Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Israel, May 2013

Gittel stared unseeingly out of the hospital window at the bright sunshine outside.  Her face was wet with tears, silent sobs hitching her breath.

Her goddaughter was dead.

Ziva was gone.

She was being cared for with dignity, the Rabbi had been called, and soon Gittel would stand guard over her until it was time to bury Ziva just as Gittel had buried Tali, Rivka and Ari. 

Eli David could rot in Hell.

Gittel closed her eyes and caught her breath, letting the rush of familiar anger flow through her. 

She had never liked her cousin’s husband.  Eli David had been too sly, too handsome, too arrogant.  Gittel had never caught his interest – too blonde, too plump, too opinionated for his tastes – but she had seen his eye wander before her cousin wed him and after…

Gittel blew out a breath.  Rivka had deserved better.

Ziva had deserved better.

She thought back to the fragile woman who had turned up on her doorstep so many months before; injured and hurting from wounds inflicted by Ari’s old sweetheart. Gittel’s sympathy had only extended so far after she had heard Ziva’s confession that she had been the one to kill Ari.  Gittel ultimately blamed Eli.

Her disapproval had meant Ziva had not stayed with her…if she had…

If Ziva had stayed she would never have contacted Sergei Mishnev, Ari’s half-brother; she would never have retreated to the farm where her American agent found her. 

And Ziva would never have become pregnant with Tali’s beautiful namesake.  A daughter.

Gittel sighed.

It had been a different Ziva who had turned up at her doorstep after her American’s visit.  Ziva was stronger, calmer, and pregnant, a curve of belly beneath her loose top.  She had asked Gittel to join her at the farm, to help her with her child in the absence of Rivka.  Gittel had been unable to say no.  Ziva had headed back straight away leaving Gittel to organise everything – to organise her apartment to be leased and belongings placed in storage, her resignation from her job book-keeping for a local business.

Gittel opened her eyes at the sound of a helicopter.  She sighed.  Although the hospital had a helicopter pad, it was an unusual sound.

It hadn’t been a particular surprise when the day of her departure Orli Elbaz had turned up, polished and beautiful in high heels and a smart grey dress, with discreet jewellery and make-up.  Her dark hair was pinned up in an elegant chignon. 

Gittel had never liked Elbaz who had been Eli’s mistress for a time.  Rivka had been so hurt over the affair and Elbaz had always taken an unusual interest in the David family, long after the affair had ended.   Gittel had listened to Elbaz’s demands that she provide reports on Ziva and simply acquiesced, taking the problem to Ziva herself once she was settled into the farm.

Ziva had shrugged, a smile lifting her lips and told Gittel that they would comply.  After all, they could report whatever they wished, not necessarily what Elbaz wanted.

Gittel sat and waited for Elbaz, because who else could it be in the approaching helicopter, to arrive.  A part of her looked forward to the confrontation; a part of her wished Elbaz would just leave her alone to grieve.

Tali, Gittel reminded herself, needed more than the protection of her mother’s old godmother.  She needed her father.

The door burst open and the clattering noise of the hospital, of nurses and doctors scurrying back and forth in their duties, filtered into the solemn space.

For a long moment, Elbaz remained frozen in the doorway as though in shock.  Perhaps, Gittel mused Elbaz was simply surprised at Gittel’s less than put-together appearance.  Rushing Ziva to the hospital hadn’t left her much time to do more than pull on her old jeans and an overstretched tunic covered by a particularly hideous woollen shawl Rivka had made her.  She had left her long grey hair down and it flowed around her shoulders.

She wondered idly if Orli felt overdressed in her smart grey dress and blazer, accessorised to perfection with a matching bag and heels. 

Gittel swiped at her wet face and heaved her substantial body from the chair.  “Director.  I might have known you would show up.”

“Madam Levy,” Elbaz pressed her lips together.  “Imagine my surprise this morning when I received an alert from our intelligence systems that Ziva David had been admitted to hospital in labour.”  She glared at her.  “I thought we had agreed you would keep me informed about Ziva.”

Gittel raised an eyebrow.  “You demanded and I agreed nothing.”

Elbaz frowned heavily.  “You have been sending me reports for weeks.”

“Ziva felt it was better to humour you,” Gittel said brusquely.  “For myself, for Rivka, I would have told you nothing.” 

She figured Elbaz kept the wince off her face only because of her years of training.  She could see Elbaz shift, shrugging off the exchange to focus on her purpose. 

“Ziva was admitted in labour?” asked Elbaz sharply.

“And who are you to be demanding information about my patient?”

A sharply remonstrative voice sounded behind Elbaz and her turning to look at the tall, dark haired, dark eyed, doctor.

“You will remove yourself from my ward,” he said.

“Stand down, Sebastien,” Gittel intervened.  Elbaz would only cause a scene if she was denied and as much as Gittel hated to admit it, she would need Mossad’s resources to track down Ziva’s American.  “I will take her to Ziva.  She is still in the same room?”

Sebastien’s expression softened as he turned to Gittel.  “Yes, I was coming to find you although a nurse is with her.  You don’t need to escort the Director.  I could…” 

Gittel shook her head.  “You have patients who need you.  I can deal with Director Elbaz.”  She motioned for Elbaz to step aside so Gittel could lead the way.

Elbaz gave the doctor a sharp nod and followed Gittel down the corridor.  Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor in a fast rat-a-tat breaking the silence.

They paused in front of a closed door to the private room Ziva had been assigned on her admission.  Gittel walked in without knocking, knowing Elbaz would follow.

Her heart ached anew at the sight of Ziva covered with only a sheet.  She was definitely gone from the world.

Gittel was barely aware of a nurse rising from a chair in the corner and leaving.  She made her way to the top of the bed.

Elbaz stopped at her elbow.

Gittel carefully drew the sheet down.  “Here, I know you will not be satisfied until you see for yourself.”

Ziva’s face was so still and lifeless but somehow at peace.  The sheet was lovingly replaced.  “I will be with her now.  Sebastien has called for Rabbi Suad.”

Elbaz took a shaky breath.  “You will have any assistance you need.”

Gittel sighed heavily.  “I would ask you to protect the child until I can take her to her father.”

“She had the baby?” asked Elbaz, startled.

“Yes, a little girl,” Gittel confirmed.  “They took her to the neonatal intensive care unit.”

Elbaz signalled for one of her men to go and find the child.  “Who is the father?”

Gittel looked over at her, her gaze sharp and assessing.  “Ziva named her Tali DiNozzo.”

DiNozzo.

NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.  Ziva’s former teammate – the one who had searched for her and found her.  Ziva’s American.

She could see Elbaz weighing Gittel’s words, understanding the nuance of her phrasing.

“As far as Ziva was concerned, Anthony DiNozzo is Tali’s father,” Gittel said brusquely, giving Elbaz a pointed look.

Elbaz sighed.  “I stand guard with you.”

Gittel acquiesced with a slow nod.

Elbaz gestured for her guard to move out of the room, closing the door behind them.  She moved the chair the nurse had used to behind Gittel who sank into it without a word.  She ignored Elbaz as she took the other chair on the far side of the bed. 

Gittel bowed her head in prayer.  Ziva was gone, but Ziva’s daughter lived.  Gittel vowed to look after her, to keep her safe.  And her first job would be to watch as Mossad found the father Ziva had named for her child and bring him to Israel.

o-O-o

Washington D.C., 2016

Ellie Bishop pulled down on the bill of her NCIS baseball cap and adjusted the heavy pack she was carrying on her shoulder.  Her badge and gun were a solid and familiar weight on her belt; Tim McGee was a familiar presence at her side.  She glanced around the entryway at the plush reception. 

Tim shifted and she turned to look up at him questioningly taking in the frown on his face.  “You OK, Tim?”

“This is Tony’s old building,” Tim said tersely.

Ah.

Well, that explained the frown.

Tony had left NCIS a few years before in the wake of finding out their old teammate Ziva David had died.  He’d left a cryptic message and had promptly dropped all contact with his friends and family.  They didn’t know if he was dead or alive.  Ellie knew Tim and Abby would sometimes get together to discuss their conspiracy theories or to try and track him down again.   

Their brand new Probie, Al Borko, offered the doorman his thanks and walked over to join them.  He’d styled his hair into neat black cornrows that ended in colourful beads at the nape of his neck.  Ellie was envious of his hair skills; all she could do was pull back her blonde mane into a ponytail.   

“Doorman says security cameras went offline but the trigger to the police department was bypassed.  It was definitely an expert job.”  Borko motioned at the elevators.  “They’re still offline.  We’ll need to take the stairs.  Boss is already up there.”

Tim grimaced. 

Ellie ignored him with years of practice.  Tim had chafed against EJ Barrett being appointed as their Supervisory Special Agent after Gibbs had retired to Stillwater in the wake of his father’s death.  Ellie had initially assumed it was timing.  They’d just lost Tony and losing Gibbs on top of that was a horrible blow, even if they knew he was alive and thriving in Stillwater.  EJ had been the one to explain the tense history between herself and the old MCRT team, but in the years since EJ had been in charge, Ellie had no complaints about the older woman’s leadership.

