Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Fuck…”

The word was ground out from the very depths of her soul in the white-hot haze of his mouth on her; wet urgent kisses on her collar bones and heading into the valley between her breasts not covered by the deep neck of her dark blue satin blouse.  Tony’s thigh, jammed between hers was providing just the perfect amount of pressure as she gently rolled her hips but if they did not move before long, she was going to come before he had barely touched her.

Well perhaps Ziva, on rapid reflection, would retract that part. 

Barely touched her..?   No.   The almost constant physical attention he had paid to her throughout their date-night dinner, the little touches to her thigh, tickling barely there fingertips swiping up and down her arm, holding her hand and that gentle guide at the base of her spine, holding her in a tight warm bear hug as they waited for the cab…No.   Her skin had been on edge for hours now, ever since they left the apartment for the restaurant really and he had slid his palm over her trouser clad knee the second they sat down in their booth.  Now, with the ornate brightly-coloured glass apartment door to her back, pushed and pressed against it, there was only one word for it.  Well maybe two…

“Fuck…Tony…”

She felt the laugh vibrate against her sternum as he tracked kisses back up to her jaw as his palms slid down her hips, holding on tight in that way that made her feel so commanded.   “What, my love?” he muttered, lifting her ever so slightly so she could swing her legs around his hips, grinding impossibly closer to her.   Ziva didn’t know whether to say it, but they were making progress in every good direction right now and they had both got so much better at expressing themselves; even though there was still room to go.  He heard a throaty laugh, rumbling against his lips. “I knew there was an upside to me stopping that medication…”

For a split second, Tony was confused until it sunk in. It had been almost six years since she returned to Paris and five and a half since that visit to the Psychiatrist and the immediate trip to the pharmacy.   Since then, there had been so many failed and tearful attempts to wean her off the catalogue of tablets, that Ziva had really thought that this was it for life now.   It had been weeks now, almost three months now, since had taken the last pill and it had been her longest stretch of being medication-free.  More importantly she had not faltered one bit.   "Ah” Tony responded realising what she meant.  “I guess that’s the reason you’ve been jumping me at every available opportunity recently!”

The medication dulled her senses and slowed her reactions; a necessary evil on her road to recovery and whilst their bed had not necessarily been an arid desert, recently he had noticed the change in her generally. She was brighter, more present and it was obvious she found it easier to laugh.   “I feel like…” she started, feeling his hand slip up her rib cage and a thumb find her nipple through blouse and bra.  “Oh…” she breathed, distracted from her thought from a moment.  “I feel like my body is finally co-operating with what I want, and I do not have to…” She swallowed.  “I do not have to think about this.   I feel…more alive”.

Tony chuckled.  He knew what she meant.  She had told him, no matter how hard it been to hear, that the medication felt as though it weighed her down. It had not been as though her brain wasn’t on board, but her body was on occasion absent.  There had been too many times when they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, the guilt weighing on him particularly when he had caught her tensing up as he pushed inside her or when she would sneak off to bed early and be ‘asleep’ by the time he retired himself. 

“Tony” she had told him in one of those moments where their communication was better.  “It does not matter about me.  I take pleasure from your pleasure.  Do not feel bad.  I promise you it is not what you are not doing.  This medication…”

She knew he knew why but sometimes it did not absolve them.

Now though.  Well yes, that moan in his ear as her cheek nuzzled his was all that he needed to know.   He was about to move them towards their bedroom when her whole body went from languid to alarmingly tense in barely a second. “Tony, put me down!”  Her voice was urgent, necessary.

“What?” he asked, slightly dazed but he let her go anyway as she stood back on the floor and slipped past him, her body brushing his they were that close. She was clearly on a mission but right now Tony had clearly failed to read the memo.  He could see her spider senses were suddenly working overdrive as she stalked, heels clicking, across the floor to the dining table as he flicked the lights on; realising that something was very much up.

“Ziva. What’s going on?” he asked trying to ignore the arousal that was still swimming in his blood, standing half mast and befuddled by the door at this sudden change in mood.

“Your laptop” she started; her voice clipped and tense. “It was shut when we left”. They had been out for hours and not been back to the apartment, Tali was on an overnight school trip to Reims and the only other person who had a key – Senior – well, they had waved him off on the Eurostar to London at lunchtime.   She had noticed it even in the midnight darkness that filtered through the floor to ceiling balcony doors; the barely there light catching its silver surface as the blank screen stared at her.

“I have no idea” Tony muttered in response as he watched her track seasoned, professional eyes over the apartment.

“And that jacket of Tali’s” she said, pointing at the small tan-brown corduroy item on the floor, “it was hanging on the back of that dining chair when we left”.  The dining chair you would sit at if you were to log into the laptop…

“Are you sure?” he asked, wondering what was going on.    If they had been broken into, they must be the tidiest or most selective thieves ever.  All the obvious, easily saleable items – the television, her laptop, his laptop – were all still there.   There were a few other things in the apartment that were of value but they too were still sitting in their usual places undisturbed.

“I am sure” she replied earnestly as her eyes still roamed. “I put it there myself!”

“Ziva” Tony responded, standing in front of her now with hands on her upper arms to stop the clear agitation that was now evident on her face. “What’s going on?”

"Someone has been here," she observed, and Tony nodded, relying on her intuition. With a worried frown she continued. "I have noticed things moved around for weeks now. I thought it was you or Tali, or maybe I was just imagining things or tidied something unconsciously and forgot I had moved it so I never said anything, but tonight... Can you see if anyone has tried to get into your laptop?" she asked. He did not need the pleading eyes he saw.  He was going to do it anyway.

Tony nodded.   It was a good idea to do what she wanted when she was in this kind of mood; suspicion tingling at her skin now, instead of desire.  He sat at the dining table, Ziva picking up Tali’s jacket as she folded it and laid it over her arm.  Standing beside him she watched as he booted the laptop up.  Sure enough, his password let him in.  “Well unless they know my password, no-one has tried to get into it and blocked themselves”.  That bit he really did not think he wanted to know right now.  

