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It was something like pride that filled him. Pride, and a good amount of amusement, too, as he listened to what was a truly impressive streak of words spilling forth from his daughter's mouth. He wondered how she was managing to get enough oxygen to keep talking without breathing, but she carried on without a moment's pause. For thirty minutes she'd been going. On, and on, and on, chattering about whatever it was that popped into her head. She could certainly give him a run for his money—even the Tony from back in the day, whose favorite pastime was to talk the ear off her mother just to annoy her.
She’s a DiNozzo, alright, he thought, smiling to himself. He couldn't be more proud.
He hated to stop her, but the sun had gone down long ago, and it was already past her bedtime. With school starting up again in the morning, he knew it was time to wind things down, as much as he loved to see her getting more and more comfortable with their new “normal.”
The first few days Ziva had been back, Tali had been a little shy—understandably so. But now that things had settled a little, she had taken it upon herself to fill her mother in on every little thing she had missed. Last he could tell, she was halfway through retelling the debacle of her last dance recital, when Gabrielle Dubois had gotten sick in the middle of the performance and they had to start over after a brief intermission. Ziva smiled and nodded along, her eyes meeting Tony's for just a moment over the top of Tali’s head, and it sent a thrill right through him.
He wondered if he'd ever get used to it, seeing her there. Alive. Happy.
Home.
“Hey, T.,” Tony said, regretfully cutting her off with the clearing of his throat. She looked up, brow furrowing in that way that always made her look like an exact copy of her mother. ”Bedtime,” he announced.
The expected whine came right on cue, along with the obstinate look that usually preceded an argument.
“School tomorrow,” he reminded her before she could get a word out.
“But I wasn't finished telling Ima about dance class!” she pleaded.
Tony held firm, shaking his head. “There will be time tomorrow afternoon,” he said, to which Tali responded by grumbling again, even as she stood to her feet and started down the hall.
“Go put your PJs on, I'll come in in a minute to read,” Tony added.
“Can Ima come too?” Tali asked.
Tony's gaze traveled to Ziva's once more, passing an inquiring look onto her. It was really her choice. He’d been trying to give her space to get used to being part of the family, while also making sure she felt included. He didn't want to overwhelm her or anything, but he also didn't want her to feel unwelcome. They had to go at her speed.
Of course, he still hoped she'd say yes.
“I would love to,” she answered with a smile, breaking eye contact with Tony to address their daughter. “Make sure you brush your teeth.”
So off Tali went, looking far more excited for bedtime than usual. Tony couldn't blame her. He felt the same giddiness, which he tried with all his might to conceal.
That was the first time... The first time he'd heard Ziva give Tali directions the way a parent would. Firm, but still loving. It confirmed what he'd long thought when trying to picture his partner as a mother—made it all that much easier to imagine the days they'd had in Israel before everything happened. Before he knew he was a father.
Walking over to her now, he smiled at her curiously and plopped down on the sofa beside her, in the space Tali had just vacated.
Once they were truly alone, Ziva shook her head and said, “I am sorry, I did not mean to… step on your feet.”
Toes. God, he'd missed her.
“You're not stepping on anyone's toes by being here,” he reminded her, placing a hand on her knee. “You're her mother, too. You're allowed to tell her what to do.”
“I know, I just… do not want to interfere with your routine,” Ziva said. “I am sure my being here changes things. She is not used to answering to another parent. I just…” She paused again, sighing. “I don’t want to make things more difficult.”
Difficult was being separated from the love of your life for half a decade against your will. After that, nothing could possibly be half as inconvenient, Tony thought.
“We'll adjust,” he said with conviction, and his hand traveled to find hers, interlacing their fingers. “We'll make a new routine. Trust me, Ziva, this is the kind of change that is more than welcome.”
At that, she smiled a little, and he tugged gently on her hand to pull her in for a hug. Things still were not as open and easy as they used to be, but it was getting better every day. The weight of her against his chest was unbelievable—the truest sense of relief he had ever felt in his life.
In silence they listened to the sound of drawers opening and closing in Tali's room down the hall. The sounds of their daughter getting ready for bed, picking out what pajamas to wear and which stuffed animal to snuggle with.
