned, then straightened his face seeing the look on hers.

"No," the reason for Tony's sudden distraction grumbled. "And before you ask he definitely noticed I am pregnant." Walker had glanced uncomfortably at her several times which was the most reaction they'd gotten out of him so far, but had still refused to comment.

"Wasn't going to." He cast a much friendlier look towards her belly than she'd received in the past half hour. "So, did you miss interrogation?" It was close to a year since she'd last set foot in one as an agent, and ten months since the last time she had been in the room at all when Eli had turned up at the Yard unannounced about a month after she'd proposed to Tony. It hadn't been an actual interrogation back then, of course, just a reasonably private space to talk.

Ziva hummed noncommittally. "Not with suspects like Walker, no. I prefer it when they talk back. And it is more distracting than I expected trying to get someone to confess to a murder when someone else is practising her yoga at the same time. Not to mention looking like this automatically reduces how threatening you can appear, not that Gibbs would let me threaten him."

"Pfft," Tony scoffed. "Anyone who thinks you're less threatening now clearly doesn't know the levels of mama bear you'd reach if it came down to it. Where is Gibbs, anyway?"

"With Vance. He is not happy. Made sure I did not double back to talk to Walker alone... not that I was going to anyway..." she added quickly, seeing the protective concern knit itself in Tony's brow. "He was just making sure. Then he headed upstairs without another word. That is all I know."

Tony perked up seeing her reach into one of the drawers behind her desk. "Snack time?" he asked hopefully.

She rattled a box of medication at him in response. "For you, maybe. I have heartburn again." Ziva sighed, popping the tablets out of the packaging. "At this point, if she is not born looking like the adorable snowman, I may not consider this discomfort worth it." The old wives tale Wendy had related about heartburn meaning the baby would be born with hair was the only thing that stopped Ziva from losing her mind entirely.

Tim was the first to regain control of his laughter to correct her. "It's the abominable snowman, Ziva. Though that fluffy suit with ears on the hood that Abby got her might make her look like... wait. Pretend I didn't say that, she's Christmas shopping already, you're not supposed to know."

"I'll act surprised," Ziva promised with a smile. "I take it there is no new progress up here either?"

Tony shook his head. "Nope, dead ends everywhere. Seeing as he wouldn't fess up for you either, we're back to square one."

"I don't think we ever left it in the first place," Charlie pointed out. She stood up and pulled on her coat. When she'd arrived in it that morning, Tony had immediately recognised it as a replica of one Audrey Hepburn had worn in Breakfast At Tiffany's, but Charlie had vowed never to wear it to work again, saying she blended in with the walls. "So, I'm going for a caffeine fix, see if that kickstarts the thought process - anyone else want something?"

"No one's going anywhere."

Charlie jumped at the voice coming from behind her. Gibbs had appeared with an empty file box and a set face. "Whoa, hi Gibbs. What do you need?"

He blinked at her vivid orange coat for a second and shook his head, looking like he was trying to figure out if he was hallucinating. "Got an update," he said when he'd recovered. "Walker's lawyer just walked, she's down in the holding cells telling him to find new counsel now," he said.

"I'll take that Hamilton now, thanks," Charlie smirked across at Tony.

He made a show of grumbling and finding the money in his wallet, then crossed and handed it to her. "What's the plan now, Boss?"

"Now, we drop it," Gibbs answered shortly. "Pack up the files, we're done with it."

Charlie hesitated, confused. "We're done?" she echoed. "It's just... over?"

Gibbs nodded. "Welcome to the first case you won't get an answer for, Probie." He moved to his desk and closed several open manila folders. "The lawyer quitting was the last straw. Vance doesn't want us wasting any more man-hours on him. He's being transferred to Truesdale tonight; the DA is going ahead with the trial as-is."

The news was met with an audible sigh. As glad as they were to be rid of the case they'd spent the last three weeks on with very little success, having it end so abruptly and without being fully resolved was unsatisfying.

"What about the money, Boss?" McGee asked. "I'm still trying to trace it."

Gibbs approached Charlie's desk, holding his hand out for the paperwork she still had on Walker. "Send it down to the cyber team. It's their job now."

"Oh... right," he sighed, handing over his collection of files. "What if they find who got it?"

"If it's in our jurisdiction, we'll be called back. Till then, it's none of our business." Gibbs moved onto Tony's desk. "Cough 'em up, DiNozzo."

Tony grudgingly followed suit in gathering and passing over all the notes in his possession. "At least we got Walker on the murder," he said. "Even if we never worked out why."

"Yeah, that's gonna have to do for now," Gibbs agreed. "Ziver?" He turned to her desk.

She bundled up the paperwork in silence, discontent written on her face. "This feels wrong," she ground out. "Thousands of dollars have been stolen from innocent families and we are just going to let it go?"

"Yup," Gibbs confirmed with a curt bob of his head. "It's out of our hands now."

"But this is not what we do!" she exclaimed, frustrated. "We arrest murderers, we solve cases, we... we..."

"We follow orders." Gibbs finished firmly. He held out his hand expectantly.

Ziva continued arguing. "This looked like it would be my last case before I left, and now you are telling me I cannot even see it through?"

Gibbs stiffened, annoyed at her defiance and no happier than the rest of his team with the present outcome. "That's exactly what I'm saying, David."

"Well, following orders sucks," she declared, sounding remarkably like Abby. She thrust the files back into his hand and sat down, not making eye contact.

A sharp reprimand formed on his tongue, but the look on her face was enough to dilute it to a heavy sigh. Instead, he returned to his desk and dumped the armful of files into a box while the others watched in unhappy silence, their looks a weight he could feel on his back. "Get outta here," he instructed, fitting the lid.

They slowly gathered their belongings and paused, glancing between each other quietly, checking if anyone needed company. The result was a silent, unanimous no, they all needed the space to go home and nurse the wounds of this particular loss with privacy.

"We'll start fresh tomorrow," Gibbs broke the silence as they made for the elevator. "And Delaney... did anyone tell you that coat makes you blend in with the walls?"

No one laughed.

Chapter Text

December started on a low note, with the double whammy of failure to get to the bottom of the stolen WAIT funds and Abby's countdown calendar now beginning to number in the days. Charlie, in particular, took a while to shake off the gloom, not being so used to having a case taken away without success, coupled with her parent's wedding anniversary falling early in the month to add a reminder of just how much she'd lost. Tony, meanwhile, was still brooding over the confrontation with his father, although he'd reached a sort of uneasy acceptance of the situation. The first week was spent largely in silence, simply beginning to finalise reports and prepare for the rapidly approaching changes. They were quiet and worked slowly, realising that when all of these loose ends were tied up, the team as they'd known it for the last seven or eight years would never be quite the same again. In a totally unprecedented move, the areas over which they had jurisdiction displayed a previously unknown ability to abide by the law and did not provide a new case to break the doldrums.

They healed in time and the mood eventually lifted. It started with Hanukkah, bringing some calm at least to Ziva and, by extension, Tony. They had marked Hanukkah every year they'd been together, but with Schmeil's impending visit, Ziva spent every spare moment she had cleaning, decorating and cooking for the occasion, fussing over small details and taking a lot of pride in observing this holiday with someone who shared her faith in her own home for the first time.

Schmeil arrived as promised, clucking over 'his' Ziva with great affection and allowing her to talk in long stretches of Hebrew about books, politics and poetry for the first time in months. He also told Tony as many stories about Ziva as a small child that he could get away with, some as proud as any grandparent, she'd graduated high school with the highest marks of her entire class. Others were designed to amuse Tony and mortify Ziva; at almost four and in a fit of pique with her very pregnant mother, she climbed some twenty feet up a tree, got stuck and had to be rescued by the teen boy next door and at seven, when she had first learned the English idiom 'raining cats and dogs' she had been disappointed to tears that the next downpour had not brought the pet she'd longed for.

But, between Tony's laughter and Ziva's horrified but insincere pleading for Schmeil to stop talking, sunset brought more serious moments. Although Tony had been willing to step back and let her and her guest enjoy the season for themselves, they were quick to include him, translating the readings and prayers, explaining the significance of each gesture and generally making sure that even though he did not participate, that he never felt unwelcome. Shabbat fell twice during Schmeil's stay too, another new experience for him. Ziva often embraced as many aspects as she could but had never really practised in full in the time they'd lived together but the opportunity to share the event with an old friend changed how seriously she observed. Once again, the importance of the day of rest and how Ziva and Schmeil would conduct themselves was explained without any expectation that he joined in, but curiosity (not to mention the simple explanation that his favourite place to be was wherever she was) meant that he followed along, albeit imperfectly. Stillness did not come naturally to Tony, and he found himself growing twitchy at intervals, but learned he could recenter himself simply by watching Ziva and the gentle, softer way she moved on those days, and trying to breathe in the peace that seemed to settle over her. To his surprise, when the larger candles were extinguished in the evening to mark the end of Shabbat and the menorah lit once more, his first instinct was not to head for the TV, but to linger by the smaller twinkling flames and just soak in the quiet joy and serene space a little while longer.

Schmeil departed late in the evening the day after Hannukah had ended and they both saw him off at the airport. He shook Tony's hand, thanked him for the hospitality and added a whispered reminder to ask Ziva about how she handled school bullies when she was twelve. Then he turned to Ziva, cupping her cheek with one hand and laying the other on her belly, murmuring a few lines in Hebrew. From how Ziva's cheeks rose in a soft smile, Tony understood it was a blessing for her and the baby.

"Toda raba," Ziva responded, one of her hands over each of Schmeil's. "I will miss you, my friend."

The old man's face crinkled in a warm smile. "It will not be so long, perhaps you can bring the baby to see me when she is old enough to travel... to let her see the country where she began?" The affection in his smile turned to humour with the last sentence.

"Schmeil!" Ziva protested. She added something scolding in Hebrew, for which Tony did not know the exact translation, but the frequency of the phrase appearing immediately following one of the Ziva-as-a-child tales suggested that it meant something to the effect of "Shut up, you're embarrassing me."

"I may be an old man, but not a stupid one, Zivike, I can count backwards too," he chuckled. "After all, was it not eight months ago almost to the day since you brought your Tony to meet me in Tel Aviv?"

Ziva shook her head, amused but still looking reproving. "Still, there are some things..."

His hands landed on her shoulders with another laugh. "Hush, just tell me you will bring her some time, yes?"

She bobbed her head, neither a yes nor a no. "Perhaps, when the memories do not hurt so much."

He made an understanding sort of clucking sound. "Ahh, my Ziva. You have always been so quick to take flight, to get as far away from where you were as possible. There has always been a part of me that wished you would come back to Israel to settle. But I see now why you could not, it is only here that you have truly found a place to roost." The boarding for his flight was announced then, and he drew her close for a hug. "Go on back to your nest, little bird, and enjoy all that is to come."

Tony slid his arm around Ziva's back as they made their way back to the parking lot. "Are you okay? You're not homesick or anything?"

"I am home," she answered simply, cuddling against him as they walked. "I may want to visit, in time. But right now, this is the only place I feel called to be. To see what comes next for us."

He fished for his keys and held the door for her. "What comes next is coming awfully soon..."

Ziva nodded. "It is. Two more weeks till I start my leave... and two more after that..." her voice grew tighter. "I have to have a baby, Tony," she breathed with a nervous, disbelieving laugh.

"Yeah, it's a bit late to rethink that one, huh?" He started the engine, turned the heater to high and checked his mirrors, stalling for a better response. "Okay, let's just focus on the next... what is it today, the 18th? It's not even two weeks. Twelve days. We finish up the paperwork, we have Christmas and we go on leave. We've done most of that before. Easy, right? We won't even worry about afterwards till we've gotten through the next twelve days."

She fished in her purse for the ticket to let them out of the lot and passed it to him. "Twelve days? Like that Christmas song with all the birds?"

"That's the one, but the only little bird I want to hear singing on Christmas morning is you. No swans or French hens." A flirty smile brightened the dim interior of the car briefly. "We got this, Ninja. What could happen in twelve days?"

As it turned out, a lot.

The next day, Wednesday, a temporary lab technician was installed to begin training to cover Abby during her honeymoon. However, rather than bringing him up to meet everyone, she had sent out an email and several reminder texts that she had drawn up a schedule for all of the field teams to meet Jase in appointed timeframes. When Tim had asked why, she had gone on a long and detailed explanation about acclimatising goldfish by putting their travel bag into the tank for a while before releasing them which seemed to have little to do with inducting a new colleague.

Team Gibbs was the first in line and her chatter about gradual exposure made sense. Jase made the version of McGee Tony and Gibbs had met ten years earlier seem positively suave and confident by comparison. He barely made eye contact, remained largely mute and stumbled over every other word when he did speak. He was nervous to the point that before letting anyone into her lab to meet him, Abby brought out her traditional threat of killing them and leaving no trace if anyone attempted the usual newbie hazing tactics. However, for all he lacked in pizazz, he was exceptionally trained and Abby trusted him to use her equipment in her absence. Despite her heavy upselling of his talent as a forensic scientist, they were all glad when the awkward interviews were done so they could go back upstairs after watching Abby lay down one more X on her calendar.

"I thought I was bad my first day!" Charlie laughed as they returned to the bullpen and settled back to yet more paperwork. "I honestly thought he was going to pass out when he realised I'm Charlie." Jase had addressed her as Agent DiNozzo and Tony as Agent Delaney, then became hopelessly flustered trying to explain he had wrongly assumed Charlie was a male name and Toni a female one. Matters got worse when Tony added that there was technically a female agent DiNozzo in the room, just not the woman he'd expected. He'd clammed up after that and left Abby to give them a comprehensive verbal history of his training.

"It was the badges that did it," Tony said. He shuffled papers as he spoke, given that they were effectively tied to their desks with no active case, Gibbs didn't seem to mind if they chatted, as long as they kept working at the same time, and was presently busy at his desk, apparently tuning them out, but in reality, catching every word. "I don't think he's ever worked in a Federal office before this. Where'd Abs find this guy anyway?"

McGee shrugged at the question. "It's Abs, you know how she collects people when she likes them." There was an understanding nod all around, each intimately familiar with being 'collected' by the quirky scientist. "They met at a ballistics seminar a couple of years back, I think she said. She didn't even bother updating her Abby's Lab For Dummies manual, so he obviously knows his stuff," he added, dropping his voice as Gibbs answered a call.

As far as signs of Abby's confidence in Jase went, not making him run through the manual they were all acquainted with was one of the highest commendations on offer. "Whoa, he must be good," Tony whistled, impressed. "What'd you make of him, Zi?"

"He seemed nice enough, even if he was nervous," she said. When informed that Ziva would be on leave soon, so they wouldn't be working together for long, Jase offered a quiet but genuine congratulations and asked no further questions. Polite and non-invasive scored highly with her, whatever the motivation. "But if Abby says he is good at his job, then I trust her judgement."

"Well, we're about to find out how good he is." They all knew what Gibbs' interjection meant and reached for their field kits before the order was given.

"Well... when he said the 'body' was over there..." McGee glanced between the mangled car and the shack that doubled as an office in the Norfolk junkyard they had just spent three hours on the road to reach. "Must've been industry jargon."

"Oh, there was definitely a body." Charlie pointed with her pen. "Two or three days ago - look, you can see where they cut the A-pillar to get them out, but it's already rusting a little. This didn't happen this morning."

McGee leaned closer, peering into the interior of the wreck. "The blood is dried too. Did Gibbs say anything other besides that Norfolk PD called us in and told him we'd want to see this?" As was standard, Gibbs had taken the sedan, leaving Tony, McGee and Charlie to the crime scene van. When they arrived, the police were nowhere to be seen. The yard manager had been found eating lunch in his dingy little room and pointed them towards the car they now studied. Gibbs had taken one look, rolled his eyes and told Tony to get on the phone and find out where the police were. Tony had walked back to the gate in search of better cell service and Gibbs to the office to squeeze any further details out of the man inside.

Charlie paused, snapped a photo thoughtfully and considered this. "You know what? He didn't. Just gave us the address. We assumed there was going to be a body."

"Would explain why we didn't see Ducky and Palmer getting ready to go," he agreed. "Whatever this guy hit, he hit hard," he finished, with a wince at the impact point.

She nodded her agreement and took another photo. "Well, let's run the plate. We both know Gibbs isn't going to take 'the cops disappeared' as an excuse for knowing nothing at all."

A half-hour later, the police had returned and filled in the gaps. The car had been delivered to the yard and declared a write-off following a serious accident on Sunday evening. One of the tyres had blown suddenly and the driver lost control, spun, and scraped along an embankment for several yards before coming to a halt against a power pole, bending the car to an almost 90-degree angle just behind the driver's seat. Emergency crews had attended and hauled the driver out alive but in a bad way. The wreck had been towed from the scene and spent the night in a holding yard before coming to rest in the junkyard on Monday. That morning, the yard owner had alerted police when he'd discovered a box full of cash in the trunk. The police, who'd written the situation off as purely accidental returned for a closer look and when they'd checked the onboard GPS, they discovered the driver had programmed Captain Walker's address into the system before he'd set off. A search for Walker had pinged the warrant that had been placed back when his link to Bennett's murder was uncovered and they'd brought NCIS back into the picture.

Several long and busy hours followed, with the evidence at the car already compromised by first responders, the tow truck operator, and then two days exposed to the elements at the junkyard, they set about swabbing and testing for anything that was left, as well as conducting a more formal interview with the manager, who despite his original underwhelming impression, turned out to be entirely above board. He emptied vehicles on their arrival as a standard practice, stripping the chassis of all non-metal materials before what was left could be recycled. Undamaged parts like seats and steering wheels were sold for spares, however almost every car also came with forgotten personal items. These, he filed away, meticulously labelling and dating them in the hope that the previous owner would come back for them. Hats and other clothing were common, as were CDs and jewellery but he mentioned a surprisingly high number of false teeth and one prosthetic eyeball that had been retrieved by its owner some three years after the car had been crushed into a cube. He explained he'd barely touched this suspect vehicle, popping the trunk and finding the cash within the first thirty seconds of starting work. The box had turned over in the accident and split open and as soon as he'd seen it, had called for backup. He even offered up the gloves he was wearing that day for fibre comparison before anyone had even asked for them.

Looking into the collision itself, it appeared to be a pure accident. They drove out to the scene, retracing the steps, taking more photos and comparing the reports from road patrol sending them (along with the mystery money and the car itself) back to Abby and Jase for further analysis and confirmation. However, the potholes which had shaken everyone almost to the point of nausea, and the shredded rubber that still remained in the gravel on the side of the road spoke clearly enough. Details were also phoned back to Ziva to begin a more thorough background on the driver. He was ID'd as Cameron Muir, a college senior, with no apparent ties to Bennett, Walker, WAIT or the Navy in general, but they already knew the car was his own and he had no previous criminal activity to his name.

They split up after a while, Tony and Charlie detouring to his college with mostly dead ends as many of the staff and students had already departed for their holiday breaks. McGee and Gibbs headed to the hospital to be similarly stonewalled; the duty nurse informed them Cameron would remain in a medically induced coma for several more days. When asked about Cameron's next of kin, she said they had contacted his parents who had travelled to London for the holidays and were doing their best to get a flight home as soon as possible. Frustrated and knowing they would likely end up back in Norfolk the following day, they decided to cut their losses, make the long drive back to DC and see what the evidence would reveal.

Four tired and cold people were very grateful to see that Ziva had not been snoozing in their absence. The moment the elevator doors slid open, a rich, warm scent met their noses. There was a unanimous sigh of relief, hot food was the first thing on everyone's mind.

"I've got five on felafel," Charlie murmured, familiar now with Ziva's takeout of choice when left to her own devices. "Anyone in?"

McGee shook his head. "Nope, that's a losing bet if I ever heard one. Tony?"

Tony paused, inhaled deeply and shook his head. "I'll put ten on - ouch!" The smile that had been widening on his face disappeared instantly at the solid slap that connected with the back of his skull. "What was that for?"

Gibbs stepped around him with a glare. "Trying to play your teammates with inside knowledge." McGee and Charlie shared a puzzled look, but the meaning of Gibbs' words became clear as they approached their desks. Three out of four held a steaming tub of an obviously home-cooked chicken and potato dish, although Ziva herself was invisible. She appeared a moment later, the final portion having just completed its turn in the breakroom microwave and landing on Tony's desk, delivered with an affectionate smile.

"I knew I knew that smell." He sighed with relief, picking up his fork. "Babe, you are incredible... aren't you eating?"

"I did a little while earlier, and do not call me babe." She settled back at her desk, amidst grateful nods as they set into the food.

Tony grinned apologetically. "Sweetheart, princess, love of my life, bringer of all things good..." He speared a piece of potato and ceased eloquence.

"Shut up and eat, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled. "How'd you manage this?"

"I have been cooking ahead and freezing it for when the baby is born," she explained, sipping the tea she had brought with her. "But I thought that after a day like yours, a few servings of sofrito would not be missed at home. I had time to go and collect them after lunch."

"That was really thoughtful Ziva, thanks." Charlie smiled. Although picky and easily grossed out over food, she'd visited Casa De Tiva to alter Ziva's bridesmaid dress and had seen enough of the kitchen and Ziva's cooking process to trust eating things she had produced.

"Yeah, thanks, this beats pizza for sure," McGee agreed. "Seen Abs this evening?"

She nodded. "I took food down to the evidence locker about an hour ago. She and Jase are crawling all over what's left of that car as we speak. I had to stand there and hold the fork in front of her mouth every few minutes so she ate something."

"What about Jase?" Tony asked with a grin.

Ziva chuckled too. "I did not spoonfeed him if that is what you are asking. He thanked me and then stared at Abby with a pained expression until she told him to go and eat at the desk. How she got to know him well enough to recommend him for the position I may never understand."

They understood soon enough. After dinner, they made their way to the evidence garage to see what Abby and Jase had discovered in the interim.

Abby took the lead, with Jase lingering awkwardly in the background, walking them briefly through the car wreck, and agreeing the initial road patrol assessment was correct.

"Between the road and his tyres, I'd say it's a miracle that he only had one blowout, only I don't believe in miracles... unless Gibbs is behind them, you weren't in Norfolk two nights ago looking out for this kid, were you?" She shot him a suspicious look and bounced back to the topic before he could tell her to hurry up. "So no, it doesn't look like someone was trying to stop him getting to Walker. It was just a college student with a car that should've been deemed unfit for road use a couple of months ago."

Gibbs nodded. "Where'd he go before heading to Walker's? Can we work out where he got the money?"

Abby shrugged, pigtails bobbing with her. "The GPS only saves the last five trips in the unit. Trying to see if there's more in a cloud somewhere. I gave the addresses we did get to Ziva," she said.

"A grocery store, two residential addresses, his college dorm and an isolated gas station," Ziva took the cue. "It seems Cameron made money by doing courier work and small handyman jobs. I spoke with the residents at both addresses, he put up Christmas lights for one and removed a dead rat from the attic space of the other. You had already left the area by the time I knew about the gas station, so if they do not send me their security footage as promised, that will have to be your first stop tomorrow. Assuming this was another courier job, he may have met the person who gave him the money there."

"What else have we got? Fingerprints? DNA? Anything?" Gibbs pressed.

Abby shrugged. "This kid's got no reason to be on AFIS, and Virginia licensing doesn't store prints either. No hits anywhere. Every set we could find, steering wheel, gear shift, doors, seatbelt, they're all the same person. Unless we can compare them with Cameron himself, we can't be sure, but all signs point to them being his. But when we looked at that box of money that was recovered too, that's where it gets interesting... take it away Jase, this was your find!" she declared with a sudden, sweeping gesture in his direction, like a game show attendant showcasing the grand prize.

Jase looked alarmed for a moment, gulped and began. "Well, the outside of the box had no useful fingerprints on it. But only... uh... a few smudges, whoever had it first must've worn gloves. But you know how the box was split when, uh... the car, uh..." he made an awkward twirling motion with his hand. "Spun out, right? It slid into that step ladder Cameron had in the trunk? Well, it tipped over when it hit and part of the tape sealing the box wasn't pressed down right. It got smushed..."

"Smushed?" Tony whispered to McGee with a grin. The guy stammering before them was in his mid-30s and sounded like a kid. The next sound Tony made was a yelp as Abby's elbow connected with his ribs and she glared at him before nodding Jase on encouragingly.

"The exposed tape was pressed into the carpet that lined the trunk," he continued, still talking slowly and softly. "So when someone removed it, fibres from the carpet came too. I realised that the outside of the tape was no good, but maybe the inside would be."

"What did you find?" Charlie asked gently, understanding how he felt all too well. "I might not have been here long, but I know that when the evidence tells you to look, you usually find something.

It seemed to help and he grew a little more confident. "Whoever taped the box shut cut themselves... just a little, I'd guess on that serrated edge of a tape dispenser, you know, like on Saran Wrap? Uh.. anyway, it's a tiny amount, just a few skin cells and droplets of blood and the glue has damaged the sample," he paused and took a deep breath.

"Just like a seminar," Abby whispered.

At this, Jace seemed to change before their eyes. He stood up straighter, pushed his hair off his face and addressed them all like he was presenting to an audience, making eye contact with each one in turn. "But there's still hope. Despite the challenges this degraded sample poses, I am working on a complex multistep process to determine the origins. It starts by separating the biological matter from the synthetic glue, then breaking into the cell membranes, and purifying and isolating the DNA within. Once that step is completed, we can use a Polymerase Chain Reaction to amplify and replicate the DNA chains and create a sample substantial enough that we can compare it to the driver of the vehicle and, if necessary with wider databases. For the record, I believe cross-referencing will be necessary," he finished, voice still steady.

His confident delivery startled them all, Tony, Ziva, McGee and Charlie exchanged looks of absolute confusion. Abby was grinning ear to ear and clapping softly.

Only Gibbs was a slightly harder sell. "What makes you think that?" he asked.

The new question didn't even faze him and he nodded as though he'd expected this. "As well as the biological material on the underside of the tape, I was able to locate a few fibres in other areas of the box that had been properly sealed, suggesting they were present at the time of application. This was supported when comparing them to the lining of the trunk and the gloves provided by the witness who located the box. Neither one of those matched. However, further analysis of the fibres reveals it to be a cotton-poly blend in a deep navy. Specifically, the exact fabric used by the US Navy in the manufacture of its dress blues."

"Dress blues?" McGee repeated, presently the only member of the team who wasn't looking totally blindsided. "So whoever packed the box is Navy?"