“Can you tell if someone else logged in if they do?” Ziva asked, ever so conscious that there was so much information on there about the business and its client base.  Information that could be sold, used for blackmail or used to cause chaos on a worldwide scale.

“No idea” Tony replied genuinely.  “I can get someone at work to check”.  He turned and wrapped his arm around the back of her thighs to keep her in place.  “I can’t see anything’s been stolen and nothing else is out of place, is it?”  All the important things, passports, birth certificates, weaponry, were all under a false floorboard underneath their bed and frankly, everything else could pretty much just be replaced.  Even his DVD collection.  

“Not in here” she responded, taking another glance across the room but seeing it otherwise in the state they left it.  “And the door was locked.  Maybe it is my imagination after all”.  She was so sure…

“Well let’s check the rest of the apartment” he replied, standing up and dotting a kiss to her cheek before he spun her around toward the hallway.  “We can check the shower and then our bed…”

“I am being serious Tony” she warned as he let herself be gently pushed towards the thin hallway that ran to the back of the apartment; the bedrooms and bathroom running off it on either side.  

“So am I!” The retort was sharp, and Tony’s teasing earned him a glare, over her shoulder, but her lips twitched despite herself.

They moved together, silent and alert, through the dim hallway before they split in different directions.  Ziva wandered into the family bathroom; the area bright with its white tiles interrupted by a strip of Greek-style blue and white mosaic that circled the room halfway up the wall. A simple shower with a glass screen stood in the far corner, droplets from earlier still clinging to the surface. The cabinet above the sink was closed tight, opened to reveal the usual ephemera of a family – painkillers, band-aids, half used cough medicine and a curled-up tube of antiseptic cream.  Nothing changed; nothing moved.   Pale green towels still hung on the rail, and her perfume lay on the shelf.  Nothing.

Across the hallway Tony peered into the spare bedroom, his eyes sweeping over the shelves and latch on the balcony doors.  Nobody but Ziva, for her first few weeks in Paris and Senior when he visited, had stayed in here for years.  Tony walked in and opened the double wardrobe, finding the familiar scene of barely worn clothes Tali had grown out of but they could not bare to throw out, spare bedding and sweaters that only saw the light of day in winter.  A quick check found the balcony doors locked and peeking out, there was nothing disturbed on the wooden decking either.  Likewise, the spare bathroom was a quiet as ever too.  

Tony stepped out into the hallway, checking the tall cupboard - full of more spare bedding, towels and blankets - that blocked one end and again, silence.

“Nothing in there” Ziva said, her voice low as she joined him back in the hallway. Tony nodded, but unease was now clinging to his shoulders as well.   He knew Ziva and knew her instincts were always spot on.  If she said something was wrong, then she could usually be found to be correct.

They returned to their bedroom, with her help shoving the bed aside and dropping to his knees Tony tugged up the false floorboard. The documents, the two carefully stored sidearms, ammunition, the small velvet bag of Tali’s childhood keepsakes - including that little medical pot with her first lost tooth - all present, correct and untouched.  He slid it closed and stood, catching Ziva’s eye. “Everything’s here.”

She exhaled but didn’t relax, her gaze lingering on the door, then the window, then Tony. “Something still feels wrong.”

Tony crossed to her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I agree, but if someone’s trying to mess with us, we’ll catch them. You know we’re better together than apart.”   She nodded.  “I’ll go and check Tali’s room and the kitchen, lock the front door and check the windows and we can relax, okay?”  Tony’s hand found Ziva’s, fingers tightening before he released her and went on his way; planning on checking every single window again on his way back.  "Besides, we can ask the building security guards for their CCTV in the morning.  You know Andre and Arnaud would try and walk on water for you" he teased.   It only earned him another roll of the eyes as he left.  

After another round of checks and finally reaching the apartment door again; Tony could hear her clearly checking drawers in their bedroom.  In their haste to get each other’s clothes off they had clearly not noticed the scrap of paper on the floor. His foot did now though, and he leant down; the small pure white sheet a now obvious contrast to the dark oak wood of the floor.   Initially he thought it was just an errant shopping list or something that had fallen out of Tali’s school bag, but something drew him to it.  It could have been innocent. That was until he flipped it over and his heart crashed against his ribs.

“Ziva!” he yelled quickly bolting the door before she arrived at his side and showed her the note. He heard the shocked intake of breath.  She was right. They were right.

Two words hastily scrawled in a cramped elaborate script mocked them from the paper in his hand.

“Watching you…”

Chapter Text

By the time they had finished the apartment looked like it had been processed like a crime scene.  It could well be when you thought about it and the silence in the room had felt almost oppressive as they worked. Now they had finished, however, neither really knew what to say. 

They had scoured every inch of it, looking for anything out of place, but all there was Tali’s jacket, the note and the opened-up laptop.  The note was popped into a zip-lock bag for later.    “Tony…” she started all of a sudden, flopping down onto the couch.  “Do you think we should call Tali’s teacher?”  It let like such long time since they had waved her off on the coach for only the second overnight school trip they had been comfortable sending her on.

Tony glanced at his watch, not realising that it was almost 03.00hrs  “They will all be asleep and they know to call us if anything happens” he offered, coming to sit down beside her. 

She sighed.  “Yes, you are right”.  She really did not like knowing what this was about.

“It could be someone having a joke with us” he mused, an arm going around the back of the couch behind her head.  They could be hugely overreacting to a sick prank.

"Tony” she responded, her voice heavy.  “Knowing our history do you really think that is the case?”

He snorted with laughter.  “No..."  Her shoulders dropped as he turned to her, taking up her hand. “But Ziva what can we do right now?  All we have is a laptop that doesn’t actually look like someone has got into it and a scrap of paper with a message on.” Watching you’ “We need to get the building CCTV tomorrow and watch and see if there is anything suspicious.  There is a camera in the elevator and on the stairs. It will have caught whoever it is”.   Ziva nodded and immediately yawned.  “Come on, lets see if we can get some sleep for a few hours and then Andre or Arnaud should be there at 8 and you can charm them into giving us the CCTV”

“Okay” she responded, her voice heavy as they stood up.  “There is not much more we can do is there?”