Tim stopped abruptly as they approached the apartment.

Ellie sent him a questioning look, ignoring the rubber-necking of the Metro police officers standing guard around the door. 

“This is Tony’s old apartment,” Tim stammered.

Ellie frowned.  She and Borko exchanged a quick look as Tim charged into the open apartment. 

They entered and found EJ talking with a Metro detective.  Ellie looked around the space with interest.  She wondered how much had changed since Tony had owned the place.  The shabby-chic décor didn’t exactly fit with her impression of Tony as the ultimate suave city gentleman.

EJ came out of the bedroom and motioned for them to join her by the living room windows.  She looked pale under her freckles.  “Agent Michael Linzi was shot point blank in his head; the woman with him the same.  Metro has conceded the case to us.”

“What about the FBI?” asked Tim.

“The Director already called,” EJ admitted.  “They’ll let us take lead, but Fornell will act as liaison.”

“Great,” Tim said dryly. 

“You and Al can look for evidence in here,” EJ instructed him.  “I’ll take Ellie and we’ll finish in the bedroom.”

Ellie struggled not to wrinkle her nose.  God, but she hated the part of the job which meant working around dead bodies.  She set her discomfort aside and pulled out her camera to efficiently take pictures.

Linzi and the woman were cuddled up in a spoon formation.  She could see immediately that the back of Linzi’s head was hit; the side of the woman’s was missing. 

Ellie grimaced at the stale smell of sex and perfume. 

“Through here, Mister Palmer,” Ducky’s modulated tones broke through Ellie’s thoughts and she turned to greet the M.E. with a smile. 

“Ducky,” Ellie waved at the bodies.  “They’re all yours.”

“Yes, they are,” Ducky said, sobering as he took in the scene, “and we shall take very good care of them.”  He bent over to examine the bodies in situ more closely and straightened.  “Small calibre with evidence of a silencer.”  He waved a gloved hand at the heads.  “He was shot first; she immediately after.”

“How can you tell?” asked Ellie tilting her head.

“Blood splatter patterns,” Ducky said succinctly.

“Doesn’t that suggest he was the target?” asked Ellie.

“Or that the killer was eliminating a stronger threat first,” Ducky said.

“The clothes on the floor are casual, bar clothes not nightclub,” EJ said, crouching down to examine them closer. 

Ellie paused by a discarded photo on the floor.  She placed a marker and snapped a photo before she picked it up.  It showed Linzi with a young boy in a little league baseball uniform.  “Linzi had a kid?”

“A son,” Ducky replied even as he focused on his examination.  “Jason.  He’s lived with his mother since the divorce.”

“Do you think she had anything to do with this?” asked Ellie bluntly.

“Alana?”  Ducky looked up in surprise and shook his head.  “I rather doubt it.  Our killer is cold-blooded and if she had been responsible, it would have been a crime of passion.  Alana has a very fiery Italian temper.  Why I remember at a baseball game with Metro, she once…”

EJ cleared her throat noisily.

“Although perhaps that’s a story better left for another time,” Ducky hastily said.  He moved back and waved Palmer forward.  “Let’s get the poor boy home, Mister Palmer, and take care of his lady.  We’ll need to pack the bedding too for Abigail.”

Ellie frowned at the photo. 

“What’s wrong, Ellie?” asked EJ

Ellie sighed.  “I guess I never realised just how alike Agent Linzi and Tony look.”

Ducky gave a short laugh.  “Only in the most surface of ways, I assure you, dear Eleanor.  One dark-haired Italian does not an Anthony DiNozzo make.”

“Of course not, but…” Ellie looked around the room.  The blinds were closed, the lamp on the beds were off.  “In the dark, would someone be able to know?”

She suddenly had everyone’s attention.

EJ’s glare was the most intense.  “You think this was a case of mistaken identity?”

“The photo was tossed on the floor,” Ellie said.  She pointed at the dresser.  “There’s a dust-line where it likely was positioned.  I think the killer came in, shot Agent Linzi and his companion and when they went to leave, they caught sight of the photo.”

“Whereupon they picked it up to get a closer look, realised their mistake and tossed it to the ground,” Ducky completed.  “It’s not a bad theory.”  The medical examiner looked incredibly worried.

“But just a theory,” EJ said firmly.  “Let’s keep open minds at this stage.  Maybe this killer was after Tony, maybe they were after Linzi, or maybe this is her disgruntled husband showing up to teach them both a lesson.”

“I rather think the latter is unlikely given the lack of a wedding band and…” Ducky stopped at EJ’s pointed look.  “Ah, my apologies, dear Erica Jane.”

EJ nodded.  “Ellie, finish up in here.  I’m going to take the bathroom.”  She immediately turned and went to the right door.

Palmer leaned into Ellie.  “She and, uh, Tony were, you know.” He wagged his eyebrows.  “I’m guessing that’s why she knows where everything is and…”

“If you’re quite done gossiping, Mister Palmer,” Ducky interjected with enough exasperation that Ellie felt chastised.

She turned back to the dresser and snapped a shot of the dust-line.  She had a job to do.

o-O-o

Stillwater, 2014

Tony parked his rental by a familiar Dodge Challenger and felt some of the tension he’d been carrying loosen like a knot in his stomach coming free. 

Gibbs was at his father’s old house just as the guy at the store had said.

Tony hadn’t realised there was an actual house.  When a case had brought them to Stillwater and they’d met Gibbs’ Dad, everything had seemed to revolve around the store.  He and the others had stayed the night at the motel rather than imposing on Jackson Gibbs, even though he’d offered them beds.

The nosy part of him wondered at why Gibbs hadn’t shown them the house he’d grown up in, but the part of him which respected his Boss appreciated why Gibbs might not have wanted his whole team traipsing through his past.

A babble of noise from the backseat brought his attention back to the present.

Right.

He wasn’t in Stillwater just to catch up with his old Boss. 

Tony cringed as he thought back to three months before and the cryptic resignation call he’d made to Gibbs, and the subsequent cryptic email which had been worse.

In his defence, Tony mused, he had been a frantic mix of grief-stricken (Ziva had died, actually died; he’d sat next to her dead body asking questions he was never going to get answered), panicked (“Congratulations, Tony,” Orli Elbaz had said in her accented English, “you are a father.”), and stone-cold certain that neither he nor his brand-new daughter were safe.

Gibbs had stepped up though; he’d sorted Tony’s life in Washington D.C. – putting stuff in storage, renting out his apartment, selling his car, and generally doing above and beyond duty given all Gibbs had really known was that Ziva was dead, (and Gibbs had to have been dealing with his own grief about that), and Tony was going off grid.  He’d learned since that Gibbs had lost Jackson a couple of weeks after Tony’s message.

Above and beyond, Tony mused firmly.  

Again, it wasn’t like he could trust Senior to do it.  He sighed.  He hadn’t contacted his Dad yet.  Maybe he wouldn’t.  He couldn’t shake the sense of someone watching over his shoulder.

Tony had quoted rule forty at Gibbs in his cryptic messages and he believed it: if it seems like someone’s out to get you, they are.

He pushed a hand through his slightly over-grown hair and over his bushy beard.  He desperately needed a shower.  And coffee.  Maybe a bathroom.

He hoped Gibbs would be OK with him just turning up.  Originally, he’d determined to stay away from all his old team-mates but finding out Gibbs had taken a sabbatical in the wake of his father’s death…

Tony just wanted to lay eyes on the other man and check he was OK.

He wished he could have returned for Jackson’s funeral.

Another babble from the backseat had him stabbing the release on his seatbelt and hauling himself out of the car.  He stretched, getting the kinks of travel out of his back before he attempted to extricate Tali and her car-seat from the back.    

He grabbed the ubiquitous Tali go-bag he’d stored in the seat-well below her.  He’d quickly learned to never go anywhere without it.  It was his Daddy Rule Two.  He was adding to his rules as he went.

He headed to the front door, glancing at the neatly fixed porch step and post.  It looked like Gibbs had decided to fix-up the old homestead.  He juggled Tali’s carrier and the bag to get a hand free to rap on the door. 

Gibbs looked half a moment away from yelling when he yanked the door open, but his face transformed into one of genuine shock as he took in Tony.

Tony plastered a smile on his face.  “Hey, Boss.”

Gibbs took in the baby carrier with the well-wrapped child within and frowned.  “You’d better come in.”

Tony hurried inside and placed the baby carrier carefully on the table.  He peeked inside and gently stroked a finger down the Tali’s peachy cheek.  He looked up and into Gibbs’ blatantly curious gaze.

“Something you want to tell me, DiNozzo?” Gibbs teased lightly.

Tony’s lips twitched upward, but he was too tired to maintain it for long.  Gibbs ushered him into a seat and went to make coffee for them both.