"Or was wearing the uniform, yes, Agent McGee, that's exactly what I'm saying," Jase confirmed with another nod. "I've compared it to every known fibre available in Abby's database. There are dozens of similar ones, Agent David's sweater for example." He gestured to Ziva, wearing the same top from Thanksgiving morning, now washed and bearing no trace of the baking mishap. "Or Agent Gibbs' blazer. Either one would pass at first glance with the naked eye. However, I have analysed the thickness of the fibres, the penetration depth of the dye as well as the precise saturation and hue of the colour, and even the tension in the way the fibre has been spun. I assure you that it has come from a Navy uniform," he finished and then just as quickly deflated again, shrinking back into himself now that he'd run out of scripted lines.

Ziva recovered first this time. "And now I understand," she murmured.

Gibbs cleared his throat. "How long till we know on the DNA?'

"A few hours, Gibbs." Abby took over again, beaming proudly at Jase. "We're still isolating and replicating the DNA strands we can find in those skin cells. We can wait till that's done and get the database search running, but we probably won't have an answer till morning. The fibres let us know to narrow it down to Navy personnel but still... you know how many there are in Virginia, over 80,000 at Norfolk Base alone."

"Yeah, I know." The urge to tell them to hurry up was barely suppressed in Gibbs' voice. "Anything we can work with tonight?"

She shook her head firmly. "Nope. Let Jase and I do our thing. We'll be out by midnight at the latest." She presented her cheek expectantly. "We'll get those tests running, get home and then we'll come back bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to give you all the answers you're looking for."

He pressed a kiss to her face. "No later than midnight, you hear?" he warned softly, then addressed his team. "Alright, you heard her. Round up and go home."

"See ya, Abs." Charlie ducked out quickly with a wave, seeing what was coming next as Abby stationed herself by the door as they left to make sure everyone delivered a farewell hug. Jase watched the proceedings for a second, shrugged nervously and disappeared back behind the wrecked car.

"It's Tuesday, McClockwork, that means Abby drove in today. You want a ride instead of waiting for her?" Tony offered, currently on the receiving end of his own dose of Abby's affection.

McGee nodded gratefully after checking with Abby in a quick glance. "That would be great if Ziva doesn't mind?"

Ziva grimaced a little. The detour to Dupont Circle would add almost an hour before they returned to Casa De Tiva and bed. "Gibbs?" she asked instead.

Gibbs made a show of rolling his eyes, even though they all knew he would have offered to drive her home if she hadn't asked. "Fine. Parking lot in 10," he sighed, then paused and turned back to the two scientists, still hard at work. "And Jase... good work today," he called over his shoulder.

The only response from Jase was a sort of choking sound.

"Okay, Madam People-Reader, what's Jase's deal?" Tony asked the second he saw Charlie the next morning. With another Norfolk drive and Abby's results ahead of them, Tony and Ziva had driven in early and crossed paths with her in the parking lot. McGee's ride was a few spots away, he would have arrived even earlier, whenever Abby had decided to come to check on her results.

Charlie scoffed and held an imaginary conversation in response to his sudden opening. "Yes, good morning, it is cold, isn't it? Thanks, I like my coat too, another thrift haul last spring." she laughed, tightening her scarf around her neck. The temperature was dropping, already promising a properly white Christmas and they'd all dressed to insulate against the weather. Despite her penchant for stylish jackets, Ziva had opted for a single new purchase that season, one that was large enough to close over her belly. Charlie, on the other hand, had foregone the orange one that reminded them all of the bullpen walls but was still unique as ever; the tweedy belted thing she wore seemed to have fallen straight out of the 1950s.

Tony chuckled and gave a better greeting as Ziva and Charlie exchanged an amused eye-roll and their own hellos. "Well you're the mind reader here... Hey!" He broke off, distracted as Ziva quickened her pace, eager to get out of the wind. "Nice try, Ninja, but that's not flying." He reached forward, caught Ziva's elbow and gently tugged her back into step next to him.

"I am pregnant, not broken," she sighed. Despite the grumble, the pleased smile as she settled to match his stride was unmistakable.

No kissing at work seemed not to apply in the parking lot as he brushed his lips on her hair with an affectionate chuckle. "Lose your footing on this and you might get broken. I'm not taking any chances," he said, indicating the damp, slightly icy asphalt under their feet. "Want an elbow, Ms Delaney? You can fill us in about Jase on the way, it was like a whole other person there for a second, what gives?" He held his other arm out to Charlie as she locked her car.

Charlie pulled a face, she was far less tactile than the rest of the team and decided she'd take her chances with balance over touching anyone she didn't have to. "I'm good, thanks," she declined as they walked toward the building. "So, Jase... At first glance, I want to say massive social anxiety and an impostor complex. He could talk to us just fine when Abby told him to think of a conference. He put on a mask and became Doctor... what is his last name anyway?"

"Abby never said, she has only ever called him Jase," Ziva said thoughtfully, hitting the call button for the elevator. "Even Gibbs did."

Charlie shrugged. "Well, Doctor Jase then. So, he's learned to cope with speaking in a professional setting by being very sure of his work and developing a different persona. Doctor Jase, the keynote speaker, doesn't feel nervous. Only Jase, the individual, does. Small talk and socialising aren't so predictable, and he doesn't know how to react, so he shuts down and waits for everyone else to let him be so he can do what he does best."

"Ahhh." Tony nodded understandingly. It also made sense why Abby was so protective and patient with him, she'd obviously worked out his quirks long ago and knew the usual intensity that came with a Team Gibbs visit to her lab would fall well outside Jase's comfort levels.

"I also suspect he has an exceptional, if not eidetic memory. I don't think he needed to analyse those fibres to know they came from a uniform. He did, of course, because that's the proper scientific process, but something tells me he recognised them without it," Charlie added as they reached the squad room floor. "I'm not qualified to diagnose, but let's just say he ticks some boxes in a big way."

Although she'd shed some light on the strange newcomer, he quickly left their minds as they reached their floor. It was clear something was up, Gibbs was at his desk listening to his phone with a serious expression. McGee was in his space too, tired but already rattling away at his keyboard. He looked over as they approached, glancing down at his field kit, packed and ready to go by the corner of his desk, telling them without words what to expect next, then turned back to his screen.

"Road trip time again," Charlie sighed, making a path to her own desk to trade her satchel for her field bag. Gibbs shot her a warning look to be quiet, still with his phone to his ear.

"And you're sure this is our guy?" he was saying. He winced and held the phone away from his ear a little, Abby's voice piping through, not quite loud enough to hear her exact words, but the excited, indignant tone was quite clear. He didn't bother with thanks or praise, just ending the call and facing the team.

"We got him, Boss?" Tony wasn't waiting for an answer, already prepping to go. They'd all shifted gears the second they'd realised what was going on and the small space was bustling with activity.

Gibbs nodded curtly in the affirmative. "DNA hit to Rear Admiral Gordon Channing, he's in Norfolk..."

"He is a board member for WAIT, the Norfolk chapter!" Ziva announced, she dropped into her desk, coat and all and turned on her computer. "He came in for an interview, he knew nothing. He was seated on the other side of the room. We already have a full background on him. He is due to retire soon from memory. I will send you everything I know as soon as I can." She drummed her fingers on the desk impatiently as she waited for her screen to load.

McGee seemed to know he was next and spoke before Gibbs asked. "One more second Boss... just letting the trace finish now... he's at home." He looked away from his screen to scribble an address down hurriedly. "And you're not going to believe this, he's had several incoming calls from the Walker residence since the Captain was fired by his lawyer. Mrs Walker's still at home."

"Oh, I'd believe it McGee... where's he gonna be?"

McGee was back on his screen, clicking and shifting displays. "He's due on base at 8 am today." With the long drive ahead of them, it would be closer to 9 by the time they arrived.

"Right." Gibbs nodded, processing the information quickly and coming up with a plan on the spot. "DiNozzo, Delaney -"

"Bring up cars from the motor pool," Tony filled in, drawing the same conclusion. "Sedans. We're going in quiet, no crime scene vans. Let's go Probette." Charlie swept her backpack up and followed quickly in his wake.

"Exactly. David, I want..."

Ziva was helping herself to the sticky note McGee had jotted the address on. "Coordinating with Norfolk PD and the security team at the Navy Base. Already on it."

"Good, and Ziva..."

She nodded, phone already under her ear. "I know. This is just an interview for now. No one touches him but you. He will be tailed but not picked up. I'll know exactly where he is every second until you get there. McGee, leave the trace program open for me."

"Here, I'll do you one better," he said. A few quick keystrokes and the information was displayed on the plasma screen. "It's a live feed. The minute he moves, you'll see it."

Ziva smiled, grateful. McGee had been very observant of how much the physical back and forth was wearing on her lately, and with this setup, she didn't even have to leave her desk. The were a couple more moments of hurried action, McGee finalising a few digital details and Gibbs holstering his weapon and throwing on outdoor gear before Tony reappeared from the elevator.

"Cars are ready to go, Boss, pulled 'em in behind the Autopsy truck. Charlie's on guard duty. The engines are running and the heaters are on full. We're ready when you are." He paused at Ziva's desk as Gibbs breezed past him. "See ya round, Ninja, I love you," he added softly.

She tucked the phone under her ear and covered the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand. "I love you too, and neshama..." Her other hand landed on his wrist for a second before he turned to go and looked up at him, her expression serious. "This one feels important."

He bent, dropping his head lower than the partition so Gibbs couldn't see the reassuring kiss he brushed across her knuckles. "I know, your last case. Don't worry, I'll make sure you finish with it closed."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs hollered impatiently. Tony flashed one more smile and sprinted after his boss.

They didn't need Charlie's people reading skills to know that Admiral Channing was worried when Gibbs strolled up to him in the breakroom of Norfolk Naval Base a few hours later and asked if he had time for a chat. His eyes darted to the door nearest him, only to find himself staring down Charlie, her arms crossed and giving her head a tiny warning shake. He tried the exit on the other side of the room next and discovered McGee had taken up residence in front of that one, leaning against the doorframe, one hand in his pants pocket, making his blazer ride up just far enough to reveal the badge on his hip. The door to the men's room was a last, desperate shot, but the second he laid eyes on it, it swung open and Tony appeared.

"Three hours on the road, sorry about that guys... " he declared with a relieved sigh, making a show of adjusting his belt and the badge attached. Without missing a beat, his eyes locked onto Channing's. "Oh, you found him. Is the Admiral up for a little talk?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes, blocking the exits and being quietly intimidating had been one thing, but Tony's showmanship was overkill. He turned back to the portly older man. "Admiral Channing, is there somewhere quieter we can take this?"

"Uh... yes... of course," he only choked a little before recovering. "My office is available. This way."

Even though they knew he knew why they were there, he put on a show of welcoming hospitality, offering coffee which they all declined, calling a nearby Petty Officer to bring in extra chairs, commenting on the wintry weather and receiving frostier responses before finally settling behind his desk.

"Admiral Channing," Gibbs began before the man opposite him could segue into another tangent.

"No, no," he cut in with a disarming smile. "If you're only here for a chat, there's no reason to stand on ceremony. You can call me Gordon...?" Here he faded off with a little gesture prompting Gibbs to fill the blank with his own name.

The hard blue eyes showed absolutely no reaction to the affable tone. "Gibbs."

Channing blinked for a second, thrown by the blunt reply. "Of course, Gibbs. What can I do for you?"

"We're following up on the death of Commander Jason Bennett at the WAIT fundraiser last month," Gibbs cut to the chase.

The greying head bowed respectfully for a second. "Such a tragic situation. You feel the loss of one of your own, no matter the circumstances." Gibbs leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, unimpressed by the display but willing to let him ramble if only to catch inconsistencies as the conversation continued. "I never served with Bennett personally, but you hear stories. He was a good soldier. He spoke at the dinner that night, too. The amount of time he committed to supporting the charity was... well, it made the rest of us pale by comparison. I drove to DC to give my witness statement a few days after the awful news. I told your agent at the time I knew nothing that would help. Lovely girl though. I felt bad I couldn't tell her more. You probably know her if you're looking into this. I can't think of her name now, but she was very attractive, dark hair, baby on the way, pretty accent?"

"Agent David happens to be one of our best. With all due respect, Admiral Channing, you can keep any opinions about her to yourself," Charlie cut in quickly, spotting the annoyed twitch in Tony's jaw. Until they had something more incriminating to go off, everyone needed to keep their cool and treat it like an interview, Tony jumping to Ziva's defence would not help the situation.

Channing held his hands up innocently. "Oh, no offence meant, of course. My apologies," he did his best to laugh it off. "But as I told Agent Day-vid, I didn't even speak with Bennett that evening, so I'm not sure how I can help you any further, Agent Gibbs."

So far, for all the bluster, this much was true. Bennett and Channing had led separate Naval careers. Although Channing had attended the WAIT fundraiser, he had had nothing to do with Bennett that evening, appearing to neither seek him out nor avoid him. Although they were both involved with the charity, Bennett had localised his involvement to the DC area, while Channing had been based in Norfolk, and while aware of each other, their paths had crossed surprisingly little.

"What did the Commander speak about that evening?" Gibbs prompted.

Channing's brow wrinkled in thought. "Several things, increasing the community profile and awareness of the charity to make sure people in need know where to go and..." Something like disdain flashed across his face for a moment. "Improving the integrity and security of the funds raised, something about ensuring they only went towards their intended purpose."

They all caught the uncomfortable expression, although Gibbs acted as though he hadn't noticed. "Did you happen to speak with Captain Aaron Walker that evening? He was sitting beside Bennett that night."

"Of course, I know Captain Walker, he's an excellent fellow officer." Gibbs' eyes narrowed at the deflection, and he repeated the question, emphasising the night of the WAIT event. Channing's jaw tightened uncomfortably at the continued probing. "It was six weeks ago, Agent Gibbs. Of course, I don't remember everyone I spoke to that night." Again, he spoke the truth, Ziva had confirmed with a text message during their drive to Norfolk that there was no video evidence of Channing and Walker interacting at the fundraiser, despite their prior connections.

"What about Mrs Walker?" Gibbs asked in a tone that suggested he already knew.

There was a long pause, Channing had answered truthfully to this point and he was obviously considering what would qualify as honest given the question. "The event did not allow for plus-one invitations," he responded, careful to avoid any references to Mrs Walker's calls since her husband's arrest. "Otherwise, I would have brought my lovely wife along as well," he said, nodding to a picture frame on his desk.

Gibbs glanced at it quickly, seeing the usual extended family portrait. It was easy enough to interpret; the standard three generations posed in front of a nondescript watercolour background of a mall photography business. Admiral Channing and his wife were central, the couple sandwiched between a series of younger adults, presumably their children and spouses, and a row of grandchildren in front. "Lovely family," he offered with an impartial nod.

"Thank you," Channing replied, now clearly more guarded. "Getting to spend more time with them when I retire will make all these years of service so much more worthwhile."

At that moment, all four of the agents' phones chimed and the younger three immediately pulled them open to check the message. Only Gibbs ignored this, not taking his eyes off the Admiral.

"The younger generation, they've always got to be connected," Channing remarked with a chuckle. Gibbs did not sympathise. "It's so different nowadays, first there were fax machines, then computers, and now cell phones..." he went on as McGee leaned over, holding his phone out to Gibbs and murmuring something in a low voice.

Gibbs nodded. "And security cameras," he said, squinting at the screen. "Including at gas stations."

The friendly, open demeanour dropped and Channing grew tense, his tone sharpening. "Look, Agent Gibbs. I do have work to do today, so if you don't have any further questions for me..." he said, standing and gesturing towards the door.

"I don't." Gibbs held his hands up, apparently in resignation, but actually a signal to his team. "But they do."

"Don't you even want to know how we ended up here?" Tony began with feigned confusion. "It's such a good story too... it starts with a car wreck that lands an innocent kid in the hospital and ends with you being the last known contact between him and a murder suspect?"

McGee took his turn now. "Did you know, Admiral, that Commander Bennett's death is now being investigated as a murder? And that the man responsible just so happens to live at the address Mr Muir had entered into his GPS immediately after meeting you?"

"Well, he used to live there anyway - his current address is Truesdale Detention Centre, Alexandria. We never did find a motive, but the murder itself was cut and dried," Tony paused and glanced at the Admiral. "I wonder if Santa makes prison visits?"

"The kid lived, by the way, not that you asked," Charlie added. "He's pretty messed up, but if the swelling on his brain goes down he should make a full recovery. That's good news, isn't it?"

Channing seemed to be able to answer this question, at least. "Y-yes, of course." However, even that didn't sound as assured as he had been initially.

"Well, at least we can agree on that much," Tony replied, deadpan. "Still, you were the last person he spoke to before the crash, and his next destination was Captain Walker's home address, who, by your own admission, you've worked with in the past, not to mention the multiple phone calls his wife has made to you since he was incarcerated..."

Channing leaned forward on the desk, resting on his hands and bringing himself to eye level with the team. "An unlikely set of coincidences, I'm sure. Now if there are no actual questions for me..."

"Just one," Tony cut in, nodding downwards, drawing their attention to his hands. He pointed at a small, dried scab on the back of Channing's right thumb. "How'd you get that?"

Channing straightened up, tucking his thumb under his other hand. "Oh that? Just a little accident with a tape dispenser a few days ago, nothing serious. Nine grandchildren... it's a lot of gifts, you know," he chuckled nervously and indicated the photo again. "Mrs Channing needs my help getting all the wrapping done this time of year." From his previous carefully crafted answers, they surmised that he had at least helped with wrapping gifts, even if that was not where he'd obtained the injury.

"Are you sure it wasn't when you packed the box of cash we found in Cameron Muir's trunk?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. "I told you it was an interesting story how we ended up here. Our forensic scientist found blood and skin cells on the tape used to seal it - they matched your DNA profile. Unless you've got an identical twin brother we don't know about, that's one heck of a coincidence if you ask me."

The Admiral said nothing, although his jaw set tightly. Charlie snapped her fingers, as though suddenly enlightened. "Don't forget the fabric fibres, Tony," she added.

"Oh, right the fibres," he chuckled in response. "A perfect match for Naval dress blues, weren't they? Let's see... the crash was on Sunday, and where was our good Director headed Sunday night, McGee?"

"The Naval Annual Holiday Gala," McGee filled in instantly.

"Hmm, sounds like a pretty good reason to be wearing your blues if you ask me. Don't suppose you happened to be there that evening as well, Admiral?" He didn't wait for an answer. The growing anger on Channing's face spoke clearly enough. "Let's see... you get ready after lunch, pack the box, say.. 3pm... sorry, I'll put that in your words, 1500 hours... make the drive to the gas station just in time to show up on their security footage at 1617, back in time to pick up Mrs Channing and get to the party by the time pre-drinks start at 1830. Meanwhile, poor Mr Muir's just had a tyre blowout and is having to be revived on the side of the road while you're dancing your heart out with your wife."

This hit a nerve. "Well, I didn't know that he was going to crash, did I?" Channing retorted, pushing his chair back and springing to his feet, his face turning an unpleasant shade of puce. No one flinched, staying seated as he tried to stare them all down, breathing hard.

"Relax, Admiral," Tony scoffed as though the outburst was overkill. "We can put your mind at ease there. The wreck was pure bad luck - although you're Mr Muir's last known contact, you're not liable for the accident in any way. The kid should never have taken that car on the road. What we do want to know is why you were using him to secretly send a large amount of money to the man responsible for Commander Bennett's murder?"

As he had when confronted in the break room, Channing's eyes darted quickly around, looking for an escape route, this time the desk and Team Gibbs stood between him and the only exit. Now they moved, the four of them stood up in a single motion and all spreading out slightly, Charlie and McGee who were on either end of the row stepping sideways, to block the space on either side of the desk.

"Easy, Channing," Gibbs warned, his voice level and his eyes trained on the seething man before him. "I think we need to take this conversation back to NCIS and have your lawyer meet us there."

This seemed seemed to be the final straw and whatever control Channing had left over his courtly facade disappeared entirely. "You have no right to arrest me!" he shouted, sweeping everything off his desk, scattering various files and the family photo he'd pointed to so proudly shattering against the wall.

The next moment happened both in slow motion and in the blink of an eye all at once. Channing sidestepped his desk, lunging towards the door and swinging at whoever was in his path. The whole room seemed to surge sideways, everyone moving to intercept him, just as Charlie who'd been first in line, staggered backwards from his sudden, vicious shove. She regained her balance and before any of the men had a chance to react, she clenched, aligned her wrist just like Ziva had been teaching her and swung at Channing's face. There was a dull, meaty crunch as she made contact, Charlie yelped and recoiled, cradling her hand and Channing roared with pain, stopping in his tracks and doubled over, cupping his nose.

A few minutes later, order had been restored. Base security had materialised at the sounds of a fight but their presence was unneeded. Gibbs and Tony had a hold of him before he'd recovered from the punch subduing him while McGee got Charlie clear of the situation in case he tried to retaliate. He didn't, and after providing the requested first aid items - something to mop up Channing's nose and an icepack for Charlie's rapidly bruising knuckles - they were relegated to standing outside the door preventing any further witnesses to the debacle.

"That was assault!" Channing muttered thickly. Although much of his fight had dissipated as quickly as it had flared up, and he was now slumped regretfully in one of the chairs, dabbing carefully at the tender, bloody mess that sat in the centre of his face, he still had a few choice words for them all. "Arresting me under false pretences and then assaulting me. I'll have all of your badges!"

"I only saw Agent Delaney acting in self-defence," Gibbs shrugged. He'd let Channing keep the use of his hands for the time being to tend to his face, but they weren't taking any chances, Gibbs and Tony stood on either side of him, each with a hand on his shoulder, ready to prevent any further attempts at freedom. "Right, DiNozzo?"

"Right," Tony agreed. "You made contact with her first. And I don't recall anyone saying the word arrest except you. The problem is now, we know you've got something to hide, no one who's worried about being proven innocent reacts like that. I guess whether or not we slap you with assaulting a Federal Agent as well all depends on how generous Gibbs feels today."

Channing slumped further, realising he'd done himself in by misinterpreting Gibbs' request to continue their conversation elsewhere. "Look, I think this all got a bit out of hand," he began, trying to regain some of the genial nonchalance he'd assumed on their arrival. The effect was less convincing as his voice was heavily muffled between his clogged, misshapen nose and the bloody wad of tissue he still held to his face. "There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this..."

"Which we'll be perfectly happy to hear back in DC," Tony finished, interrupted by his ringtone. "Oh, hang on, I better grab this one, Boss." He stopped and answered the call, turning away from the room, still keeping a heavy hand on Channing's shoulder.

"Tell you what," Gibbs said. "I'm feeling generous. You come quietly now and answer the rest of our questions about your involvement in Bennett's murder and I'll forget the part where I saw you put your hands on one of my agents. Do we have a deal?"

Channing hesitated, then glanced at Charlie, still icing her hand, then to McGee who, at a signal from Tony, opened something on his phone with a triumphant grin and back to Gibbs' unrelenting, steady gaze. "I won't say a word until my lawyer is present," he agreed grudgingly.

"We'll call them on the way," Gibbs said as though Channing had asked for nothing more complicated than to stop for food en route. "What's going on, DiNozzo?" he raised his voice, indicating Tony needed to hurry up and end the call.

"Ciao, Bella. Nice work." He hung up the phone and faced the room again. "It's a good thing you've agreed to come with us now Channing, because, after this point, you wouldn't have had any choice in the matter. Agent David has just sent McGee a copy of the expedited subpoena summoning you for a recorded interview that she filed as soon as she had the security footage placing you at the gas station with Cameron Muir."

Gibbs almost smiled. "No sense in waiting any longer, Channing, let's hit the road."

"But wait, there's more," Tony said with a grin. "She's also spoken to Mrs Walker who's agreed to come in and tell everything she knows about the whole situation too, there's an agent already on the way to her address to escort her to NCIS."

Channing deflated further, obviously predicting that whatever Mrs Walker had to say would not paint him in a favourable light. "How'd Agent Day-vid get all that done so fast?" he mumbled quietly in disbelief, struggling to his feet still flanked by Gibbs and Tony.

"Dah-veed," McGee stressed the correct pronunciation as he held the door open for them. "We already told you she was one of our best."

"And that she was more than just a lovely girl," Charlie commented, tossing her icepack in the trash and falling into formation beside McGee. "Still, it's the lovely ones you've got to watch out for... who do you think taught me to swing like that?" she added, inspecting her swollen hand with the casual air of displaying a new manicure.

"She is lovely, though," Tony added with a grin as they led Channing to the cars. "So lovely I married her."

Chapter Text

The day may not have started with an arrest, but it ended with one.

Once back at NCIS, Channing continued with his carefully constructed technically true responses. He said the money was sent to help Walker with finding a new lawyer and avoided references to certain projects he had been involved in which might have hinted at him being aware that Walker had the know-how to kill Bennett so quietly. Of course, they all knew there was more to it than that but they lacked the evidence to prove it and the interview had ended with him still a free man.

Before they had a chance to finish their deep dive into Channing's financial records and correspondence, the answer came in the form of Mrs Walker. It turned out Channing's unease at hearing her name was well-founded. She was wildly disgruntled and the way she'd stormed into the squadroom already at boiling point had made Gibbs refuse point-blank to let Ziva be in the room when she was interviewed as she appeared ready to start throwing punches. However, once seated in a quieter space, she willingly and succinctly shared everything she knew.

Admiral Channing and Captain Walker had known each other for years serving in the same unit on multiple occasions and working together on higher classified projects. Channing, who was nearing retirement later the following year had begun using his position to quietly siphon money from the WAIT accounts to pad his retirement fund. Eventually, Commander Bennett became suspicious and began investigating. While this had seemed largely private, no one they interviewed had known about the files on his computer, somehow Channing in turn had become suspicious of Bennett and worried that he would stop the private cash flow and report him.

Now wanting to cover his tracks, Channing brought Walker into his confidence and together they created the scheme to remove Bennett from the equation. Mrs Walker explained bitterly that her husband would do anything for a quick dollar, and as Channing promised considerably more than 'a' dollar if Walker was successful, he'd been unable to refuse. Walker, with visions of his own comfortable nest egg and still keeping the whole shady deal a secret from his wife, had used his career experience to poison Bennett the night of the WAIT fundraiser. As agreed, the men had avoided each other on the night and the weeks following, with Walker's payment to come when Bennett's death had been recorded as a medical incident and the whole situation had gone quiet. However, neither one of the men had counted on Abby's expert forensic work. When the news broke that Bennett was murdered, Channing, realising he was still in the clear had drained the WAIT accounts completely, letting Walker take the fall. Meanwhile, about to become the lead suspect, the Captain had confessed everything to his wife, saying she deserved to know the truth. However, still holding fast to his bargain with Channing, and optimistic the lack of motive would see a jury rule in his favour, he had begged her to cite marital privilege so she wouldn't have to testify against him. Torn between loyalty to her husband and a sense of justice, she had agreed to stay quiet, albeit reluctantly.

