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Chapter Text

Tony and Tali’s apartment - Late March 2020

Tony toyed around with the phone in his hand, mindlessly scrolling while the children’s film credits rolled in the background. He hummed along with the familiar tune before opening up the extremely familiar text thread. His fingers swiped over the keys. 

Just thinking about you. Missing you. I guess. She’s beautiful, Ziva…and happy, of course. We just finished watching Tangled. I think it’s safe to say she got your looks, thank God.

A smile tugged at his lips while his thumb hovered over the send button for a moment too long before finally tapping it. As expected, the screen lit up with the same reply it always gave him when he tried: 

Message undeliverable.

He stared at it for a moment, then locked the phone and set it facedown beside him on the couch.

He knew he wouldn’t hear back. He hadn’t in months…maybe it was more than a year by now. The last time he had was shortly after she had a close call, while on the run. He scrolled back to find her message from many months prior. It read I’m safe. He clung to those simple words, attempting to make them true each time to the message thread opened. The time moved strangely these days. Each day felt like it dragged on at a glacial pace, and yet entire months disappeared in a blur. He never could decide which was worse.

Still, he sent the messages. Just in case. Updates, thoughts, fragments of feelings he couldn’t say out loud. It made him feel closer to her in some small, invisible way.

Their daughter was growing. Changing by the day. Her wit had started to reflect his own—sharp, teasing, a little too clever for a five-year-old and her intellect and agility were all Ziva. Nature over nurture, or maybe a bit of both. Either way, it stunned him sometimes, how much of her lived in their daughter’s bones.

He reached out and gently ran his hand over Tali’s hair, soft and tangled from the bath she hadn’t wanted to take. She’d fallen asleep partway through the movie they picked out together—something with singing princesses and talking animals. Not exactly the Cary Grant Fridays he used to lean on, but he didn’t mind the trade. In fact, he liked it. 

Not wanting to disturb her slumber, he reached for the remote with careful fingers and clicked the TV off. The screen faded to black, casting the room in soft shadows. He adjusted slightly, just enough to pull the blanket over the both of them without waking her.

The apartment fell into a peaceful hush…only the faint hum of the city outside and a gentle, rhythmic snore coming from the small figure curled against his side.

He smiled at that. Shook his head a little. Then reached for his phone one last time that night.

She got your snore, by the way. Thanks for that.

Message undeliverable.

He exhaled through his nose, quiet and resigned, then placed the phone facedown on the nightstand again. No reply. Of course not. Still, it helped to send it. To speak into the silence.

With Tali tucked against his chest and Ziva’s ghost lingering in his mind, he let himself drift off to sleep.

***********************************************

Recital Hall – Two Weeks Later

Tony’s eyes darted awkwardly around the bustling recital hall, scanning the sea of sequins, tulle, and stressed-out parents. He’d left work early to make sure his ballerina was ready in time. This wasn’t her first recital—not by a long shot—but it was easily her biggest. And it had both of them on edge.

Tali was a perfectionist. Of course she was. She’d insisted he redo her bun three separate times until it was, in her words, “perfect enough to spin in.”

Now she was backstage, likely practicing her routine for the hundredth time, and Tony… was alone.

Nothing new there.

He was surrounded by couples, by families—moms snapping photos, dads holding coffee cups, siblings running underfoot. All of them buzzing with shared nerves and excitement. All of them with someone to lean on.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. He missed her the most in moments like this.

He could picture exactly how Ziva would have stood beside him—shoulder-to-shoulder, fingers laced with his, voice low but animated. She’d talk incessantly, as if their almost-six-year-old performing a two-minute group number was a world-stopping event. And he would have loved every second of it.

Instead, he pulled out his phone. Another message, short and unpolished.

She’s on in 10. Bun’s perfect. Just like her.

He hit send.

Message undeliverable.

With his phone set off to the side, Tony took a slow breath and turned his attention to the stage. The lights dimmed, the music started, and then—just like they’d practiced a hundred times—she appeared. Her little arms fluttered in time with the others, her focus intense, expression full of joy.

He clapped with the other families when the line of butterflies twirled offstage, his heart full. And then—there she was. Tali caught his eye from across the room, cheeks flushed and grinning, and he winked at her.

She smiled back. That same crooked, bright smile he’d seen on Ziva all those years ago.

Tony picked up the bouquet he’d brought—pink and white, her favorite—and grabbed his phone with his free hand. With no one at his side to rave to, he opened their old thread and typed quickly.

Her dance went great. She was the prettiest butterfly on the stage.