Tony settled back into the chair and angled the carrier so he could keep an eye on Tali.  “She’s not mine,” he said abruptly into the silence. 

Tali wasn’t his by blood.  Tony known that the instant he’d laid eyes on her.  He’d seen Ziva’s features, the hint of someone else, but not himself, not his own family.  Mossad had shown him a DNA report which named him as the father, but he’d known it was false, and the DNA test he’d had independently done had confirmed it.

He and the little girl in the carrier were not related.

Gibbs didn’t bother turning around from the coffeepot.  “Ziva’s?”

“Ziva’s,” Tony agreed roughly.  “They say she’s mine, even had the DNA test to sell it, and Ziva and I definitely, uh, had a fond farewell before I left Israel, but…Ziva was near enough full term when she went into labour.” He swallowed hard.  “Apparently, there were complications.  They tried their best to save her, but Ziva suffered a massive stroke.”

Sadness suffused him, grief rising back up like a tidal wave.  Ziva had deserved better than to die in such a way.  Tali deserved better than to lose her mother without ever knowing her.

Gibbs poured out the strong black liquid and handed a mug to Tony which had ‘Dad’ stamped on it in bright red letters.  Tony knew he was being trolled.

“Ziva left her child to you,” Gibbs said.

“I don’t know why,” Tony said wearily. 

Gibbs leaned over and gently head-slapped him before clasping the back of Tony’s head where his hair was beginning to grow out from its usual cut.  He held Tony’s gaze firmly.  “She knew you’d rather die than let anyone harm a hair on her daughter’s head.”

Daddy Rule Number Three.

“You’d do the same,” Tony countered.

“She didn’t trust me like she trusted you,” Gibbs said simply as he let go of Tony and sat down.  “You’re the one who tracked her down and you were the one who always had her back, DiNozzo, even when she knew she didn’t deserve your loyalty.” 

Maybe.

Tony remembered how her desire to change though had been all about Gibbs in the end.  But then…Gibbs had chosen Tony over Ziva once, and she’d never forgotten it. 

Tony’s hazel eyes gleamed with a sheen of tears before he blinked them back and stared up at the ceiling.  He shook his head.  “Tali is mine now by law.  I had them make it legally binding before I left Israel.”

“Good,” Gibbs said.  He waited a beat.  “Tali?”

“Ziva chose the name before she died,” Tony explained.  “Tali Elizabeth DiNozzo.”  Tali after Ziva’s sister; Elizabeth after Tony’s mother.  It was a good name.  Tony figured it was the least he could do to keep the name Ziva had chosen for her daughter.

Gibbs hummed.

“What do you need?” asked Gibbs.

“I don’t know, Boss,” Tony admitted with a huff of humourless laughter.  “I am in way over my head, Gibbs, and maybe I spent too much time around Mossad and I’ve gone completely crazy, but I can’t help thinking that everyone was so insistent on my being Daddy because the alternative is dangerous.”  He grimaced.  “I dumped Mossad in Paris and went off grid to get here.”

“So, you’ll stay,” Gibbs said decisively.  “You’ll get a good night’s sleep and tomorrow we’ll work it out.”

“Easy as that?” asked Tony.

“Easy as that,” Gibbs said. 

Tony gave him a grateful smile.  “Thanks, Boss.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Gibbs said.  “This place needs a lot of work.”  He motioned at the kitchen which looked like it was straight out of the Bewitched TV set.

It startled a laugh out of Tony and he sat back, hands wrapped around his mug, finally relaxing.  “I guess that’s fair.”  His eyes alighted on the model boat on the table.  It was a beauty.  Polished wood and a carefully painted on name: Chickadee.  “You make that?”

“First boat I ever built,” Gibbs said.  “My Dad helped.”

Tony’s expression softened.  “I was sorry to hear about Jackson.  I wish I could have been here for the funeral.”

“You’re here now,” Gibbs said.  “My Mom once told me that if a boat had a name, the water never forgot…”

And as Gibbs began to talk about his Mom, suddenly the future didn’t seem so insurmountable.  He had help and they’d figure it out together.

Gibbs’ rule fifteen, always work as a team, thought Tony with satisfaction.  Maybe that was Daddy Rule Number Four.  He mentally shook the thought away and he listened avidly as his Boss confided his childhood story. 

o-O-o

Washington, D.C., 2016

EJ dumped the file on her desk and got to her feet.  “What do we have?”

Al joined her at the large monitor between the desks, McGee sliding out of his chair at Tony’s old desk to do the same, and Ellie brought up the rear as she hurried over.

McGee had the monitor remote and he clicked onto his update first.  “Agent Linzi had no unusual debt, no unusual payments, no unusual finances of any kind.  His entire and modest estate will go to his son in a pretty tight legal trust which his former wife helped set up when they were married.”

“Ducky’s autopsy confirmed that they were killed by small calibre bullets at close range; direct head shots,” Al added, glancing down at the tablet in his hands.  “Standard issue ammunition available at any good gun store.  No lead there.”

“Deborah Young,” Ellie plucked the remote from McGee’s hand and clicked onto a smiling photo of a young blonde woman.  “She’s a dental hygiene nurse, twenty-five years old, parents living in Ohio; we sent local LEOs to break the news and they’re flying in.  Debbie lived with two of her friends downtown.  She had a bad breakup about a month ago and they say she wanted to have some fun.  They confirm they all met Linzi at a bar on West Street last night; Debbie went home with him; sent a confirmation she was safe with him and staying the night around eleven.”

EJ shifted her weight, processing the information dump.

“Her roommates did note that someone took an unusual interest – a man of medium height, buzzcut,” Ellie listed off briskly.  “I have the bar sending over their video footage.”

“Talking of footage, the security cameras in the building were down but not across the street,” McGee took the remote back like a smug old brother.  He brought up a grainy picture of a man in street clothing approaching the building. 

“Buzzcut,” Ellie confirmed with wide eyes.

“We’re running facial identification programs now,” McGee said.

Al coughed.  “Linzi didn’t own his apartment.  He’s been renting it from former NCIS Special Agent DiNozzo since about a month after DiNozzo left the agency.  The rental was apparently arranged by Agent DiNozzo’s father.”

“I don’t remember Senior being in town,” McGee said.  “I’m sure Abby contacted him and he said he hadn’t heard from Tony.”

“Gibbs organised the rental,” Ducky said sharply as he joined them.  He absently handed Erica the report he held out.  “Anthony asked him to make all the arrangements when he gave him his resignation and confirmed that he wasn’t returning to the States.”

One look at Tim’s narrowed look at Ducky and EJ figured it was best to redirect the conversation before they got into another round of ‘Where is Tony.’  Normally she didn’t mind – she was curious herself about why Tony had fallen off the grid and concerned too because she cared about her former lover.  Sometimes she wistfully thought about what if.  

She shook the thought away and flipped open the autopsy report Ducky had given her.  “Anything of interest, Ducky?”

“Unfortunately, not,” Ducky admitted with chagrin.  “Time of death corresponds to approximately the same time as the building security was downed.  The killer was quick and efficient.”  He waved at the picture on the screen.  “Is this the culprit?”

“We think so,” EJ admitted.  She gestured at Ellie who recapped the witness statements.

Ducky hummed.  “Interesting.”

“How so, Ducky?” asked EJ.

“Well, admittedly I was thinking more of Eleanor’s other theory that perhaps Anthony was the target rather than Linzi, but if the killer stalked his victims, it is unlikely that he only realised his mistake upon coming across that photo of Linzi and his son after already doing the deed.” 

“You thought someone was after Tony?” McGee snapped at Ellie.

“It was a theory!” Ellie defended herself briskly.

“But one the Doc has just ruled out, right?” Al commented.  “If the killer stalked Linzi then it was Linzi he was after?”

“Maybe not,” EJ cut in, drawing their attention.  “Whoever this guy is, he knew exactly what he was doing.  Getting seen wasn’t a mistake; the photo on the floor wasn’t a mistake.”

“A deliberate act meant to suggest the conclusion I drew,” Ellie spoke her thoughts out loud.

Ducky nodded.  “I fear so.  This looks like a fishing expedition.”

“He’s trying to draw Tony out,” Erica concluded with a sigh.

“Or for us to lead him to him,” Ducky said.  “Anthony wasn’t considered an undercover expert for nothing.  I dare say this fellow has been searching for him for some time without success.”

EJ felt her heart sink.  It was only a theory, but it felt right.  “We still need to eliminate the possibility that this is all an elaborate scheme to shift attention away from Linzi himself.  Al, I want you to…”

“Agent Barrett!”

EJ looked up to the balcony.  Vance looked down on them, hands on the metal railing.  A grumpy looking Fornell stood beside him.  “Director?”

“I need your team in MTAC now,” Vance ordered.  “You too, Doctor Mallard, and Agent McGee – call Miss Scuito and Mister Palmer to join us.”