“Ziva come here” he responded, immediately wrapping her into a tight, warm, hug; her face buried in his neck.  “I hope to God that this is just a prank by someone and it’s not something serious but…if it is, we will deal with it as we have always done”.  He felt her nod against his skin.  “You know how it goes.  I tell stupid jokes, and you decapitate them with a pen knife”. A judder of a laugh ran through her; followed by another heavy sigh.  “Look, we have a plan for later” he started.  “We do that, take it stage by stage and see what the CCTV tells us, do you agree?”

“I agree” she muttered, wiggling out of his hold and heading towards their bedroom.  She didn’t like but what choice realistically did she have?

A few hours later Tony woke up, the duvet slung aside off his body, just a little bit cold and alone.  He sat up, a banging headache brewing and regarded the room and himself.  He was half undressed and still wearing last night trousers.  Ziva’s blouse and trousers were slung on the back of a chair, but otherwise she was absent.  Until he heard the ‘click, click, click’ of her nails on a keyboard and he knew exactly what she was doing.  Blearily glancing across at the time on his cell, Tony shot out of bed.  09.45! Shit.

“Andre gave me the CCTV” she offered the second she saw him out of the corner of her eye, pulling on the first available warm sweater he could find.  “He said he needed to speak to his supervisor but I persuaded him he did not”.

“Threat of bodily harm?” he asked, pressing a ‘good morning’ kiss to the crown of her head.  He was not being entirely unserious about that part. He had seen her in action.

“I was nice to him” she replied, mockingly offended as she continued to scan the screen in front of her.  “I can be nice”.

“Hmmmm” Tony offered in response, pulling up a chair next to her.  “Anything?”

Ziva sighed. “Yes.  Last night”.  Quickly she found the time on the download.  20.19hrs; over an hour after they left for the restaurant and right in the middle of the security guard’s shift change.  Typical.  A tall figure coming up the stairs on their floor and approaching the apartment door.  Sure, enough the figure leant down and pushed something under the wood.   Covering their face, they left back down the stairs.  Ziva knew what his next question was going to be.  “They went through the back way out of the building, through that door where the garbage bins are”.

“Where there are no cameras”.  Tony let out a heavy sigh.  They had been doing it lot recently.  “Can you freeze the picture when they’re standing up?” Duly she did that.  “How tall do you reckon?”

Ziva looked at it; looking for landmarks in the hallway. “Well, their head is level with the top of the lamp on the wall.  I would say about the same height as you or nearly”. 

“So likely able to discount them being female.  I do not know many six foot two tall women” he replied, as Ziva nodded thoughtfully, keeping her eyes fixed on the frozen image.  If whoever it was had been in the apartment for weeks he sure enough avoided detection so far.   Tony rubbed his temple, piecing it together. “And he knew the guard’s schedule. Whoever it is, he’s careful. Clothes, shoes?”

Ziva zoomed in, squinting. “Dark jacket, maybe navy. Sneakers, not boots. Cannot see the face, obviously. But his build – he is not slim. Broad shoulders.”

Tony exhaled slowly, considering the possibilities. He paused, glancing at Ziva. “We’ll have to ask around, see if anyone saw someone matching that description. Let’s start with the neighbours. Someone must have seen something.”  She nodded at him, agreeing until he carried on. “As long as you don’t ask me to ask the one across the hall.   She looks at me like she wants to eat me alive”.

Ziva laughed.  “You are a big boy Tony.  I am sure you can manage her!”

“I probably could” he responded with a knowing smile. “But I have no desire to fend her off today”.

“Okay, I will deal with her as long as you let me ask Philippe” Ziva bargained, raising her eyebrow at him.

“The gym rat on the first floor?” Tony asked; his tone dismissive. “I mean feel free. He is not competition” he concluded with a shrug of the shoulders. Ziva tutted but leaned across to him, planting a firm kiss on his cheek asTony grinned, a flash of amusement in his eyes. “Just don’t let him distract you from the case. We’ve got a careful intruder and a mystery message. That’s enough workout for one morning".

Ziva rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Do not worry, Tony. I am focused. Besides, I am not the one who gets sidetracked every time there’s a bakery delivery downstairs.”

He feigned offence. “That’s different. Carbs are essential for detective work.”

She shook her head with a small smile, then squared her shoulders. “Come on. Let us go and see if the neighbours are in”.

“Deal,” Tony replied, already heading for the door. “But we are getting lunch delivered afterwards!”  Ziva smiled.   Stomach first worries later.  Trouble was that itch that was crawling under her skin about the whole situation had started to become truly irritating and she pressed her lips together, pushing the nagging feeling aside for now. As they stepped into the corridor Ziva cast Tony a sidelong glance, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

“Let us try Philippe first and work our way up.  If he has seen anything, he will tell us. Or at least, try to impress me with his latest deadlift statistics.”

Tony chuckled, pausing to press the ‘call’ button on the elevator and it arrived virtually immediately.  “If he flexes at you, I’m calling it: you owe me a pastry.”

“Deal,” Ziva replied.  She allowed herself a quick scan of the hall just as the doors closed, senses alert beneath her banter. Somewhere, the answer to the unsettling feeling in her gut was waiting to be found.

Trouble was, it was not within their neighbours.   Their knocking on doors had found nothing and joining each other back up in the apartment their faces told the whole story.  Tony tossed his keys onto the coffee table with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Well, that was spectacularly useless,” he muttered, slumping onto the couch again. Ziva paced near the window, her arms folded tightly, gaze fixed on the street below wondering if whoever wrote that note was out here; watching them just like they said.  She didn’t reply right away, but after a moment, her voice was low and clipped. “Philippe saw nothing. Your friend over the hallway was asleep, Tomas and Alexandre were out clubbing until dawn, Marie and Marc are on holiday and Madame Norman has lost her glasses so she wouldn’t have been able to see anyway!”  She ticked off the list, frustration simmering in the air.