He looked up again just in time to see Tali emerging from the back, hand-in-hand with another girl from her group, the bottom of her leotard slightly askew and glitter in her hair.

Tony pressed send, sliding the phone back into his pocket just before she reached him.

Message undeliverable.

***********************************************

Tali’s Elementary school - May 2020

He approached the familiar schoolyard, the soft curves and stone lines of the European architecture catching the afternoon light. Tali’s elementary school was tucked into one of the older parts of the city—historically rich, quietly elegant. He was glad she had the chance to learn in a place like this.

Today, though, the usual charm caught in his throat.

A banner hung above the front gates: Bonne fête des mères. Happy Mother’s Day.

Tony resisted the pull of a frown, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he waited. This day had come and gone twice now—two Mother’s Days without Ziva. Without answers. And somehow, Tali hadn’t asked. Not yet.

And then, there she was.

Not running, not today. Just slowly emerging through the front doors in a small wave of classmates. His eyes found her immediately, then drifted down to the card clutched tightly in her little hands. He couldn’t read the lettering from here, but he didn’t need to. He knew.

He crouched down like always, arms wide. She stepped into them and he spun her gently around. She giggled—but it was softer today, more thoughtful. When he set her back on her feet, her hand automatically found his, and together they started the walk home.

“What’cha got there, munchkin?” he asked, keeping his tone light, casual. He already knew.

“Nothing,” she said quietly, the paper still balled in her grip.

They passed a trash can a few steps later, and he noticed her veer slightly toward it. She was going to throw it away.

“Hey, hey,” he said, stopping them both. “Care to share with your Dad what’s going on?”

Tali looked up, her brown eyes serious in a way that never failed to tug at something deep in him. She paused to look down at the card in her hands. “It’s silly,” she said. “My teacher had us make cards for Mother’s Day. But… I don’t have a mommy.”

Tony’s jaw tensed. Not from her words—she wasn’t wrong. But the weight of hearing them out loud did something to his chest.

He made a mental note to send an email to the school. A firm one.

But right now, he knelt again, gently placing his hands on her arms. “Hey,” he said softly. “Can I tell you something?”

She nodded, lips pressed together.

“You do have a mommy. She’s just… not here right now. But she loves you, so much. She’d keep every single card you ever made if she could.”

Her tiny brow furrowed as her head cocked to the side. “Then where is she?”

He carefully calculated his next words, not wanting to have this entire conversation in the middle of the busy Parisian street. “She’s… away,” he said gently, “but she’s working very hard to come back to us, sweetheart. Let’s keep the card so we can give it to her when she does, okay?”

That seemed to do the trick—for now, at least. Tali looked down at the card and then handed it over to him with a small nod.

Her thoughts shifted the moment they passed the familiar pastel awning of their usual ice cream shop. Her eyes lit up as she glanced up at him.

“What will it be today?” he teased. “Chocolate… or chocolate?”

She brought a finger to her chin dramatically, pretending to ponder it. He laughed.

“Chocolate, Daddy,” she declared, as if it was the only logical choice.

They stepped inside, the cool air washing over them. While their favorite server scooped her usual, Tony pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the same message thread he always returned to.

He didn’t know what exactly he meant to say. He never really did. But the words came anyway.

Happy Mother’s Day. Tali made a card for you at school today. It’ll be waiting for you when you get back.

He glanced up just as the cone was handed to him and Tali bounced in excitement.

And then the phone buzzed.

Message undeliverable.

***********************************************

Local park — June 2020

Tony had spared no expense for Tali’s sixth birthday.

A bounce house stretched across the park’s open lawn, the steady hum of its generator buzzing beneath the sound of children’s laughter. A small pony clip-clopped in lazy circles nearby, patiently carrying one giggling child after another. And across from him stood a somewhat unsettling Parisian clown, twisting balloons into shapes that only vaguely resembled animals.

Tony had floated the idea of renting out a local movie theater—air conditioning, popcorn, less chaos—but Tali had insisted on the park. June in Paris was warm and breezy, and she wanted sunshine and swings and butterflies. So here they were.

He sat on one of the few benches that dotted the lawn, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the clown as he took a bite of the freshly cut cake. His gaze drifted toward the bounce house, where Tali was mid-leap—her hair flying, her face lit with joy. She looked so much like Ziva when she smiled like that.

He loved throwing these parties, even if they left him bone-tired by the end of the day. Over the years, he’d gotten used to reaching out to her classmates’ parents to coordinate playdates and RSVPs. Some of them were married. Some divorced. Some—like him—occupied that strange space in between, undefined and complicated.

