Chapter Text
Rivka David was born in Tel Aviv, in a hospital that was destroyed long before Ziva was old enough to care. Her life was hard and often, she thought it unworthy to live. That changed when she graduated from university, a degree in nursing her hard-earned, hard-fought proof that she could thrive as one with mutalazimat dawin among a world of people without it.
She passed on that strength to her daughters – one of whom needed support more than the other, she would quietly admit to her husband over a snifter of brandy. Ziva and Tali: her beautiful daughters. Only one would go on to live their full life. When Tali was sixteen, she died in a bombing of a café she used to visit and Rivka, distraught, became depressed as a result. Her marriage fell apart and Eli David, already having been Director of Mossad for many years before, withdrew his kindness and humour and became the stone-faced man so many already feared.
Eventually, Rivka left Haifa, the city where she had raised her children, making the decision to move to France. It was a welcome change, though people were not welcoming and her remaining daughter never forgave her for leaving. In a freak accident, Rivka died when four cars collided and her bus was turned upside down, breaking her neck in the fall. Eli David had her body returned to Israel to be buried with her family. Ziva David used to visit the grave at least once every year on either of their dates of death.
Ziva does not know where her brother is buried, just like she does not know how her father could abandon her.
Three weeks after Eli cuts himself out of her life, they finish with a case that involved a young man trying to keep the child his girlfriend bore as a surrogate. Or rather, Gibbs and the MCRT does; Ziva is at home in Gibbs’ house with Daisy, waiting for Jenny Shepard’s approval to return as a probationary special agent. She only knows about the case because Tony keeps her updated with half a dozen texts every hour, telling her exactly what he’s been doing and how rowdy Gibbs has been in the four days they’ve taken to find the missing newborn.
Many things have changed since she moved in, putting it off until the day before the sale goes through. Her landlord had helped pack her car with all her boxes, assuring her he’d sell off her furniture and send her the proceeds. Personally, Ziva doubts she will see the money, but she doesn’t particularly care about it, either.
She still does not know Gibbs’ true opinion of her forced move into his home.
He was agreeable upon hearing the circumstances, yes, but it is not the same as planning in advance. Ziva had wanted to keep her apartment for the inevitable times when either one of them wanted some space. Now she has no choice, except live with him.
Even considering Daisy, it is not ideal. They wanted to take it slow. With her moving in, however and Daisy having already been set up in Kelly’s old room – and Ziva had been proud of him when she realised where Gibbs had placed the nursery, though she still hasn’t asked any further than what he gave – things had sped up. Ziva’s books line the empty shelves in the front hall, her towels stacked in cupboards and the photo of her as a child with Tali and Ari hidden amongst a new arrangement of Gibbs’ family.
Ziva still does not know how to interpret his reaction, there. Ziva had put the picture amongst a grouping of people she did not know, thinking she recognised as his parents and Shannon’s family and he had stopped still when he saw it the first time, staring. He had disappeared into the nursery with Daisy shortly thereafter, signing to her rather than speaking. He’d ignored her when she asked what time they were putting Daisy to bed.
Small stressors. Then, this kidnapping case – one that had put Gibbs on over-drive. Every night, he came home and hogged Daisy, sitting her on his lap during dinner and rocking her to sleep hours later, with barely a word to Ziva.
Frankly, they talk more at work than they do at home. With her suspension, Ziva and Gibbs have barely talked at all – except when it comes to Daisy.
“I took her to the pool today,” Ziva tells him. “She was very happy in the water.”
“Yeah?” Gibbs grunts, tucking the toddler into her high-chair. Ziva notices, if only because it’s the first time Gibbs has put her in it in a week. “She a good swimmer?”
“It was a tiring hour for her,” says Ziva in a knowing voice. Gibbs nods in understanding. Because of Daisy’s Down Syndrome, she has low muscle tone – meaning exercise is difficult for her and extremely worth it, in order to build up her muscles. Ziva tells him, “She fell asleep in the changing room.”
“Hmm – are you a tired girl? Are you a sleepy little girl?” Gibbs chuffs Daisy, feeding her dinner while Ziva separates a large box of rice onto two plates. Part of her grates at being the housewife, wanting to get back to work – but another part feels guilty for it. She is looking after Daisy, her own daughter. Why is she complaining about that?
Caught up in her thoughts, she misses how Gibbs calls her names, blinking rapidly when he gets up to come to her side. “Ziva?
“…sorry. I was deep in thought.”
“Clearly,” he says, watching her. They stand there by the kitchen counter, watching each other, until Gibbs finally speaks again. “I thought you would take them down.”
“Take what down?” Ziva questions, before realising he means the photos. “No,” she shakes her head. “Why would I take them down? They were- are your family, even if you haven’t seen them in many years.”
“Shannon’s parents didn’t like me,” he says, almost pressing. “She insisted on having their anniversary photo up.”
“Then it will stay up,” Ziva replies. It is an easy choice, one she would not understand if it was any different. A question floats through her mind. “Who took them down?”
For a moment, Gibbs is silent, only Daisy’s coos and smacking audible. Then, he says, “My ex-wives. ‘Cept Diane. She was…controlling, but she took Shannon into account. Too much, sometimes. Steph tried to take them down when we got back to the US. Big fight, that night.”
“And your first wife?”
Gibbs shrugs. “Took ‘em all down, except the pictures of Kelly. Fresh start. Didn’t last long.” He doesn’t say any more on the matter, kissing her cheek as he grabs his plate. “Thanks for dinner.”
“…no problem. It is not as if I cooked it.”
“I’ll make dinner tomorrow,” he offers, the both of them going to sit at the square dining table on either side of Daisy. She makes a mess as they eat, somehow managing to paint her high-chair tray red despite having eaten all her vegetable mush.