Tony watched her for a beat, then offered a lopsided grin. “So we’re back to square one”.

Ziva’s jaw clenched as she continued to watch the world. “It does not make sense, Tony. Someone was here and they were careful, in this apartment, looking for…” She actually had no idea.  “We cannot afford to be sloppy.”

Tony rolled his shoulders, standing up. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.” He crossed to the open plan kitchen, rummaging for tea bags. “And I’m still holding you to that lunch. Detective work runs on carbs and caffeine.”

She managed a faint smile, but her eyes stayed wary. As Tony filled the kettle, Ziva closed the balcony doors and traced the edge of the lock with her fingertip. “It makes no sense!  Nothing has been taken.  We found no bugs or hidden cameras”. Her voice was barely above a whisper.  “Just that note”.

Tony frowned, setting mugs on the counter and walked across to where she was standing, fingertip still tracing the outline of the lock. “Zee” he started, ready to speak before she interrupted him.

“What if” she started. “What if its to do with our old life?   We put a lot of people in prison and I know I annoyed a few people along the way.  We have Tali to think of”.  They had to collect her from the school at 17.00hrs.   “We cannot put her at risk”.

“I know that” Tony replied sliding his arms around her waist.  “We can take my laptop to work and they can have a look at it before we go and get Tali.  We just…don’t separate for now”.

“We cannot keep her from school.  She will know something is wrong” Ziva noted.   One thing that their daughter had inherited from both of them was being observant and had the unnerving ability to ask all the right questions.   

Tony sighed. “You know we have Sophie” he offered.  “We can trust her.   If something happens, we know we can rely on her”.

Interrupting them there was a soft knock on the door, barely audible above the gentle hiss of the kettle. Both Tony and Ziva paused, exchanging a wary glance. Tony nodded and moved quietly towards the door, keeping his body between Ziva and the entrance. Ziva, on instinct, slipped her hand to her phone, thumb hovering over the emergency dial.

Tony opened the door just a crack. On the other side, Philippe stood, concerned look etched across his features. He carried a small box tucked under one arm.  “Sorry to trouble you,” he said, lowering his voice. “I was just about to go to work and just found this pushed up against my door, but it’s addressed to you Tony. I thought after our conversation before it was strange”. He had also nearly fallen over it.  Ziva joined Tony at the door, her posture tense but composed. She took the box carefully, examining it for any obvious signs of tampering. The wrapping was plain; the box was as light as a feather and, on top of it, a taped down envelope neatly printed with ‘Anthony D DiNozzo Jnr’.  No address; just his name and the writing was different than the note before. 

“Thank you Philippe” he breathed feeling more on edge than ever.  “Thanks for bringing this up. Let us know if you see or hear anything strange?” The man nodded, smiling at them both and the door was locked behind him.  

Tony set the box on the dining table and exchanged a look with Ziva - determined now, the faint tremor of uncertainty replaced by the old, familiar resolve.  He opened the taped down note, scanning the single line written inside on a cut out piece of card but the words were written in a language he did not know.   He passed it to Ziva.  “Is that Arabic?!”

Ziva took it.  “Yes” she replied, swallowing back the dread that engulfed her. “It says ‘The past it does not forget’”

“You were right” he offered, going to the kitchen to get a knife to slice through the tape on the package.   It actually felt too light to hold anything if he was being honest.   As she waited for him the silence stretched, thick with unspoken fears, but when he arrived back she started watching him very carefully sever through the brown tape.  He was conscious of it holding powders or fluids as he did not want a repeat of the plague but on looking inside, he found…nothing.  Tony frowned as Ziva set the card down beside the box, her mind racing as she replayed the words in her head. The message was clear - someone wanted to remind them that history could not be buried so easily but why an empty box filled with nothing?

Ziva stood silently, her fingers tracing the edge of the empty box, mind flitting between memories and possibilities. Tony, watching her, felt a prickle of unease running down his spine. The silence seemed oppressive now.  "Someone's playing games," Tony muttered, half to himself, half hoping for reassurance. "Or sending a warning." He closed the box, folding the card inside, and set them both gently on the table as if they might yet detonate given the chance. The two messages echoed in his mind too.

‘Watching you’

‘The past it does not forget’

Both could not help but wonder which of their pasts had come calling on them now.

Chapter Text

It had been three days.

Three days of relative but unnerving peace.  No more notes, no more parcels.  Tali had been to school as usual; Tony’s laptop had a thorough health check with nothing found and Ziva?   Well, she had spent most of it incessantly cleaning and trying to get the last almost invisible trace of this person out of their apartment.  

It sent such a shiver up her spine that someone could have been wandering around at their own free will, in Tali’s room, touching their bed or their clothes, even looking in the refrigerator.   As the week rolled on Ziva became more taught, more uptight and more restless waiting for any more little surprises that so far had not come.    She had tried, really tried to act normal around Tali and for the most part she had managed it.  Even their inciteful and far smarter for her age daughter had not said anything but Tony had noticed her restless sleep and he fact that he could see his face in the floors.  

He had been home early tonight and had taken it upon himself to change their bed and found a SIG jammed between the mattress and the headboard.  The only person that could have put there was Ziva, of course. “Jesus…” he offered to anyone in particular that might be listening.

Thankfully Tali was with Senior and as he patted in place the corners of the clean duvet, he heard the apartment door go and Ziva walked in, shopping bags rustling as she walked along.  He left the SIG on the sideboard and wandered out into the hallway.  “Hi!” she offered, really not expecting him to be here, but equally rather pleased as she put the bags on the floor in the open plan kitchen.

“Hi” he responded, leaning down and giving her a firm kiss on the cheek.

“Something is wrong” she offered, turning to him. She could read him like a book and he may have only uttered one word, but from the tone alone she could tell.  “Have we had another note?!” she asked, eyes wide in horror but he shook his head.  Thankfully, no there had been nothing.