EJ swallowed her urge to protest and gave a sharp nod instead.  “Yes, sir.”

o-O-o

Stillwater, 2014

Tony frowned over the picture on his monitor.  Something wasn’t adding up in the cold case he’d been asked to consult on.  He tapped his fingers restlessly on his desk and sighed.

Maybe he should call it a night. 

He had been staring at the screen for probably too long.  He tapped the laptop closed and stood up, stretching his back. 

A cry began to sound through the baby monitor and he hurried from his room into the small box room beside him.  

The room had been one of the first that Gibbs had declared they would tackle.  They’d painted the room a soothing pale green with a plush cream carpet, covered with a rug decorated in pale green stripes.  Gibbs had cleaned-up the old family crib and it had been placed along one wall.  He’d made a small dresser which also acted as a changing table and a toy chest.  There was a handmade mobile over the crib with stars and moons.  It was a perfect nursery for Tali.

She grumbled at him, her cries diminishing at the sight of him.

Tony felt his heart grow four sizes just looking at her cherubic face topped with its mop of dark curls.  “Hey, Tali,” he greeted her quietly, aware that Gibbs had retired to bed hours before.  “What’s up?  You hungry?”

He picked her up carefully and settled her into the crook of his arm as he carried her out and down the stairs to the kitchen.

The routine to heat her milk was as natural to Tony as breathing after so many months of practice.  He did the cautious check of temperature to ensure it wasn’t too hot or too cold without thinking before the teat was offered to Tali.

Her small hands moved to hold onto the bottle as she suckled. 

They’d started her on some mushy foods during the day, but the middle of the night was still bottle time.

Tony sat in the comfortable chair Gibbs had made for him in the corner of the kitchen and let himself enjoy the quiet moment of feeding his daughter.

His daughter.

He’d never truly thought about having his own children beyond a nebulous ‘someday.’  He never seemed to gel with kids in the field, but then they’d probably sensed his fear…

But it didn’t matter.

Ziva had entrusted him with her child, had named him as Tali’s father.  He’d ensured her wishes would be met when he’d agreed to Orli’s suggestion to adopt Tali formally before he’d left Israel.  He was Tali’s father and he would do everything he could to protect her.

He suspected that Ziva had been so adamant about naming him because the actual father wasn’t suitable. 

Which ruled out Adam Eschel.

If Ziva’s old friend with benefits had been the father, Ziva would not have used Tony for cover.  As much as Tony hated that Ziva had turned to Eschel for comfort instead of him after her father’s death, Tony knew Eschel was a good man.

Neither Mossad nor Ziva’s old nanny had been forthcoming with any hints, but Tony could guess that it was someone unsavoury.  Ziva had been in a vulnerable place after the attack by Parsa and her run-in with Ari’s old flame; he could guess that she hadn’t made the best choices.

Tony wished she’d confided in him while she was still alive.  If he knew who the threat was, he could plan how to keep Tali safe better.

“Everything OK?”

Tony’s gaze darted up from Tali’s content eating to take in the sight of a sleep-rumpled Gibbs stood awkwardly in the doorway.  When Gibbs had decided to leave NCIS to help Tony with Tali rather than return at the end of his sabbatical, Tony had been shocked, but also incredibly grateful.

“We’re fine,” Tony said softly.  “She was just hungry.”

“You need any help?”

Tony shook his head.  “You should head back to bed.  Aren’t you standing in for Cal at the store tomorrow?”

Headlights cut through the windows signalling someone had driven up the driveway to the house.

Gibbs pointed for Tony to stay in the kitchen.  “I’ll check this out.” He left before Tony could say anything.

“I hate when he does that,” Tony told his daughter as he moved her to sit in her carrier which was perched on one of the chairs.  He grabbed a taped-up gun from under the table and took a position by the door, guarding his child but listening to see if Gibbs needed back-up.

“Ducky?!”

Ducky?

Tony sighed. 

“Heavens, Jethro, you could lose the weapon!  I’m hardly a threat!” Ducky faintly grumbled at him.  “Come and help me get everything out of the car.  It’s the middle of the night and it took me far too long to drive up here!”

Gibbs sighed and glanced over his shoulder toward Tony.

Tony shrugged and made his way back into the kitchen.  He made sure the safety was on the gun and strapped it back under the table.  He’d just finished when Gibbs entered carrying a box, Ducky following in his wake with a rolling suitcase and small duffle bag and still talking…

“I thought you might appreciate the company for this Thanksgiving, and frankly I needed to get away from Mister Palmer’s soliloquies on the miracle of pregnancy,” Ducky huffed before he stopped abruptly at the sight of him.  “Anthony!”

Tony gave an awkward short wave.  “Hey, Ducky!”

Ducky dropped his bag and walked swiftly over to hug Tony.  “It’s so good to see you, my dear boy!”

“Baba, ga,” Tali babbled.

Ducky turned to look at Tali with astonishment.  “Oh my, and who is this charming creature?”

“Ducky, meet my daughter,” Tony said, surprisingly emotional at introducing them.  “This is Tali DiNozzo.”

“Tali,” Ducky repeated.  “Well, it is very nice to meet you, young lady.  I am a good friend of your parents.”

Tony exchanged a quick look with Gibbs.

Gibbs picked Tali up.  “I’ll take her back up and get her settled.  You get Ducky sorted?”

Tony nodded.  “Thanks, Boss.”  He gave a rueful smile to Ducky as Gibbs left.  “Tea?”

“Tea sounds lovely,” Ducky said, “I’m sure you have quite the story to tell.”

“I wish I could say no,” joked Tony and went to make the tea.

o-O-o

Washington D.C., 2016

Ducky frowned as he let his gaze travel around the dark room of MTAC.  The team was gathered along with Abigail.  He had convinced Vance that James did not need to attend.  He feared that the secrets that he’d kept for so long were about to be found out.    

The Director motioned at the technician.  “Give us the room.”

The technician nodded and left swiftly. 

“Agent McGee,” Leon pointed him at the empty chair, “if you could do the honours, we have a call waiting from Tel Aviv.”

Timothy’s eyes widened and he hurried over to the chair, pulling on the headphones and connecting the call.

The screen flickered into life revealing the Director of Mossad sat behind a large desk.  She looked impeccable in a way Ducky admired.  She exuded an effortless sophistication few women were ever able to fully achieve.

“Leon,” Elbaz greeted the NCIS Director warmly, “I assume you have now gathered the team?”

“Yes,” Leon stated.  “I believe you know Agent McGee, Miss Scuito and Doctor Mallard, but let me introduce the rest of the MCRT and Agent Fornell of the FBI.”

Ducky gave a nod of respect, but he observed how none of the introductions seemed to surprise the Mossad Director. 

“If I could ask you to repeat our earlier conversation,” Leon said, “I think that will help set the context for this discussion.”

Elbaz gave a firm nod.  “NCIS requested facial recognition from Interpol today which alerted our analysts to a possible sighting of a person of interest we have been after for some time.” 

She gestured to someone off screen and suddenly the monitor split into two sides; one with Elbaz and the other showing their grainy picture of the unidentified suspect in Linzi’s killing.

“This is Sergei Mishnev,” Elbaz said briskly.  “Ostensibly he is a Russian mercenary known to plan and execute terrorist attacks for whomever pays him a good pay-check.”

The photo changed to a higher quality picture of a man with a buzzcut, dressed in combat fatigues, clearly at some kind of terrorist camp.

“He’s considered a person of interest here in the States,” Fornell chipped in.

“Ostensibly,” Erica Jane repeated.  “You said ostensibly, Director Elbaz.  What else is he?”

Elbaz pressed her lips together.  “He is Ari Haswari’s maternal half-brother.”

“That’s not good,” Abigail blurted out.

Elbaz only nodded her agreement.  “In August 2013, Mishnev came to Israel searching for answers to Haswari’s death.  We lost track of him at the border and only realised he was gone once we were able to place him in Egypt two months later.” 

“So, Ziva,” Timothy said, “he’s looking for Ziva and thinks Tony can lead him to her?”

“But Ziva’s dead!” Eleanor argued.  She froze and turned back to the monitor.  “Isn’t she?”

Ducky felt he could be forgiven for having a momentary doubt despite knowing she was indeed deceased having spoken with Anthony at length about it.

“Ziva David is dead.”  Elbaz looked to the side for a long moment before turning back to them.  “What is only known by a few people is that Ziva died in childbirth.”

Abigail slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes comically wide.

Ducky tutted, upset on Anthony’s behalf, on Tali’s behalf, that Elbaz had not kept her silence.  “And you are revealing this to us now because?”

“Because Mishnev believes he is the biological father and is searching to find the child,” Elbaz said succinctly.

“Oh my,” Ducky muttered.  That was not good news and such a completely unexpected development!

“Is he the biological father?” asked Leon bluntly.

“Ziva named Agent DiNozzo as the child’s father,” Elbaz stated evenly.

“DiNozzo?!” Fornell exclaimed.