If every day ended exactly like this, he'd die a happy, happy man.
“Hey,” Tony murmured, pulling back just a little to look at Ziva. “After she’s in bed, what do you say you and I watch a movie? I'll even let you pick.”
He ran his hand up and down her arm, the fabric of her blue cardigan soft under his fingers. Ever since she got back, they've admittedly had precious few moments to themselves, not wanting to deprive Tali of her mother for even a moment more. But that meant they'd been “mom and dad” almost the entire time she'd been home. Not “Tony and Ziva.” So much had changed since the last time they really saw each other. And with a daughter in the picture, were they even the same people? He liked to think they were, deep down, underneath everything they’d been through.
And the things that were different? Well, he couldn't wait to get to know them too. All of them were a part of her. A part of him. Of them.
That was how you got to know someone, right? By asking them on a date? He wasn't sure how much a quiet night at home could be considered a date, but he and Ziva had done everything so backwards up to this point already. Perhaps it was to be expected.
“The Sound of Music?” Ziva suggested, a teasing glint in her eye. He should have known.
Tony groaned theatrically and rolled his eyes. “You and Tali,” he said. “She's obsessed with that movie too. You ever heard a five-year-old try to yodel? Ziva, I love her, but I'd pick any other song for her to get stuck in her head besides The Lonely Goatherd.”
Ziva's lips curled in amusement, and she breathed a laugh through her nose. “I can pick something else,” she offered.
At that, Tony sighed dramatically and tucked her under his arm, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Nah, it's okay,” he said, knowing he'd do anything for this woman. “It's grown on me.”
Before anything more could be said on the subject, Tali's voice called out “I'm ready!” from across the apartment, and that was his cue. He got to his feet, turning to wait for Ziva with an outstretched hand. She easily slid hers into it, and he squeezed once.
Hand-in-hand, they walked down the hall toward Tali's room. In some ways, it felt natural, as if they'd done this a thousand times before. He'd imagined it enough times, that it was almost like they had. But he could tell Ziva was nervous, even if she didn't look it. In front of Tali's door, he caught her eye and smiled reassuringly.
Nothing to be afraid of. Just putting our kid to bed, right? No different than any other family.
He got an almost imperceptible nod back, a shaky smile.
I'm ready.
He reached for the doorknob.
“Knock knock,” he said, pushing the door open with his free hand. “Mind if we come in?”
A wild Tali came bounding up to them grinning from ear to ear, dressed in her PJs and ready for bed. She grabbed each of their hands and started eagerly pulling them toward the bed, skipping merrily all along the way.
“Did you brush your teeth like your ima told you?” Tony asked as he was dragged to one side of the bed, Ziva to the other.
“Yeeeesss,” Tali answered, climbing atop her animal-patterned bedspread.
“Did you really, or are you just saying that?” he followed up.
Tali looked affronted that he would even ask if she was being untruthful, her brows furrowing. “I did!” she insisted.
“Okay, good,” Tony said. “Just making sure. Here.” Pulling back the covers, he made a space for Tali to slip under the blankets, then perched on the bed beside her once she was settled, her stuffed animal tucked underneath her arm.
“Ima, you can sit here,” Tali said, pointing to the space to her right.
“Thank you, tateleh,” Ziva said, smiling. After smoothing down the comforter and adjusting it over Tali, she took her place on the other side, looking right at home there, just as he hoped she would.
As he looked up at her, Tali's warm decorative lights shining on her soft curls, he marveled again at the wonder of seeing her like this. He’d fallen in love with her under the fluorescent glare of the lights in the office. Ziva, with her cargo pants and tightly braided hair. Against the orange backdrop of the bullpen walls, through the one-sided glass of interrogation, in decrepit hovels used for stakeout surveillance. Everywhere they'd been together, he'd fallen deeper in love.
Beautiful.
That was the only way to describe her now, in this soft light, wrapped in a cozy warm sweater unlike anything he'd seen her wear before, with her hair hanging loose and free.
He almost wondered if he should get his heart checked, for the way it swelled in moments like these.