Playing with her knife, Ziva says, “I miss working. I want to come back to NCIS, soon.”
“Scuttlebutt says you’re already signed up to FLETC,” Gibbs informs her through a mouth of stir-fry. Ziva’s eyes brighten.
“Really?”
“Uh-huh,” he says, scowling slightly. “Jenny put Michelle on your desk, though. Says she’s my new probie.”
Her world shifts sideways. “I am not going to be on the MCRT?”
“No idea. Being in a relationship didn’t change our work-ethic, don’t see why it would now we’re married…part from Daisy.” Gibbs seems uneasy. “Co-workers with kids aren’t allowed in the field together, usually. Too much hazard.”
“With whom we are, Daisy will always be in some measure of danger,” Ziva argues. “This is why she will be in the NCIS daycare, rather than the local daycare.”
Gibbs nods, remembering their agreement.
Continuing, Ziva states, “We work well together and with our skillsets, our jobs will be life-threatening at times, perhaps more for me, if my skills are exploited as they should be. Placing us together is only a problem for Human Resources, which can be run around by placing me under another’s jurisdiction.”
“Dinozzo already takes Jen’s orders,” mumbles Gibbs. “Could get the chain of command muddled, but if he’s officially under her, but working for me, then he could be your superior officer.”
“Tony respects your authority-” Ziva starts, only to be interrupted by Daisy. Not having yet grasped Gibbs’ ability to talk and act simultaneously in regards to their child, she reaches to fix Daisy’s problem, said problem being a thrown spoon that she wants back. Once it is again within Daisy’s grasp, calming the toddler, Ziva continues. “Tony respects your authority. He would understand, if it was explained to him.”
Gibbs stews, clearly agreeing, but having other things to think about. Settling into the silence, Ziva eats, occasionally tending to Daisy. She breaks the silence to ask Gibbs a question.
“Will you teach me American Sign Language? For Daisy?”
“…sure,” he nods. “You can practice with Abby, too.”
“Her parents are deaf,” Ziva acknowledges.
“Yeah. She has partial hearing loss in one ear, as well. Can’t hear the higher ranges,” Gibbs informs her, surprising Ziva – it isn’t exactly listed in her file, at least not the one Ziva had read a few years ago. “She doesn’t like to talk about it. S’why her music gets so loud.”
“And why she does not hear you coming,” observes Ziva, figuring it out. “Her right ear?” Gibbs replies positively. “Why does she not have a hearing aid?”
“Won’t. She has full hearing in her left ear. Says it’s enough for her. Don’t talk to her about it. She’s sensitive.”
“I will not,” Ziva vows, mulling over the shared characteristics of Abby and Daisy. She would not have thought Abby to have anything less than perfect hearing, but that is her fault for not asking or observing well enough. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense.
Daisy’s hearing loss is extensive. She is completely deaf in one ear, due to a previous ear-infection gone bad and partially deaf in her other – opposite to Abby, in this respect. Her sight is less than average, though the doctors aren’t sure whether or not her reactions aren’t on par alongside her development, or whether she really doesn’t have twenty-twenty vision. As per usual for those with Down Syndrome, she has hypotonia – low muscle tone – as well as Celiac disease – a gluten allergy – hypothyroidism – temperature and energy regulation problems from a low-functioning thyroid gland – and congenital heart disease.
There are many problems. Daisy’s early intervention team were overly-concerned about Ziva and Gibbs’ reactions, but neither outwardly showed any sign of panic to the doctors – though at home, it was a different story and perhaps one of the most emotional evenings they shared since the miscarriage. While Gibbs returned to work immediately upon the adoption, he had shown up to more than his fair share of doctor’s appointments, Ziva describing to him the ones he missed and keeping triplicate copies throughout the city of her medical records, in case anything happens.
The original weight-loss described by the doctor when they first found Daisy turned out not to be as severe as imagined, though she’s certainly put on more than a few pounds since. In any case, the gastric tube is unnecessary, now and Daisy, luckily, doesn’t seem to have any problems with food textures. Ziva even discovered that she has different likes and dislikes – mango being a like and banana being a dislike. It is thrilling to discover parts of Daisy’s personality.
“I will be going to FLETC, then.” Ziva mulls over the opportunity. Being signed up means she’s definitely got into NCIS, but as discussed, doesn’t mean she’ll be allowed onto the MCRT.
She finishes her meal. Gibbs cleans up, leaving her to go through Daisy’s exercises on the living room floor, stretching out her arms and legs. When she tries to sit up, Ziva helps her, praising her for her enthusiasm.
“Kids love smiles,” Gibbs says by the wall, coffee in hand. Ziva can smell it from across the room, pungent and heavenly. “Even if she can’t hear properly…”
The question leaves her suddenly. “Am I welcome here, Gibbs? I know we discussed keeping my apartment prior to the wedding, but-”
“You’re welcome, Ziva,” he interrupts her, rushing to get the words out. There is a significant pause, before he says slowly, “I want you here. Not just because you’re my wife.”
“…it helps, though.”
“Well, yeah,” he rolls his eyes and Ziva watches as Gibbs settles down beside her, moving Daisy’s arm around, mimicking her exercises. It’s almost a cover for him, so he can talk to her, be close to her. “And you’re Daisy’s mom. You need to be here. We both need you here.”
“And you want me here, too,” Ziva says softly. She kisses his cheek in silent thanks, smiling again when he wraps his arm around her waist and settles them both close together on the floor. Ziva leans forwards to tend to Daisy, feeling like the world outside is for tomorrow.
There will be other challenges, no doubt about it and there will be more problems to deal with. More death, more murder, more screaming. Head. Gun. Brains. There will be other victims.
Ziva lives on, knowing that for now, she has solace and hope in the form of the man at her back and the little girl in front of her.
She has her family and she is happy.