“That’s why he’s after Tony!” Abigail declared.

“But Tony doesn’t have a child,” Timothy stuttered.

Ducky pressed his lips together to stop himself from saying anything.  Anthony was a wonderful father.

Elbaz looked at Timothy pityingly.  “Agent DiNozzo took custody of his child two days after her birth.  He stayed here until the legalities were formalised and then they left for Paris when the baby was declared fit to travel.”

“Tony’s in Paris?” Abigail questioned.

Ducky fidgeted, shifting his weight back and forth.

“You don’t need to answer that,” Leon shot the forensic scientist a look and Abigail subsided with her hands raised in surrender.

“There is no harm in answering it,” Elbaz stated dryly.  “Agent DiNozzo disappeared two days into his stay in Paris.  I would have been concerned except he left me message twenty-four hours later confirming they were both safe.  It was untraceable and we have been unable to find him since.”

“So, you have no idea where he is?” Ellie checked.

Elbaz shook her head.  “He has proven himself remarkably able at disappearing.”  Her eyes gleamed with approval.  “Ziva chose well.”

Ducky felt a pang of pride on Anthony’s behalf.  People always underestimated him. 

Erica Jane cleared her throat.  “We theorised that Mishnev killed Agent Linzi as a deliberate act to bait us into thinking he was actually after Tony.  Do you concur?”

“We do,” Elbaz said.

“Why does Mishnev know about the child and think he’s the father?” asked Fornell gruffly.

Elbaz grimaced, her features twisting sharply for a brief moment before they settled into something determined.  “The hospital where Ziva died had a digital security breach four months ago.  Records of many patients were stolen including Ziva’s.  Investigations took place and the hack was traced to Russia.  Russian intelligence denied all knowledge of the incident.”

“You think it was Mishnev,” Leon said.  “He found out Ziva was dead and wanted to know why.”

“At the time, Mossad placed the blame on the Russian government for the breach,” Elbaz said firmly.  “A prominent member of our parliament has been a recent patient there for a heart condition.  We had no reason to assume the breach was about Ziva.”

“With respect, Director, you still haven’t answered my question,” Fornell said bluntly.

Ducky’s lips twitched in reluctant amusement as Leon glared at the FBI agent.  Fornell was right.  She hadn’t answered the question.

Elbaz smiled sharply.  “A month ago, I received a letter from Gittel Levy.  She was a cousin related to Ziva’s mother and she acted as nanny to the David children.  She was Ziva’s confidant and secret-keeper during her pregnancy.”

“Was?” asked Ducky, jumping on the tense the Director had used.

“Was,” Elbaz confirmed.  “Gittel told me Mishnev was back searching for answers about his brother once more, about Ziva.  Gittel was found dead in her apartment by the police when I sent them to check on her.  She had been tortured.”

“You believe she told him he was the father?” checked Fornell, his brow lowered.

“I believe Gittel told him nothing,” Elbaz said briskly.  “However, in her letter to me Gittel confirmed that Ziva met with Mishnev to speak of their brother.  Apparently, Mishnev had approached Ziva in May right before the Brotherhood attack and she had refused to speak with him then, but changed her mind afterwards.”

“Tony said she had a lot of regrets about Ari when he tracked her down,” Timothy said slowly.

Elbaz nodded.  “Just so.  Gittel said Ziva told Mishnev that Ari was killed on her father’s orders because he was unstable; that the official record of Gibbs killing him was a lie.”

“Given Ziva survived her meeting with Mishnev, I assume she excluded that it was really her who had pulled the trigger,” Leon said.

Ducky grimaced as he took in the shocked expressions that rippled around the room.  Abigail glanced at him and raised her eyebrows as she realised that he had already known.

Elbaz lifted an eyebrow in response to Leon’s statement.  “Ziva said nothing else to Gittel about what else took place between them,” she continued.  “Soon after, Ziva returned to the farmhouse where Agent DiNozzo found her in October.  Ziva died and her child was born in May the following year.”

“So Mishnev added up the dates and believes he was the father,” Fornell concluded.

“Perhaps,” Elbaz said, “but I find it unlikely that Ziva would have been intimate with Mishnev.”

Ducky couldn’t help the affirming snort which escaped him.

“Well, we can only work with what we know,” Erica Jane interjected briskly, “and what we know is Mishnev is trying to find Tony.”

Ducky tuned out the various back and forth as Elbaz offered personnel and Leon refused.  He really needed to get a message to Anthony to lay low, but the thought that sending a message might lead Mishnev to Anthony and his precious daughter preyed on his mind.

The monitor blinked out, startling Ducky out of his thoughts.

“We need to find Tony!” Abigail announced, cutting across Leon. 

“Abigail!” Ducky remonstrated sternly.  “We cannot contact Anthony without placing him and his daughter in danger!”

She started to pace back and forth, her hands moving wildly around her head.  “He needs to know his kid’s bio-daddy is trying to kill him!  But that means he’s in danger and he doesn’t know he isn’t the daddy and oh – ” she stopped and whirled around to face him, her eyes wide open with realisation.  She pointed straight at Ducky.  “You!”

Ducky felt his heart sink as he went over the words he’d spoken. 

Ah.

Yes.

He had rather given the game away.

“You know where Tony is,” Eleanor stated, crossing her arms over her chest and looking very much like his mother had done when he’d eaten the last biscuit.

Ducky sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose for no other reason than it gave him a moment to think.  “Anthony and his daughter are safe.  That’s all anyone has ever needed to know.”

“You didn’t think we would keep him safe?!” Timothy sounded horribly hurt.

“Rule four, Timothy,” Ducky said quietly but firmly.

Eleanor, Abigail and Timothy’s expressions cleared.  Leon looked grumpy and young Albert and Erica Jane simply looked lost.

“The best way to keep a secret is to keep it yourself,” Ducky explained, “second best…”

“Is to tell one other person if you must,” Abigail lurched forward and wrapped him in a hug.  “Of course, Tony would trust you to be his one person!”

Ducky patted her on the back.  “Thank you, my dear.”  He eased away.  “Now, we should get on with finding Mishnev.”

“Does Tony know Mishnev is the father?” demanded Leon.

Ducky sent him a reproving look.  “Mishnev is not Tali’s father.”

“Ducky, you may not want to admit it, but it does make more sense than it being Tony,” Timothy argued.

“Mishnev is not the father,” Ducky rejoined heatedly, “Anthony has already tracked down Tali’s father!”

o-O-o

Chicago, 2015

Tony slid onto the barstool and signalled the barman.  His quarry was in his direct line of sight, hunched over a plate of wings, a beer at his elbow.

For an undercover agent, the man was unobservant and stupid.  But then, Tony had never really liked him.

“Beer,” Tony ordered, careful to hide his own accent behind a New Jersey drawl.  He’d taken care to disguise himself; a beard, his hair grown out to curl outside the faded Monmouth Hawks cap he wore.  He was dressed like a trucker; vest, overshirt, jacket, hard-wearing jeans that showed wear and tear, and boots.

The beer slid in front of him and Tony slid across the cash.  He turned to watch the TV screen, keeping his mark in the periphery of his eyeline.

If it was anyone else, Tony might have felt sorry for him.  He’d fallen far from the well put-together CIA agent that Tony had once met. 

Ray Cruz looked worn.  His hair was a buzz cut, a layer of stubble covered his chin and neck, dark circles painted pictures under his eyes.  There was a new scar on his forehead, a thin line silvery with healing.  His clothes were clean and that was all that could be said about them; cheap jeans, t-shirt and battered coat.

Cruz was meant to be languishing in a cell; he’d killed a woman. 

God, but Tony hated the CIA.

Cruz had faced trial, been sentenced, and according to his records, killed in a mess brawl two months into his sentence.

The reality was that the CIA had sprung him and was using him as a spy against an international arms dealer – only Cruz was no Trent Kort.  He’d only managed to get onto the lowest rung of the organisation.  His days were numbered.  Tony figured it was only a matter of time before the agency cut him loose.

He drank down his beer and set the bottle on the bar.  Cruz looked like he was stuck to his stool, still nursing the same bottle he’d had when Tony had entered.

Tony didn’t pay him any further attention, he walked out of the bar and into the brisk night air.  He hunched over in his coat, driving his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket as he sauntered back to the parking lot at the end of the block.  He got in the rental truck and drove out to the trailer park where Cruz was staying.

Tony parked the truck on a side road at the back of the trailer park, plucked his black backpack from the passenger seat and jumped the pathetic chain fence which acted as security.  There were no cameras, but he kept his head low, his cap pulled down as he made his way through the avenues of battered homes to the one Cruz lived in.

The 1968 Airstream had seen better days.  The part of Tony which loved old classic cars mourned at the sight of the tarnished exterior, the rips and missing rivets.  He ignored the feeling, continuing onto the door without stopping to look.

It took him less than a minute to jimmy the door and step inside. 