The situation became harder when his initial lawyer had withdrawn her representation and he began putting pressure on Mrs Walker to dip into their savings to retain a new one. Here, Mrs Walker had drawn a line, she would not incriminate him with her words, but she wouldn't help him any further with the money she and her children now had to survive on. Instead, she called Channing multiple times demanding her husband's payment, he'd refused at first, saying that the murder investigation voided their agreement but she had persisted until Channing had finally arranged to send a far smaller portion than originally agreed in cash with Cameron in an attempt to reduce the paper trail. When Ziva had contacted her the same morning the rest of the team had been interviewing Channing, and she'd heard that Cameron had become collateral damage in it all, she'd reached her limit. Walker was already in a world of legal trouble and the most she could do now was to make sure Channing got what was coming to him as well, knowing that it would condemn her husband in the process.

Of course, there were a few details Mrs Walker didn't know; what had tipped Bennett off, how he had given himself away to Channing or exactly where the money had been routed, but the candid information she could provide led McGee and the cyber team to begin tracing the stolen money more effectively and with a warrant to be issued for Channing's arrest with a slew of charges including fraud and conspiracy. Gibbs had, however, kept his end of the bargain and no further mention of the way he'd shoved Charlie was made, at least in any official capacity.

The bullpen was a different story. They gathered the next day, tired but relieved. The mood was light, revelling in the success of the last few days and anticipating McGee and Abby's wedding rehearsal and joint pre-wedding party planned for the weekend. With Gibbs out of the room for the time being, they were taking advantage of the opportunity to relax and reenact Charlie's first successful on-duty punch for Ziva's benefit.

"You were right about my wrist, Ziva!" Charlie agreed. "It hurts more than I expected though." Her hand had bruised and swollen overnight, and although she wasn't seriously hurt herself, she was still surprised by the side effects it had for her.

"That is something you will get used to," Ziva said with a wise nod. With Channing and Walker in custody, she was beginning to feel much more at ease about these last few days at work and had begun packing up her desk, ready for Charlie's takeover. Currently, she was relocating things from her drawers into a file box. Charlie had already asked and been granted permission to keep the potted plant that lived in Ziva's workspace, but almost everything else needed to go. "It sounds like you did well, you listened in training."

Tony laughed. "You should've seen the look on his face Zi, or at least what there was to see behind his hands. Our little Probie got him good!" He cupped his hands over his nose, widening his eyes in an exaggerated imitation of the scene. The others made quiet eye contact and shook their heads, Tony had demonstrated Channing's response at least twice an hour since they'd arrived.

"Do you want me to empty that bottom drawer, Ziva?" Charlie offered, noticing the way Ziva pushed her chair back to make room to sit on the floor beside it rather than bending from her seat as she used to.

"Please," Ziva accepted with a relieved chuckle. "It is mostly things that are useful for long cases where you do not get to go home. Toothpaste and the like, you may keep anything you will find useful as repayment for your help."

"Sweet, I love a bargain!" Charlie knelt as Ziva took her seat. She found a pocket-size packet of tissues and a travel tube of toothpaste that she wanted to keep but tossed a stick of deodorant aside with a grimace, as grossed out about sharing personal items as she was food. "Eew, you've used it... uh, sorry. It's not you, personally, it's anyone... anyway, that's a hard no. Oh, and you can have the shampoo back too. Textured hair like mine needs a different kind. But uh... what about these?" She reached up, tossing something onto the desk that landed with a soft rattle.

Ziva picked up the foil pill packet and chuckled. "So that is where they went... I have not seen those in almost a year!"

"I can tell," Charlie said with a grin, delving back into the drawer.

"What long-lost treasures are you uncovering over there, ladies?" Tony looked across and Ziva waved the latest find at him in answer. "Ha... they would've been useful about nine months ago."

Ziva shrugged serenely a hand across her middle. "We would not be where we are now if they had been around then. Is there anything else you want to take, Charlie?"

She lifted a wrapped bar of soap to her nose and sniffed it. "Oh, this is the same kind you use at home, I love it! Wait..." she paused awkwardly. "That's not as bad as it sounds. I just noticed it on you when we were training that time... you smelled really good... I'm not making this any better am I? Here, you should keep it," she faded off realising the way Ziva was studying her with an amused smirk, one eyebrow quirked.

"You're really not," Tony chuckled. "She does smell magnificent though, I'll give you that."

"You're supposed to think that, Tony," Ziva replied but still smiled, flattered. She handed the soap back to Charlie. "If you like it so much, you may have it. I can get more. Anything else?"

Charlie claimed a sealed three-pack of chapsticks and an unopened nail file. "Thanks, Ziva, that'll do me. I'll pass on the birth control though, not exactly a thing I need to worry about," she finished with a laugh. Ziva laughed too, and tossed the pack into the trash.

McGee, who'd been deep in recovering the missing WAIT money had tuned in to their conversation just in time to hear Charlie's last words, and lifted his head suddenly, looking alarmed. "Oh god, Ziva. I think I got you pregnant!" he declared.

For a few seconds, there was bewildered silence. As far as his audience was concerned, only the announcement that he'd developed a sudden love for sea travel and intended to join the Navy could have been more surprising, but in terms of probability, even that seemed more likely than the bombshell he'd just dropped.

Tony was the first to recover. "Oh please as if I'd need help with that!" he laughed and shook his head. "I was there when it happened McGoo, you weren't even on our minds, I promise you."

"No, no not like that," he stammered, still looking extremely worried. "Ziva, can we talk privately?"

Thoroughly confused by now, she shot him a questioning glance. "Are you okay, Tim?"

"Yeah." He nodded uncertainly. "I just realised something. Can we go somewhere else and talk, please?" he repeated earnestly.

Charlie got out of the way and gestured toward the breakroom. "I can finish packing this up, go on." Ziva stood and exchanged a shrug with Tony as she followed McGee.

"Thanks," McGee sighed as they found a quiet spot in the hallway outside the bathrooms. "I mean, I know you're going to tell Tony anyway, but this is awkward enough to say without him sitting there cracking jokes."

"I don't understand, what happened back there?" Ziva leaned back against the wall and waited for him to talk.

He ran a nervous hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "Those pills Charlie found, they were birth control?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I used to take them. Obviously, I do not, now."

"Obviously," he agreed faintly. "But they were in your desk?"

"Yes?" The answer sounded more like a question. "Why is that unusual?"

"Not your go-bag?"

Ziva shook her head, puzzled about why he'd fixated on this. "No, they were always kept in my drawer. Because I take the go-bags home to wash the clothes after I wear them during a case, I would leave the pills here, so I did not forget to bring them back."

The horrified look on his face increased if that was possible. "Oh crap, Ziva, I really think I might have got you pregnant."

"I would remember if we had done that, McGee!" she laughed. "For that matter, I hope you would too!"

He shook his head and tried again. "No, not like that! I mean, I packed your bags for you when you went to Israel, right? You sent me to the house to get that black dress and the scarf you wanted for Eli's funeral." Ziva had chosen to honour a Jewish tradition when Eli had died, staying with his body from the moment she had been allowed in the room until the funeral service in Tel Aviv. With Tony out of action from the same car crash, Abby by his side in Ziva's stead, and Gibbs keeping his own quiet, immovable vigil over Ziva, it had fallen to McGee to make sure she had what she'd needed for the journey.

"I remember, thank you." She squeezed his arm gratefully for a moment. "You did well. Putting Tony's tie in for me was very thoughtful, it brought me a lot of comfort while I was alone."

McGee smiled briefly, he'd felt horribly awkward about being given such a personal task and second-guessed everything he'd chosen for her, so the reassurance a few months down the line that she still valued his help was a relief. "Yeah, but then I realised you'd need personal stuff. But I didn't want to go into your bathroom in case you thought it was creepy of me. So, I figured your go-bag would do. You know, toothbrush or whatever. You always seemed to have what you needed in that."

"It would not have been creepy, but I appreciate the consideration. And the go-bag was a good decision instead," Ziva confirmed. "But why is that such a problem now?"

"Because you didn't have everything in there... did you?"

Ziva laughed and shook her head, finally understanding why Charlie's discovery had caused such a reaction in him. "No, I did not, I realised when I unpacked that I should have told you about them. But I could tell that you tried to respect my privacy."

"You could?"

"Yes!" She nodded emphatically. "I could also that you packed my pyjamas with your eyes closed. If you had actually seen one of the things that you put in there, you would still be blushing to this day."

"Oh? Oh!" He cringed, the blush coming anyway. "I'm so sorry, how bad was it?"

"It was not the sort of thing one would think of wearing the night before they bury a parent... But it was nice to have when Tony stayed. I will say that much," she paused with a soft, affectionate chuckle. "Look, Tim, I understood why you had not packed them. I was, and still am very grateful for everything you did for me in those few days. You made an impossibly hard time liveable. Pursuing you because you did not include medication you did not know I was taking was hardly worth it."

"Yeah," he acknowledged with a shrug. "But because I didn't pack those you got pregnant."

"No, McGee," she said patiently. "I got pregnant because I had unprotected sex. Nothing more." She held her hand up, a motion to wait as another agent passed by them with a nod, then continued once they were out of earshot. "You did not know they were there, only Tony did. They were just a backup for the cases that kept us overnight, anyway. There was a packet by the sink in the bathroom at home that I was taking regularly."

The horrified expression was back. "Oh god, you mean if I'd actually gone and looked in there, I would have seen them after all? I am so sorry Ziva... this, I mean, it's changed everything, your entire life."

"It did," she agreed softly, wrapping her arms around her middle. "She brought me home, McGee. If I had not found out about her, I would have stayed in Israel until Eli's estate was finalised and by then the distance between Tony and I... well... it does not bear thinking about. You do not need to apologise for this, it was not your fault. But, if you had any hand in it all, the only thing I feel is grateful for everything it's given me."

He finally seemed to accept her forgiveness with a sigh of relief and shook his head. "Still... I can't believe I got you pregnant."

"You what, McGee?" They both spun around to find Gibbs standing behind them. "Somethin' you wanna tell me, Ziver?'

Ziva buried her face in her hands, finding it a lot less amusing this time around. "No, not like that!" McGee simply looked like he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"Then how..." Gibbs faded off and shook his head, trying to understand what he'd stumbled across. "You know what? I don't want to know. Back to work."

By the end of the wedding rehearsal the next day, there was little doubt in anyone's mind exactly how Tony felt about it; it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He teased McGee mercilessly for five solid minutes while the others were distracted discussing the placement of the tables for the reception, only stopping when McGee threatened to revoke Best Man privileges. It did not, however, stop him from proposing an informal toast when they gathered afterwards for Ducky's homemade cocoa, and finishing his otherwise very heartfelt spiel with "And to McGee... who's so excited to become a father, he needs to say he got my wife pregnant."

McGee was thoroughly wound up by this point and turned on Tony with a glare. "I already told you, I didn't mean to get Ziva pregnant!" he exclaimed. Until this point, only Tony, Ziva and McGee himself had been privy to the exact details but an outburst like that needed more explanation. Before long, the entire wedding party had been appraised of the situation, amidst wheezing laughter from Tony and mortified apologies from the groom-to-be.

Ziva took the opportunity of the drive between Ducky's house and the hens-bucks-everyone-we-love party to warn him off further. "Stop it, Tony. He really is beating himself up over the whole thing, please do not give him such a hard time,"

Tony nodded, not taking his eyes off the road. "Hard time? Oh no, I owe him a debt of gratitude, that bit of lingerie, not packing your pills. I mean, it's like he willed it to happen and she's the best thing that ever happened to us."

At this, Ziva relaxed into her seat a little bit. "Besides, even if we are all adults, there are still some things I'd rather not discuss, particularly with Gibbs."

"Uh-huh," Tony continued as though she hadn't spoken. "But if he's going to keep saying he 'got you pregnant' like that, then I'm going to have fun with it... ouch, not when I'm driving!"

Fortunately, bowling with nuns proved to be more fun than harassing McGee. When the time had come to plan the party, Abby had questioned why those kinds of celebrations were so often separated by gender and declared her night wouldn't be complete without Jimmy and Tony's presence. McGee also hadn't been keen on a "traditional" bucks party, despite the successful one he had orchestrated for Tony and happily agreed to a joint party at the bowling alley with all of their friends and connections. Although she had dodged Thanksgiving and was making doubtful noises about any kind of Christmas gathering, Charlie accepted this invitation and proved herself utterly dreadful at the game but claimed her bruised hand put her at a disadvantage. Jase appeared too, said nothing, bowled a perfect 300 game against Jimmy and left without waiting for the food to be served. There was also an afterparty at one of Abby's favourite clubs where the Sterile Puppets played a regular set. Gibbs has slipped out after the toasts, and Ducky begged off with something about his protecting his hearing, while Abby woefully told Ziva, that no matter how she'd wheedled with the doorman ahead of time, there was no way he would allow a 36-week pregnant woman into the club for safety purposes. Ziva was considerably less regretful to hear this and Tony quickly latched onto the knight in shining armour role, announcing loudly that he had to take his wife and daughter home. However, Jimmy and Breena joined the much smaller crowd headed that way and danced the night away on everyone else's behalf.

Sunday started quietly, with overnight snow adding an extra chill to the air and beginning to back up traffic as everyone on the roads forgot everything they ever knew about driving. Charlie visited Casa De Tiva in the morning for a final bridesmaid dress fitting, having finished her alterations and added the necessary layer that would accommodate nursing just in case Baby Tiva decided to join the wedding in body as well as spirit. However, Ziva, assured her it wouldn't be necessary and predicted in a dire tone that she was sure she was going to stay pregnant forever.

"Alright, what can I do?" Tony asked when Charlie had left, declaring both the dress and Ziva once she was in it to be runway ready.

Ziva sighed, stretching out on the couch. "I am just tired and feeling the extra weight today. The cold makes everything seem slower... except the baby. She is making me painfully aware of body parts I only knew I had in theory up until now." She reached for his hand, laying it on her belly, demonstrating just how active things were inside.

"Yeah..." Tony chuckled, rubbing his hand over the smooth curve. "Guess you'd be toasty warm in there, huh, bambina?. But what can I do, Zi honey? You must be feeling bad if you've actually said something."

Ziva shifted forward on the cushions. They'd chosen the couch with the extra deep seat specifically to allow them both to fit while spooning. "Put on Love, Actually. It is Christmas Eve tomorrow, and I have not yet watched it this year, then come lay with me for a while and talk to her, she goes quiet when you do."

"You got it." He set the DVD playing, cuddled in behind her and began talking, simply by narrating the movie because the baby couldn't see the screen. It quickly turned out it wasn't just the baby who went quiet at the steady, soothing drone of his voice, Ziva was also asleep before Billy Mack had left the recording booth.

The peace didn't last, Tony never liked the movie much anyway but was stuck behind Ziva who, even in her sleep, grumbled and reached for the remote before he could turn it off, and was woken suddenly from the doze he'd dropped into when the front door burst open.

"Ziva!" Abby thumped into the room, McGee hot on her heels, begging her to calm down. "It's a disaster!"

Ziva jerked awake in front of him and he tightened his arm around her before she threw herself off the couch. "Steady on, Ninja, it's just an Ab-alanche. Whatever happened to knocking?" They both pulled themselves upright, watching as Abby wore a path in their rug.

"Emergencies don't need knocking! And we have keys."

McGee held his hands up placatingly. "It's not an emergency, Abs... it's just..."

"It is!" she insisted, flinging her overcoat onto the coffee table and throwing herself dramatically onto the cushions at the far end of the couch. "How are we supposed to get married now?"

"Whoa! You know I was kidding about the whole McGee getting Ziva pregnant thing?" Tony cut in hastily. Abby had laughed about it when she was told, but he knew as well as anyone what 24 hours of thinking time could blow up into, especially when it came to Abby.

Abby paused the teasing from the previous day all but forgotten. "What? Oh, that. No, he totally did. This is way worse!"

"Abby," Ziva moved down the cushions to sit next to her, taking Abby's face in her hands and meeting her eyes. "Look at me, centre yourself and breathe. Again. Now, achoti, slow down, and start at the beginning."

"You learned that from Marlee," Abby accused, referring to Ziva's midwife and the various breathing techniques they'd been practising for labour. She did, however, calm down for a moment, before declaring. "It's too bad... I can't even say it. You tell them, Tim!"

Her almost-husband propped on the coffee table opposite them. "So Abs rang Cathy, our wedding celebrant, to make sure everything is good legally, you know all the paperwork bits.."

Apparently, even the smallest amount of context was too long for Abby, who jumped in again. "She said she wouldn't marry a gay couple if they contacted her!"

"But you're not..."

"I know we're not, Tony!" she exclaimed with an exasperated flap that had Ziva shifting back out of reach. "But thousands of other people are! She gets to tell two people that she doesn't think they should be allowed to get married just because she wouldn't do it. How is that fair?" She didn't wait for an answer before ploughing on. "It's not like anyone's saying she has to go marry another woman anyway. We can't possibly be married by someone who doesn't think love is for everyone! It's like telling everyone everywhere that we don't care about equality. I can't believe I didn't think to ask how she felt about it when we met her, to begin with. But we're getting married in eight days and I just fired our celebrant. There's no way we can find someone new in that time!"

"Okay," Ziva said calmly. "So we find someone ne-"

Abby cut her off. "But we'd been working with her for months! She understood exactly what we wanted the whole ceremony to look like and what was important to us and when we met and how we got to this place to get married and how could someone new get their heads around all that in just a week?"

"I already kn-"

"If we can even find anyone, that is!" she wailed. "That's why we came over. We have so many phone calls to make! I know you were hoping for a quiet Sunday, but I need to call in a massive Maid of Honour favour on this one. You can still talk lying down, anyway. Do you still have all the brochures and things Jimmy and I gave you when you were planning your wedding? We're going to need fresh names. We already spoke to a whole bunch who weren't a good fit before we decided to go with her... hopefully, there are still some people we haven't called on the lists I made for you back then."

Abby paused for breath and launched into another tirade. Ziva shook her head and motioned for McGee's phone, simply letting her vent. He handed it over with a curious expression and then watched as she opened the contacts section and scrolled till she found the name she wanted, giving it back to him with a nod.

"You're a genius, Zi." Tony said, craning his neck to see what was going on.

McGee glanced at the name on the screen, a smile widening on his face. "That's perfect, Ziva. Abs, calm down I ha-"

"And it's New Year's Eve!" Abby was on her feet again, pacing around, not even noticing as the men took refuge in the kitchen. "Don't tell me to calm down, Tim! It's only, like, the biggest party night of the whole year. You know how busy everyone is during the holidays. That's why we booked everything so far in advance. The DJ and Luca's flights, and the flowers and the celebrant! Who's going to be available to marry us then?"

"Abby! Stop!" Ziva stood up now, too. "There is a very simple solution to all of this."

With Ziva now directly in her path, Abby halted somewhere between her eighth and ninth laps of the coffee table. "There is?" she asked, hopeful but almost too afraid to believe it.

"Yes, ask Ducky." Ziva nodded. "He knows you both almost as well as Tony and I do, he already understands why you two want to be married and I have no doubt that he enjoys a celebration of love and togetherness, whatever form it takes, especially if he gets to talk about it."

Abby's rollercoaster of emotion rose quickly again "Ducky! Of course! And he's already certified to do it because he got you and Tony married! Why didn't I think of that?" she exclaimed, appearing as though all of her prayers had been answered. In typical Abby form though, she faltered on one last obstacle, becoming anxious again. "But it's so much to ask of him. He's already given us his home to hold the wedding, and he's spending all this week dealing with the contractors who are extending the parlour room with the tent for our reception. Do you really think he would?"

"He would," Tim said, coming back in from the kitchen. "I called him while you were shouting at Ziva. In his own words, he is 'delighted to be asked my dear lad' and he's promised me that he would marry anyone who asked him. He'll talk to us during the week and look at the notes we'd made for Cathy."

There were no words for a few moments, only hugs for everyone and a very long kiss for Tim, before Abby wilted onto the couch relieved and overwhelmed. "Whoa... and I promised I wouldn't go all bridezilla on anything."

"Well, if you were going to pick anything to get upset about, that is a good cause." Ziva agreed. "But perhaps next time, ask for advice before you blow it up into cancelling the whole wedding?"

"Yeah," Abby agreed sheepishly. "But there's nothing else to panic about now... except maybe you going into labour during our vows."

"You do not need to worry about that. She is far too comfortable to ever think of coming out." Ziva sighed, letting Abby feel for more kicks.

"Sorry we crashed your party like that," McGee added. "I tried to tell her we should at least call, but..."

"But Abby," Tony finished understandingly. "It gave Zi something else to think about for a bit anyway, she was feeling kind of rough this morning," he added in a low tone.

"Happy to help." McGee glanced over at the women; Abby's face lit up but Ziva's creased with discomfort. "Don't suppose you've got any more brilliant ideas about where to find the money Channing stole while we're here?" he asked.

Ziva, leaning back against the top couch with her eyes closed, shook her head. She winced again. "Please, motek, be gentle."

"Whoa, that was huge! You want a go, Timmy?" Abby enthused, stretching for his hand.

Nothing short of a life-threatening emergency could have convinced McGee to feel the baby kick. "We should go, Abs," he said instead. "Let Ziva get some rest. Thank you though, really. I don't know if I would've thought of asking Ducky either, at least not until Abby had stopped panicking some."

"What else are bridal parties for?" Tony joked. "Consider this repayment for skipping out on the last half of your shindig yesterday. Come on, we'll walk you out."

"I wasn't entirely kidding about the WAIT money," McGee added on the threshold after the farewells had been said. "It's the last thing we need to resolve."

Ziva opened her mouth clearly on the verge of saying no but caught herself and touched her stomach thoughtfully. "What about his family? Channing has a married daughter," she suggested. "In a family as traditional as theirs, she likely gave her children her husband's name. No one would question a doting grandfather starting a college trust for his grandchild."

McGee thought this over for a minute. "The grandkids..." he mused quietly before his entire face lit up. "If he's done it right, his name won't be on it! I have some research to do!"

Tony understood the look on his face well. "You want company while you do your geek thing?" he offered. "I know you're not even going home after this."

"No, thanks. You two might be the lead partnership on the field, but when it comes to computers, I've got all the backup I need right here," he motioned to Abby proudly. Her typing speed and understanding of encryption and cyber forensics would be unmatched by anything Tony or Ziva could offer right now. "But thanks, Ziva. This might be the answer we need to get the money back to the charity. Ready, Abs?"

"As long as we stop for Caf-Pow," she nodded eagerly and reached to press her forehead against Ziva's for a second. "Love you, Zivvie."

Ziva leaned into Tony watching the pair crunch their way back through the snow no one had shovelled off the path yet, calm and focused, a complete reversal of the moods in which they had arrived. "Maybe now you will stop taking jokes too far?" she asked.

He moved back a step to look at her, confused. "What, now?"

"The look on your face when Abby said they couldn't get married, you assumed it was because she was worried that McGee had actually got me pregnant... perhaps you can learn from that?" she explained looking at him seriously. "For a moment there, you really thought it was your fault, and for all you laugh now, you would not actually want to cause trouble for them like that."

"Okay, maybe I went a bit far with that one, but only a tiny bit," he conceded with a smirk. "But it's still kind of funny. And it's always good watching him squirm."

"It is less funny when Gibbs is the one asking the questions I promise you!" she snorted.

"Okay, point taken," he agreed bending for a kiss. "You want to go sleep through the rest of the movie?"

"I was not asleep!"

He grinned and rolled his eyes. "Sure you weren't. But, back to the couch?"

By the time they were settled in again, Billy Mack was in the middle of taking off his pants on live TV.

They were summoned to MTAC late the next afternoon. With an absence of other active cases, the day had been mostly finishing their reports on Admiral Channing, taking part in the office Secret Santa exchange - none of the team had pulled anyone they knew particularly well this year, settling for Bed Bath & Beyond vouchers or similarly impersonal options - and generally tidying up and passing the time.

"Do you think he's got it?" Charlie asked. McGee had been largely invisible, spending his day with the cyber team.

Tony shrugged. "Dunno, but the grandkid suggestion certainly made him think about it differently, and it's Christmas Eve... if there was ever a day for miracles, this is it. Don't look at me like that Zi, Hanukkah's been and gone, you had your chance to claim divine intervention," he chuckled.

Ziva's eyes narrowed playfully before a sharp whistle from the catwalk headed off any rebuttal. They looked up finding Gibbs waiting for their attention, he jerked his head towards the door to MTAC and spun on his heel.

They knew how to take a hint and followed him up the stairs curiously. The elevator on the top level opened as they reached the landing with Ducky and Jimmy inside, apparently having received the same summons.

"I told you today was the day for miracles," Tony commented, reading the atmosphere as they filed into the room. McGee was already there, beaming with pride as was Abby, who seemed to be barely containing her excitement. Jase was absent, presumably still hiding down in the lab, but even Vance looked unusually pleased. "Look at McGeek, grinning like the cat the cream. It's good news."

"I prefer hard work to miracles, Agent DiNozzo," Vance replied dryly as the door hissed closed behind everyone. "In this case, the hard work has paid off. I've just finished debriefing with Agent McGee. Seeing as all of you have been involved in the case from the beginning, I thought I would let you all know at once the outcome of the-"

"WAIT's getting their money back!" Abby burst out, unable to keep it in any longer. "Sorry, Director, I was just so excited about it."

"Thank you, Ms Sciuto." The stern voice was softened by the twinkle in his eye. "Yes, Agent McGee, Ms Sciuto and the cyber team were able to trace the money that Admiral Channing had been embezzling. They've spent today starting the necessary processes to recover the funds. It will take time, but the charity will have what was taken from them restored and be able to continue their good work."

A unanimous cheer and round of applause broke out, combined with a sigh of relief.

"So, where did the money end up?" Charlie asked when the noise died down a little.