“What book do you have picked out?” Ziva asked, breaking him from his reverie.
“It's on my table!” Tali answered enthusiastically, and Ziva followed her gaze to the nightstand beside them, where a stack of books lay. Laying right on top: The Little Prince.
Tony caught the way Ziva's fingers twitched over the cover before settling on it, lifting it into her lap with a certain reverence that probably went right over their daughter's head.
“This one?” she asked, showing it to Tali, who fervently nodded yes. Ziva swallowed thickly, her lips curling in a fond smile. “This is one of my favorites,” she spoke.
“I know,” Tali said. “Daddy told me.”
Tony wasn't sure why, but Ziva's eyes on him now made heat rise into his cheeks, and he was sure the tips of his ears were tinged pink. He knew he shouldn't feel embarrassed for telling Tali stories about her mother while she was away, but something about acknowledging it aloud felt a little awkward.
He flashed a quick smile, then cleared his throat. “You know, we don't have time to read the whole thing tonight,” he said, shifting the attention back to Tali. “You can pick a chapter or two, how's that?”
“Can we read the part about the flowers and the fox?” Tali asked, her choices unsurprising to Tony, as he knew they were her favorite.
“Sure we can,” he answered. “Ziva?” He held his hand out, and she placed the book in his open palm. As he opened it to the requested page, he settled back against the headboard, getting comfortable.
Together, they read, Tony pausing and urging Tali to fill in the blanks on the words she could read when they came across them. When they reached the end of one chapter, she grabbed the book from his hands and gave it to her mom.
“Now you read the next one,” she said.
“Please,” reminded Tony.
Tali dutifully repeated her plea, with added politeness, and he placed an arm around her shoulder, cuddling her in close while Ziva took her turn.
She was more than willing to go along with it. She read the chapter about the fox, and the whole time, Tony could hardly pay attention to the words, so lost in watching her was he.
He'd spent the last six years cursing his luck, but today, he felt like the luckiest man in the world. He loved her more than ever. More than he ever thought possible, even.
She was everything.
Agent, partner, friend, mother. The love of his life. That was Ziva. So many things at once, and he was the one fortunate enough to spend the rest of his days with her and the beautiful gift she had given him in Tali. This was their life now.
“That which is essential is invisible to the eye,” Ziva read, and he found himself inexplicably overcome with tears, his throat thick with them suddenly in an effort to keep them from falling.
As Ziva reached the end, the final words spoken in her warm, melodious voice, she slowly shut the book, holding it in her lap and glancing down at Tali.
“I guess that is where we will stop for the night,” she said, and if Tony wasn't mistaken, there was a little hint of emotion in her voice, too.
Tali, oblivious to it all, whined and burrowed further into her covers. “One more chapter?” she asked.
“Tomorrow night, motek,” Ziva answered, running her fingers through Tali's hair, brushing the stray strands back behind her ear.
“Are you going to bed too?” Tali asked. It was a reasonable question, as Ziva had spent most evenings going to sleep much earlier than both of them, her energy still under the effects of jet lag and exhaustion. But today had been the first day she was really feeling herself, able to engage with them more than any of the days before.
“Not quite,” Ziva spoke in answer. “Your father and I are going to watch a movie.”
She meant for it to sound exciting, but the result was more pouting from Tali, who obviously hated to miss any fun that was going on without her.
She'd have to learn to get used to it, Tony thought. As much as he loved to spend time with her, she now shared her father's attention with her mother, like many kids did. He'd do his best to include her whenever possible, of course, but there were some times, like tonight, that were just for him and Ziva.
One day, Tali would understand that it was in her own best interest for her parents to have some time alone—to work things out, rebuild their relationship… To truly be in love with one another, the path to which he hoped started tonight.
“But I want to stay up too!” she protested.
“You have school in the morning,” Tony reminded her. “Maybe I want to spend some time with Ima alone, huh?” he added.
“It's not fair,” Tali said, frowning, her bottom lip curled in a pout. Tony chuckled and bent forward to press a kiss to his daughter's hair, and he could hear Ziva laughing too.
It was no wonder that they'd created an obstinate, headstrong girl. Just look at her parents! They had no one to blame but themselves.