Cruz hadn’t made much of an effort to make the space look like home.  There were no decorations to soften the stark old utilitarian design.  Dirty dishes were stacked in the small sink in front of him; the smell of rubbish in the trash can beside the kitchen unit wrinkled Tony’s nose.  He did a cursory check but there were no surveillance devices hidden in the trailer. 

He grimaced but sat down on the far end of the couch and settled into wait.

It was another hour before Cruz showed up, staggering into the trailer without even realising someone had broken in.  He didn’t put the lights on, letting the moonlight streaming through the windows light his way.  He didn’t notice Tony, hidden in the shadows to his right; he was too focused on getting to the stock of water bottles he kept out on the side. 

Tony waited until he’d chugged down half a bottle before he cleared his throat.  “You’re a hard man to find, Carlos.”

Cruz froze.  He whirled around and stared at Tony in the semi-darkness.

Tony reached out and switched on the small lamp to his side.  It illuminated him in a puddle of yellow light.

Cruz shifted, seeming to guess that he had few options.  “Did Ziva send you?”

He sounded weary and hopeful all at the same time.

Tony registered the question and sighed.  “Take a seat.”

For a moment, it looked like Cruz was going to argue, but he settled for dragging up a folding chair and setting it at a good distance from Tony despite the small trailer.

“Ziva died just over a year ago,” Tony said softly.

Cruz flinched.  He shifted, turning his face away, squirming as though if he moved enough then he could unhear the words.  Finally, he dropped his face into his hands and sobbed.

Tony waited out the crying jag, uncomfortably aware of the ache in his own chest of remembered grief.  He had loved Ziva.

Cruz took a shaky breath and swiped at his wet face.  “You didn’t just come here to tell me that.”

Tony reached into the backpack and drew out a folder.  He handed it to Cruz.  “Ziva died in childbirth.  She named her daughter Tali Elizabeth DiNozzo.”

Cruz flinched again as he flipped open the folder and stared unseeingly at the writing.

“She gave her daughter into my keeping to protect her,” Tony continued briskly.  “Tali is the last David.  She’s a target for anyone who hated Eli, who hated Ziva.  She might have given Tali to her biological father, but it turns out he has been declared dead.”

Cruz’s fingers clenched on the papers.  He looked up at Tony, his dark eyes blazing.  “She’s mine?”

“Tali is mine,” Tony said evenly.  “Ray Cruz is dead.”

Cruz deflated like a popped balloon.  “Did Ziva tell you…”

“No,” Tony said.  “Ziva left very few clues, but I know her.”  His lips twisted.  “Knew her.  I spent months tracking her so I knew where she’d been.  I tracked down where she was exactly nine months before Tali’s birth: Ashdod.”

“It was my second job for them,” Cruz rubbed his head.  “I…I needed a drink.  I went into the bar and…”

A Casablanca moment, Tony surmised.  “Of all the gin joints,” he quoted quietly.

Cruz nodded.  “She let me pick her up to maintain my cover, we went back to her hotel, and we talked.” He gave a huff.  “Fought.  And…” his voice trailed away.  He looked away to the side and down to the floor.  “When I woke up, she was gone.  I knew then that she was never going to forgive me for killing Maya Burris.”

Tony sighed heavily.  He’d gathered as much from his own investigation; a bar pickup, a hotel room.  “I have a swab in my backpack which is part of a DNA test I want you to take.  The papers in your hand are for Tali.  If you sign them, you give up your parental rights and affirm my legal adoption of her.”

“And if I don’t?” Cruz asked.

Tony looked around the trailer pointedly before settling his gaze back on Cruz with a raised eyebrow.

Cruz flushed.  He wet his lips.  “I’ll sign on one condition.”

Tony tilted his head in a silent question.

“My parents…they think I’m dead,” Cruz said.  “They know I died in disgrace and…” he stopped and swallowed.  “They’d be good grandparents to…to Tali.  She has an aunt, cousins.”

“I’ll find a way to make it work,” Tony said simply.

Cruz nodded.  “Pen?”

Tony tossed him one and felt relief seep into his bones when Cruz scrawled his name across the document.

They went through the mechanics of the swab and Tony packed up his bag. 

“Do you have a picture?” asked Cruz suddenly.  “I just…I’d like to see a picture just once.”

Tony pulled out his phone and navigated to the latest set of pictures of his daughter playing with her toys. 

Cruz smiled.  “She’s beautiful.”  He shook his head.  “I told Ziva once that I wanted a little girl with her eyes.”  He handed the phone back but held on when Tony reached to take it.  “You’ll protect her?”

“With everything I have,” Tony promised.

Cruz let go.

Tony took a step toward the door, stopped and sighed.  “You know the agency is going to disavow you soon?”

Cruz laughed humourlessly.  “I’ve always been a disappointment to them.  I couldn’t make it work when I was one of them; can’t make it work now.  I’m not cut out for this.”

Tony plucked his small notebook from his back pocket and quickly wrote down an address.  “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Safe house,” Tony said succinctly.  “New identity papers, cash.  You can disappear.  Do something good with it, Cruz.  You killed an innocent woman; start making amends.”

Tony turned back towards the door and stepped out.  He’d done what he could for Ray Cruz, but more importantly he’d protected his daughter.  It was time to go home.

o-O-o

Washington D.C., 2016

Gibbs sat at Barrett’s desk as though he’d never been away even if his casual dress gave away that he was no longer an active agent.  He paged through the files and quietly shuffled the papers around. 

He registered MTAC opening and the noise of the team exiting to the balcony and coming down the stairs until…

There.

They’d spotted him.

Abby gave a shriek and Gibbs barely got himself standing before she was on him, wrapping him up in a solid hug.  He hugged her back.

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!” Abby squealed.

Gibbs gently pried her away, accepted a hug from Ellie and a handshake from McGee.  He turned to face a relieved if guilty looking Ducky.

“Jethro,” Ducky said, “how fortuitous that you are in town.”

“Yes, fortuitous,” said Fornell like he hadn’t called him.

“That happens when someone tells you that there’s been a murder in the apartment you’re legally responsible for,” Gibbs said dryly.  He nodded at Barrett and the Probie beside her.  His gaze landed on Leon.  “Director.”

“Gibbs,” Leon gave a sharp nod at the reports, “I take it you’re up to speed?”

“All the way,” Gibbs said. 

Leon gestured at the monitor where the picture of Sergei Mishnev was displayed.  “He must have found out that it was Ziva who killed Ari.  I assume Jennifer Shepard signed off on the cover-up?”

Gibbs shrugged.  “Ari killed one of ours, Leon.  He was rogue regardless of what Mossad and the FBI tried to argue.”

Fornell lifted his hands in surrender.  He slumped to sit on Tim’s desk.  “You know this is all to get DiNozzo out in the open.”

“Maybe,” Gibbs said tersely. 

Leon stilled.  “You know about the baby.”

“Of course, I know,” Gibbs retorted.

“Then…”

“You know where Tony is!” Abby declared.

“I always know where DiNozzo is,” Gibbs stated glibly, “and I can tell you right now that he’s not stupid enough to fall for Mishnev’s play.”  He sighed.  “I need coffee.”

He strode out before any of them could stop him.

He walked to the coffee shop, enjoying the sun on his face and the gentle breeze that cut through the humid air.  He ordered his usual, handed over the cash and went to sit outside.

It didn’t take long.

Mishnev sat down opposite him in a very similar fashion to how Ari had once done.  “Agent Gibbs.”

“Mishnev,” Gibbs greeted him easily.

A waiter stopped by and slid an espresso coffee in front of Mishnev.

“You knew I would come,” Mishnev said.

“Yep,” Gibbs answered.

Mishnev smiled darkly.  “You do not believe I stalk Ziva’s lover to track down and murder their daughter?”

Gibbs shrugged.  “When he came back from meeting you in Russia, DiNozzo said you had promised him you were not a threat to Tali.  I came to check that was still true.”

“Just so,” Mishnev said.  “He is a good man; a good father and protector to my niece.”  He met Gibbs’ gaze challengingly.  “He told me the truth about what happened unlike Ziva David.”

Gibbs winced, showing the regret he rarely allowed himself to feel.  “Your brother had the chance to run; he didn’t take it and he knew he wouldn’t leave my basement alive; it was suicide by cop. I still believe Ziva did what she did only to protect me.”  He grimaced.  “Neither Eli David nor I should ever have placed her in that position; she never forgave herself for it, even if she blamed her father for driving her brother to it.”

Mishnev was quiet for a long moment before he exploded.  “Eli David was a parasite!” He picked up the espresso shot he’d ordered and drank it back.

“You won’t get any argument from me,” Gibbs said, raising his own coffee in a silent toast.

“He ruined my brother,” Mishnev grumbled.  “All Ari wanted to do was be a doctor; heal people.  He did not want to be Mossad, a spy, an assassin.”

Gibbs said nothing.  He might regret not seeing how damaged Haswari had been before his death, but Haswari had killed Cait.  He’d never forgive him for that; never forget.