McGee grinned, triumphant. "An offshore trust fund in one of his grandchildren's names. He'd set it up in a way that kept his name out of it entirely, like a sock puppet almost. It's even a different financial institution to his legitimate transactions, it never showed up as being linked to him when we first started looking."

"I was right?" Ziva said, surprised.

"Yep," McGee nodded. "It was all set up in the name of his daughter's first child. Even that wasn't easy, the kid is from her first marriage, but she got remarried and took her new husband's name, so it was less obvious again. I don't know what gave you the idea, but I'm glad you had it, thanks."

"Thank the baby." Ziva eased herself into one of the high-backed chairs in the room. There'd been less kicking overnight, and she'd slept well, but physical comfort was still high on her priority list. "She kicked right before I tapped out and said I had no more ideas. It reminded me that she will not have an obvious link to Eli by name, and I suspected it would be the same for Channing's family."

He grinned awkwardly at Ziva's belly and the way Abby immediately bent down to follow the instruction literally. "I think I'll save the handshake for when she's born," he said. "But solving a case in utero has got to be some kind of NCIS record."

"An agent in the making, perhaps?" Ducky chuckled gently.

"If a third DiNozzo joins the agency, it better be after I retire!" Vance snorted. "But before you're all done celebrating, I have more good news. In the short term, both Mrs Channing and Mrs Walker have made substantial donations to WAIT as a sign of good faith and apology for their husbands' behaviour. It's not even a fraction of the money that was taken, but they were uninvolved in the crimes and have done what they can to make sure the families who rely on the charity don't suffer." There was a quiet, approving hum at this news.

"In the coming months, with the case closed, Commander Bennett's brother has now been given permission to begin his duties as executor of Bennett's will and has no plans to contest it." Vance continued. "WAIT will be receiving another substantial donation when that's finalised and along with the recovered funds, I've been told this will put the charity in the position to acquire another two houses that they will use for emergency accommodation. Agent Rossi in cyber has volunteered his time to help the board members double down on the security of their accounts."

"It's really starting to feel like Christmas!" Jimmy declared. "Everything's coming together and turning out the way it's supposed to."

Abby latched onto the idea quickly. "We've even got our very own nativity scene right here in MTAC. Mary and Joseph and the baby that everyone's waiting for." She gestured to Tony and Ziva. "The three Wisemen, Ducky, and Tim and Gibbs. Then, Director Vance is like the shepherd, watching over his flock. Charlie..."

"I played the innkeeper in every nativity play I was ever in," she supplied.

"Perfect!" Abby beamed. "I guess that makes me the Christmas Angel, bringing everyone joy wherever I go," she finished.

"What does that make me?" Jimmy asked.

Tony didn't hesitate. "The little drummer boy," he sniggered.

"Okay!" Vance held his hands up amidst the laughter and chorus of pa rum pum pum pum that had broken out. "Let me finish. As we all know, tomorrow is Christmas, which means WAIT holds its annual lunch to host the families it's helped this year. We have been invited to the DC event as they're holding a memorial for Commander Bennett, I expect as many of you who are available to attend."

"But of course," Ducky agreed solemnly. There was a general hum of agreement. There was a plan for a quiet group dinner in the evening at Tim and Abby's apartment, but a few moments in the afternoon to pay respects to Bennett was an easy ask. After almost six weeks on the case, countless dead ends and red herrings, and losing jurisdiction entirely at one point, the closure of farewelling the fallen Marine who had started it all felt only fitting.

"And finally, the last good news is that Cameron Muir has woken. His parents are with him, and he is doing as well as can be expected. DiNozzo and McGee, I want you to head out to Norfolk on Wednesday and speak with him. Confirm his side of the story and if there are any further details he can provide. Once that's done, however, this team is on standdown from any active investigations until the temporary agents join Gibbs and Delaney on January 2. You're still expected to report for work until any leave you have booked begins, but it will be for desk duty only."

"You got it," Tony agreed. "Of all the cases to get on our last one together... this one really took the cake. Untraceable poison, stolen money, our Probie taking her first proper swing at someone. Talk about going out with a bang."

"But it is closed," Ziva sighed with relief. "Being able to say that I am done, and mean it feels good. Thank you... all of you." The words hung heavy in the air as they all registered what this really meant for them going forward.

Vance moved towards one of the empty seats and collected something concealed there. "On that note, good work and the end of an era deserves recognition. Non-alcoholic, of course," he added with a nod in Ziva's direction. He lifted his hands and revealed a bottle of champagne and several plastic cups. He popped the cork and they gathered together, passing out the drinks. "Agent David, on behalf of all of us at NCIS, thank you for your service and loyalty. You will be very much missed. We wish you all the best in this next chapter and hope that it brings you all the joy you deserve. Agent DiNozzo, you take care of her, we want her back one day."

"Hear, hear," Gibbs chimed in softly, lifting his drink in a silent salute.

Ducky raised his cup, too. "To Tony, Ziva and..." he trailed off hopefully, glancing at the couple to fill in the blank. Tony and Ziva looked at each other, sudden realisation hitting them both. Not once in the months gone by had the thought of naming their baby crossed their minds.

"We should probably talk names at some point," Tony laughed nervously. "Let's pencil that in soon, hey?"

Ziva nodded. "We should," she agreed. "She will need a name."

"She is a she, right?" Jimmy asked. "You did actually find out, didn't you?"

Tony shrugged cheerfully. "Nope. But Ziva says so, that's all the confirmation I need." He slid his empty hand into Ziva's with a confident squeeze. "Guess we're all just going to have to wait till Ziva goes into labour to find out for sure."

"Well, to Tony, Ziva and the new baby," Ducky amended. Everyone leaned in, touching their glasses, echoing the toast.

Vance cleared his throat. "One last thing, I understand there's a tradition some of you hold on Christmas Eve. One that, I believe, is particularly important to Agent DiNozzo. I think, this year it deserves something a little special. McGee, if you would?" He turned, passing a DVD case to McGee, who gave his cup to Abby and moved to the large control console to insert the disc. The big screen at the front of the room lit up and a second later displayed the opening title for It's A Wonderful Life.

"Whoa," Tony murmured with approval. "This is even better than knowing we won't catch another case this year. Thanks, Director."

"Take your seats and enjoy," Vance said simply, holding his cup for one more toast. "Merry Christmas."

They all lifted their glasses again, bumping against the others in a soft gesture of cheers. "Merry Christmas."

Chapter Text

"Abba?" Ziva's voice carried downstairs. Gibbs tossed a sheet over a larger object in the corner, hearing her footsteps track towards the basement. It was 10 pm, the day after Christmas and they'd just spent the day at work. It was also the middle of a record-breaking cold spell, he knew right away it wasn't a social call.

He glanced up as she appeared in the doorway, immediately recognising the unease on her face. "Baby, waistband carry," he offered in place of a greeting, gesturing at her stomach. She rewarded him with a small smile and half a laugh at how he called out her baby bump the way he would have her weapons. "Thought you hit the rack by 9 these days?"

She heaved a sigh, descending the stairs more slowly than usual, and turned slightly sideways to see where she placed each foot. "I cannot sleep," she frowned, discontent obvious in every feature. "Otherwise, yes. Tony rang to say goodnight a while ago and I have not been able to settle."

The very last step in the case that had consumed most of the previous two months had been a visit to Cameron Muir's hospital bed. Tony and McGee had left around 9 that morning and reported back a few hours later. A very groggy Cameron had been surprised to have federal agents visiting him, but said that Admiral Channing had found his flyer in a local grocery store notice board and hired him to drive "a Christmas gift" to Captain Walker's house for the cost of a full tank of gas and an extra $50. He barely remembered meeting at the gas station to collect the parcel, only certain that Channing had not let him touch the box and nothing from the crash itself. However, with everything he could add corroborating what they'd already learned, the case could officially be declared closed. The only problem now was the weather that had been steadily getting worse for the last week had peaked, leaving the roads unsafe outside of necessary travel and the men had been told to stay in Norfolk and drive back in daylight.

"Yeah, he called me too. Did you walk here?" Gibbs spotted her rosy cheeks as she removed her coat and hung it on the stair railing; the drive between the houses was too short for the heater in her car to have warmed her up that much; he could tell she'd been active. He'd seen her earlier that but as her jacket came off, he could notice the change in her posture, her belly hanging lower and heavy as she threw her shoulders back to counter the weight. She seemed bigger, too. The quick flash of her eyes in his direction showed precisely how she felt about any comments about this.

Ziva tossed her scarf over the railing, too. "It feels like she will never stop growing," she sighed, addressing the issue anyway. Even as she stood at the base of the stairs, she continued moving her feet in a steady march on the spot. "Yes, I walked. I am restless, the baby is restless. She has been kicking all day. I am surprised you did not notice. I felt like I could not sit still at my desk."

Of course, he'd noticed, but there were some things a boss didn't mention in public, even if he doubled as an honorary father figure. His almost-former employee's pregnancy woes were one of them. "Ziver..." he said with gentle reproach. "It can't be more'n 25 degrees out there."

Her chin lifted defiantly. "It is 28.2," she informed him. "And it is only three blocks."

"It's icy." He gave her a reproving look. "Could've fallen."

"I am pregnant, not broken, Abba. You are starting to sound like someone's Savta," Ziva replied in a chiding tone before adding a translation. "Grandmother. I just needed to walk, and then I was here. I think I wanted company."

He decided he didn't want to know how many laps she'd done before she'd let herself in. "Call next time," he instructed instead and pointed to the cell phone on the corner of the bench. "I would've come."

She shrugged and pressed her hands to the small of her back as she continued the left-right stepping. "I am here now."

"Do you want to sit?" he offered, reaching for the stool. "Or go lay down upstairs? Guest bed's clean. You can stay if you don't want to be in an empty house."

She looked at the high wooden seat for a second and shook her head with a wince. "No, I cannot sit right now. Can I just watch you for a while?" She gestured to the woodwork on the bench.

"Sure." He turned back to his work.

"Thank you." They fell silent for a while, Ziva eventually moving to lap the basement steadily.

"Gonna wear a hole in my floor," Gibbs commented after she'd paced for half an hour. "You ok?"

She offered a nondescript hum, the closest to a negative answer she'd allow. "I miss Tony. I think our little stowaway does, too. She is used to hearing his voice at night; it calms her." Ziva rubbed her hands slowly down the convex of her belly and blew out a deep breath. Gibbs placed his tools down and crossed the floor to her. "It calms me," she added as an afterthought.

"C'mere." She stepped into his offered hug. "Getting harder to do this," he chuckled as Ziva automatically rotated sideways to make room for the bump.

"And she could grow yet more before she is born," Ziva sighed, wincing. "Please motek, be still."

"The kid tap dancing in there?" The baby thumped again, an impact he felt where her stomach leaned against the side of his ribs.

Ziva gave a dry laugh. "That, or she is training to be a wrestler. Let me show you." She led his touch to the side of her belly where a small lump rolled beneath his palm, and then to the front to find an almost sharp point that receded quickly at his touch. "That is an arm or possibly her hand, those are knees, and those are her feet," she finished, guiding him to the top of the bump and said feet pushed hard upwards into his hand.

"Hey, be nice to your Ima," he growled softly, receiving another kick in response. "What're you gonna do if it's a boy after all this?"

"She will not be," Ziva replied firmly. Gibbs' amused chuckle at her self-confidence was cut off as she inhaled sharply and held her breath, her fingers squeezing over his own, and her belly tightened beneath his hand, the weight shifting against his side. The tension eased about ten seconds later when she resumed her normal breathing pattern and released his hand, smoothing her hand down the side of her stomach again. "Ahava, please, I am exhausted," Ziva sighed to the baby and still standing close, she let her forehead wilt onto his shoulder.

He let her lean on him for a moment before turning her towards the door gently. "Upstairs, Ziver. Rest." His tone brooked no arguments and she trudged up the stairs ahead of him as he scooped her coat off the railing. "Park it." Gibbs pointed to the couch and flung her outerwear on the armchair, then knelt to add another log to the fireplace.

Ziva eyed the worn couch with doubt, in the last few months she'd clearly preferred the armchair. "I will not be getting up from here without help," she warned, lowering herself onto the sagging cushions slowly.

"I'll cope. Feet up, stretch out." He tossed a couple of pillows in her direction. Slowly she lifted one foot to the opposite knee to reach the zip on the inside of her boot. "I got it." He put himself in front of her and took over. He smirked at the snowman pattern on her socks but refrained from commenting. Instead, he put the boots to one side and sat down on the far end of the couch.

"I have to lay on my side," she explained as she hauled her feet onto the cushions, keeping her legs curled on the empty space he wasn't sitting on and tucked one of the pillows beneath her belly, the other beneath her head. "My back is sore."

"Walking in the cold isn't going to cure that," he snorted, as he shifted closer, pulling her feet onto his lap and tugging off her right sock. Ziva shot him a curious glance, and he worked his thumbs under her arch in answer.

"You do not have to..." Her protest faded in a quiet sigh as he kneaded the ball of her foot. "Oh, okay." Her toes curled against his fingers and her eyes closed. He smirked, grateful, perhaps for the first time, that his former marriages had taught him something useful; the power of a foot massage on an overtired, anxious woman.

"Take a breather, kiddo." By the time Gibbs replaced her sock and moved onto the other side, Ziva was quiet, not asleep, but relaxed at least. However, her eyes opened when her breath caught again, her hand drifting down to her belly with a whispered admonishment to the baby. When it repeated once more, just as he'd finished working over her left foot, he leaned over and lay a hand on her, noticing the same tightening he'd felt earlier.

He slid her feet to the floor gently when she relaxed and pulled her upright. She let him hold her boots to push her feet in without an argument and offered his hands to bring her to standing."Think I'm gonna take you home, Ziver," he warned, thoughtfully.

Ziva turned her head sharply, obviously reacting to his tone. "Abba?" She questioned, holding her arms out as he slid her coat back on. "What is it?"

"Gut says we're better off there. Let's go."

Gibbs lit the fire when they returned to Casa De Tiva while Ziva, apparently renewed from her half-hour break on the couch, trailed in and out of various rooms, made a tea she did not drink and paced up and down the stairs several times. He shadowed her quietly, watching as she unfolded and refolded an array of baby blankets, brushed her hair and then made and ignored a second cup of tea. She washed a handful of dishes, rearranged the throw cushions twice before putting them back as they had been, wandered down to the basement, made up the fold-out bed in an unspoken request that he stay the night, completed a few laps of that space, used her ballet barre to support a low squat for five silent minutes and finally came back upstairs. Every now and again she'd pause with that same catch in her breath from earlier, shifting her weight from foot to foot. When she started to run a bath, he went back downstairs to give her privacy, but before long he heard the taps shut off and her footsteps descending the stairs again, still fully dressed. He watched as she lapped the piano twice before halting with another sharp inhale, leaning forward on the shiny surface with her elbows. This one seemed to take 20 seconds or so before she resumed her normal breathing pattern.

"So are you going to call this, or do I have to?" he asked, now convinced of what he had suspected earlier.

"Call what?" she returned, blowing out a harder breath than before. He didn't answer, only raised an eyebrow at her posture, still rocking from side to side. She caught on quickly and shook her head firmly. "No, I am only just 37 weeks. It's the very earliest she could be born. I am just uncomfortable." Her hands went to the small of her back, and he could tell she was rubbing away the ache. "She will be born on her due date, as I was."

"You've been doing that stop-and-hold-your-breath thing every quarter hour since you showed up," he reasoned. Three times that he'd noticed at his place, and regularly in the 90 minutes since their return. She didn't respond, pacing around the dining table half a dozen times, did a tour of the kitchen and came back to the lounge. "Getting longer too. That looks like something's happening to me."

Ziva kept up the side-to-side stepping. "She cannot come tonight, Tony is in Norfolk," she argued. "We have not yet chosen a bassinet for our bedroom, we were supposed to do that tomorrow. I still have four more days at work before my leave begins."

"Don't think babies follow their parents' schedules." He shrugged. "Look, lemme take you to get checked out. You booked at Bethesda?"

"No, I am giving birth here." Ziva shook her head. "Next year," she added with a hint of defiance.

This was news to Gibbs, although admittedly, he'd stayed well clear of baby plans that did not directly affect Ziva and Tony's working hours. "Better than a gas station... or a warehouse," he decided with another shrug. "Humour me then, what's the plan for when she shows up?"

Ziva sighed. "I have a midwife who will attend, and Abby will come too, for support. I am to call them both when I think it is time," she sighed and ran her hands through her hair impatiently. "Which I do not. Would you please stop fussing?"

"You should touch base with her," Gibbs instructed, he found her cell phone on the coffee table and tossed it at her. "Don't fancy a repeat of last Christmas."

Ziva snorted and pocketed her phone. "You left me with Hannah and Naomi Abrams two years earlier and you would have had me play midwife for Lieutenant Reynolds as well if she had not asked for you."

"Can't blame me for trying," Gibbs chuckled, following Ziva up the stairs again. After more laps, she headed into the master bedroom, stripped the bed and then had what appeared to be a fierce internal argument with herself before seeking out a plastic-backed mattress protector and putting that on before remaking the bed with fresh linen. She threw Tony's socks from the floor into the laundry basket, a laborious proceeding, hampered by the fact that she refused his help to straighten up from kneeling before she wandered back into the hall. A lap of the baby's nursery, where she paused at the crib and lifted a plush dog to her face, rubbing her cheek against the velvety fabric. "Call her," he repeated.

"Do you really think I would not know when I am in labour?" she challenged, dropping the toy back in the crib.

"Took you how long to know she was there at all?" he shot back. Her eyes darkened with what was obviously a very uncharitable thought regarding his well-being crossing her mind. He gave a wry smirk, it figured that probably-in-labour Ziva would be just as difficult to reason with as agent-on-a-mission Ziva.

"She has been doing this to me all afternoon, since midday. It is just false labour," Ziva glowered, turning her back on him.

He checked his watch, midnight now, and did the maths. "You've been having contractions for 12 hours?" Gibbs questioned incredulously, her visible discomfort at work suddenly clicked into place. "You spent 5 of 'em right under my nose and you didn't think to mention this?"

"Well, you did not notice so they could not have been that serious." He snorted in response and she turned to face him again, impatient and cross. "Gibbs! They are called Braxton-Hicks, it is like a warm u..." She seized the rail on the crib suddenly, her face becoming intent and focused as she breathed deeply. Gibbs glanced at his watch; he didn't need to have a medical degree to work it out, probably-in-labour was definitely-in-labour. A second later her concentration turned to alarm and she gasped, heading for the door.

"What now?" She brushed past him, crossed the hall to the main bathroom and slammed the door.

"No, no, no! Not now." Her voice was muffled through the door, but the borderline panic was still audible. "Oh no baby, not now, please."

"Dammit, Ziva talk to me!" He could hear her pacing in the room, still muttering anxiously to herself. He waited another few minutes, giving her a chance to recentre herself and give him some useful information. He realised she was too far in her own head to pay attention. "Agent David, you have 30 seconds to respond before I come in there myself. I put that lock in for you, and I'll break it if I got to." He had no intention of going in there unless things sounded worse, but the direct order was enough to snap her into replying.

The pacing stopped and he heard the lock click open again. She cracked the door enough to meet his eyes. "Are you happy now? You were right," she snapped.

He narrowed his eyes at the sharp tone. Defensive Ziva very rarely translated to good news. "Gut never lies, kiddo..." he began cautiously, only to have her cut him off with another verbal jab.

"Well for once, that damn gut of yours needs to be wrong! My water just broke... at least I think..." She paused with the onset of a new contraction and her fingers tightened around the edge of the door. She shifted her weight with a grimace, each foot landing with a soft noise that suggested the tiles underneath them were wet. "Never mind, I am sure."

"You're having the baby now?" he asked warily, remembering how quickly things had escalated with Emma Reynolds.

"Not now, but today." She turned and rested her forehead against the door jamb. "Today... I am not ready for this."

"Okay, take a breath," he instructed, doing the same himself. "What did you just tell me was the plan when things got moving?"

She answered while still leaning against the frame. "Call Marlee. First I need to..." She faded off and shook her head, changing the subject. "Can you go downstairs for a while, please? I will call her as soon as I am done here." She glanced down, and although she'd managed to keep the rest of her body behind the door, the message was clear enough.

He pointed in the direction of the pocket where she'd stuffed her phone, glad to be excused. "Make the damn call. I need coffee."

Ziva reappeared at the bottom of the stairs in fresh clothes about twenty minutes later, "What'd the nurse say?" Gibbs asked, looking up from his drink, not really needing to be told; the expression she wore, somewhere between dissatisfied and anxious said enough.

"The baby is coming. It is still early in the process." Her voice tightened along with the expression on her face. "She said that I should call Abby and Tony. It may be some time, but we should be ready all the same."

"So she's coming too, then... your nurse?"

Ziva shook her head, face deep in thought, obviously trying to talk through a new contraction. "She has the flu and will be sending a backup midwife. Tony and Marlee were both supposed to be here!" She held her belly and her forehead creased again.

He came to her, put a hand on the side of her face, and waited until she softened some. "Keep it together, Ziver. You allowed to have a bath?" She nodded slowly in response. He paused till she met his gaze, hoping it was as steady as his voice. "You're gonna go finish filling the tub. I'll call the others for you."

"Abba..." Ziva began anxiously. She rubbed her lower back again with a frown. "I cannot do this."

He swallowed the urge to point out she didn't have a lot of choice in the matter and instead settled for a soft, "Yes, you can." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "We're gonna get the guys here, they could drive back from Norfolk in their sleep. Even if they have to go slow, you have plenty of time. You got this."

Ziva caught his wrist as he let go. "Will you stay with me if Tony does not make it?" she asked quietly.

"You've got Abs coming, dunno that I'll be much help." He shrugged. "I'll hang around till she gets here."

"Abba... please..." She dropped her eyes to the floor, but her grip tightened. "This is scary."

He gentled his tone further. "Since when are you scared of anything?"

"Since I have never done this before. Since Tony is not here. Since my daughter depends on me to get here safely. Since..." Her breath hitched an emotional response this time, not a contraction. "Please," she finished again.

He sighed, deeply. Of course, he couldn't say no to her, but of all the ways he'd imagined spending the night after Christmas, this was not it. "Breathe, Ziva. You're gonna do fine. I'll stay... just don't ask me to catch," he choked on an uncomfortable laugh. "Go have a soak. Use that smelly stuff Abs gave you for your birthday." He pulled out his phone as she slowly retreated up the stairs.

"Gibbs? It's almost 1 am." The pout was audible in Abby's voice. He smirked, those first 30 seconds of consciousness were always rough.

"Grab your gear." Hopefully, that would be enough to get Abby to switch on properly.

"What?" She yawned. "I don't have gear, Gibbs."

He heard the taps start upstairs again. "Need you at Ziva's. Baby's coming."

There was a gasp on the other end of the line as Abby woke up all at once and gave him just enough warning to hold the phone away from his ear. "How sure are we? Have her waters broken? How often are the contractions? Has there been a bloody show?" She rattled off several more entirely too detailed questions to which he did not know, or particularly want to know, the answer.

"Abs!" He cut in sharply as she said something about the baby's head. "If it was that close I wouldn't be calling you."

"Oh right, early labour. We can handle that. How's she doing?"

"Argued with me. Told her to go have a bath. Midwife's coming."

"I'm on the way, bags, Caf-Pow! and I'm there. Just let her do whatever she feels like she needs to till then."

"'Sif she'd do anything else," Gibbs snorted, ending the call and dialling Tony.

"Boss, c'mon. We told you. The roads are a nightmare." Tony grumbled sleepily without a greeting. "Believe me, if I had a choice about sharing a room with McGrinds His Teeth In His Sleep..."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and interrupted when Tony paused for breath. "Head back now, you're needed here ASAP." How anyone in his team had the energy for a monologue at this time of the morning was beyond his understanding.

"What's wrong? Hey, Sleeping Beauty, we gotta get back now." There was a thud and a yelp, Tony had presumably thrown something at his sleeping roommate.

"Ziva's in labour." Gibbs decided to ignore the curse on the other end of the line.

"You serious?" Another faint yelp, evidently a second object had been thrown.

"Wouldn't joke about this DiNozzo. I'm with her now, Abs and the midwife are on the way." A cry of pain from Tony this time, it sounded like McGee had decent aim despite being jolted from the depths of sleep.

"McGee, gimme the other shoe back no - ow! I said give! Baby's coming, we gotta go. Yeah, I know it's early! You think I woulda been out here if I had any idea Zi was gonna do this tonight? What? No, I don't know, do I? I'm not there, I'm here!" Tony's voice quickly spiralled into an overexcited babble.

"Hey DiNozzo..." he called down the line, trying to get Tony's attention again. There was some squabbling and the sounds of a scuffle.

"Boss, hi, it's McGee," the muffled noises behind Tim's sleep-addled voice suggested he was sitting on Tony. "Ziva's really in labour?" He didn't bother with an actual answer but simply oriented himself toward Norfolk and glared silently. "Right, sorry. We'll leave as soon as we've got our stuff together. Tony's a bit... overwhelmed. But I've got it from here." More garbled conversation. "No, I'm not going to ask Gibbs that. Ouch! Ugh, fine... How far apart are Ziva's contractions?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Not a midwife McGee, but it's no false alarm. You've got the lead. Get him back here."

"Will do Boss, and can you uh..." A pause and a grunt. "Tell him that please?"

Tony began rambling again the second he was back in possession of the phone. "Boss, we're gonna get out of here as soon as we..."

"DiNozzo! Breathe!" he ordered firmly, but quietly enough that Ziva wouldn't hear him upstairs. "Got enough on my hands at this end without you having a breakdown over there. Ziva's fine, the nurse is coming, and Abby's leaving her place now."

"Oh god... this is really happening isn't it?" A sudden thud and a scuffle. "Dropped the phone. Kinda hard to put pants on with one hand. Look, we're coming okay? Can you tell Ziva that? That I'm on my way. Will you stay till I get there, just... look after her?"

"Yeah, I'll be here," he promised. "Hey... this isn't like your movies. Babies don't just fall out. You got plenty of time. And listen, DiNozzo - it's McGee's lead. You do as he says."

The direct order seemed to help more than the intentionally reassuring reassuring first half and Tony inhaled deeply, talking slower. "Roger that. Can I talk to Ziva?" The echo on the line told Gibbs he was on speaker phone now, he could hear McGee talking to someone else in the background.

"She's in the tub, hold on." He climbed the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door. "You decent in there Ziva?"