“Why can't we all watch a movie together?” she asked.
“Another night, sweetheart,” Tony answered. “For now, it's bedtime for little DiNozzos.”
At that, Tali sighed and gave in.
“Night, T.,” Tony said, mussing her hair playfully before hoisting himself off her bed. He bent to give her another kiss, smoothing her frown away with his thumb.
“Night,” Tali murmured.
Ziva set the book back down on the nightstand, and shifted to face Tali.
“Good–”
Before she could finish, her arms were enveloped by Tali's, the little girl flinging herself into her embrace and nearly knocking her off the bed. Her head burrowed into Ziva's shoulder, and she squeezed tight.
“Goodnight, Ima,” she said, her words muffled by Ziva's hair.
Ziva, stunned momentarily by the sudden show of affection, quickly reciprocated, and placed a hand on Tali's back, rubbing soothingly in circles. “Goodnight, Tali,” she spoke in a strained voice, obviously fighting back tears. “I love you.”
Pressing a kiss to Tali's head, she inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of her kiddie shampoo. Eventually, they parted, Tali settling back into her pillow while Ziva moved to stand beside the bed. Tony tucked the blankets around her, beaming at her with pride.
“See you bright and early for school,” he said, turning off the string lights. Ziva flicked off the lamp on the nightstand, leaving only a small night light to illuminate the room.
As they headed for the door, pulling it open to make their escape, Tali's small voice stopped them.
“Love you,” she said softly, just her face poking out from the bedspread.
Even in the darkness, Tony could see the impact the words had on Ziva. He reached for her hand, grasping it in his own tightly.
“We love you too, sweetheart,” he answered for both of them. “So much.”
And with that, he led Ziva through the doorway, pulling the bedroom door shut behind him. They stood there a moment, silence surrounding them in the wake of what had just happened.
“You okay?” Tony asked, cupping Ziva's face with one hand and catching the stray tear that escaped down her cheek.
She nodded, smiling just a little.
“Still up for that movie?”
This time, without asking, she stepped forward into his arms, wrapping one hand around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. His arm settled over her shoulders, pulling her in close as they walked back toward the living room.
Ziva sat on the couch while Tony got the DVD set up, the room quickly filling with the sweeping score of the overture. He sank into the space beside her, close enough to leave no doubts about his intentions.
There would be none of that useless space between them, holding each other at a distance like they had for years. Not anymore. It was only steady forward progress from now on. As slow as Ziva needed it, but never backwards. That was their plan.
He folded his fingers with hers as the opening scene began, and she scooted even closer, her arm pressing against his while she tucked her legs beneath her. After so long wondering if she was even alive, it was incredible to feel her there, right next to him. He could finally breathe easy knowing she was safe, and even better, by his side, with no intention of going anywhere.
He couldn't have paid attention to the movie if he tried; all his thoughts were directed toward her instead. He turned his head to look at her, at the way the light from the TV reflected in her eyes, and she nearly took his breath away.
He was about to force his attention back to the screen when she caught him staring, her eyes meeting his in a way that caused his pulse to quicken. She was the center of his universe, always capturing him in her gravitational pull. He couldn’t escape her orbit, and he didn't want to. He was only afraid of scaring her away.
His gaze dropped down to her lips, and he took it as a good sign that she didn’t immediately turn away. If anything, she seemed to move ever closer, her gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes and his mouth. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He closed his eyes and bent forward, resting his forehead against hers, their noses brushing with the lightest touch.
“Is this okay?” he asked in a whisper, his hand traveling to her upper arm, where his thumb gently circled the soft fabric of her sleeve.
“Yes,” she breathed.
And he kissed her, his arm wrapping around her fully and pulling her close.
He felt her hand come to rest atop his flannel shirt, right over his heart, which was pounding insistently like it was trying to escape his chest to reach her. He breathed a sigh of relief through his nose, deepening the kiss, and the movie was all but forgotten, replaced instead with thoughts of the softness of her lips, the feel of her hair tangling between his fingers, the smell of the lotion she liked to use in the winter.