“Come with me” he offered, taking up her hand as Ziva let herself be led towards their bedroom.  She was confused to say the least until he stood her before the sideboard and she saw the gun.    “Now I can understand why you have it with everything that’s been going on” Tony continued, seeing the colour drain a little from her face. “But down the back of our bed?! Tali could have got hold of it. At least with the others under the floorboard she doesn’t know they are there!”

“It is not loaded” she responded, immediately feeling as though she had to defend herself against him.  She had reasons. Reasons she felt were good and even now, years and therapy later, she could not shake that tiny piece of her that remained so wary and cautious of the world around her

Tony frowned. “I know. I checked” he replied.  “Where is the other ammunition?”   He knew the bullets under the bed would not load into a SIG.

Ziva coughed.  “In my bedside drawer” she confessed. “In a box, but I only put it down to back of our bed two nights ago” she quickly added.

Tony’s shoulders dropped.  “Ziva” he started, a hand smoothing down her cheek.  “I know why you have it there but what if Tali found it?” It was a mixture of concern and frustration in his voice. 

“Old habits die hard” she responded.  “That is the phrase?”  Tony nodded in response.  “I have to protect her Tony. Protect us.  What if whoever sent us that note, and the parcel is watching us still?  They knew the security guards shifts, they have been in here. I cannot stand the fact that some stranger has touched our possessions…Touched Tali’s jacket!”

Without a word, he pulled her close to his chest, wrapping her in his arms.  Her whole body was as stiff as a board.  “Ziva relax. I’m not angry with you. As I said I completely understand but it was just a bit of a surprise it being somewhere so…open and you know Tali’s level of curiosity frequently gets her into trouble…”

Ziva’s breath came out in a shaky sigh, her gaze flicking from the weapon to Tony’s face, searching for judgement and only finding concern. “I did not mean to frighten you,” she said softly, her voice edged with guilt. She reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his. “It was only for a little while. I will put it under the floorboard with the others. I promise.”

Tony squeezed her hand in response, his own frustration melting into a quiet understanding. “Let’s both be careful, yeah?” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “We’ll keep Tali safe. Together.” The tension in the room softened, replaced by a fragile sense of unity, and for a moment, they stood side by side - two anxious parents trying to keep their world intact.

“Are you really not angry with me?” she asked all of a sudden, sounding so young and immature. 

Tony shook his head.  “Ziva we have been out of the loop on all this stuff for years because thankfully, fate decided to give us a break for a while but we still know that it’s a risk that our past lives might come back to us right?”  He felt her nod; her head against his chest.  “Which is why we made the provisions we did”.  Wills, a Trust and guardianship for Tali, two safe houses in France and one in London and a mini armoury under their bed.  “It hasn’t been present but it hasn’t truly left us either”. Tony drew in a long breath, searching Ziva’s eyes for a flicker of reassurance that she felt safer now. The faint hum of the streetlights outside barely filtered through the curtains, adding to the silence that pressed between them. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but steady. “We’re not the same people we once were, Zee. But we can’t afford to forget either.”

Tony traced his thumb over her knuckles, grounding her in the present. “We’re doing what we can, Ziva. That’s all anyone can ask.” The weight of years hung between them -shared secrets, narrow escapes, the constant shadow of threat. He saw the flicker of old fear in her eyes and wished, for a moment, that he could erase it, give her peace. But peace was a luxury they’d never truly known.

Ziva managed a fragile smile, leaning into his touch. “You always say the right thing, Tony.”

He grinned, a spark of their old banter returning. “Well, I have to keep up. You set a high bar.” His attempt at humour earned a soft laugh and she wiggled slightly out of his arms to turn and raise her head to kiss him.

The kiss was threatening to turn into something else when they heard the scrape of a key in the lock and Senior’s voice.  “Son, get your hands off Ziva. Grandfather and granddaughter coming through!”

“How does he know?” Tony whispered as they separated.  He shoved the SIG into the sideboard drawer for later and followed Ziva out.  

The door swung open wider, and Senior swept into the room with all his usual flair, Tali following him behind and dropping her school bag down. “We brought dessert!” he announced, holding up a bag from the corner bakery as if it was a trophy.

 “Dad can we have cake now?” Tali asked, her eyes shining with anticipation. No hellos, not nothing; just straight to the point but that was their Tali all over.

Tony, still catching his breath from the abrupt shift in atmosphere, exchanged a look with Ziva - a silent agreement passing between them. “I think cake is exactly what we all need,” he replied, ruffling Tali’s hair and planting a quick kiss on her forehead.

Senior set the bag down on the table, his gaze lingering on his son and Ziva, as if sensing the remnants of tension in the air. But he chose not to comment, instead bustling about with plates and cutlery, humming an old jazz tune under his breath. Some time later whilst Ziva and Tali were otherwise engaged, Senior cornered his son in the kitchen.   The serious look on his father’s face unnerved Tony for a moment.  As did the words “Son, can we have a quiet chat?”

“What’s up?” Tony asked, trying to sound like dread had not washed through his body.

His father looked at him and produced a card from the inside pocket of his jacket. “This was delivered to my apartment for you” he started, giving the envelope a little sniff.  “It reeks to high heaven of women’s perfume”. He saw his son nod.  He could smell it from there.  “Son, I do not wish to interfere but are you playing away from home?”

Tony nearly burst out laughing in shock as he was handed the envelope; again adorned with his name.  “Do you think I would cheat on Ziva?” he asked, voice low and almost dangerous.  The very thought of doing something like that was just abhorrent. 

“I do not know” Senior replied shaking his head.  “But what I do know is that if you are, let Ziva go and let her live her life.  She does not deserve to be lied to by someone she loves.  Not after everything she has been through.”

“Dad!” Tony exclaimed, more than shocked and guiding the man further into the depths of the kitchen by the elbow to make absolutely sure no-one else could hear.  “I would never think of even touching another woman as long as Ziva is part of my life.  Dad…I was on my own here for 3 years before she came back.  Did you ever see me with another woman then?" His father shook his head.  He hadn't. “I could have had ample opportunity to date a string of women then but I waited for her".