"No." She sounded calmer. "What is it?"

"Tony wants a word." He called through the door. "Wanna hop out and take the call?"

There was a quiet scoff through the closed door. "You do not just 'hop' out of a bathtub when you are this pregnant." Her tone was dry and unamused, but not cranky. "I will cover with a towel... Just try not to look and bring the phone in. I did not lock it."

"Boss? What's going on?" Tony's voice came through the phone again.

"Taking the phone to her now, keep your hair on, DiNozzo." He rolled his eyes, and entered the bathroom sideways, holding the phone at arm's length and keeping his face turned towards the door. Ziva's fingers brushed his own, and he relinquished the phone.

"Hello, neshama..." He waited with his back turned, tuning out her conversation, and staring at the oil diffuser - the "smelly stuff" he'd mentioned wafting lavender in the air until Ziva nudged his arm again. "Thank you."

"Abby's on the way. Need anything?" He stretched his hand back, waiting until she dropped the phone into his palm. She hummed steadily for a few seconds, blowing out a long breath before answering.

"I will be fine up here for a while. I will call out if I need you." He heard the water swish as she shifted. "You may as well sleep while you can. Go downstairs and have a bat nap."

"Cat nap, Ziver," Gibbs chuckled. All the same, he didn't think it was such a bad idea, it looked like it was going to be a long night.

The "cat nap" turned out to be almost an hour, he'd heard Abby arrive, but she'd whispered she had it under control and left him on the couch. When he woke, he poured another coffee and went upstairs in search of Ziva. The main bathroom was empty, but he could hear something from the master suite and headed down the hall, knocking on the door softly.

"Come in, it's safe," Abby's voice was low from inside the room. Gibbs opened the door, spotting them both on the bed; Ziva lay on her side, wound around her body pillow, apparently dozing. Abby sat behind her, holding a heating pad against Ziva's lower back, while something quiet and soothing played softly in the background and a scented candle burned on the dresser.

"Got here about 20 minutes ago," Abby explained softly. She was obviously excited, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed, but kept her voice low. "Zivvie was pacing around in the basement when I got here, but now we're having some zen time till it really kicks off. It's baby day for sure though. Heard from the guys when they headed out too, Tim called in a favour with someone and borrowed a truck, something with all-wheel drive to cope with the ice. Tony was trying to tell me about it, but he's not making a lot of sense. I told Timmy he's the designated driver, even if he's gotta cuff Tony and put him in the tray to make it work."

"Good." He nodded. "ETA?"

"The traffic is clear but the roads are bad." Abby shrugged, leaning forward to rest her head on Ziva, murmuring something reassuring to her. "Thinking 5.30 at the earliest," she added, pressing a kiss to Ziva's shoulder as she straightened up again.

"Need anything?" he asked, Abby seemed to have the situation well in hand now, and with Ziva almost asleep, taking care of her seemed a lot easier than it had when he'd first been asked.

"You can get downstairs ready for the main event," Abby instructed. "It was going to be Tony's job in this early part. Everything you need is in the garage. Birth pool, electric pump to inflate it, drop sheets, the works. The coffee table goes against the wall under the TV, and then the pool goes in the middle of the room. Keep the fire steady but not too hot. There's a plan in my bag for how it all goes." She jerked her head towards the foot of the bed.

He unzipped the bag, it was stuffed full of miscellaneous items. A pack of hair elastics and a hand fan were obvious in their intent, but what appeared to be a sock full of marbles was less so. Fortunately, the folder in Abby's handwriting labelled 'Baby Tiva' was sitting on top. "Considering a change of career?" he joked lightly, flicked through for a moment and decided quickly to stick to the front page with a schematic for the living room.

"I've done so much research about the kind of birth Ziva wants Gibbs! It's fascinating!" She perked up, momentarily, dropping her voice again when Ziva startled slightly. "You know I couldn't give up working with my lab babies. But for this baby... well I couldn't do only half a job could I?"

"Mmm-hmm," Ziva agreed vaguely. She was wearing some kind of stretchy tank top and leggings, and the whole time Abby had been softly dragging her fingernails along her back with the hand that wasn't holding the heat pack. It seemed to have a hypnotic effect, he didn't think he'd ever seen her look more deeply relaxed. Even when she curled around herself a second later with her muscles tensed, she hardly seemed to wake.

"Blow it out," Abby encouraged quietly. Ziva obeyed with a noisy exhale, drifting off again quickly. " What are you waiting for Gibbs? We got this."

Under orders now, Gibbs went back downstairs. Thankfully, Abby's instructions were excellent and combined with Ziva's organisational skills in laying everything out in a logical order it didn't take long for him to find and set up everything according to the plan while wondering idly if he was setting up for a baby's birth or a summer cookout. He was just finishing stringing the requested fairy lights around the room when there was a knock at the door.

"Agent Gibbs, fancy seeing you here!" A smiling blonde woman he knew he'd met but couldn't immediately place, stood on the doorstep. "Hannah Abrams, you and your team found me in that warehouse two years ago? Oh, and Ziva delivered my daughter? I'm Marlee's replacement midwife." She'd looked a lot worse for wear the last time he'd seen her but with the memory in place, he remembered much more clearly.

He stepped back, holding the door wider to let her in. "Come in, Hannah."

"Help me with my gear." She nodded at the car. He obliged, carrying in the bags and placing them where Hannah requested. "Looks like you've been busy." She glanced around the room.

"Yeah, Ziva's upstairs." He gestured to the stairwell. "Head on up, bedroom's right at the end of the hall."

"Wait, Ziva's the one in labour?" Hannah reached into a bag and flipped the file open. "I haven't had a chance to read more than the address, I only picked up the file from Marlee 20 minutes ago. I don't usually cover for her, but her backup is down with the same flu, and this weather... well I can't read and drive like I normally would." Her face brightened reading the names on the file.

"That's the one."

"And Tony isn't...?" Her smile widened.

"Great-Aunt Antonia, yes," Gibbs chuckled. "Him and McGee are driving back from the Norfolk Navy Yard now."

"McGee too, this is a whole team event then?" Hannah busied herself unpacking her bag and slung a stethoscope around her neck. "How does this all fit together? Don't know many bosses who'd show up at their employee's labour."

"Yeah," Gibbs acknowledged. "Tony and Ziva were dating when we met you and got married this September. Then McGee got engaged to our forensic scientist, she's upstairs with Ziva."

"I knew there was more to it when I met them, a connection like theirs doesn't come just from working together. And that makes you..." Hannah prompted.

"The one who got roped in," he shrugged, heading to the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"Tea if you have it, milk, no sugar," Hannah said as she sat at the dining table, spreading Ziva's notes out in front of her. "So give me your version of what's been going on, and then I'll go up and check in with Ziva."

"She was edgy at work today. Shifting in her chair, distracted. Didn't say a word. Then she showed up at my place about 10, seemed kind of restless, wouldn't stay still," he explained putting her drink down in front of her. "Realised something was up a little while later and brought her home. Said she'd been having contractions since midday. Thought they were... uhh, Braxton... the fake ones?"

Hannah nodded encouragingly, "Braxton-Hicks, false labour. Has she said anything about the contractions? Or looked like she was in pain?" She continued flipping through the notes, murmuring to herself. "37 weeks yesterday. Blood tests have been perfect. Ahh... baby was sunny side up at the last checkup."

"Didn't seem to notice she had 'em at first, just kind of held her breath for a second. Wouldn't admit anything was happening till her waters broke. That was midnight." He'd moved back to the lounge, finishing with the string lights as he talked. "No idea how much it's actually hurting her... I've seen her take a bullet without flinching. Looked like she was almost asleep half an hour ago."

Hannah closed the files and picked up her bag. "Okay, that all sounds right on track for first-time labour. Well, let's go find out what she's up to now. Lead the way, Gibbs."

When they made it back upstairs, Ziva had curled around herself again, Abby still rubbing Ziva's back and encouraging her quietly. "Yep, that's the real deal," Hannah murmured behind him, taking one look at the scene.

"Hey, Ziver," Gibbs said when things seemed to have passed. "Got a surprise for you."

"Is it Tony?" she mumbled around the straw from the drink bottle Abby held in front of her.

Hannah moved around to Ziva's line of sight. "Not quite, Ziva. Marlee sent me, I'm Hannah Abrams, your midwife tonight." She sat gently on the bed, laying a hand on Ziva's knee. Gibbs saw the tension fall away from Ziva's body at the simple gesture. "Do you remember me?"

"Hannah!" Ziva brightened. "I did not expect you. Marlee never mentioned who she was sending. How is Naomi?"

"Feisty, two going on twenty." Hannah rolled her eyes. "Let's focus on you. How are things going?"

Ziva heaved a sigh and ran a hand down her belly. "My waters broke a little while ago, and things are getting stronger," she admitted. "I don't know how often, I have not been watching the clock, Abby?"

"8 to 10 minutes. About 30 seconds long," she supplied. "Abby Scuito, forensic scientist, honorary aunty and birth support."

"Nice to meet you," Hannah smiled. They shook hands over the bulk of Ziva's body. "Ziva, how about we get you on your back and I'll see what the baby is up to?" The manoeuvre was slow and was completed with much coaxing and reassurance from Abby and the plastic undersheet crinkled as she moved.

"I do not like lying like this," she complained when she was in situ. "My back is sore."

Hannah nodded sympathetically. "Baby's in the posterior position, they're laying with their spine along yours. It's not a bad thing, but it can make everything more uncomfortable and take a bit longer," she explained. Gibbs watched quietly as Hannah's hands moved over Ziva's belly. "It would explain your back pain too. We can try and convince them to turn while you're in labour, but some babies are just stubborn."

"If she's anything like her father..." Ziva muttered.

"You're having a girl?" Hannah queried happily.

"We did not find out officially but..." Ziva trailed off. Hannah moved on, listening to the baby's heartbeat, the whooshing sound filling the room and bringing a smile to Ziva's face.

"You know anyway. I understand." Hannah nodded wisely. "Agent Gibbs, you might want to step out for the next bit." Her facial expression suggested it was more than 'might', and he got the picture.

"You okay without me for half an hour, kiddo?" He waited for Ziva's nod, before beckoning Abby closer. "It's all set up downstairs. Gonna run home, just got a deadline moved up by three weeks."

Abby read between the lines easily and grinned. "Say no more." She winked conspiratorially, shooing him out the door. "I've got it covered here. Bring back Caf-Pow!"

When Gibbs returned, setting two Jumbo Caf-Pow cups on the entryway table, Ziva was complaining as she trudged down the staircase and Abby, walking alongside kept up a steady stream of encouragement. Meanwhile, Hannah was propped on a gym ball, making notes in the files she'd brought, and Ziva was wearing a different coloured pair of leggings to the ones he'd seen earlier.

"Abba!" Ziva sighed with relief and stretched for his hands, as she reached the lower landing, leaning heavily on him, a fine sheen of sweat now covering her shoulders. "If you disappear again, as soon as I am done having this baby, I will put laxatives in your coffee. To hell with Rule 23," she promised softly. Despite, or perhaps because of, the threat she seemed perfectly calm and in control.

"I'd like to see you try," he murmured with a chuckle. "Sitrep?"

"I am fine." Whether it was the bath, the nap, or having Hannah and Abby for company, he didn't know, but whatever it was had helped, she was much more like her usual confident self. "It is nothing I cannot handle."

"Told ya so." He smirked. "Still want me?"

She nodded, relieved. "Please. Till Tony gets back."

"All systems go, we've just been doing some stair climbing to try and get the baby to turn over." Hannah supplied, joining the little entryway party.

"'We' my ass," Ziva grumbled. "You and Abby get to take turns. I am the one doing all the laps."

Hannah smirked, completely untroubled by Ziva's moody complaint. "You're doing fine. Don't think I've seen a first-time mama handle things so well as you, Ziva."

"Ziva's gonna be Ima," Gibbs explained as her hands tightened on his and her face grew thoughtful. Hannah glanced at her watch and gave him a 'shh' with one finger lightly over her lips.

"Ima. Got it, Hebrew," Hannah picked up talking as Ziva relaxed again. "It's all coming along just fine. Abby has been amazing, it's like she can read Ziva's every breath. I've hardly had to do anything so far." She glanced over at the woman in question, who'd retrieved the drinks, stashing one in the fridge, and settling on the lower steps with the other.

"Hey Abs, heard from the guys?" Ziva pushed off him with a sigh, glared at the stairs as though they'd personally insulted her, and set off on a circuitous walk around the living room.

"Tony rang again. Roads are bad, and it's slowed them down a bit. I tried to tell him to sleep some, but he won't." She took a long pull on the straw. "He's making sense now at least, but he mentioned something about Ziva crossing her legs right in the middle of a contraction. Let's just say that she did not appreciate the suggestion."

"I told him to try tying a part of his body in a knot first." The response came from the arch into the lounge, where she was leaning on her forearms, and rocking her hips from side to side. "He had me on speaker, McGee may take some time to recover from that," her laugh faded into silence, and more controlled breathing.

Gibbs winced at the mental image. "He's not the only one."

"She was very descriptive. It was the most beautiful, yet profane thing I have ever heard, and that's saying something." Abby smirked, resting her cup between her feet and signing a completely different message as she spoke. "Long time to baby."

"Stop signing Abby. I know I have a long wait." Ziva called out. "You do not have to pretend."

Guilt and amusement flashed across Abby's face. "How? You don't know sign." She scooped her cup up, and sipped again, "And you weren't even looking at me!"

"I am not stupid," she huffed. "I could hear you put your drink down."

"Whatcha doing kid?" He followed her into the lounge again to poke the fire. Ziva was now sitting cross-legged on the floor going through the board games on the built-in shelf below the coffee table.

"I am sick of walking. We are going to play Scrabble to pass the time instead. Ugh! Help." She held the arm that was not clutched around the box in the air. With a soft chuckle, Gibbs hooked his arms under hers from behind, hauling her back to her feet. "Thank you. Who is playing?" Once upright again, she recovered quickly, moving to the dining table and opening the box.

"Okay, Scrabble it is." Hannah laughed. "Normally I would leave, try to give the parents some time alone, just let things happen quietly and come back when it all picks up. But given the situation, I figure you could use another familiar face, so count me in. In case you didn't already get the picture, Gibbs, the only answer when Ziva says she wants something is 'yes' right now."

He gave a dry snort. "She doesn't take no for an answer anyway. English, Ziver," he reminded her.

"When you are the one in labour, you may make the rules," Ziva said serenely, seating herself on the large grey gym ball Abby rolled over and began unfolding the board.

Abby, Hannah, and Gibbs placed themselves around the table and played, chatting about nothing in particular, but definitely not what was actually going on. Ziva went quiet at regular intervals, but otherwise showed no outward signs of discomfort, focusing instead on the game. She beat them all soundly in the first round but she was obviously just tired and distracted enough that she did not try to play words in anything besides English. Hannah seamlessly flowed between opponent and midwife, tipping her hand subtly to look at her watch each time Ziva went quiet, or occasionally checking the baby's heartbeat while Ziva was sidetracked with her letters. Abby rotated the heat packs on Ziva's back when they got cold and refilled Gibbs' coffee and Ziva's water bottle without being asked.

Sometime during the second round, the marble-filled socks (it turned out there were two) made an appearance; ending up on the floor and Ziva rolled her feet across them as she played. Not long after, she began to grip the edge of the table each time she went quiet, her knuckles white with the tension. The next time, Gibbs simply laid his own hand palm up on the table between them, a silent offering that she accepted without turning her head from her tiles. The rest of the game continued in that fashion, Ziva reaching for his hand with each contraction, but still quiet and centred. That worked until Hannah found a way to get a last-minute triple word score including the letter Z. Ziva declared her disgust for Scrabble at that point, and after a bathroom break and a brief discussion of symptoms that Gibbs steadfastly tuned out, she decided Clue was next on the agenda.

This game was always more interesting among Team Gibbs; he did not like the game at all, Ziva usually had a suggestion about what objects in the murder room could have been used for defence, while Abby bemoaned the lack of forensics. If the guys were present, the game reached a whole new level; Tony invariably accused Mrs Peacock first claiming, "It's always the wife", Tim's head for logic and quick wins usually ended with an accusation of cheating from Tony, Ducky derailed gameplay recounting a memory and Jimmy insisted on wearing a deerstalker. This time, however, they played it straight, and the game went on smoothly, Ziva continuing to grip Gibbs' upturned hand, her face gradually moving from thoughtful to irritated as the space between each one decreased and the length of time she held on for increased. Eventually, she stopped letting go in between, only tightening her grip when she needed to, gradually lengthening her squeezes to a full sixty seconds. About the time Abby decided it was Professor Plum in the library with the rope, Ziva emphasised her frustration, her hold tightening, and lifting their joined hands to bang the table a couple of times before she relaxed again.

"Sorry, Abba," she murmured, realising what she had done, and pulled her hand away to rub the heels of her palms down her thighs hard, looking embarrassed. She shook her head as though trying to clear her thoughts, "I do not think I can play anymore."

"We're going to head upstairs I think Ziva, time to check in," Hannah said gently. "Been a while since the last time." Somehow two hours had passed, playing board games as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"No." Ziva shook her head again. "Not now." She stood, shoved the board away roughly and headed towards the kitchen.

"Want company?" Hannah called after her, receiving a negative grunt in response as Ziva leaned hard on the kitchen counter, her knees bowing and letting go of a low cry of pain, obviously contracting again. "Okay, it's like that now, huh?" Hannah murmured more to herself than to anyone else.

"Like what?" Gibbs asked, watching as Ziva pushed herself off the counter again and made for the basement door.

"Abby, can you follow Ziva at a distance, just keep an eye on her?" Hannah instructed. "Time we had a talk, Gibbs."

"On it." Abby hopped up immediately and followed in Ziva's wake as she trailed down the stairs.

While Gibbs collected the scattered game pieces, Hannah poured them both a new drink and set it firmly on the counter, an invitation to join her in the kitchen. "Right, she's getting into the hard yards now. This first bit was easy, but we're going to be dealing with big hormones, big contractions, and big feelings. If you were planning to back out at any point, this is probably it."

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Promised her I'd stay till Tony shows."

Hannah sipped from her mug, considering this statement. "Okay then. Fair warning, she's going to get angry with us. Some mamas go quiet, others cry, some shout. When you've done this as long as I have, you can read women after a while, and she's not going to take this next bit quietly. Just know that she doesn't mean it."

Gibbs paused, confused. "Mean what?" he asked.

"Oh," she chuckled, puffing a strand of hair out of her face. "Pretty much anything awful that comes out of her mouth. She will probably feel very out of control and resent that."

"Right." He swigged the coffee deeply. "How long?"

Hannah shrugged and cast her eyes upwards as though seeking divine knowledge, "How long is a piece of string? That all depends on Ziva and the baby. But we're getting closer to the pointy end. Seen a birth before?"

He nodded, "Yeah, caught a case and a baby last Christmas Eve."

Hannah chuckled, "What is it with your team playing at being midwives? At least you know what you're in for." She looked him over, then sighed and rolled her eyes. "Ok, Mr. Strong and Silent, what is it?"

"Ziver, she's..." he trailed off, not having words to describe the situation, at least not that he'd admit aloud.

"She's your little girl... or as good as. You're squeamish about what happens if we get there before you're off duty." Hannah's gaze would not let him deny it and he nodded. "Ziva came to you tonight because she trusts you and asked you to stay, knowing what might happen while you're here. She knew she needed someone earlier, even if she didn't know why and she chose you. She won't thank you for acting like it's embarrassing, but she will thank you for being here when she needed you." Hannah gentled her tone. "Silent is fine, but make sure the strong sticks around. Speaking of silent, your phone should be too." He fished it out of his pocket with a shrug and handed it to her to fix. "Afraid of technology too, I see," she chuckled, flipping it open, hitting the necessary buttons and returning the device.

"You'd have made a pretty good investigator," he commented dryly.

"I know enough Hebrew to understand that she calls you Dad, not to mention the way you got the hell outta Dodge when Naomi was coming." She reached across and patted his hand. "You stick with me, and if we get that far along, I'll make sure you're at Ziva's head."

Gibbs exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his hair. "So what do we do in the meantime?"

"Have you ever been fishing?" She waited for his well-duh expression. "Just like that. We watch, wait, and we stay calm so we don't scare the fish."

"Watch and wait I can do." He nodded shortly. "But she's ok? The baby?"

"Everything is fine. Ziva and the baby are both perfectly healthy. Abby and I have a code if there's something that's not right, she taught me the ASL for emergency." She demonstrated. "Unless I sign that, we don't need to worry." Hannah tilted her head toward the door, listening as Ziva's voice rose again, and checked her watch. "And we're down to two minutes. She's moving right along, I think she was downplaying how intense it's been until she couldn't ignore it."

"Sounds like Ziva." He almost laughed. "And if the baby comes before the guys get here?"

Hannah sighed. "We'll roll with it. Ziva and the baby being healthy is more important than the audience at the end of the day. She might not be happy, but she will be safe," Hannah explained patiently and glanced back towards the basement as Abby reappeared, opening the fridge for a new drink.

"She's doing her angry warrior thing. I don't know what language that was, but whatever she said wasn't friendly," Abby reported, paused for a sip, turned to Hannah and elaborated. "Zivvie gets very defensive of her space when she's overwhelmed or in pain. Even having me sitting on the stairs was too close. She's hanging off her ballet barre at the moment. Everything I've read about this sounds like transition, is that right, Han'?"

"You got it." Hannah nodded. "Buckle up, this is going to get intense."

Intense seemed an understatement. Ziva was moody, restless and thoroughly sick of the contractions which had grown longer lasting and closer than before, she emerged from the basement and announced she was going to have a shower. This lasted a whole two minutes before she stormed back evidently having not even gotten in, and informed them that she hated the smell of something in the bathroom, what exactly was unclear. There was more stomping around the house. Ziva seemed to be trying to outrun the sensations and snapped at every one of them in turn. Hannah's watch was cold when she checked the baby's heartbeat, Abby was too cheerful for the situation, and she told Gibbs he'd patronised her when he'd silently delivered her water bottle after she'd complained about being thirsty. She asked for Abby to roll a tennis ball across her hips, and tolerated it for thirty seconds before losing her temper, snatching it and throwing the ball down the hall where it bounced off the office door. The room was too hot, then too cold, and the same issue with her water bottle arose a few minutes later. At one point she yelled at them all to shut up and echoed the sentiment in Hebrew, even though no one was talking at all. Very occasionally she would reach for someone during a surge, sinking almost her full weight onto their arms, but mostly, she paced around by herself with a fierce 'hands-off' aura.

Finally, a little after 5 a.m. she declared "I cannot do it anymore, I am going to bed." Gibbs sank to the couch with relief as she headed back up the stairs, Abby in her wake. He wasn't unaware of the situation enough to think she was actually going to sleep, but even a moment's respite was welcome; of all the moments he'd seen Ziva struggle with what she had to face, this was by far the longest, loudest, and the most involved he'd ever had to be.

"Is she ok?" Gibbs accepted the new cup of coffee Hannah held out. "Never seen her this worn out."

Hannah nodded, her face etched with sympathy. "It's labour. Labour, as in work. It sucks. Is she safe and healthy? Yes. Is she tired, sore and over it? Also yes. But she and Abby have a duress phrase and that hasn't been played yet. Something about a hippo?" The midwife smirked and shrugged. "So if that's not in play, she's still holding up. Her blood pressure is perfect and the baby's heartbeat is strong. We don't need to worry right now. Want to help me get the birth pool filled?"

"Is Tony going to make it in time?" he questioned, realising what exactly that meant.

"The pool can take half an hour to fill, so it's better to be ready," Hannah answered diplomatically, her face expressing less confidence than her words. She gulped half her tea quickly and stood up, motioning for him to follow her lead. "Besides strong, silent and practical is more your style, so you need a task," Gibbs smirked, getting to work under Hannah's guidance.

"We got vomit!" Abby hollered down a few minutes later. Hannah hurried off up the stairs giving Gibbs a look that told him to stay put. Instead, he refilled his mug, adjusted the fire, and settled down on the couch to keep an eye on the gradually filling pool.

Hannah came back after a while, pleased but serious. "We're fine. Very normal at this stage and she feels better now that it's done. Abby's helping her get tidied up, and she'll be back down soon."

"Ziver hurling is good news?" he asked warily, not fooled by the calm demeanour. "What's the bad then?"

"Not bad, just less ideal. Without giving you too much detail, she's right on the edge, and once things start happening, they won't stop. Can't tell you how long till we get to the point of no return, but it's not far off." She turned to inspect the pool and kept talking. "We've already called the guys and told them to hurry. But once Ziva's back down here, she's not leaving till there's a baby."

When she plodded back down the stairs, it was a very different Ziva from the one that had disappeared 15 minutes earlier, she looked fragile, worn out and on the verge of breaking down, letting Abby guide her along rather than choosing her own path. She'd changed her outfit again too, some kind of bikini top and a wrapped-tied skirt... thing... Gibbs couldn't have named if his life depended on it, leaving the expanse of her stomach bare as Hannah homed in to listen to the baby's heart once more.

"Do you want to try the pool Ziva?" Abby suggested, pointing out the inflatable tub in the middle of the room. Abby turned, placing one hand behind her back to finger spell to Gibbs. "Tony, one hour. Ziva sad."

"No." She shook her head. "If I am getting in the pool, that means I am having the baby, and I cannot do that until Tony is here." She held her belly and closed her eyes, breathing out in a long shuddery exhale, almost sobbing.

"Ok, time for the gym ball then." Abby waited till the wave had passed before letting her go and rolling the ball towards Gibbs. "Come on, you must've walked like a hundred miles this evening, I bet you want to give your legs a rest, just sit and talk to Gibbs for a minute. I gotta run back upstairs and bring our stuff down." She coaxed Ziva into a reluctant sitting position on the ball, facing him and made for the stairs.

Hannah followed too, leaving them alone for a while and Gibbs hesitated not sure where to start. "Where's your head at, kiddo?" he asked softly, hoping she would tell him what she needed now.

"I did not imagine it being this hard," Ziva admitted, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. She inched forward to rest her hands on his knees, using him as leverage to rock the ball back and forth gently. From this angle, he could see exactly how strongly her muscles were working when her body squeezed again, her whole belly growing taut and round. Although they'd been able to track the last hour or so of contractions purely by her voice, she'd gone quiet again.