But none of them were this complicated.

He never quite knew how to answer when someone politely asked where his partner was. A few times, he’d considered saying Ziva was military—stationed somewhere far and secretive. But that never felt right. Too neat. Too final. He could shrug it off, but that always made him seem closed off, and he didn’t want to come across as cold—though, on most days, that was exactly how he felt inside.

So, he always settled on the same quiet line:

“She’s away… but she’ll be home soon.”

The ones who asked never pried further.

Today, they just complimented the party. They thanked him for the invitation and wished Tali a happy birthday. A few chatted with him about his work. Some of the other dads tried to ask about his hobbies—which made him laugh, because he didn’t really have any. Most of his days were filled with work and parenting, and honestly, he didn’t mind. It was all for her.

Still, he made an effort to be more upbeat today—for Tali. He smiled more. He told a few corny jokes. Even dropped in a movie quote or two that earned polite chuckles from the adults. He tried.

But even in the warm sun, with his daughter bouncing with glee and a plate of cake in his hand, he didn’t feel whole.

Not without her.

He imagined what it would be like—Ziva here, at their side. Waking Tali that morning with a dozen kisses. Helping pick out her birthday dress. Walking hand-in-hand with them through the park, the three of them together. He pictured the easy conversation they might have had with the other parents, joking about the chaos of parenting, the lack of sleep, the constant noise.

He pictured them laughing. Really laughing.He pictured normal. And he couldn’t wait for the day it would finally be real.

When he was done chatting with the dads, Tony stepped off to the side and ducked beneath the shade of a nearby tree, still keeping his eyes on Tali…always keeping her in sight. Always making sure she was safe.

His phone slipped into his hand without a second thought. Muscle memory at this point.

Birthday parties would be better with you. I can’t believe she is six today. I wish I could send a photo, but just imagine a crazy kid filled park with a creepy clown and way too much frosting and you’ve got it. We miss you so much. 

He hovered his thumb for just a second, then pressed send.

Tali’s laugh rang out across the grass, and within seconds, she came barreling toward him, cheeks flushed from bouncing and hair slightly undone. She grabbed his hand, tugging hard.

“Daddy, come bounce with me!”

He laughed and tucked the phone into his pocket. “Alright, alright—I’m coming!”

He let her pull him toward the inflatable castle, already bracing himself for the sore knees he’d have by the end of it. He expected the usual ping of a notification. The usual undeliverable message.

Only this time… It didn’t come.

Chapter Text

Netherlands: Late March 2020

She had been running for months… or maybe it been years—she couldn’t quite tell anymore. The hours blurred together so quickly that she barely felt the sun on her skin as she moved through faceless crowds. The dark nights dragged on longer than the echoes of her own footsteps.

But still, she knew her path forward. Her end goal never wavered. She would make it home to her family—the one she had created for herself through love.

Today was no different from her extremely non-normal, normal. A lead had drawn her to the Netherlands, and though her destination was unclear, her urgency remained sharp. The European architecture surrounding her offered a fleeting sense of calm as she wove her way through the crowd before her.

Across the street, her eyes briefly landed on a small family sitting on a bench—a mother, a father, and their young daughter. Though her mind never truly stopped racing, she allowed herself a rare indulgence: the thought of someday becoming that family.

She imagined Tony beside her, likely rubbing her back after a long afternoon at the park. Tali would be chattering away, recounting every slide, swing, and imaginary adventure. A warm breeze would blow her hair into her face, and Tony, without even thinking, would reach over to tuck the strands gently behind her ear. Their life would be calm, mundane even. She longed for the day when this would be her reality. 

Her hand slipped into her pocket, fingers brushing over the burner phone she kept close but never dared to turn on. She patted it once—just to make sure it was still there. It was for emergencies only. And she had only ever had to use it once.

That night in Moscow she had come closer to death than she wanted to admit. Four men had been tailing her, armed and far more prepared than she had been. She was low on ammunition, even lower on energy. By some miracle—or sheer stubbornness—she’d escaped, disappearing into a crumbling safehouse on the outskirts of the city. She stayed hidden for two days before finally forcing herself to step back into the world.

After she emerged, she sent Tony a single message: I am safe.

No details. No emotion. Just enough. Enough for him to know she was still alive, still fighting to come home. He’d always been able to read between her silences, and she hoped this would be no different.

After that, she removed the battery. The phone lived in her pocket now, waiting. Just in case.