“You should thank DiNozzo for telling me the truth,” Mishnev continued conversationally.  “I was planning a revenge spree against you before his visit.”

Gibbs didn’t allow his consternation to show.  Instead, he lifted an eyebrow.

Mishnev reached his satchel and placed a folder on the table.  “I came to pass this onto DiNozzo.  There is a credible threat, but it has nothing to do with me.”

Gibbs carefully flipped the folder open and found it contained a series of surveillance photos and a USB taped to the inside of the front.  He looked over at Mishnev and frowned.  “Why?”

“Because my brother would have loved our niece and if he cannot protect her, I will do so in his stead,” Mishnev stated.        

Gibbs closed the folder.  “And you couldn’t get our attention any other way except by killing Linzi?”

Mishnev shook his head.  “I created the security failure, but all I did was leave a message for DiNozzo on the kitchen bench.  I did not kill Linzi.”

“There was no message found at the scene,” Gibbs said slowly.

Mishnev shrugged.  “Then whoever killed them took it.  I’d look at the nurse’s ex-boyfriends.  A man with a buzzcut was following them all night and he was lurking across the street when I cut the security.”  He stood up.  “Tell DiNozzo if he needs me to call.”

Gibbs let him go.  He waited until Mishnev was out of sight before sweeping up the folder, picking up his coffee and heading back to NCIS.

o-O-o

Murmansk, Kola Peninsula, 2015

Tony had considered many options about how to approach Sergei Mishnev.  He’d picked up and discarded idea after idea until he was left with one: the direct approach.

He sighed heavily.  Gibbs had been against Tony approaching Mishnev, but then Gibbs had been against Tony approaching Cruz and that had turned out well. 

Hernandez and Isabella, Ray’s parents, were wonderful grandparents; cognisant of the dangers to Tali and happy to keep their relationship with their granddaughter a secret.  Ray’s sister, Justina was also a great boon and Tony was pleased that she’d stepped into a godmother position, providing Tali with some female influence.

Still.

Mishnev was a different kettle of fish. 

For one thing, Mishnev was a Russian mercenary and he was suspected of taking part in a number of terrorist activities.  He was highly dangerous.  If Tony was still a sworn law enforcement officer, he would be arresting the man.  Or trying to.  He was slightly aghast that no-one in law enforcement had actually been able to track Mishnev down when it had taken him – alright, more than a few months, almost a year, but still.  What was more probable was that someone had tracked him down and decided to leave Mishnev in place. 

Politics.

Spy games.

It made Tony’s stomach curdle.

The second thing was that Mishnev was Ari Haswari’s half-brother.   Given how Ari had died, Mishnev had no reason to wait for Tony to explain himself before he shot him.  

Tony sighed.  His gut told him that Mishnev could be a problem for Tali in the future and he was determined to be proactive about eliminating threats to his daughter before they turned up in person with guns at her nursery.

Tony got out of his car and headed across to the apartment building.  He pressed the button for Mishnev’s apartment and waited.

Mishnev’s crisp Russian accent sounded through the tinny speaker.

Tony cleared his voice and responded with his own accented Russian.  “I have information on your brother.”

The door buzzed open.

Tony made his way up the stairs and knocked on the first-floor apartment which was Mishnev’s primary residence when he wasn’t lurking in mercenary camps.

Mishnev greeted him with a gun. 

Tony raised his hands.  “I’m not armed.”

Mishnev ushered him inside and pointed at a chair with the gun.  “Sit.”

“Thank you,” Tony said politely, recognising the switch to English was for his benefit.

“What does NCIS want to tell me about my brother, Agent DiNozzo?” MIshnev asked mockingly.

Mishnev knew who he was.

Tony didn’t let that fact shake his composure.  “I’m not an agent,” he said and waited a beat.  “If I was this would be an entirely different conversation.”

Mishnev huffed and sat down opposite him.  “Talk.”

“You met with Ziva David in August 2013 in Ashdod,” Tony said.  “You were there at her invitation to learn more about your brother’s death.  She’d previously refused to tell you anything.”

“You are well-informed,” Mishnev said quietly. 

“Ziva was going through a crisis of conscience regarding Ari at the time,” Tony said.  “She’d been attacked by Parsa’s hired thugs and taken refuge with an old childhood friend; a doctor who claimed she had been about to be engaged to Ari.”

“That woman?  She was in love with a dream of a boy he once was,” Mishnev stated, “not the man he came to be.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed dryly.  “But Ziva told her the truth of what happened and once she’d told her truth, Doctor Bashan told Ziva about the almost engagement and threw her out.”

“And what is this truth?” Mishnev mocked him again.

Tony held his gaze.  “Ziva shot Ari in the basement of Agent Gibbs’ home.  Ari had gone there ostensibly to kill Gibbs, but I think he knew it was the end of the line.”

“Ziva said her father was to blame, she tried to convince me Gibbs was blameless,” Mishnev grimaced.  “She lied to my face.”

“She was protecting Gibbs,” Tony said simply.  “And, truthfully?  Ari’s behaviour, the actions he took that led him to the basement?  Probably can be laid at the feet of Eli David.” 

He explained as much as he could; Ari’s role as a double agent, the missions which had made his paths cross with Gibbs and the team, the way Eli David had already been searching for a way to put someone inside NCIS, Kate’s death…

Mishnev yanked his gaze away from Tony.  He got up and marched to the mantel to a picture of Ari given pride of place.  “You have come to dissuade me from going after Gibbs?”

“I’ve come to tell you that you have a niece,” Tony said.

Mishnev spun around and stared at him.

“Ziva died in childbirth,” Tony said.  He still struggled to say the words out loud.  “Tali is her daughter, and Ari’s niece, your niece.”

Mishnev looked at him with a frown.  “You are not afraid I will take my revenge for Ari out on Ziva’s daughter?”

“You’d have to get through me first,” Tony said evenly, dropping enough of his genial mask to show Mishnev how dangerous he could be.  “But I don’t think you’d want to hurt a child for Ziva’s sins.  The Davids have taken enough from you.”

Mishnev continued to stare at him.  “You loved her.”

“I did,” Tony said.  “And I will protect her daughter to my last breath.” He kept his eyes steady on Mishnev’s.  “And so will Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”

Mishnev walked away to the kitchenette.  When he came back, he’d lost the gun and carried a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses.  He set them on the coffee table and disappeared again, returning with a box.  He handed it to Tony.

Tony opened it, curious.  He looked down at the few family photos with interest.  He stared at the gorgeous gold ring with its sapphire winking out between two diamonds.

“David gave it to our mother when she was pregnant with Ari,” Mishnev said.  “Tali?  Tali should have it.”

Tony closed the box.  “Thank you.”

Mishnev handed him a filled glass.  “You know I was going to kill Gibbs anyway.  I did not believe Ziva’s words.”

“I guessed,” Tony murmured.

“I am certain you calculated the risk and realised that if I went after Gibbs, it would also endanger Tali,” Mishnev said.  “Ari admired you.  Did you know that?”

Tony shook his head.

“He thought you were an incredible investigator, a savant of undercover,” Mishnev said, “but more than that, he considered you a fellow survivor of a terrible father.”

Tony hummed.

“Your plan to confront me, to tell me the truth in hopes I would refrain from killing you – bold,” Mishnev said.  “You are a brave man with heavy brass balls.”

Tony smiled sharply.  “Did it work?”

“The truth is all I have ever wanted,” Mishnev said.  “Your Gibbs was just a patsy, I see clearly now that David manipulated him and Ari.”

Mishnev drank down his vodka and filled up his glass again.  “If Gibbs’ penance is to care for Ari’s blood, to protect her, perhaps I can live with that.”  He motioned at Tony.  “Let us drink to our ceasefire, DiNozzo.  You have what you came for: I am not your enemy.”

Tony raised the glass and tossed it back.  Maybe he wasn’t going to have invoke Daddy Rule Number Three and kill Mishnev after all.

o-O-o

On the way to Stillwater, 2016

Tim held onto the handle as the car dived past another on the highway.  God, but he wished he’d sat in the front passenger seat, but Fornell had taken it with a sharp look at Ellie and Tim before they could even take a step toward it.

Maybe he should have stayed in Washington, Tim considered.  He’d volunteered to go with Gibbs as soon as the older man had returned and completely upended their investigation with the news of his chat with Mishnev.

Trent Kort was after Ziva’s daughter, and given the already murky history between him and Tony, it was not going to end well.

“Uh, Boss,” Tim asked tentatively, not really wanting to divert Gibbs’ attention from the road but feeling the need to ask.  “Are we really sure Mishnev’s information on Kort is solid?”

“Isn’t a bit late to be asking that, McGee?” Gibbs said tersely.

Gibbs had been a whirlwind since they’d established Kort had entered the States two days before and had confirmed he was likely on his way to Stillwater.

Which was where Tony was.