He drummed his fingers gently on the back of her hands. "You've done hard things before," he reminded her as it passed, "You're gonna do this one, too." Ziva didn't respond, bowing her head and letting her hair hide her face, but not quickly enough for him to miss the way her tears spilled over. She wouldn't meet his eyes after that but didn't seem to mind that he kept tapping on her hands.

Ziva tensed suddenly. "I do not like the ball," she declared, sounding panicky. Her hands gripped, or tried to, the denim of his jeans. "It is unstable."

"Okay then, on your feet." He stood, taking her hands and gently tugging her with him. Her knees sagged and he held tighter but she tried to pull back. "Quit playing the hero, I can handle your weight, kiddo," he ordered gently.

The dark curls shook in the negative, her eyes still on the floor. "I should be the hero in this situation. I should be able to do this, I should have waited till Tony was here I should have... oh god..." Everything tightened in another wave and her head came down on his shoulder, muffling sobs mingled with pain. "You should not have to do this Abba, sorry," she whispered afterwards, sounding so defeated he didn't even bother with Rule 6, weak was clearly not a word she needed to hear right now.

"Pfft. This is Gibbs. As if he'd leave now." Abby was right there again with her supplies and put the speaker from the bedroom on the coffee table. "Okay, enough with the pity party. Let's try for zen time again, huh, Zivvie? Get some energy back before Tony gets here?" She unrolled a yoga mat with a smooth flick. Ziva shrugged, sniffled a little, and muttered something about it being pointless.

Abby reset the quiet music from earlier and dimmed the overhead lights, turning on the string lights instead. Then she slid one arm around Ziva, who let go of his hands and turned into her with another long, wavery sob. He stepped back, giving them some space, only to have Abby shake her head. "Nope, stay put, you've got north, I'll take south."

"What Abs?" he asked softly as Ziva stamped her way through another contraction, sobbing against Abby's shoulder each time her foot landed.

"Oxytocin, Gibbs," Abby whispered, shifting her weight as Ziva swayed and rubbed her back soothingly. "It's a hormone produced by Ziva's hypothalamus, well everyone's actually, but hers is the one that counts. It's what's causing her contractions now, but it's also responsible for feelings of love, intimacy, and bonding. The safer and more loved Ziva feels right now the easier it's all gonna be on her. It means we need to be calm and loving too."

"Get to the point." He rolled his eyes.

Abby clucked soothingly, smoothing Ziva's hair down. "Help her feel safe, let her know she's loved. She needs comforting touch and reassuring words right now. I'm going to rub her back."

Gibbs hesitated, holding her hand was one thing, but this seemed far more personal, especially with Abby's chatter about love hormones and how close Ziva now appeared to be to actually having the baby. His face apparently revealed his discomfort, because Abby fixed him with a glare before whispering fiercely, "I know this was supposed to be Tony's job, but until he's here, you're the person she loves most in this whole world. You're the next best thing she's got right now and she is this close to freaking out. Suck it up and love on our Zivvie!"

"Strong and silent," Hannah reminded him in a whisper.

Whether or not Abby had invoked 'next best thing' deliberately he couldn't be sure, but it worked. "Gimme your hands." He shrugged, holding his own out as Abby turned Ziva towards him. She took hold and he sat back down as she knelt in front of him, then drew their hands together, almost as though she was kneeling to pray. "M'here with you kiddo. Keep going."

"Toda, Abba," she whispered, resting her forehead on their joined fist and Gibbs could just catch a low hum of Hebrew, a lullaby, or maybe a prayer. Abby settled on the floor, smoothing her hands down and across Ziva's hips, and it wasn't long before they saw the tension drop out of Ziva's shoulders and her breathing become steady and even.

"Now you know how Tony felt when Naomi was born," Hannah teased, leaning over the back of the couch. "But this resting phase is good. It's buying us some time, and helping Ziva get back in the headspace she needs to be in. Let's just try and keep her like this till Tony arrives." A minute or two later, Ziva apparently melted, heaving a deep sigh, sinking her weight onto her calves until she was sitting on her heels, folding her arms onto his lap and resting her head on her makeshift pillow. Abby glanced up at Gibbs, signing 'perfect' followed by a look of remorse and 'sorry.' Gibbs smirked but didn't sign back, his hands were full. Ziva still had a tight grip on his left, tucked under her cheek, and his right was now occupied with lightly stroking the back of her neck.

Hannah turned off the water to the pool and then folded herself on the floor alongside Ziva, occasionally checking the baby's heartbeat or feeling the strength of a contraction, the only outward indication that they were happening at all now was that Ziva made a quiet hum for the duration, and her hand tightened slightly on Gibbs'. Abby was still sitting behind her, lightly scratching up and down Ziva's spine. The gym ball was now sandwiched between her and Hannah, each woman leaning her head on it with heavy-lidded eyes. Even Gibbs found himself close to dozing in the quiet, dimly lit room; he had to admit it was peaceful, even if he was well out of his comfort zone.

They sat in silence for a long while until Gibbs' phone buzzed on his hip. "Yeah, McGee?" he answered softly, wedging the phone under his ear with his shoulder to free up his hand when Ziva stirred and grumbled at the loss of contact. "No, she's still going. Ok. Hurry."

"What is it?" Abby whispered when he'd shrugged the phone out of the crook of his neck without removing his hand from Ziva's neck.

"They got a flat, they're fixing it now," he answered, and Abby groaned quietly in response.

"We're fine," Hannah reassured in the same soft tones. "Ziva's gone completely into herself. If we don't disturb her, nothing's going to happen yet. The baby's safe and her heart rate is perfect. Let's just keep doing what we're doing." Gibbs tipped his head back onto the couch, closed his eyes and continued rubbing her neck.

"Well, this is cosy." The next thing anyone was aware of was Tony standing over them. It seemed Abby's idea of zen time and increasing Ziva's oxytocin had its merits for everyone, and they'd all succumbed to a deeply relaxed calm that was almost as good as an actual nap, losing the last hour of waiting. "What did we miss?"

"Shhh," Abby warned. "Zivvie's resting up for the home stretch. She's been doing great. Hi Timmy." She smiled happily at her fiance, standing as far away as possible without actually being antisocial.

"Tony, hi!" Hannah stifled a yawn. "Everything's fine. You're going to have a baby soon."

Tony blinked for a second, obviously going through the recollection process as Gibbs had when he'd first answered the door. "Hannah! Well, talk about role reversal, it's like Freaky Friday." He took Abby's hint and dropped his voice, shrugging out of his winter coat and surveying the scene with obvious confusion. "Uh... Are you good for another couple of minutes? Just till I get out of my work gear?"

"Be quick, DiNozzo," Gibbs warned. Tony dashed upstairs, while McGee made for the kitchen and a supply of coffee. Ziva grumbled again at the disturbance and both Gibbs and Abby increased the pressure of their massage slightly in response.

"I could get used to this," Ziva murmured to his knee. She stretched a little and grunted with a contraction.

"Look who's coming around," Hannah said softly, her tone hinting at a smile. "Sounds like this baby's almost ready to meet the world." Tony descended the stairs two at a time, now wearing sweats and a t-shirt.

"Thanks, Boss." Tony met his eyes briefly. There was an awkward sliding exchange to transfer Ziva's weight across to Tony's knees. "Hey, Ninja. We made it." He doubled over to kiss the top of her head.

"Cutting it damn fine," Gibbs grumbled in response, getting up to attend to the fireplace again. Ziva stirred some more with another quiet groan.

"Okay, anyone who's not here to observe the miracle of life, make yourselves scarce" Hannah ordered, as her voice returned to a more normal volume.

"Boss... would you stay?" Tony asked suddenly. "Think I'd feel better about this if you did."

Gibbs hesitated for a second. The front door had been literal steps away. "You don't need me here, DiNozzo." He shook his head. "You got this, time to step up," he said gruffly.

"Need... want. Whatever you wanna call it." Tony shrugged uncertainly. "Please? Not asking you to watch but..." he faded off, distracted by the way Ziva tightened her grip on him. "Dad's still on a yacht in the Caribbean..." he murmured.

Gibbs sighed, this was already so much more involved than he'd wanted to be. "I'll be in the basement," he conceded.

"Bed's already made up downstairs, Timmy," Abby cut in. "Go crash. I love you."

"Oh, I love you, Abs," he sighed with relief. "See you on the other side Tony, good luck."

"So, are you ready to meet that baby?" Hannah queried. Hearing that, Gibbs followed McGee to the basement and got, as Hannah had put it, the hell outta Dodge.

Chapter Text

Tony looked down at Ziva as she rested her body across his knees, pillowing her head on her folded arms. He couldn't believe how mellow she seemed for someone about to have a baby. The tidy, organised lounge he'd left twenty-four hours earlier looked very different to the room he was in now; dim lighting coming only from strings of fairy lights and the low-burning fire. The rug Ziva had chosen when they'd moved in was now covered by drop sheets and something plastic underneath that crinkled when people stepped on it, while medical supplies, a gym ball and what felt like a million other things he couldn't identify littered the normally minimal room. But the biggest difference of all was a large blue inflatable that held pride of place in the middle; somehow this oversized wading pool was supposed to be the place where everything happened. Of course, he'd known this was all going to show up at some point in the very near future, but as it stood, running on close to a quart of gas station coffee and three hours of sleep, the whole concept seemed too weird to be real.

"Hey Zi, what happened to having her next year?" he asked, stroking the back of her neck the way he'd seen Gibbs doing. This was three weeks sooner than her due date, not quite early enough to worry, but Ziva had talked for weeks about how she had arrived precisely on time and expected their baby to do the same.

"She is your child, impatient," Ziva murmured. "I am glad you're here." One hand squeezed his upper thigh gratefully.

"Just happy we made it. What do we do from here, Abs? Hannah?" He looked at the other two women. Abby had hopped up to stretch out her back a few paces away, and Hannah still sat quietly at Ziva's side. "Like... what's going on?" The last proper update he'd had was when they'd still been an hour out before the flat tyre had added another half hour to their already too-long journey. He hadn't gotten to speak to Ziva then but Abby had warned him in no uncertain terms that the unpleasant background noises - Ziva puking her brains out - meant that she was very close to the whole baby part of the birth.

"Real talk or metaphors?" Hannah glanced up at him with a questioning expression. He shrugged uncertainly in response. "Ziva's been in serious labour since about ten last night as far as we can tell, and progressing steadily. Basically, you've missed the marathon, but you're here for the final sprint," she explained,.Tony caught sight of her moving her Doppler over Ziva's belly and heard the low whoosh-thud of the baby's heart. "We've all been having a rest for a while, but it'll kick in any minute now. Ziva knows what she needs. We're just going to follow her lead."

"It is like combat," Ziva added, voice still sounding a bit far away. "It is instinctive, and my body is doing the work for me." She shifted and reached for his hand, wrapping her fingers around his.

"And it's working marvellously," Hannah agreed softly. "Everything's absolutely fine."

"You still want a video of this, Zivvie?" Abby enquired with a whisper. She nodded an affirmative against his lap, tightening her hold on him. He watched, awed as her back muscles rippled with the effort. Abby got to work setting up a camera on a tripod.

"Is it supposed to be this quiet?" he asked when he felt her relax again. It had been a lot louder when he'd talked to Abby last, not what he'd expected to walk into after being told, "She's got to 10 centimetres, you need to drive faster." "Kind of pictured you threatening to rip my head off, Zi."

"I am fine..." Ziva paused and exhaled heavily. "Now, that is. My back feels better."

Hannah reached under her belly, prodded around for a minute or two and gave a smile. "She's turned Ziva, that last hour hanging out with gravity was just what you needed. She's exactly where we want her for this next part to be as easy as possible."

"You missed the sweary part," Abby chimed in with a grin. "But it was mostly Hebrew, I think."

Ziva straightened a little, pushing up against his legs. "Some Arabic, a little Pashto." She pointed at her water bottle, and Tony leaned to grab it and convey it towards her mouth. "Oh, and Russian. Gibbs definitely understood me. If it had been any other situation, he would have head-slapped me for saying that, I think."

He chuckled at the image of Ziva cursing out their boss in a foreign language. "Either way, it's weirdly quiet now. Are we sure the baby's coming?" They'd talked about all the ways they'd expected this to go down, and at no point had Tony arriving at the last minute figured into it. His leave officially started in three days and went till March, so they had planned that he would be there from the very first twinges with plenty of time to get his head around it, now he was scrambling to catch up mentally.

Ziva pulled her head back from the bottle suddenly. "Oh, I am sure..." The sentence faded in another soft groan, her fingers tightening around his thigh. Somewhat at a loss for what else to do, he placed a would-be reassuring hand on her head, only for her to shake him off crossly. "Not a dog. Do not pet me!" she ground out from between clenched teeth.

Hannah smirked quietly, waiting for her to relax before she started talking, "Oh, there's going to be a baby very soon," she said. "Abby created the perfect little love bubble, and Ziva's been just about as high as you can get on good hormones for the last little while. But once Ziva decides she's ready to stand up, I think it's all going to happen in the blink of an eye. How are you feeling, Ziva? How does the pool sound?"

Ziva tensed for a second, apparently thinking and shook her head. "Not just yet," she murmured. "Will you braid my hair, ahuvi?" This he could do and agreed readily, relieved to have something that felt achievable. Abby moved for the supplies on the coffee table and pressed her brush into his hand, then helped Ziva get situated on the gym ball in front of him. She wrapped her arms around Abby's waist, leaning into her friend for comfort. He met Abby's eyes over his wife's head, watching as her thumbs worked in slow circles on Ziva's shoulders.

"You're pretty good at this Abs, thanks." Tony pulled Ziva's hair back over her shoulders and started brushing.

"I love you guys," she replied in a tone that indicated that was all the reason she needed. They worked quietly, Tony braiding and pausing with each contraction when Abby would take over, swaying her body with Ziva's. When he'd finished the braid and tied it off, he and Abby swapped jobs with only a glance to communicate; Abby twisting the long plait into a knot on top of Ziva's head, tucking the end under, Tony moving his hands down to rub the small of her back.

She flinched away suddenly from the massage with the next contraction. "I think I am ready for the pool," she announced instead, starting to stand. Tony rose with her, Abby grabbing the ball again as Ziva turned, her arms coming around his neck, dropping her head to his shoulder. "Thank you for getting here in time, neshama."

"Wouldn't have missed this for the world." He promised, kissing her hair. "Never seen McCautious drive so fast."

"Hold onto her for a minute," Hannah whispered. "I was just in the middle of adding some more hot water. It got a bit cold with all that downtime. Rock with her, like a slow dance for now. Abby, with me, let's get this done fast." Tony quickly found himself drawn into a lull, lowering his hands to Ziva's hips and swaying with her as she breathed through another contraction and then another. He was vaguely aware of someone else at the door, a second midwife, Tori, who made herself all but invisible in the dining room.

"Just in case Ziva and the baby both need help at the same time," Abby whispered as she passed, lugging a bucket of steaming water. "But that's not going to happen." He nodded quietly, focusing on Ziva as she leaned against him.

Although Ziva kept her face against his chest, he was aware of how she communicated with her body language and felt the change before she spoke again. "I think I need to use the bathroom, Hannah, can we...?" she faded to a groan. Her voice was less sleepy and more guttural, her knees sagged and Tony tensed, supporting her weight almost fully.

Hannah was beside him in an instant, sliding a hand between them, pressing against her belly thoughtfully, and Tony watched her entire behaviour switch, going from peaceful and distant to alert and quietly in control. "No, you don't, honey," she said firmly. Ziva lifted her head crossly, looking like she was about to argue. "Not unless you want to deliver on the toilet. That pressure's your baby. It's time for the pool."

This time, it wasn't phrased as a question and she lay a hand on Ziva's shoulder, turning her. Ziva grabbed Tony's hand and shrugged Hannah off, reaching out for Abby instead and walked the few steps to the pool between them. Tony held her hands and Abby knelt, guiding her to lift her feet high enough to step over the side. Ziva sank to her knees with audible relief as the water lapped over the small of her back. Another rush, longer and harder this time and Tony bent at the waist as she reached for his shoulders.

Abby laid her hands on his back, guiding him to sit on the gym ball as she nudged it into place behind him. "I got you." She squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, waiting till he'd planted his feet, and found his balance. "Better, Zivvie?" she inquired, kneeling alongside Tony.

"Hurts." Ziva shook her head. "I might still rip your head off, Tony."

"It hurts because you're working, Ziva. Everything is doing just what it should." Hannah swished her hand in the water, going to place the wand to check the baby's heartbeat again.

Ziva growled and slapped her away. "No! Do not touch me!" she snapped and pressed her face into the side of the pool with a noise that was more of a roar.

"Ok, hands off then," Hannah withdrew with a chuckle. "Ima Lioness is coming out. Think she knows what she's doing. She's all yours, Tony."

"I don't!" he exclaimed. Marlee had said he could catch the baby if he wanted, but he'd said no from the beginning; something that important felt well beyond him. "If you remember, Ziva was the one who did all the work last time. I just shut up and held on."

"I'll be right here at the business end. But Ziva knows who she wants close, and it's not me. She's got this totally under control." Hannah retreated to the far side of the pool. She thought for a second and laughed a little. "Besides, you already know the score, Ziva's doing all the work, and you just shut up and hold on." They worked through two more surges, Ziva becoming a little restless, shifting around from knee to knee.

Ziva sat up and yanked at her bikini. "Off!" She insisted. Abby, still close beside Tony leaned in and helped her release the clasp at the back of her neck. Whatever she'd been wearing on the bottom half followed a second later.

"Nice rack, Zivvie." Abby giggled, dropping the sodden clothing into a nearby bucket. Ziva favoured Abby with a look combining amusement and disdain and reached for Tony as he wrapped his arms around her again.

"Quit checking out my wife," Tony scolded in mock indignation, surprised to find that he could still make a joke right then. Ziva even managed to laugh briefly too, before succumbing to another huge rush, she dragged harder on his shoulders, nearly overbalancing him.

"Whoa, my Ninja." He leaned back. "Nearly ended up in there too."

"On my six." She ordered, pulling harder. "In."

"Little help? This wasn't part of the original game plan." He dug his toes into the sheet spread out under the pool, trying to keep his balance. "Don't wanna crowd her," he added anxiously and looked between Hannah and Abby for guidance.

"Perfectly safe for all of you, if Ziva wants it." Hannah nodded. "Go ahead."

"You sure you want six foot one worth of Special Agent in there with you achoti?" Abby rested her head on Tony's thigh to make eye contact where Ziva was leaning into his stomach. Ziva grumbled wordlessly in response, pushing her face harder against him. "Hey! Lady DiNozzo! Do you mean it or not?" Abby snapped her fingers, her voice growing stern.

A sudden flare of protectiveness rose up in him. "Hey! Go easy on her Abs," he warned. Abby shushed him without lifting her head from his leg.

"Bert the Farting Hippo," Ziva replied, at last, her hands clenching in the back of his shirt.

Tony didn't even have a chance to ask what on earth that meant before Abby got down to business, and shoved him and the ball aside, putting herself in front of Ziva and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. "That's the duress phrase, she means it. You better be wearing something under there, get 'em off." She reached out with one hand, tugging unceremoniously at the waistband of his pants. "He's coming, Zivvie, I got you till then."

"Whoa!" Tony grabbed at his boxers before they went, too. "Watch it. Little DiNozzo played his part for the first act, not the finale."

Ziva gave a withering snort from the crook of Abby's neck. "Disgusting," she offered scathingly before letting herself go to another surge. Abby zeroed back in on Ziva with more encouraging words.

"Do I have time to get swimming trunks at least?" This hadn't been part of the plan, not just in the he was unprepared sense, but the 'Ziva's birth plan said he was supposed to stay on dry land' sense.

Hannah listened to the low guttural noise Ziva made and shook her head. "Wouldn't risk it. The boxers will do. I won't look," she laughed, covering her eyes dramatically. Reluctantly, Tony shed his sweatpants and pulled his shirt over his head. He stepped into the pool and slid into a sitting position beside Ziva, leaning his back against the padded wall. The water was surprisingly warm. She sighed and rolled sideways, settling between his bent knees and leaning back on his chest. He looped his arms under hers, and she laced her fingers with his.

He kissed her temple as she nestled against him. "Kinda like a hot tub, huh, Sweet Cheeks? Remember when we went to New York?" he murmured in her ear. "What do you need?"

"Just have my back," Ziva asked, her head dropping back onto his shoulder. "Hold me."

"Aht lo levad," he whispered. "Always got your six." She nodded in response, dropping her chin to her chest and tightening her grip on his hands with a long exhale.

"Good man," Hannah gave him an encouraging smile and a nod. "Now, you're going to be Ziva's rock in this. Support her each time she pushes, don't fight her, just let your weight anchor her and give her something to hold onto, and don't forget to tell her how amazing she is."

He could take a hint. "You're doing great, Zi," he promised. If he was honest, he didn't know exactly what she was up to, but it seemed to be working if Hannah's quiet smile was any gauge of the situation. "Just keep doing whatever you need, I'll be right here."

Her hands tightened around his with another rush. "I cannot stop this..."

"That's because your baby's ready to be here. She's working with you, just like Marlee would've talked about. Just go with it. You already know what to do," Hannah assured. After that, things seemed to happen steadily. Ziva found a rhythm and alternated between long, low moans, curling forward and away from Tony, then resting her head against him. Abby stayed close, holding a drink bottle out towards Ziva's face and wiping a cool flannel across her forehead in the breaks.

Tony grinned, "Any chance of the same treatment, Abs?" Ziva relinquished her hold on his hand long enough to smack his leg. Despite this, Abby held the straw to his mouth with a soft giggle the next time Ziva pushed. Soon, though, she shut out even Abby, swatting away the straw and closing her eyes.

"You've got this, Bro," Abby whispered, backing off slightly. Tony heard her settle on the gym ball behind him. She was utterly silent, but he wouldn't have put it past her to have worked out some weird form of energy exchange because when she lay her hand flat between his shoulder blades, he found his nervous tension melting away, replaced by a focus that centred on what was happening under his hands.

He could feel each push before it came, the tension in Ziva's body tightening like a spring and then unwinding slowly as she worked to bring their baby into the world. For all the times he'd felt Ziva's strength, in combat or passion, there had never been as much power in her body as right now, her energy surging beneath his fingers. He thought for a second that if she had been doing anything other than giving birth, she would have been utterly terrifying, but finally, his brain caught up to his actions and he understood what was taking place. She was actually doing this, right now, in his arms in the middle of their living room. He knew she was tired and sore, and if she felt even half of what he did right now, she was probably scared of everything that was to come and none of it seemed to matter to her. She was seeing it right through to the end as she always did. Only this time, unlike all the other moments she'd faced fear and pain, when she'd made it through, there'd be their baby.

Suddenly, he realised that Ziva's raw display of power wasn't scary at all and with a rush that knocked the air out of his lungs, he was overwhelmed with a sense of privilege to be there to witness it. Quite without warning, he found himself falling suddenly and even more deeply in love with her.

He tried to say something to that effect against her ear, the words feeling hopelessly inadequate, but she shook her head, dodging away from his lips. "That sounds lovely, but not now." He took her weight on his arms again as she bore down. "Slowly, baby, slow, slow." Her groan turned into a soft chant.

"Abby," Hannah was still kneeling at the far side, a small torch in her hand. "If Ziva had a particular song she wanted playing when the baby was born, now's the time to do it." The same quiet cello solo had been looping for a while but Ziva hadn't seemed to mind. The instruction was obviously a cue for Abby, who stood and gathered her things quickly.

"She didn't say, but how about some Elvis?" Abby murmured in Tony's ear. He nodded silently, not taking his eyes off Ziva's fingers, locked around his own. "I'll be in the dining room. This next part is just for you two." She kissed his cheek and issued the tiniest of excited squeaks. The strains of Can't Help Falling In Love drifted through the room as she departed and he laughed, still not over the indignity of the way he'd lost the bet over their first dance song. All the same, he started murmuring along with the lyrics, keeping his lips close to her ear as Ziva yelped suddenly and leaned back hard against him, almost trying to recoil.

"Whoa, take it easy, Sweet Cheeks." Ziva seemed to be trying to stand, pushing her entire weight against his chest, her breath coming in harsh, rapid whimpers.

"Slowly Ziva. Small breaths. You're fine," Hannah coaxed, leaning forward into Ziva's line of sight. "I know this bit sucks, but it'll be over in a second, just come back down, the water helps. If you like, I can support your -"

Support what Tony never learned, but Ziva evidently understood, her body language became defensive and she tensed in his arms. "Touch me and you will lose your hand," she growled suddenly.

Tony understood this need, at least. Protection was something he could do and he kissed her shoulder blade soothingly. "I got your six, Zi honey. No one's touching anything." He glanced at Hannah to emphasise this message, tilting his head around Ziva's shoulder as she inched herself higher, using his arms for leverage. "What's going on?" he mouthed.

The midwife calmly addressed Ziva first, holding both hands up, well clear of Ziva's personal space. "I heard your no, Ziva. I won't touch you," she promised quietly, then lifted her eyes to meet his as some of Ziva's guard dropped with the reassurance. "It's just the baby's head. Never feels good. The water will help dull what you're feeling. Come back down Ziva, sweetheart, gently now."

Still half-standing and leaning back against Tony, she shook her head. "Why is this taking so long?" The words came out in a single breath, her voice high-pitched and threaded with pain.

Hannah's voice stayed low and calm, "Slow is better, she's being very gentle with you. Find your centre again and keep working with her. Nice and steady. Everything is happening perfectly right now. We'll have a time count, please, Tori."

Ziva barked a short, hard laugh. "This does not... oh god, not feel gentle!" She shifted her weight and brought her heel down hard on Tony's foot. He was not quick enough to suppress a groan and earned a vicious gasp of "Move it or lose it, DiNozzo!" Hannah began a soothing, steady chant as Tony obediently shuffled his foot to the side, and a moment later, Ziva relaxed again, settling back against him.

"Seven twenty-three." He was startled by the low voice behind him, and he realised Tori - if that was her name, he'd forgotten their brief introduction already - was hovering nearby. He glanced around to find her waiting with an armful of towels. She graced him with a wink and a nod, silently telling him to pay attention to what was going on in the pool.

Hannah nodded briefly in her direction before addressing Ziva again. "If not gentle is the worst you can say about it, you have this totally under control," her voice kept its gentle cadence, but she smiled around her words as Ziva whimpered and pushed once more. "Head's out, that's the worst bit done. You're doing amazing, Ima. Keep singing, Tony." Her gloved hand stroked Ziva's knee soothingly and she nodded at him encouragingly.