**************************************

Turkey 2 weeks later

Ziva was unwinding as her day came to a close, though unwinding felt like the wrong word. She was sitting in wait, bracing for the next shoe to drop. These were the moments in between—when everything was too quiet. Moments when she very much wanted to but couldn’t let her mind wander. She couldn’t let up. She had to stay alert.

Odette, her most trusted contact, had instructed her to go to Turkey and wait. Ziva hadn’t questioned it. She rarely did. Using one of her many aliases, she’d boarded a small plane and made her way to the all-but-unfamiliar country.

Once she arrived, her accommodations were passed to her in a quiet handoff at a local café. She took shelter in a mundane apartment on the outskirts of town. It was forgettable—exactly as it needed to be. Odette had made sure she had enough food to last a week. Ziva rationed it carefully, unsure how long she might be stuck there.

Daylight hours were spent in hiding, the curtains drawn. Minutes passed like hours inside what felt more like a prison than a safehouse. She read the same two books again and again—pointless novels that barely held her interest but gave her something to do. There was a single mirror in the dingy bathroom, and she avoided it for three days. Then, after a shower, she finally allowed herself to look.

She didn’t often think about her age anymore. She certainly didn’t think about beauty. Vanity had no place on the run. It didn’t help her stay hidden, and it wouldn’t keep her alive.

But this day, she leaned in close. Her reflection brought a version of herself that she barely recognized. Her fingers gently tugged at the skin beneath her eyes. The shadows had deepened since she’d last really looked at herself. Sleepless nights clung to her face. Her skin was dry and tight, weathered by weeks spent crossing dry climates without so much as a drop of sun protection.

She imagined the day when this wouldn’t be her reality.

A day when the mirror in front of her wasn’t cracked and speckled with hard water stains, but clean—set above the sink in the bathroom she shared with Tony and Tali. She’d be winding down from a day spent carting Tali to whatever sport or hobby had captured her attention that month. Her eyes would still be tired, of course—but it would be the kind of tired that came with joy and fullness. A satisfied kind of exhaustion that ended not in dread, but in the warmth of a soft and safe slumber.

Tony would come up behind her, his hands finding her waist like they always had. He’d pull her in, breathing in the scent of her freshly washed hair. A smile would tug at both of their lips—unspoken, easy, and neither of them would fight it.

Maybe he’d kiss her cheek. Maybe he’d whisper that he thought she was beautiful because of course he always had and always would. And there would be no second guessing. She would believe him. She would smile and say, “Thank you.” 

And that would be enough.

She readjusted her vision as her daydream faded. Her gaze drifted to the burner phone resting on the small bedside table. It sat there like a promise she wasn’t ready to keep. The long nights had a way of wearing her down, whispering temptations into the quiet. Insert the battery. Turn it on. Hear his voice.

But she resisted—every time.

Not for lack of want, but for survival. For safety. For him. For Tali.

She wouldn’t risk it all for a fleeting moment of comfort. She couldn’t. Not when the end goal was everything.

So she closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and let the silence settle in.

She had to keep going.

***************************************

Sweden - May 2020

Though her month had begun with painstaking slowness in Turkey, the two weeks that followed were anything but. Each day blurred into the next, filled with dodging members of Sahar’s team and chasing scraps of information from her few trusted contacts. She abandoned her previously reliable safe house in the middle of a sleepless night, when the sound of footsteps outside confirmed it had been compromised.

After a couple of close calls, she was guided to Sweden. Finally, a somewhat familiar place—one she’d visited in more leisurely days. The air was warm, the sky wide, and for a moment, she allowed herself to breathe. She was left a change of clothes in a park, just enough to blend in with the locals and disappear again.

As she moved carefully behind a community facility, her eyes lifted and caught on a banner strung across the lawn.Grattis på mors dag. Happy Mother’s Day.

She stopped in her tracks.

Her mind didn’t often allow space for holidays. For most of the major ones, she disassociated entirely, unwilling to confront the sharp ache of missing them. Mother’s Day usually passed with little more than a moment—a quiet reach for the necklace that symbolized the child who had made her a mother.

But today, she let her mind wander. She leaned back against the cool wall and thought of Tali.

No doubt she was different now. Her baby was growing up. Was her hair darker? Had her curls loosened over time? Did she still cling to Kaleb on the harder days? Ziva didn’t question that Tony had kept her happy and safe, but she still wondered who her daughter was becoming.

What would Mother’s Day look like when she returned?

It might start with breakfast in bed. She would be “ordered” by her housemates to stay snuggly under the covers while they clamored away in the kitchen and emerged with a tray. On it would be a warm croissant from the bakery just below their apartment. Some fruit. An egg or two. Tali would climb clumsily into bed beside her, nestled between her and Tony, her little hands resting on both of them. Their conversation would be simple but full of gratitude. Full of love.