"So what is this?  A note addressed to my son, to my address and clearly from a woman?" Senior asked, still no entirely sure his son was telling the truth but he had no evidence otherwise so for now, he had to keep his counsel.

"I have no idea Dad. I really don’t".  This was getting beyond it being a prank now.  Clearly whoever it was now knew where his father lived as well.  The last thing he wanted to tell his father right now was that they already had one mystery message and an empty parcel.  He would take it and talk to Ziva later.

Sure enough as it crept towards 11pm; the apartment was quiet, bar in the bed, Ziva, in shorts and a vest top was sitting straddled on Tony's lap and she could see he just wasn’t with it.   “What is wrong Tony?” she asked, tipping her head to one side to catch his eye. She had noted he was almost absent; mind clearly on other things.  “Or have I completely lost my ability to seduce you?”

Tony smiled, her words snapping him back to reality. “No Zee” he replied genuinely smiling, hands sliding up and down her bare thighs. “You certainly haven’t lost that”.  He looked up at her and from the bedside drawer produced the envelope. “Dad had this delivered to him the other day. He gave it me tonight”. Ziva took it and flipped it over, to read it was addressed to Tony again.  “It stinks of women’s perfume”.

“It is rather…” Ziva waved the card in front of her nose. “Rather pungent”.  She frowned, feeling her heart start to race.  It was obvious what it was. “You have not opened it”.

Tony shook his head  “I wanted to talk to you about it first.  We know what it will be” he said, seeing her nod, taking a nose full of the perfume again.  "Dad thought I was cheating on you.  He challenged me about it because of the perfume, but..." His voice suddenly cracked and she saw tears spring to his eyes. “Dad didn’t recognise it because he never paid attention to things like that with her but it’s the perfume that Mom always wore. Opium”.

“Oh Tony…” Ziva replied her voice barely a whisper as she took a deep breath.  “First I know you would never cheat on me because I would castrate you and you know I would", she smiled, running a palm down his face in comfort, just as he did to her.  He let out a watery laugh.  It was the truth after all.  "Second…do you want me to open it?”  He nodded.   He had not been brave enough.  He dared not think what might be written inside.

Ziva took a deep breath, steadying herself as she slid her finger beneath the seal. The rich, familiar scent of Opium intensified as she pulled out the card. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of anticipation settling between them. The card was simple, ivory with a delicate gold border, but Ziva could see and feel Tony's hands tighten on her thighs as she unfolded it. She glanced at him, offering a reassuring nod before she began to read aloud.  “My dearest Anthony,” she read softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Despite the years my love for you will always remain. There are things I never said, things I should have told you. Please forgive me. I did not wish to leave you. I loved my little boy more than words ever could say.”  Tony pressed a hand to his mouth, struggling to compose himself. Ziva squeezed the hand still on her thigh, offering silent comfort as she continued. “Remember me with a smile, cherish the good memories of what little time we had together”.  It was signed with an elaborate ‘E’.  Elizabeth.  His mom.

Ziva’s heart was racing. It was written as though it came from his mother.  His mother that had been dead for decades.  “Whoever wrote this…they are sick in the head” she announced firmly.  “Writing that…”

“They are trying to mess with my head” he responded before she folded the card and placed it out of the way in the envelope. 

She looked up and pulled him up from his half reclining position against the pillows and held him tight. “I am so sorry Tony” she began.  Tony buried his face against her shoulder, letting the old grief shake through him for a moment. Ziva held him, her own eyes damp, neither speaking as the gravity of the letter lingered between them. She waited until his breathing steadied before she spoke again, her voice gentle but resolute. “We will get to the bottom of this”.

Tony nodded, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “Thank you, Ziva. Why now though and why that?” Why his Mom?!

She brushed a tear from his cheek and offered the smallest of smiles. “I have no idea.  I really do not…”

Chapter Text

Three more days had passed since the card; three days with no further deliveries, no new threats but perhaps the more pressing thing was no answers. The tension in the air hadn’t faded either; it lingered like a stubborn fog, settling over every thought, every movement that they made wondering who was sending them these messages and notes.

Tonight, trying to make life feel as normal as she could, Ziva stayed late at her desk.   It was nearing the end of term, and she had examinations to mark.  As much as she did not want to be away from Tony or Tali, she needed the quiet to get this done.  The only light in silent offices was a soft glow from her lamp and the noise the steady hum of her computer. Files were stacked in careful piles – done and to be done. She only had three papers left to mark, but her attention had already wandered. She couldn’t shake the memory of Tony’s grief, the haunted look in his eyes as she read the letter from his long-dead mother.

The buzz of her mobile phone jolted her from her reverie. She glanced at the screen, hoping it might be Tony but instead she found an unknown number. With a frown, she unlocked it. One new message appeared, written in crisp, elegant French.

“Il ne t’a jamais aimée. Il ne t’aime pas.”  Ziva’s heart skipped. She set the phone down, jaw tightening. The screen blinked again - a new message, this time in German: “Er hat dich nie geliebt. Er liebt dich nicht.”  Another, in Italian: “Non ti ha mai amata. Non ti ama.”

Her fingers trembled as she watched the messages appear, one after another, each in a different language she knew intimately and all saying the same thing.

Spanish: “Nunca te amó. No te ama.”

Hebrew: “הוא אף פעם לא אהב אותך. הוא לא אוהב אותך.”

Dutch: “Hij heeft nooit van je gehouden. Hij houdt niet van je.”

Afrikaans: “Hy het jou nooit liefgehad nie. Hy het jou nie lief nie.”

Portuguese: “Ele nunca te amou. Ele não te ama.”

Gaelic: “Níor thug sé grá duit riamh. Ní bhfuil grá aige duit.”

Albanian : Ai kurrë nuk të ka dashur. Ai nuk të do.