"Seven twenty-four," Tori murmured softly.

"Take my hand, take my whole life through," Tony hummed, kissing her temple. Her nails dug into the back of his hand as she curled away from him again. "Not what I meant, but I'm still in love with you." He winced, changing the words to fit the tune, but knew if he valued any part of his body, now was not the time to complain about how sharp her nails were.

Hannah shot him a quiet smile and nodded understandingly. "Ziva, if you want to give me your hand, you'll be able to touch her head," she said quietly. Ziva loosened her grip and stretched out, and Hannah gently guided her to reach down past her belly. "Open your eyes, Ziva, look."

Ziva's head dipped forward for a second. "She has hair, Tony!" She pulled back with a gasp, clenching on his knee. She whispered something in Hebrew that he couldn't fully understand, although he was reasonably sure miracle was one of the words. The would he/wouldn't he look question that he had never really reached a conclusion over was solved for him when Ziva threw her head back with an uncomfortable groan. In turn, he had to do the same to avoid taking her skull directly to his nose, thereby looking at the ceiling rather than anything happening lower down.

"Twenty-five." Tori was next to Hannah now, readying a series of supplies within arm's reach.

Hannah's steady, reassuring chant floated over the music as the song looped. "Drop your knees out, bring your ankles in... that's the way. The baby's shoulders are turning to fit. You're doing fine. Just keep breathing nice and slow," she murmured. "Less than a minute and she'll be here. You'll feel it when it's time, all you have to do is work with the next contraction. Ziva, you're going to catch your baby, give me your hands, Tony give her room to move."

He let go as Ziva stretched forward again. "You're so close now, Ninja," he promised.

Everything moved in a rush. Ziva reached and made a noise somewhere between a primal roar and a war cry and the next thing Tony knew, Hannah was guiding Ziva to bring her hands back up and into herself. He opened his arms instinctively to make room and found that when they closed again, it was around not only Ziva but his daughter. Actually, his daughter, he'd discovered when the skinny little legs splayed in midair for a second. After however many weeks of picturing a girl, it was a relief to discover that Ziva was right, not that he'd doubted her, but it was good to know for sure.

There was a moment of what felt like utter chaos, Ziva giving a loud wordless cry of surprise, Hannah's words of praise, Tori calling out numbers he'd later realise were the minute of birth, and his own incoherent noise of amazement that there was suddenly a baby there at all. Then, just as suddenly, everything seemed to freeze in a silent, airless suspension of time, broken only by Ziva's gasping breaths. The baby's head rose and fell with Ziva's breastbone, but otherwise, she was completely still and quiet as she lay against her mother.

With a quick, impatient gesture, Ziva shook his hands off so she could move, rubbing her knuckles down the baby's back and blowing gently on the wrinkled little face the way he remembered Hannah doing several years earlier. Everything resumed in a rush as the baby reacted to the stimulation, inhaled deeply, filled her tiny lungs for the first time and burst into a wet, gurgly squeal. Tony exhaled hard with relief, his head spinning for a second, not realising he'd waited to breathe until he was sure his daughter had breathed too.

"Perfect, Ziva," Hannah said gently. She reached forward and helped heft the tiny body higher as she continued to protest the comparatively cold, bright environment with a series of high-pitched, thready cries. Ziva closed her hands over the baby, making hushing sounds and after a minute or so, the newborn settled into a quieter, steady breathing pattern. "She's looking amazing. You can touch her, Tony," she prompted, taking his wrists and guiding him back up to lay his hands over Ziva's again.

He curled his hands instinctively, finding a space between Ziva's fingers to slot his own, making contact with their baby for the first time. She was slimy, sure, but soft and warm and so beautifully, wonderfully alive; he could feel the small ridges of her ribcage expanding with each of her breaths and her legs squirming under his other hand. He'd learned enough during prenatal appointments to know that babies didn't always cry the instant they were born but those few seconds when it was his own daughter who didn't appear to be breathing had seemed to stretch into eternity.

"Ziva, you did it," he breathed in awe. Ziva stretched her legs out in the water and leaned her head back on his shoulder. He could feel her hands tightening over the baby as she gave a tired, delirious laugh. "You are one crazy Ninja chick in all the right ways."

Ziva laughed again, but softer this time, contented. "Of course, I did it." She glanced down. "Nosea Samui, my little stowaway, you are here." The baby squeaked and grimaced, the tiny pursed lips working experimentally and her eyes glaring almost angrily up at Ziva's face. As Ziva had said, she had hair, dark and matted down against her scalp and her ears were possibly the smallest things he'd ever seen, second only to the infinitesimal pearlescent fingernails he spotted when her fingers splayed against Ziva's skin.

"Oh my god, Zi. You made that. A whole, entire human." Cautiously, he traced a finger over the damp curls. "Hi, baby." He kissed Ziva's temple.

"Happy birthday, little one," Hannah whispered, leaning over from the side to lay a warm towel over the baby and by extension their arms. "7.26 am on the 27th of December, 2012. Congratulations, Ziva and Tony. She looks perfect."

Ziva's weary laugh hitched and her voice wavered. "She is beautiful," she sniffled. Her head dipped, admiring the baby again, but her soft, awed words stopped, lifting one of her hands closer to her face. "There is blood on my hands..." she whispered.

Hannah was quick to offer reassurance. "A little bit is normal, Ziva, you're both safe. We can wipe it off if it's bothering you." Ziva stayed silent, turning her hand and studying her fingers. "Is she a fainter, Tony?" The tone of Hannha's voice shifted slightly, and Tori rose quickly in response.

He indicated no to Hannah, glancing at Ziva's hands and then his own. They both had - stuff, he'd forgotten the technical terms for all of it - on them, including some blood. He'd known from the beginning this wasn't going to be tidy like you saw in movies, but in hindsight, it wasn't quite as bad as he'd expected either. Her fingertips only had the barest smears on them, nothing compared to crime scenes or even how she'd come back from training. "What's going on in your head, Ninja? Not like you to worry about that," he coaxed softly.

Hannah reached with a washcloth and Ziva shook her head. "No, no." Tony could feel her breathing quicken against his chest and he extended his hand at Hannah in a stop action. "This time it is not because I took a life... but because I gave it." She lowered her lips to the tiny wrinkled brow and dissolved completely into huge, body-shaking sobs.

Hannah tried to offer something soothing but Tony shook his head quickly. "Let her cry... she's... it's..." he choked himself, and his voice got stuck behind a lump in his throat that he hadn't expected. He understood what she meant but had no way to put it into words anyone else would comprehend. "It's kind of a big deal," he finished lamely. Lost for words, he just held both of them tighter, letting Ziva baptise their daughter in tears of relief and absolution.

For a while, Hannah moved around them almost invisibly, Tony was barely aware of a stethoscope being pressed to the baby's back, a murmur of words and numbers being spoken to Tori, and another warm towel being draped around them all.

Eventually, Ziva stilled, and caught her breath, murmuring an apology for crying so hard. "Nothing to be sorry for Ninja," he whispered, kissing her head. "But so far, you've out-cried the baby," he added with a laugh as Hannah offered the wet flannel again. Still situated behind Ziva and looking over her shoulder, he couldn't see her face, but he knew she probably needed it.

Ziva's hands stayed around the baby, but she leaned over to let Hannah wipe for her. "Oh, shut up," she hissed around the cloth but did at least chuckle, turning her attention back to the newborn as she gave a little whimper. "You are so beautiful, small one," she cooed dipping her face to press a row of tiny kisses on the wrinkled forehead. "What do you think of her, Tony? We did it."

"You're incredible. She's incredible." Tony kissed somewhere near her ear. "Zi you are... you're like nothing I've ever known. Holy shit... You did that. We made her... well you did all the hard work, I just..."

"Tony..." Ziva said, interrupting his babble, her lips still on the baby's head. "I really think you should shut up." The baby squirmed again, and the tiny wrinkled feet pushed into Tony's palm as he moved his hand down to support her.

A grin split his face, that sensation was so familiar, all those evenings with his hands on Ziva's belly talking to the baby, feeling her respond to his voice, and kicking back when he pushed harder. "I know those feet," he chuckled softly, "They look different on the outside though. Hi baby girl."

"She really is a she?" Abby whispered, creeping close enough to take the photos Ziva had said she wanted.

"She is," Tony confirmed proudly. He leaned his head on Ziva's sweaty one, arms still wrapped around his girls. "Ziva, you have a daughter." The idea still seemed a little unreal as the baby whimpered again and turned her head, nuzzling against Ziva's skin. She shifted the baby to a cradle hold, and Tony found himself automatically moving his arms to accommodate the new position.

"We have a daughter." Ziva corrected him softly and stroked the baby's cheek with the back of her finger. In response, the baby turned her head and searched, latching quickly when she found her target. Ziva gave a sharp gasp and started all over with a fresh wave of tears, and they both watched the baby feed for a second before Ziva tipped her face up towards him, an expression of pure awe in her eyes. "She is the one I have been waiting for my whole life. Thank you for this gift, neshama."

Tony had always said DiNozzo men didn't cry; for the most part, he'd kept his word. Not even during the summer when they thought they'd lost Ziva on the sunken Damocles, or the 12 weeks when she'd gone dark after leaving him in Israel had he actually shed tears. But he hadn't counted on this last hour of awe; as he'd learned that Ziva had depths of grace and strength and power that he had never even imagined. As he'd held her while she gave birth to their daughter by firelight in the home they'd made together, and finally hearing his favourite endearment fall from her lips, her voice heavy with tears of exhaustion and joy and love, thanking him, after all her hard work. Something let go inside of him, and the next thing he knew, his cheeks were wet, his face was pressed against Ziva's hair and he was sobbing right along with her.

Chapter Text

Tony remembered very little of the first few hours after the baby was born. Once he’d regained his composure, relieved that no one mentioned just how hard he’d cried, he only had eyes for his wife and daughter and it wasn’t until afterwards that the memories came back more clearly. 

They stayed in the pool for what felt like a long time as the baby nursed until she’d had her fill. The water was cooling by that point and it was a slow, awkward procedure to get Ziva and the baby out while still connected to each other and onto a nest of towels in front of the fire. Scissors were put into his hand and he did the honours with the cord. Although he’d technically been given the chance to cut Naomi’s back in that warehouse two years earlier, he hadn’t appreciated just how much the paramedics had assisted at the time and was surprised to find how much effort it took. 

At some point, his dressing gown materialised around his shoulders, but he couldn’t have said by whose hand. He simply sat with Ziva as she stretched out wearily on the rug and let the glowing embers from the fire warm her aching muscles. After those first moments of very lucid emotion, she became distant and quiet, settling deep within herself to recharge as he’d often seen her do after a fight. She stayed alert enough to satisfy her medical team, but beyond surfacing to answer the questions Hannah put to her every so often, she was silent, parting with the baby only for the briefest moments to allow her measurements to be taken, a diaper to be applied and a glowing health report to be issued. The rest of the time, she kept her daughter on her chest and rested her head on Tony’s lap while he combed out her hair with his fingers. 

After a while, she seemed to come to, growing restless and snarky, batting his hand away with a warning that she was willing to come good on her earlier threat to rip his head off and curling around herself in a fresh wave of pain. Hannah quickly took charge, gesturing to Abby, who had very tactfully made herself scarce when he’d broken down. Still blinking back her own tears of joy, Abby practically bullied him upstairs and told him to take a shower, adding with a grin that she had no problems taking his pants off but dressing him again would be just plain weird. By the time he’d returned things were calm again. Hannah informed him he had missed “the gory part” and explained that the pains afterwards were sometimes worse than labour itself. Abby declared it to be “the most amazingly disgusting thing” that she’d ever seen. Meanwhile, Ziva, now nestled on the couch, wore a relieved, beatific smile and with an announcement of “ Someone’s ready to meet you,” handed him his daughter for the first time.

For something as small as she was; not even 5 and a half pounds and barely 18 inches when stretched to her full length (a process she had loathed and made sure they knew how she felt); he had never been so acutely aware of every ounce of the warm little weight Ziva carefully tucked against his skin. He’d frozen the first second, feeling too big and clumsy to handle something as delicate as she seemed to be. Swaddled babies that formed a neat parcel he could tuck into his elbow were fine, he’d (sometimes unwillingly) held his fair share of those, but this tiny, velvety, bare-limbed little thing, his flesh and blood, felt like a different story. She had this worrying way of bobbing her head around blindly and her feet kicked against his chest, scrabbling for purchase. It had taken a minute or two before he’d gotten comfortable but eventually, he’d found the right mix of strength to support her so she lay still but still being gentle enough to not worry that he was crushing her. 

When they were settled, Hannah coaxed Ziva to get up for a shower, promising her the walk would be worthwhile, although her protests continued all the way out of earshot. Abby lingered long enough to grab a photo of his first hold and then disappeared too, leaving him to get to know his daughter in privacy. The baby had squinted at him for a while, studying his face with a wisdom that seemed surprising for someone who’d been in the world for so little time and a suspicious frown so exactly like her mother that he laughed to himself in the quiet of the lounge. She lay against his skin, apparently soothed by his heartbeat, although he couldn’t understand how. He was so overwhelmed that he could hear it pounding in his ears. Still, she was quiet and seemed to like it so he returned her gaze unblinking and awed, drinking in every feature of her tiny face until she decided he was acceptable and drifted back off to sleep. 

Breakfast happened before he realised he was hungry. Abby presented him with eggs on toast while Ziva was still in the bathroom and then cut it into bite-sized pieces so he could eat one-handed without having to relinquish his grip on the baby before disappearing back upstairs to be with Ziva. Between bites, he asked Tori how Ziva was doing and received an answer about “A small graze, but no stitches ” that felt utterly irrelevant, he just wanted to be sure she wasn’t upset or in pain again. 

He got his answer shortly after, when Ziva herself had eased her way back to the lounge, looking impressively refreshed considering how long she’d been awake and what she’d just done. However, when he noticed how she was walking more gingerly than he’d ever seen her move, Tori’s mysterious words made sense. He jumped to his feet and hurried to usher her over to her preferred corner of the couch, making sure she was comfortable asking about tea and blankets and her water in what felt like the same breath. She laughed him off wearily, but far more affectionately than earlier. 

It wasn’t till Ziva was settled again and held her hands out expectantly that he remembered he was still holding the baby. He hadn’t even noticed how fluidly he’d shifted her aside, her body beneath his forearm, her head cradled in his hand, secured against his chest as he’d walked around and fussed over Ziva. She already felt like an extension of his body and when he handed her back for another go at nursing, he was surprised by a sudden rush of missing her warmth already. Instead, he settled for conveying forkfuls of a second plate of breakfast that appeared as mysteriously as the first Ziva’s mouth, feeding her while she fed their daughter. 

After that, they cuddled up on the couch, Tony spooning Ziva the way they preferred to watch TV, the baby snuggled inside Ziva’s robe, against her mother’s skin. All three were left to sleep while Abby, Hannah and Tori cleaned up and reset the room, although Abby insisted on leaving the fairy lights. They worked quietly around the sleeping family, and neither one was really aware of what was going on, but each time Tony stirred, he could hear Abby taking charge, often invisible, but her voice was constant, directing Hannah and Tori around the house helping them find what they needed.

The baby woke perhaps an hour later and after another nursing session, Tony learned to change his first diaper. Ziva mentioned she was hungry and an early lunch was served; the frozen sofrito that made an appearance at work the previous week. Hannah encouraged Ziva to practise eating while nursing, seeing as the baby had firmly taken up residence at her food source and did not seem inclined to give it up in a hurry, as with most things she tried her hand at, Ziva nailed it the first try (although no one mentioned the grain of rice that ended up on Tali's shoulder.)

Abby napped in the recliner for a while, her earbuds in. Noise stirred from the basement and the coffee pot clicked on. Someone started the laundry and the dishwasher. Tori went home when Hannah declared Ziva and the baby in perfect health and that she no longer needed backup. Dirty plates seemed to vanish when they laid their forks down, another diaper change (privately, he thought that meconium seemed too innocuous a name and satan’s tar was probably more accurate) and they slept again.

Tony woke as Ziva shifted against him, the baby squeaking in response. Hannah was kneeling in front of the sofa, making one last, quick check over Ziva and the baby.

“We made something pretty special, Zi,” he whispered, stroking her arm. She pulled a face and grumbled as Hannah’s hands worked over her stomach again. “You okay?”

“No one ever tells you it hurts more after the baby’s out,” Hannah murmured, helping Ziva settle her clothing again. “Or at least, you think they’re exaggerating when they do. But that’s the last time I’m going to do that today, Ziva. Everything’s shrinking down and firming up just right, there’s no need to keep prodding you like that. You both go back to sleep, everything’s under control.” 

“I could sleep for a year,” Ziva sighed in response, although Hannah was already out of earshot. “Yet I would not mind never sleeping again if it means simply watching her. She is amazing.”  

Tony laughed quietly. “Think our next year of sleep is going to be a bit rough. You were amazing my Ninja, I’m so proud of you. How’re you doing now?” He tapped a finger on the side of her head meaningfully. “You had us worried there for a second, Hannah thought you were going to faint or something.” 

“I am fine,” she said gently. “I did not mean to scare you.” 

He leaned his chin on her shoulder, watching the baby’s eyelids flutter closed again as Ziva traced her fingertips around a tiny shell of an ear. “Just wanna know you’re okay. Sounded like some big memories you were letting go.” 

“It was big,” she agreed. “Overwhelming. There has been so much loss, and now... Well, now there’s...” 

“There’s her,” he finished. 

She nodded, eyes not leaving the baby’s face. “Exactly. There's her. I did that. When you have spent your whole life taking life, you begin to believe that is all you can do. Aziel, Ari... so many others whose lives I ended. This morning, I learned that it is not the only thing that I am capable of.” Her fingers traced patterns in the now dry, silky hair. “Holding her for the first time, hearing her cry... it was a greater relief than I ever expected it would be. I did not imagine that I could feel so redeemed. Or so much love. Everything hit me all at once.” 

He pressed a row of kisses on her shoulder. “Zi, you are always capable of more than you think. There’s nothing you couldn’t do if you decided you wanted it,” he said. “Speaking of more... Do you need anything? Water? Food? Pain meds? I figure you’re gonna be feeling that for a while.”

She sighed and nestled her face into the crook of his arm where he supported her head. “I think I will be,” she agreed with a ghost of a laugh. “It is not like you see in the movies, I will say that much.”

“I’ll say,” he chuckled. “But you’re okay, though? I mean, okay as you can be, considering?” 

Ziva huffed another quiet laugh, reaching back to pat his hip affectionately for a moment. “It is sweet of you to worry. Yes, it is all very tender, but I am not in active pain,” she confessed. “It was harder than anything I have done before, but not in a bad way... just intense. The only time it became overwhelming was when I doubted myself. But the moment when she was actually being born, when I was working for her rather than fighting it off... Well, that was not as bad as I thought it was going to be.”  

Tony laughed and waved a hand in front of her face, still bearing half-moon indents from her nails. “Yeah, because you took it out on me.” 

“If you dare complain, you will need a longer recovery time than I do!” The threat was delivered with none of its usual pizazz, fading quickly to a soft coo as the baby gave a sleepy sigh. ”How are you feeling, ahuvi? ” she asked instead. 

He offered a confident, but tired chuckle in response. “I’m always awesome. More sleep wouldn’t hurt, but you got me outta Norfolk with this, so I’m not complaining, and we got to meet the baby that much sooner.” Ziva tipped her head back for a kiss. “Look, I know you’re tired, but you have no idea how hard I’m trying not to quote Dirty Dancing every time someone says ‘the baby’ right now. I know we never discussed it but I’m figuring...” 

Ziva pushed the lapel of her dressing gown back a little further to gaze at her daughter. “Her name is Tali,” she spoke with absolute certainty. 

Tony nodded understandingly. They had never once talked names in all the baby preparation. Somewhere between Ziva’s lingering superstition and grief over her previous loss, being overwhelmed at the weight of choosing something so important and just plain forgetting for a while, there had been a silent, unwavering knowledge that there had never been any other option, making discussion unnecessary. “I thought it might be.” He kissed the back of her neck. “Middle?” 

Ziva thought quietly for a moment. “What about Caitlin?” she suggested gently. “I know she was important to you, to the whole team. And while I never met her, she gave me something, too. If Ari had not... if that desk remained full...” She didn’t need to finish the rest of the sentence, Tony knew the ending. Kate’s death had made room for Ziva within Team Gibbs, a strange tradeoff that had seemed so unfair at the time and yet led to the new little life she held now. 

“Tali Caitlin,” he said, a smile forming as he tried the name out for the first time. It fitted as though they had planned it since the beginning. “It sounds good. You wanna add David to the mix? In the middle, like ours?” 

Ziva shook her head. “No.” She was just as decisive but still gentle. “That legacy ends with us. She is my fresh start, and she deserves one too, without the weight of all the name carries.” She dipped her head to kiss the dark hair. “Tali Caitlin DiNozzo. Brucha haba’ah habat sheli ... Welcome, my daughter.” She added for Tony’s benefit. 

Tali’s eyes blinked open at the sound of Ziva’s voice and she locked eyes with her mother in a deep, knowing gaze. “Looks like she agrees with her Ima,” Tony whispered, smiling.  “Hi there, Tali.” He lifted his hand and placed a finger in his daughter’s palm, careful not to break the eye contact she and Ziva held. He watched, suddenly understanding the urge never to sleep again, amazed at how the minuscule fingers closed around him in reflex, yet a minute later, as Tali’s eyes fluttered shut beneath another kiss from Ziva, he found himself drifting too. 

The next thing they knew, Hannah was kneeling in front of them again. “Ziva, hi. I’m going to go home now.” 

“Already?” Ziva asked sleepily. “Marlee said she would stay for four hours after the birth, it has only been...” she yawned and struggled to sit up, trying to see the clock from where she lay. 

“Shh,” Hannah soothed, stilling her. “It’s been just over six hours since she was born, it’s almost 2 in the afternoon.” 

“Whoa...” Tony blinked, coming to consciousness. “That long?” 

Hannah nodded. “That’s the feel-good hormones I was talking about, you catch them too,” she explained and patted his arm with an amused smile. “Not to mention the sleep deprivation. But the baby’s feeding and filling diapers and Ziva’s behaving like she wrote the textbook on postnatal recovery right now. There’s no need for me to be watching your every breath anymore. I do need to ask though, was there anything special you wanted to do with the placenta?” 

Ziva nodded. “Abby will freeze it at work. We will bury it under the tree in the front yard when the ground has thawed. It has... meaning to our family,” she said and sought his hand out as she spoke, squeezing for reassurance from the only person who knew what the white lilac represented. Hannah caught the action and nodded quietly, not probing for more details. “I did not really look before... I was more interested in having it gone. May I... see it now? Is that a strange thing to ask?” 

“Not at all,” Hannah beamed. “You made it, you can do whatever you’d like. Get comfy, I’ll be right back.” 

Ziva sat up slowly, and they both shuffled to sit side by side. As Hannah returned with a large bowl, sitting on Ziva’s other side, she passed Tali back to him. She still seemed impossibly small, but he felt more confident about tucking her body back inside the neckline of his dressing gown the way he’d been shown earlier, Hannah saying it was important for both warmth and bonding. He settled back against the cushions, listening to but not really taking in Ziva and Hannah’s quiet conversation, Abby coming to join them. “It looks like tree roots,” Ziva murmured with wonder.

“Sometimes it’s compared to the tree of life,” Hannah acknowledged. She went on softly, explaining a few more details to the women. 

“That’s so cool!” Abby gushed softly, hanging over the back of the couch to inspect it. Tony smirked, wondering when she would get tired of whispering or get tired in general. She’d been an absolute godsend as far as he was concerned and he silently vowed to buy her Caf-Pow every day for the next year in gratitude. 

“Our little stowaway. She brought my roots home.” Ziva nudged him gently. “Look, Tony.” Tony glanced sideways, his eye caught a gelatinous veiny blob, his stomach lurched and the world swam around him.

“Breathe, Tony,” Abby coaxed. Gradually, he became aware that she was kneeling in front of him, holding a bucket under his mouth. Ziva had Tali back in her arms, watching him with concern and Hannah was sitting beside him, keeping his head low, almost between his knees. Suddenly he realised why the bucket was there and he heaved again. 

“You owe me a tip for this,” Hannah said with a smirk when he was done. “I’m not paid to deal with the father hurling. Fainting sure, and even then not usually after the fact.” She pulled a comical expression at Ziva who cracked up, laughing harder than usual, her mind still hazy with oxytocin, exhaustion and relief. Her laughter jostled Tali who protested with a cry. Still laughing, but moving as fluidly as if she’d done it for years, she sat back and settled the baby at her breast.

“I didn’t drop her or throw up on her or anything?” he mumbled. He cast a glance sideways. He could still count on one hand the number of times he’d watched Ziva nurse their daughter. While he’d always heard it was one of the most natural things in the world, he figured there would have at least been a learning curve, not Ziva sitting there like a painting of the Madonna, absolutely radiant and totally at ease from the very first moment. 

“No, your hands stayed closed around her, and Ziva had her again before I even knew you’d taken a turn,” Hannah reassured him, releasing the pressure on his head. “Takes more than having a baby to switch off those ninja skills I've heard about. And Abby whipped the bucket under your mouth in about half a second and saved the rug. You guys make a great team.” 

He eased himself upright, the blood whooshing in his ears unsteadily for a minute. “Don’t tell McGee,” he grumbled, feeling his face grow hot. He’d genuinely lost count of the corpses he’d seen in some of the most abominable conditions without being sick and couldn’t believe that a sign of life had been his undoing.

“I will absolutely tell McGee,” Ziva promised, mirth still audible in her voice although she never looked up from Tali. “After all the times you’ve picked at him for having a weak stomach.” 

“It’s not everyone’s cup of tea,” Hannah chuckled sympathetically. “Better Tony?” 

“Yeah...” He cradled his head in his hands. “That thing is gone, right?” 

Abby giggled from somewhere near his knee. “Yes, safely away from your delicate eyes, Probie.” She handed him a water bottle. “Rinse and spit.” 

“Ugh, thanks, Abs.” Tony obeyed. “Sorry to steal the limelight, Zi.” 

She reached for him with her free hand. “I am just glad you are okay, my love.” She still looked amused but softened her gaze. “And even if I will definitely tell him about this, I will not tell McGee that you cried.” 