Later, Tali would go to school and tell her friends all about her mother. How much she loved her and the elaborate breakfast she had crafted for her. Maybe she’d draw a card in class, something messy and colorful, proudly carried home in her backpack. It would read Bonne fête des mères: Happy Mother’s Day. She’d hand it over with a bright smile, and they’d walk home together, maybe stopping for ice cream.

Tony would choose chocolate, of course. She wondered if Tali would share his preference, or would she have one of her own? 

These were the questions that dotted Ziva’s thoughts. Simple, beautiful, aching questions. She longed for the day when they’d no longer be imaginary and informed answers would follow. 

A distant bark pulled her from the dream. She blinked, startled to feel tears on her cheeks. Her hand instinctively checked her pocket, grazing the burner phone she hadn’t powered on since Moscow. She wiped her face with her scarf and kept walking.

******************************

France - June 2020 

She hadn’t wanted to come to France. Not yet.

It felt too close. Too real. Too dangerous.

Not just for her—but for them.

Her running had led her all over the world, always slipping through cities like a shadow. A ghost of a visitor, never lingering. But France? France was different. France was home. Or it felt like the closest thing to it given it housed the two key pieces to her home. That made it a risk she wasn’t ready to take.

But this lead was too important to ignore. Or so Odette had told her. Ziva had pushed back, tried to argue, to reason, but Odette’s voice had been steady. “You’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it.” And Ziva believed her. Odette hadn’t given her a reason not to.

Still, as she moved through the streets of Paris, her eyes scanned the crowd warily—only barely visible between the folds of the scarf wrapped around her head. Her gaze flicked across the familiar architecture, the winding alleys, the boulangeries she remembered vaguely from her previous travels. She wanted to pretend they weren’t near. She wanted to pretend this wasn’t the same city where her daughter now played and laughed and grew.

But it was.

And today of all days, the weight was unbearable.

Tali’s birthday.

She hadn’t even allowed herself to say it aloud. Hadn’t dared count the candles. But her mind did it for her anyway. Her little girl…how old was she now? Six. The age where she would be full of wonder and questions, her thoughts running faster than her legs could take her.

Instead of letting her mind wander to what could be eventually, she imagined what this day looked like for them, right now.

Her thoughts painted a picture of Tony helping Tali blow out candles, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she unwrapped a multitude of gifts. Laughter echoing off the walls of their apartment. Or maybe they had taken a father-daughter birthday trip to the movies, followed by a big slice of cake from the local bakery.

Were they alone? Or surrounded by the many friends Tali had made in her years so far?It didn’t really matter. Either way, she knew they would be happy. Not quite complete without her, but happy nonetheless.

And here she was… watching from the shadows of the same city. Walking with a mix of longing and fear. Longing to see them—and fear that she actually might.

She rushed through the crowd as a mix of children’s laughter echoed from a field to her left.

She didn’t look. She knew she couldn’t.

Even if the laughter belonged to the child who held half of her heart… and the man who held the rest. She couldn’t risk it.

She felt her emotions starting to take over. And before they had the chance to fully grasp her, she slipped into a nearby alley.

Fighting her better judgment, she pulled out the phone. If she couldn’t find them, couldn’t see them, the least she could do was let them know she was alive.

She inserted the battery. The screen illuminated, blinking slowly to life. A few pings came through before she opened the messaging app.

She quickly typed a message to one of the few numbers she knew by heart.

I am safe, T. Give her a birthday kiss and hug from me. I miss you both. Xo -Z

She hesitated. Not for lack of wanting to send it—but for the overwhelming fear that anything she typed might lead to a dangerous ending for them all.

She rephrased the message, using words only he would understand.

T, I am okay. Tell her happy 6th opera day. Xo. Z

She reviewed the message, hoping he would see the connection between the opera he once gave her and the birthday it now signified. She wanted to say she loved them, missed them and was doing everything in her power to get home. She wanted to use Tali’s name specifically, wish her a wonderful birthday and remind her that she was risking it all so they could be a happy and safe family. 

But she couldn’t risk it. He would understand. Or so she hoped.

She closed her eyes and quickly pressed send. Momentarily regretting her choice—but accepting it just as quickly.

She stayed in her spot for a few minutes, wrapping the scarf securely over her face before stepping back out into the mix of people.

She hadn’t made it far before she felt it… a hand placed firmly on her back.

She braced for the element to follow and slowly turned around.

And there he was.