Tim boggled at that.  Why had it never occurred to any of them that Tony would be with Gibbs?

“I checked the intel before we left,” Ellie said, clutching onto the handle on her own side.  “My NSA contact said Mishnev is right.  Kort went off grid about a month ago.  All the alphabet agencies lost sight of him.”

“I don’t understand why he suddenly decided to go rogue,” Tim muttered.

“He was always rogue,” Fornell snapped, “Mishnev’s evidence proves that!  Dirty rotten traitor was selling us out to the Russians for years!”

“But why go after Tony now?” asked Tim.

“He’s not; he’s going after Gibbs,” Fornell barked.

“Because he thinks Gibbs will lead him to Tony,” Ellie argued before Tim could say the same thing.  “So, why Tony?”

“David was the Director of Mossad for a very long time,” Fornell said, “it was rumoured that he had secrets on everyone hidden away somewhere.  Tony’s the guardian of the only living David left.”

“So, if Eli David had evidence on Kort, Kort thinks Tony knows where it is,” Ellie surmised.  She shook her head, a few strands of pale blonde hair falling free from her ponytail.  “I still don’t understand.  Why would Kort suddenly decide to act now?”

“MI6 arrested a British agent called Jacob Scott six weeks ago for the crimes Kort committed,” Fornell said.  “He named Kort as the real culprit.”

And suddenly it made sense.

“Kort hides all the evidence he committed a crime and he can get Scott to take the fall for it,” Tim said out loud.

Gibbs tossed his phone into the back seat and Tim fumbled the catch before desperately grabbing it from its fall.

“Call Tony again,” Gibbs ordered.

“Yes, Boss,” Tim answered automatically.  He wasn’t surprised that Tony was programmed into Gibbs’ shortcuts.  He pressed the call button and frowned when he got Tony’s succinct ‘leave a message’ voicemail.  “He’s not picking up.”

Gibbs pressed down on the gas.

o-O-o

Stillwater, 2016

Tony grimaced at the broken screen on his phone and sighed.  Dropping it into a puddle of water trying to escape Mayor Boone had been a mixed blessing.  Good in that the mini-disaster had meant he’d had a legitimate excuse to make his getaway and avoid another attempt for him to run for Sheriff; bad in that he had a broken phone.

Gibbs would likely go mad at him for being out of contact.

Tony carefully eased out the SIM card and placed it into a spare burner phone he’d had stored away.  He had a stockpile of them mostly because he was always waiting for Gibbs to throw his own phone in the trash in a huff.

Tony frowned as he plugged the spare into the charger.  He was going to have to wait for it to charge up before he could call Gibbs and ask what had happened with Linzi.

He hadn’t been close to Linzi; had let Gibbs handle all the pain of letting his apartment when he’d left Washington, but the news the other agent had been shot dead was disturbing.

Something caught his ear.

A sound.

Downstairs.

Tony reached into the drawer and silently pulled out his gun.  He padded out of the study, ducking briefly in the nursery to check Tali was still napping.  He cautiously made his way down the stairs and through the hallway.  He found the intruder in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Kort hadn’t changed much.  Still bald.  Still with one glass eye after the whole Cobb affair.  He wore jeans and a crumpled looking blazer with a white button-down shirt.  Tony glimpsed the gun holstered to his hip.

“Kort?” Tony kept the gun on him.  “Want to explain why you’re breaking into Gibbs’ house?”

“Coffee,” Kort lifted the mug.  “I’ve been driving since yesterday.”

“You should have kept driving,” Tony said seriously.

Kort held up his hand.  “I’m not here to cause trouble.  I just want some information and then I’ll leave.”

“What information?” asked Tony brusquely.

Kort sipped his coffee.  “Eli David had a store of secrets.  He had information about who leaked intelligence on nuclear armaments to the Russians from allied partners back in the day.  Jacob Scott was arrested for it last month.  I want the evidence David had; make sure Scott goes away for it.”

Tony tilted his head, keeping any hint of knowledge about David’s secrets off his face.  Kort was an exceptionally good liar but then so was Tony.  “Why?”

“I knew Scott’s wife.  Russians killed her,” Kort said succinctly.

Tony hummed.  He hadn’t relaxed the grip on his gun and he didn’t intend to either.

“I know you have the key to the safe deposit box with the info,” Kort said.  “I just need it and a letter of authorisation to the bank to let me open it and I’m out of your hair.”  He jerked his head upwards.  “You can carry on being father of the year to the kid.”

Tony smiled grimly.  “There is no safe deposit box, Kort.”  There had been, but that was a different story.  Unfortunately he knew who Kort had gotten that information from and he had a sinking feeling Gittel Levy was no longer among the living.

“Let’s not do this song and dance, DiNozzo,” Kort said smoothly.  “Give me the key and the letter; I’ll leave you alone.”

Kort wasn’t going to leave him alive, Tony realised.

“You’re the one who sold out,” Tony said out loud.  “The evidence points to you not to Scott; that’s why you want it.”

Kort huffed a laugh.  “You just can’t do as you are told, can you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” quipped Tony.

Kort threw the coffee at him and went for his gun, getting his hand on it and pulling it free…

Tony side-stepped and shot him.

One shot.  Middle of the forehead.  Kort was dead before he hit the ground.

The backdoor burst open and Gibbs entered, gun out, Fornell just behind him.  The front door banged open an instant later, McGee and Bishop stampeding into the room behind Tony.

Tony looked over his shoulder at his former teammates and back to Gibbs who straightened and met Tony’s gaze with a relieved nod.

“You’re late,” Tony said.

“Traffic,” Gibbs noted dryly.

o-O-o

Gibbs handed Tony a mug of chocolate and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa with a thump.

Tali happily played on the rug in front of them, moving her wooden bricks from one side of the rug to another in a pattern which only made sense to her.

“I can’t believe Mishnev came through like that,” Tony murmured as he rubbed his forehead.  “I’m not sure how I feel about Tali having a terrorist for an uncle.”  The law enforcement agent inside of him cringed every time he considered it.

“You left him alive for a reason,” Gibbs said wryly.  “Fornell’s pretty pissed about that.”

Tony shrugged.  He really didn’t care what Fornell thought.  If the powers that be wanted Mishnev dead, he would be.  Politics, thought Tony with disgust.  For someone somewhere having Mishnev in play made sense.  At least Fornell wasn’t staying at the house to argue with Tony about it.  All their visitors had gone to a motel.  It had helped that the kitchen had been cordoned off for most of the evening as a crime scene.

Tony dropped his head back to rest on the cushion.  “McGee seemed McPissed.” 

After the initial hug of relief, McGee had been pretty frosty with both of them.

“You left, I left,” Gibbs shrugged.  “He got stuck working with your ex and has just found out you were with me all along.  Plenty to be pissed about.  Wait till Abby gets here.”

Tony winced and rubbed his upper arm already anticipating the punch Abby was going to give him. 

Gibbs tapped his mug and looked over at Tony.  “What happened to David’s secrets?”

“I gave them to Morrow, figured Homeland would know what to do with them,” Tony said simply.

Gibbs shook his head.  “Only you, Tony.” 

Tony shrugged.  He had no regrets about giving up the power that came with owning those secrets.  He wasn’t Eli David.    

“You going to leave now?” asked Gibbs bluntly, not looking at Tony.

Tony genuinely hadn’t considered it, but with question asked he took a moment to consider it and shook his head.  “Cat’s out of the bag and Tali loves it here.” 

He loved it too.  He loved the sense of family he, Gibbs and Tali had built in the sturdy walls of the Gibbs’ family home.  Maybe he’d even invite Senior for Christmas with the threat of Kort eliminated.  Maybe he could even think about that Sheriff run if he was staying; Tony did miss being a cop.  The consulting he did just wasn’t enough.

Tony glanced over to Gibbs and smiled at the sight of the older man hiding his face in his coffee as though it would be a crime to show his relief or his own enjoyment at their small family.   

“Besides,” Tony commented lightly.  “Tali’s as safe as we can make her.  She’ll have a good life here; she’ll grow up safe and happy and she can live her dreams whatever they are.  I think that’s what Ziva wanted, that’s all she wanted, for Tali to live her dreams.”

He had no doubt about his daughter’s future.  Tali was a strong-willed little girl who was going to have all the choices and freedom Eli David had denied her mother.

Gibbs raised his mug.  “To Ziva.”

“To Ziva,” Tony said softly, his eyes gleaming with remembered grief.

They knocked their mugs together gently and toasted to the lost member of their family.

Tony watched as Gibbs set his drink aside and dropped down to the rug, to play with Tali.  Tony settled back, contented, at ease for the first time since he’d turned up on Gibbs’ doorstep.  Tony had been weighed down by rule forty for far too long; it was past time for him to simply focus on his Daddy rules.

Daddy Rule one, Tony thought as Gibbs dragged him down to join them on the rug, as Tali babbled happily at him and reached out her arms for a cuddle: family first.

fin.