The final one – in English even though whoever sent them seemed to know perfectly well she could speak multiple languages - was added a minute later.  “He never loved you. He doesn’t love you”.

Each phrase cut like glass - familiar, menacing, impossible to ignore. Ziva’s mind raced with questions. Who would know she was fluent in all these tongues? Who could want to unsettle her so personally, so precisely?  She steadied her breathing, forcing herself to think. No new deliveries for Tony or Senior, no threats except these messages. Whoever this was, they wanted her alone - unbalanced, doubting. Had they watched her come to work today?  Knew she had stayed late? Where they outside this second looking up at her from outside?  She refused to give them the satisfaction, and she was not going to go to the window to stare out into the Parisian evening.  No, thank you.

Ziva scrolled back through the messages, studying for any subtle differences, searching for a clue. Not that there were anyway.  She had zero intention of replying to them. That’s what whoever it was wanted – to get attention from her or him, to get them outwardly worried and start asking questions.  Her determination hardened. This was no random scare tactic. It was a challenge, and Ziva David did not back down from such things.

She hesitated, thumb hovering over Tony’s contact, torn between warning him and sparing him further worry until she was safe home. The lamp flickered, casting strange shadows across the room and Ziva straightened, resolve steeling within her. She would not let fear dictate her next move so she pressed the green button.  “I was just about to call you”.  Tony’s words, said so seriously, cut through her.  “I got a message on my cell about five minutes ago.”

“So did I” she replied.  “Several messages in fact”.

“What did yours say?” he asked, starting to pace along the wooden slats of the back balcony, careful of Tali overhearing.  She was just finishing her homework at his desk and whilst he could see her, what he did not want her to be worried.

“He never loved you. He doesn’t love you” she responded, hoping her voice did not sound so wobbly to him as it felt to her.  “In about 10 different languages…”

Tony sighed, his voice dropping even lower.  Tali did not need to hear this one bit.  “Zee, you know that isn’t true.  I have loved you for a long, long time and I will continue to do so”.

“I know that” she replied, hearing the sincerity in his voice.  “What did yours say?”

He sighed and read it out.  “Zure alaba ez da zurea…” Ziva could feel the blood drain from her face.  “I had to google it” Tony replied, feeling sheepish.  “It’s Bas…”

“Basque. I know” Ziva responded.   “Tali is your child Tony”.   The message ‘your daughter is not yours’ was perhaps more personal than any others.   It harked back to her betrayal of him, of her secrecy, of keeping her pregnancy, the birth and almost the first two years of their child’s life from him.   At times, she knew that scar was not yet fully healed but who knew of this?  Who knew of her betrayal of him? 

“I know that Zee.  She is mine” Tony replied determinedly. “I have known that from the moment she walked into Vance’s office.  I look at her and see me!”  Ziva could feel a storm form in her chest.  “Zee, come home?” His voice was quiet, plaintive and there was only one thing she was going to do. Marking end of term papers could wait a day.

Ziva left the building with brisk determination, the remnants of her conversation with Tony still echoing in her mind. The evening air pressed coolly against her cheeks as she made her way to the Metro station, her senses sharpened by a quiet, simmering anxiety.  The platform was busy, scattered with office workers and university students, but Ziva’s gaze was restless. She scanned each face, tracing the flicker of a glance, the tightness of a jaw, the shuffle of feet. Every subtle movement was catalogued and considered; years of instinct and training made her wary, even of the most innocuous bystander.  Had whoever this was followed her?   Would they track her every step on the way home? Or where they already there?

The train arrived with a screech of brakes and Ziva stepped inside, positioning herself by the door where she could see the entire carriage. Six stops separated her from home - hardly a long journey, but tonight, every minute felt laden with unseen threat. She watched a man in a  dark grey suit tap nervously at his phone, his thumb moving erratically. A teenager with a rucksack avoided eye contact altogether, while an elderly woman clutched her shopping bag just a little too tightly to her chest. Ziva’s eyes narrowed, tracking the body language of each passenger and memorising the details that didn’t quite fit.  Trouble was, as she had no idea who was doing this to them, every single move of every single passenger was a potential threat.

As the train rattled and juddered through each station, Ziva’s posture remained tense, her fingers curled around the strap of her bag; wondering if there was something she could fashion as a weapon.  A glass nail file. A glass nail file in the inside pocket. That was feasible. Thinking through her defensive options, she caught her reflection in the window - a mask of composure, betraying none of the turmoil churning beneath the surface. She would reach her stop soon enough, but for now, vigilance and a glass nail file were her only comfort.

By the time Ziva reached her street, the tension from her journey lingered, but the sight of their familiar apartment offered a measure of comfort. She paused at the corner, catching a glimpse of Tony and Tali on the front balcony, illuminated by the soft light that spilled from their sitting room. From across the road, hiding under a tree, Ziva observed Tony lounging in a chair, animatedly recounting a story, his gestures exaggerated for comedic effect. Tali, on a separate chair sprawled beside him with a small bowl of popcorn in her lap, rolling her eyes at her father’s antics but unable to suppress a smile.  Ziva could tell from Tony’s face that Tali’s responses were witty remarks and he feigned dramatic shock to earn a laugh. The banter between them was lively and sharp, filled with inside jokes and the easy camaraderie of family; belying what must be going through Tony’s head right now.

Ziva lingered beneath the sycamore, watching as Tony attempted a ridiculous impression, prompting Tali to snort and shake her head, her laughter more controlled but just as genuine.  With one last glance around her, watching for any remotely familiar face, she crossed the road towards home.

Later that night, with the apartment quiet and Tali long since tucked up in bed, Tony and Ziva retreated to their own room. The comforting glow of the bedside lamp threw gentle shadows across the walls. Ziva sat cross-legged atop the covers, absently twisting the hem of her pyjama shirt, while Tony lay with his back against the headboard, gazing thoughtfully at her.