He lost track of time. It could have been seconds or an hour before he pulled back, breathing heavily in the space between them. It had been a long, long time since he'd made out on a couch with a beautiful woman. He wondered if his eyes looked as glossy and dazed as hers.
He was happy. So, so happy to have her. Together again at last, all of them under one roof. It was the thing they'd waited so long for, and fought so hard to achieve.
At the same time, he knew this was too much, too soon. He could see the same thought churning in Ziva's mind even now, and he respected it. This was as far as they could go, at least for today. He'd become an expert on waiting. He'd wait as long as she needed him to. Progress was progress.
He smiled, pressing one last kiss to her lips before pulling back, resting his cheek on top of her head. She curled into his side, body relaxing into his touch.
“I've missed that,” he spoke softly, breaking the dreamlike haze that had settled over their darkened apartment. “Been wanting to do that a long time.”
“Me too,” she answered, eyes trained on the movie.
He felt her sigh, and when he glanced down, craning his neck to see her face, her eyes were closed.
“If you're too tired, we can save the movie for another night,” Tony offered, recognizing her need for sleep, especially after such an emotion-packed evening. She looked like she might resist, probably out of some misplaced fear of disappointing him, but he reassured her that she wouldn’t. “I think Tali would want to watch with us anyway,” he added.
He could feel her answering smile on his chest, and he breathed a laugh, giving her shoulder a playful squeeze.
“Come on, I have to get up early too,” he said, pressing the power button on the TV remote and plunging the room into near blackness.
“I’d like to come with you to drop her off, if that's okay,” Ziva said, sitting up on the couch while Tony got to his feet.
“Of course,” he said, helping her up. “I can introduce you to Tali's teacher. How's your French?”
“Meilleur que le tien,” she answered.
Tony laughed. He had no doubt that her French far exceeded his. “Okay, smartypants,” he said, bumping into her teasingly as they walked toward his—their—bedroom. “Guess who just signed herself up for parent-teacher conferences for the rest of eternity?”
Ziva smiled. “That is not such a punishment, you know.”
And he did know. He knew she wanted to be there for everything, every part of their daughter's life, to make up for what she had missed. He felt the same way.
They got dressed for the evening in silence, both sneaking glances at the other when they weren't looking. Side-by-side, they brushed their teeth, taking turns spitting into the sink and rinsing off their toothbrushes. Ziva washed her face, rinsing it clean with warm water before turning to follow him to the bed.
While they'd been sharing it since she got back, this was the first time they'd gone to bed at the same time. The other days, Ziva had fallen asleep early, leaving Tony to sneak in late, trying his hardest not to disturb her as he slipped under the covers and gave her plenty of space.
This time, however, he pulled back the blankets on both sides, sitting down on his half and taking off his watch, which he set on the nightstand beside him. Ziva adjusted her pillow, then took her place, settling into a comfortable position on her back, the covers pulled up protectively over her torso.
The bed shifted as Tony swung his feet up, settling back beside Ziva. He reached over to shut off the lamp, and a heavy silence settled on the room.
As he stared at the ceiling, he thought of the days they had spent together in Israel. The warmth of that farmhouse, the staleness of the sheets...
The life they unknowingly created there.
It was hard to believe things had been simpler, then. To hold Ziva in his arms, as he'd longed to do for so many years, knowing it was only for a short time.
They were working their way back toward that. Getting closer and closer by the day, just needing to wait a little longer.
For now, he cautiously shifted his hand under the sheets, reaching tentatively for hers. His finger brushed against her skin, a question, and it sent what felt like a jolt of electricity shooting up his arm. Her fingers twitched, but she didn't jerk away. Instead, he felt her pinkie hook around his, exploring. He latched on tight, intertwining their hands fully between them. He didn't intend to let go.
“I love you,” he whispered into the still air, the pad of his thumb rubbing slow circles on her hand.
She gave no verbal answer, but he thought he heard her breath catch, detected a slight shift in her breathing. Seconds ticked by, thick with tension, yet peaceful. Far more peaceful than things had been for him in a long time.
Her hand tightened around his, squeezing once.
Perhaps that meant ‘I love you, too.’