“Same here. He'll hear all about how you upchucked. But the crying is safe with me, Mr Tough Guy,” Abby added with a reassuring pat on his knee, before standing, keeping the bucket at arm’s length and carrying it out. 

“Well, now you’re conscious again, my work here is done.” Hannah announced, getting to her feet. “It was an honour getting to return the favour, Ziva. I'll be back later tonight to check on everything. Marlee’s handed full postnatal care over to me and I’ll be in and out so much you’ll think I’ve moved in. Rest up, Abby’s told me all about the wedding, as long as you take it easy till then, I’m sure we can find a way to make it work for everyone.” 

“Thank you, Hannah. I am so glad to have seen you again.” Hannah bent and kissed Ziva’s cheek, stroking a hand over the back of the baby’s fuzzy head, whispering something only for Ziva. It was obviously meaningful enough because her dark eyes welled up before she hugged Hannah with her free arm. 

“Tony, you shut up and held on just fine. Take care of your beautiful women.” She hugged him, before turning to Abby who’d just returned from cleanup duty. “And you, Abby, you made my job a breeze. Tell Mr Strong and Silent that he did a great job.” They hugged and made promises to stay in touch. 

“Mr. Strong and Silent?” Tony asked as Hannah let herself out. 

“Eat those. You need some sugar.” Abby tossed a bag of Gummy Bears at him. “Gibbs, you know how much he likes the touchy-feely stuff. Hannah had his number right from the start,” she added in explanation. 

“And with you in charge, there would’ve been a whole lotta love in the room. Gibbs would've been overjoyed.” Tony gratefully ripped them open, throwing a handful of the candy into his mouth. He held the bag out to Ziva, who tucked Tali into one arm and selected a red one. “Thanks, Abs.” He added with a wink in her direction. 

“Oh, Abby was fierce enough when it counted,” Ziva laughed. “She did not hesitate to tell Gibbs what she thought.” 

“He needed to be told.” Abby shrugged, before dancing on the spot for a moment. “Okay, I don’t want to hold her yet... Gibbs should get to first. But can I say a proper hello to her now, please?” 

“Of course, come and meet your niece, Aunt Abby.” Ziva beckoned. Since Tali was born, Abby had been keeping her distance, respecting that it was his and Ziva’s moment, but Tony could tell it was also killing her not to have had anything more than a glimpse at the baby. Even now she still left them space, kneeling in front of Ziva rather than sitting beside her. 

“Oh my gosh! Baby Tiva!” She put both hands over her mouth, stifling a squeal and waiting as Ziva lay the baby on her knee and tucked a blanket around her firmly. Since she’d been born, Tali had worn only a diaper, getting her warmth from her parents’ body heat by being kept skin to skin the entire time, but cuddling with other people outside of their clothes meant she needed more insulation. “Congratulations, Zivvie, you were amazing.” Any further words were lost as she gently cupped the top of the baby’s head.

“I could not have done it without you, Abby,” Ziva said sincerely. “You went beyond the top.” 

“Zi it’s over the top, or above and beyond,” Tony laughed. “You really were great though, Abs, thanks. And teach me this zen-time thing you talked about on the phone. Might need it next time I piss Ziva off. Ow!” He yelped as Ziva flicked the top of his ear sharply.

“You’re gonna make me blush, guys.” Abby didn’t peel her eyes away from Tali. “Seriously, it was a total honour you asked me to be here, I just wanted to live up to it.” 

Ziva reached forward and placed her hand on Abby's cheek, catching her attention. “Toda raba, achoti,” she said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to Abby's forehead. Abby’s tired green eyes immediately filled with tears. They'd all picked up snippets of Hebrew since Ziva had joined the team, Abby and Tony learning the most, and neither one needed any translation to understand the heartfelt thank you very much, my sister, that Ziva had just bestowed on her.  

“You’re gonna make me cry on the baby, stop,” she warned, fanning her face with her hand desperately. It didn’t work. “Oh, she’s so perfect. What’s her name?” she sniffled, leaning sideways to wipe her eyes on Tony’s knee. 

He grimaced at the streak of mascara she left in her wake on the grey flannel sweats. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically, nudging her away and looking up at a noise from the doorway. “Oh hey, Gibbs, thought you’d be making love to the coffee pot,” he said with surprise, realising that Gibbs and McGee were in the doorway coming from the entryway. If he'd remembered they were in the house at all before this point, he would have put money on the idea that they were both still asleep in the basement. 

Gibbs shrugged a little. “Done that already, had some things to attend to upstairs,” he replied cryptically. “Looks like you’ve had a busy morning.” He gestured to the tiny bundle on Ziva’s lap.

“Only the best morning ever” Tony slid an arm around Ziva proudly, Abby kissed Tali and went to stand by Tim, pressing her face into his chest. Tony could see her shoulders shaking with happy tears. “Come see,” he offered.  

“You ready for people in your space, kiddo?” Gibbs asked.

Tony caught Ziva’s eye and silently double-checked she was ready.  He grinned proudly when Ziva nodded her assent. “Yeah, Boss. Come meet your granddaughter,” he said. 

“She’s really a girl?” Tim asked quietly, he still had pillow creases on his cheek, and his hair was mussed up. Abby was leaning on his shoulder while he was rubbing slow circles on her back. 

“She is,” Ziva confirmed, patting the spot next to her, an invitation to Gibbs. He sat down gently beside her, resting a hand on the baby’s belly. “This is your Saba Gibbs, little one,” she whispered, lifting the baby for his perusal.  

Gibbs swallowed hard, his eyes misty for a moment, a whole should-have-been future playing in his mind. They all waited quietly as he blinked and focused back on the present. “She looks pretty well perfect, kiddo. Good work,” he whispered thickly and kissed the side of Ziva’s head. 

“Here.” Without hesitation, Ziva turned, placing the baby in his hands. She was tiny enough that he didn’t need more than the spread of his fingers to support her securely. Tony watched as his boss’s calloused hand came under his daughter’s head, his thumb stroking the now dry, dark thatch of hair that would undoubtedly form ringlets like Ziva’s when it was long enough. 

“She got your hair, Ziver,” he observed. He lifted her smoothly, drawing her against his chest till her head settled over his heart, tucked tightly into his elbow. “Hey, Pipsqueak, been waitin’ a long time to meet you,” he whispered, turning his attention fully to the newborn. His voice was soft but the message came through loud and clear; this moment absolutely did not leave the living room. 

“So, what’s her name?” Abby repeated eagerly. She seemed to have recovered for the moment, as she and McGee sat down on the other side of Tony. He caught Ziva’s eye again and gave her a nod. He could call Senior, he was sure Ziva had the satellite phone number for the yacht written down somewhere, or worst case, wait until they docked at Chesapeake the next day and his dad’s cell would be back in service, but this was the only time Ziva would have a chance to introduce the baby to anyone she called family. 

“Her name is Tali,” Ziva said with a smile, “Tali Caitlin DiNozzo.” She reached to tuck the end of the blanket in a little more firmly and Gibbs caught her hand with a quiet, grateful squeeze as she did. 

There was a sharp, tearful gasp from next to Tony. “For Kate?” Abby asked, eyes welling up all over again. 

“Yeah, for our Katie,” Tony acknowledged, sharing the bittersweet memories of their friend with a glance. 

Abby sniffled a little and gave a watery smile. “Kate always hated it when you called her that.” Her voice was wobbly again. 

“But she’d love that you named the baby after her,” McGee said quietly, hugging Abby to his side. “Congratulations, guys. Oh... uh, maybe we should give them a minute,” he added looking past Tony to Ziva and Gibbs.

Tony glanced back, Gibbs had wrapped his free arm around Ziva and her hand was over the one he used to hold Tali, both of them supporting her tiny backside together. 

He choked at the sight briefly, his throat growing tight with an odd feeling of relief that Gibbs was there and a pang of regret his father wasn’t. “Yeah, coffee sounds good right now,” he agreed softly. “Let’s go.” 

Neither Ziva nor Gibbs noticed as they trooped out into the kitchen.

The guys made more coffee, while Abby settled for cocoa and a grumble that she had run out of Caf-Pow. Given the row of empty cups resting near the sink, Tony and Tim shared a silent look agreeing it could only be a good thing she didn’t have any more. 

“How’s it feel?” Abby asked when they were organised. “You’re a dad now, Tony.” 

The grin across his face was wholly involuntary. “Surreal,” he said, settling on the only word that seemed to fit. “She wasn’t there last night and now she is. And she’s an entire person... just tiny.” 

“She’s gorgeous!” Abby gushed. “And Ziva was so freaking strong. Thanks for letting me be there.” 

“Hey, Abs...” Tony said. Given that her sleep could be counted in the single digits but milligrams of caffeine intake were well into the quadruples, his normally perky friend was losing her always-in-control and confident vibe by the second. He wracked his own sleep-deprived mind for a distraction before her eyes overflowed again. “Bert the Farting Hippo for a duress phrase? Really?” 

It worked, and Abby laughed a little. Tim shot him a relieved glance. “It needed to be something she’d absolutely never say unless she meant it,” she explained. They all laughed then. 

“When was she born?” McGee asked. “I passed out the second I got down there. Didn’t hear a thing. I think Gibbs stayed up the whole time though. At least, he was awake when that other nurse came down to start the laundry around 9.” 

“7.26, not quite an hour after we got back. She’s 5 pounds 4 ounces of DiNozzo genetic perfection.” Tony boasted, unable to stop the grin that spread across his tired face. “Nice driving McChauffeur, thanks,” he added with a more serious tone. 

McGee nodded easily. “Anytime. I’m just glad you made it. Although, I remember Ziva promising me at your wedding that I wouldn’t need to be here!” 

“Well, I’m glad you were,” Tony said with a shrug. He’d been too busy carrying on with Abby to have overheard that particular conversation. “That drive would’ve sucked on my own.” He landed a not-quite-affectionate but still friendly punch on his friend's shoulder. McGee, in turn, looked somewhat embarrassed and returned the gesture.

“There had better be coffee for us in there!” Ziva called through suddenly, interrupting Abby's newest gush into how ‘adorable’ she found the guys’ behaviour. 

“And the Ninja senses are back in full swing,” Tony laughed, standing and heading for new cups. “Is she ok to drink it now? Said it tasted like tin foil every time she tried. I should’ve asked Hannah.” His eyes widened at the thought of all the things he didn't know and felt like he should. 

“Coming!” Abby called back. “She can have it, but whether or not she likes it is anyone’s guess. With any luck, the placenta being out will have dropped the hormones enough that her palate changed again. It really can be that fast apparently. Don’t worry, anything you think you forgot to ask, I already did.” 

Tony shuddered as he poured the requested drinks. “Don’t even mention that thing.”

“Why, Probie?” Abby teased, handing him the milk. “You should’ve seen him, Timmy...” 

“At least give Ziva the honour. Jeez,” Tony huffed, adding milk to Ziva’s cup. 

“Fine, but you’re not getting away with it completely.” She pointed an accusing finger at him, and they traipsed back through to the lounge as a group. 

“You ok?” Tony eased himself back down alongside Ziva and recognised the glint of tears in her eyes. 

“Fine. Happy tears,” She assured him, as she dried her cheek on her sleeve. “Look.” Gibbs stood in front of the fireplace, Tali now upright against his shoulder, her tiny body almost hidden beneath his protective hands. “Tali got a little restless and he just stood up and rocked her, and she settled just like that.” Her voice wobbled. 

He smiled, listening to the low rumble of Gibbs’ voice, talking Tali through the photos on the mantle. “I think we just found our first babysitter,” he said softly. “Here.” He held out her coffee. 

Ziva sipped cautiously, a look of relief spreading across her face. Apparently, it really was that fast. “Oh, I have missed this.” She wrapped her hands around the mug gratefully, pulled her feet up, knees high in front of her chest and zoned out. 

Tony recognised the signal that Ziva needed breathing room, and shifted aside, close enough to still be in arm's reach but far enough to be out of her personal space. “You gonna say hi to Tali, McGee? You’re the only one who hasn’t met her yet. Besides, once Abby gets her hands on her, no one else is getting a look in, you should hold her now while you’ve still got a chance.” 

McGee looked alarmed at the prospect. “Oh... uhh... maybe if I sit down.” Despite this, he took a step backwards toward the dining room again instead of towards the couch.  

“Nothing to it Uncle Probie. Go on.” Tony encouraged him with a laugh, completely ignoring his own uncertainty about holding her a couple of hours earlier. 

“Park it, McGee, your turn.” At Gibbs’ nod, the reluctant new uncle found himself being shepherded towards the couch, Abby relieving him of his coffee and steering him to sit. “Hold out your hands.” A second later, Gibbs had deposited Tali into McGee’s possession and he froze awkwardly, the baby balanced on his hands, one under her head, one under her butt. 

“What now...?” He asked, still frozen in place. Gibbs muttered something that sounded like “Work it out” around the rim of his coffee cup. 

“You dork.” Abby laughed fondly, she sat beside him, helping him nestle Tali into the crook of his elbow closer to his chest. Tony watched with a grin as McGee gazed down at the little face and fell promptly and completely in love. 

His eyes widened and he assumed an expression of absolute awe no one had seen on him before. “Hi, sweetheart, I’m Uncle Tim. Oh my god, you guys, she’s so beautiful,” he breathed. Abby immediately welled up again, but McGee was perfectly content now that Tali was settled snugly in his arms. “You are absolutely perfect aren’t you, Tali?” 

There was a long, contented silence. Gibbs poked the fire and drank his coffee, Abby and McGee played pass-the-parcel with Tali for a while, sharing glances with each other that grew steadily more meaningful until Tony was willing to bet sometime soon they’d be dealing with a replacement forensic scientist for a lot longer than a honeymoon. Ziva stayed quiet, sipping her drink, but stretched her foot out, resting against his leg, letting him know that she was still very much present. However, the peace ended when Tim laid a finger in Tali’s hand. Abby took one look at the way the baby’s tiny fingers wrapped around him, lost all sense of reason and retreated to Gibbs’ embrace dissolving in a mess of overtired, happy sobs. 

“I think it is time we all slept,” Ziva announced, emerging from her caffeine bliss bubble and placing her empty cup on the table. “It has been a long night.” 

“Especially you Ninja, you’re the one who did all the hard work.” Tony reminded her. “You need the rest more than any of us.” 

“I am fine.” She replied, looking utterly content. “Tired, but fine.” 

“Oh!” Abby sniffed, drying her eyes on her sleeve hurriedly. “Sit tight, Zivvie, I’ll go change the sheets upstairs, first. You definitely got puke on them earlier.”

“Stand down, Abs.” Tony gave a chuckle. “You’ve done more than enough. Think I can handle making the bed.” 

“No need,” Gibbs announced, returning as he collected the empty coffee cups and put them in the kitchen. “All taken care of. There’s something for you upstairs, Ziver.” He came back to her and offered her his hands to stand. 

“Go slow, Zi.” Tony cautioned, bracing her back as she rose slowly. She took a moment, holding onto Gibbs’ hands to catch her balance. “There’s no rush.” He stood behind her, hands lightly on her shoulders. For once, she didn’t argue with the 360-degree support.  

“Abby, will you carry Tali please?” she asked, shuffling forward carefully. “I will need help on the stairs.” Abby willingly scooped the baby away from a very reluctant Tim, and they made their way upstairs as a group, Gibbs and Tony flanking Ziva as she took the stairs one at a time, pausing for a few seconds on each one. Abby followed behind, cooing to Tali and Tim brought up the rear, a handful of supplies Abby had requested in his possession. 

“You ok?” Tony asked when they’d reached the top. Ziva had made the climb under her own strength, but he’d never felt her grip his hand so tightly for balance. 

She halted for a minute, resting her head on his chest. “Each of those stairs felt like a mountain,” Ziva admitted with a sigh. “And I have climbed literal mountains.” 

He kissed the top of her head. “You had a literal baby a couple of hours ago. You did great.” He reminded her with a proud smirk. “Ready for the last bit?” Still taking the smallest steps, they made their way down the hall, and into the master suite. Gibbs and McGee hung back, leaving the new family to enter their bedroom alone. Abby too, paused at the threshold, settling Tali in Ziva’s arms again, and opening the door without glancing in. 

“Oh... Abba...” Ziva breathed. Tony followed her eyes and Gibbs’ mysterious statement about “attending to things upstairs” became clear; as well as finding the bed freshly made up, the most beautiful handmade wooden cradle, the perfect height to reach into while sitting on the bed now stood along Ziva’s side. In the corner, the armchair had been shifted aside to make room for a new wooden rocking chair. “I had forgotten until this moment that we had not yet bought her bassinet. Thank you,” Ziva whispered.  

“‘Sif my grandkid is going to spend her first night in a bed you got from a store. That’s where I went last night. To bring it over,” he explained softly. “Had planned on doin’ it next year though.” 

“You really outdid yourself on this, Boss.” Tony ran a reverent hand along the railing of the cradle. Most of the wood was unembellished, letting the beautiful grain and oiled finish speak for itself but the top rails on each side were beautifully carved, a constellation of small stars swirling around the bar almost like the vine leaves on Ziva's engagement ring. 

“You knew?” Ziva looked at him incredulously. “That is why you stalled for so long and argued with me about what one to buy?” She turned to the door, where the others still kept a respectful distance. “Were you all in on this too?” 

Gibbs shook his head. “Nope. Rule 4. Though McGee might have had a clue when I asked him to research what makes a crib safe these days,” he said. “Tony being a pain in your butt had nothing to do with me.” 

“I gave Gibbs all the current standards. Railing height, bar spacing, no pinch points and non-toxic materials.” Tim assured them softly. Abby pressed a kiss to his cheek, conveying the gratitude in Ziva’s smile. 

“I love it, thank you,” Ziva said sincerely, Tali stirred and squirmed in her arms. “Are you hungry again, motek? You have your daddy’s appetite.” 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Tim said hastily, realising what that meant. “Mind if I sleep in the basement for a while longer? Don’t quite trust myself to get behind a wheel yet.” 

“All yours McSqueamish.” Tony laughed, helping Ziva ease herself onto the bed and lifting her feet up for her.

“Wait up a sec Timmy, I’ll come too.” Abby made eye contact with Ziva, seeking permission to enter, adding Ziva’s water bottle and a packet of Tylenol to the bedside table. “Tony, be nice to Tim, remember what I know.” She warned, helping him tuck the cover back over Ziva’s legs. 

“What do you know, Abs?” Tim asked from the hall. He’d turned his back to the door, and Gibbs had disappeared entirely. 

“Got one look at the placenta, tossed my cookies and passed out,” Tony admitted gruffly, figuring it was easier to confess than keep dancing around it. They were going to drop hints and remind him about it till the end of time, anyway. A bark of laughter from the main bathroom alerted them to where Gibbs had gone. Tony also saw Tim’s shoulders shaking with silent mirth. Ziva laughed too, but Tali was less impressed, trying out her lungs again. 

“Shh, shh, shh, ahuvati you will learn to laugh at your Daddy too,” Ziva hushed as she settled Tali to nurse again, jiggling her soothingly. 

“Got everything you need up here, water, phones, camera... Ziva, supplies?” Abby asked meaningfully. 

“Yes, thank you it is all in the ensuite, achoti. Go and sleep.” Ziva replied softly, already close to dozing. 

“We’ll be right downstairs with our phones on if you need anything. I’m sleeping over tonight too, just in case,” Abby promised, kissing Ziva’s cheek. Ziva settled back against the pillows, tucking Tali a little closer to her body. “Sleep well, Famiglia DiNozzo.” She squeezed Tony’s hand in passing and tucking her arm into Tim’s, the pair departed for the basement room.  

“You good if I see Gibbs out?” Tony whispered, hearing the water run in the bathroom sink.  

“We are fine,” Ziva assured him. “Go.” Her eyes were locked on Tali’s face as she nursed again. 

He found Gibbs lingering at the top landing. “Gibbs... I... just... well, thanks.” 

“All good,” Gibbs replied simply. 

“No, I mean staying with Zi while she was in labour... I know that was probably hard for you...” Tony tried again, not really having the words for what he meant. “I know you didn’t get to be there when Kelly...” 

Gibbs stopped him with a quiet shake of his head. “You do what you have to for family,” he said, not wanting to get into it. “Abs did most of it. I just followed orders.” 

“Wasn’t Abby’s lap Zi was conked out on when we got back,” Tony smirked. ”But, really. Thanks.” He stuck a hand out, offering a handshake in gratitude.

The weathered fingers closed around his own for a moment, firm and warm. “Don’t make a habit of it.” They both chuckled. “And DiNozzo... I’m proud of you. You did the right thing, taking Ziva back when she got home.” 

Tony looked at the carpet for a second and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not wanting to be reminded how close he’d been to ending the relationship for good the same night he’d found out about Tali’s existence. “Wasn’t about doing the right thing. We would’ve worked this whole baby thing out some other way if uh, if things weren’t so good between us after all.” 

“Still.” Gibbs shrugged briefly, dismissing it. Tony understood his boss had a clear opinion about things a man was supposed to do in the face of an unplanned pregnancy. He realised they had little to do with Gibbs’ fondness for Ziva, and everything to do with his moral compass being forged in a different time, not to mention a good dose of Rule 45; your mess, you clean it up. ”You stepped up.” 

“Thanks.” Even though he knew Gibbs wouldn’t have blamed anyone if he and Ziva had broken up back in July,  Tony felt oddly relieved to know he’d still lived up to expectations, even if they did not align with his own outlook on the world. He paused, about to turn back to the bedroom and scratched the back of his head. “Say, Boss... what comes next?”

“Sleep. Been a big night.” The answer hinted that was the next thing on Gibbs’ mind too. McGee had slept in the basement, but by all accounts, Gibbs had not. 

He shook his head. “No, I mean after that... I’m a Dad now. I’m Tali’s Dad. I dunno how to do that. How do I be enough for her... for them?” 

“You love ‘em.” The answer was short, but not blunt. “Long as you’re doing that, the rest works itself out.” 

“Oh,” he sighed, relieved. “Yeah, I got that bit already. Loved her the second I knew she was there.” 

“And you give Ziver anything she asks for, she’s earned it.” 

Tony smiled unconsciously, both at the affection in Gibbs’ tone and exactly what Ziva had done to “earn” it. “Yeah, she was something else, wasn’t she? Didn’t think I could love that crazy Ninja more than I already did but seeing that....” He choked again and realised, much to his embarrassment, he was blinking back tears. “Sorry, Boss, I dunno what’s wrong with me.” 

Gibbs gave a half-shrug. “Nothing’s wrong... c’mere.” Tony found himself pulled into a hug, one of his boss’ hands slapping on his shoulder, the other one splayed on the back of his head. Overwhelmed with surprise, exhaustion and about forty other emotions he didn’t know the name of, Tony found himself crying again. Even more surprising, Leroy Jethro “the second B is for bastard” Gibbs, actually just held on for a minute, silent as ever, but reassuring in his presence until Tony steadied himself again. “You good, now?” he asked when Tony lifted his head. It wasn’t impatient, but a genuine question. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, pulling back a little and swiping at his eyes sheepishly. “Didn’t even know I could happy cry till this morning. You should’ve seen me when she was born. But now I’m blubbering on your shoulder.” 

Gibbs smirked gently. “Not the first thing you’re gonna find out you’re capable of now,” he said. “You’re gonna do fine. Congratulations, Tony. Go take care of your girls.” He turned and started to descend the stairs. 

“Hey, Gibbs...” Tony called, the older man paused and looked back over his shoulder. “They’re your girls too,” he offered softly, a reminder he understood and respected how much this moment meant for Gibbs, the closest thing he’d get to a second chance. 

“Plenty of time for that. Right now, they’re yours.” Gibbs nodded in return. “Phone’s always on.” 

Tony watched until Gibbs reached the bottom landing before turning and heading back up the hall to the bedroom. Ziva was asleep, propped against the headboard with Tali nestled against her skin again, her hands folded over the baby. He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene, still not quite believing it was real. She barely noticed when he slipped beneath the covers, careful not to jostle anyone around too much. But, when he leaned over to kiss Tali’s head, Ziva stirred a little, and her lips grazed his hair in a sleepy kiss. He lay down alongside her, moving automatically to rest a hand, as he had for many weeks prior, on her belly. 

“She is not there anymore,” Ziva whispered with a sleepy chuckle, guiding him up to the small bulk of Tali's back, rising and falling in quiet, even breaths. 

He grinned against the pillow. “Oh yeah. It's only been seven hours, give me a chance to get used to the idea.” 

“We did it, Tony. She really is here.” Ziva said, her fingertips tracing over his wedding ring. 

“This time, Sweet Cheeks, it was all you.” Tali's face puckered experimentally for a second, her body bunching up. Without any communication, they both instinctively patted and made shushing sounds, and a moment later, the baby was relaxed again. “Hey, maybe we'll do alright at this whole parenting thing after all. We just got that bit right.” A quiet laugh rumbled from him. 

“I am sure she will...” A long yawn. “Will find a way to make us doubt that before long.” 

  The word “long” stirred something in his brain, everyone always talked about having a baby, not raising a kid. “Eighteen years, Zi. Eighteen,” he whispered, “That's an awful long time to be responsible for another person. Where do we even begin?” 

Ziva sighed and slid a little further down to tilt her head against his. “We do not need to worry about that yet. This was never something I thought I would have,” she said gently, but wearily. “For all the ways everything went astray, no matter how often I let go of faith and trust and focused only on making it through the same night, for every time I let that idea of the future slip further from my grasp until I did not believe I would have it at all. I have still ended up here, with everything I pictured a very long time ago. You have given me the chance to be who I dreamed of becoming when I was a child, Tony. There is nothing more to do right now than to be thankful and enjoy this moment.” 

He pressed his lips to her temple in a long tender kiss, then several smaller ones, feeling the way her body slackened back into sleep against him, still deeply exhausted but already aware of exactly where their daughter lay over her heart, her arms keeping their protective position around Tali. 

The morning in Israel, when he had woken up alone, was suddenly very close to Tony’s memory. How far away a feeling of utter wholeness and contentment had seemed then. Realising that, unless it was with the woman beside him now, it wouldn’t have come at all. He would never have tried again if she had not returned. Thankful suddenly felt like an understatement, even as the words, directed at a god he didn't believe in, formed silently on his lips. 

The rest of Tali's life could wait, right now he was simply going to enjoy the privilege of falling asleep beside his wife and daughter.