For a few moments, silence stretched between them - familiar but charged neither completely sure how to approach this new development. Finally, Tony broke it, his voice low so as not to carry through the thin walls to their child next door.  “It’s not something I ever expected, Zee” he started.  He had been thinking this over.  “That message - it’s like someone is trying to rewrite our story.  A message as though my mother is alive, you getting messages that I’ve never loved you, that Tali is not my child…But I know who Tali is. I know who we are, and I know my mother is dead.”

Ziva squeezed his hand, the tension in her shoulders easing. “It is meant to make us doubt each other, ourselves. But I saw you with her tonight. I see the way she looks at you, the way she smiles. I…” she hesitated.  “You have been the last and only person I have had sex with in 12 years”.

“You don’t need to tell me Zee. I trust you over that.  I always have done”.  She leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “Do you think we should go to the safe house?” he asked.  The idea had popped up today,

Ziva considered his words.  “Well, it is school holidays starting on Friday. I am off, Tali is off.  You can work remotely” She sighed.  “Perhaps we should go for a little while…But do we really want to leave here?  Especially if someone is getting in”.

“Locksmith” Tony responded, rubbing fingertips over her knee, “and I will buy some cameras before we go.  We will have to see if Sophie can come with us.  Just in case”.   They should have had cameras in the apartment years go but perhaps complacency had set in. 

Ziva nodded, sinking into the soothing motion on her skin. “We will have to tell Tali something though.  She knows Sophie is no ordinary babysitter and she will ask.   It’s probably why she doesn’t complain when Sophie looks after her!”

“Then we be honest with her” he offered in return.   “As long as nothing happens in the meantime, after school on Friday when you are both free, we tell her”. He saw Ziva nod and yawn.  “Come on” he said, “lets see if we can sleep”.

Friday came soon enough and the evening filtered through the curtains when Ziva stepped into the kitchen, where Tali was perched on a stool with a celebratory  chocolate milk shake for the end of term. Tony joined them, balancing two mugs of coffee, handing one to Ziva with a conspiratorial wink. He took a seat next to Tali, his expression gentle and reassuring.  Ziva leaned forward, her voice warm but purposeful. “Tali, we need to talk to you about something important,” she began, offering a smile to soften her words. Tony nodded, setting his coffee aside.

Tali paused, glass hovering mid-air as she looked between her parents. “Are you splitting up?” she guessed, her brow furrowing in anticipation.

“What?” Ziva replied, shocked. “No absolute not! We were thinking… how does a little family holiday sound?”

Tali’s eyes widened, surprise lighting her face. “A holiday? Really? Where?”

Ziva reached out to affectionately tuck a stray curl behind Tali’s ear. “We thought we might go to the house in Bollene. It will be just us - and we are going to ask Sophie to come along too, to help out.”

Tali considered this, her lips pursing thoughtfully. “Sophie?”  Tali looked at them both.  “What’s happened?” She saw her parent’s glance at each other; her father nodding to her mother.

“Tali” Ziva started, pressing her lips together.  She had made so many mental promises over the years that she would tell Tali the truth about everything. “You know your Dad and I did a dangerous job in the past.  Well, the last few days we have been getting some strange messages that we think are to do with that” she explained.  “We cannot work out who was sending them but your Dad and me, we have decided that we need to go away for a little while and as it is the Summer holiday…”

Tali looked at them.  “Do you think they are dangerous?”

“Possibly,” Tony said softly. “That’s why Sophie will be with us. She cares about you, and she’s really good at making sure everyone’s safe. It’s just for a little while, until things settle down.”

Ziva nodded, her voice gentle. “We wanted to be honest with you, Tali. We’re going away because we want to keep you safe, and we want you to have fun, too. Nothing’s going to change between us. You’ll have us, and Sophie, and we’ll make sure you’re still able to do all the things you love.”

Tali let out a slow breath, her anxiety easing under their steady gazes. “Can I bring my sketchbook?” she asked, her voice small but hopeful.

“Of course,” Tony grinned, reaching to squeeze her hand. “We’ll pack everything you want.”

“Okay,” Tali said, finally smiling. “When are we going?”

Chapter Text

The wheels of the swiftly acquired hire car crunched to a slow stop along makeshift road, the sun-drenched Provençal countryside shimmering all around.   

The journey had been long and the driving shared between the three adults; the last hour and a half being Tony’s and as he killed the engine just outside the gate to the house, he cast a furtive glance at Ziva, whose dark curls caught golden rays as she looked ahead. In the back, Tali pressed her nose eagerly to the window, breath fogging the glass. Sophie, beside her poised and attentive, ran a last calculating look along the dusty road before stepping out first, the picture of measured calm.

Tony and Ziva watched as she quickly moved towards the high gates; painted grey/blue and as they swung open, he carefully drew the car down the gravel path and towards the house.  

Before them sprawled a classic French villa: creamy stone walls washed pale by the sun, blue wooden shutters flung wide over generous windows, a terracotta-tiled roof sloping gently downward. They had chosen this house years ago – a safe house they preferred to call a holiday home for Tali’s sake, but nevertheless, the place was like a fortress.     They paid a local woman and her son a generous amount to keep the house spic and span for them for the times that they were not there and the long wild garden, heavy with lavender was a testament to that.  

At its far side, a narrow stream swept around to the side of the house, its water glinting with reflected light, flanked by willows swaying in the gentle breeze.   The sky arched cloudless and vividly blue - yet for Tony and Ziva, uncertainty simmered just beneath the surface calm.  “Mom, can I go see the stream? Please?” Tali’s voice rang with delight as she tumbled out, her trainers crunching on gravel. “There were baby frogs last time we were here!” she exclaimed, head tipped back to breath in the remaining sun.

Ziva smiled, her eyes softening. “We will take a look together in a bit, motek. Let us bring in our things first.”

Tali barely listened, already mapping out adventures in the expansive garden -, wading in the stream and climbing up to the spot where she was trying to persuade her Dad to let her have a tree house.  The house was a fairytale haven to her, its worn stone steps and riotous flowerbeds a world away from hurried Parisian streets. The shadows lurking in her parents’ eyes went unnoticed, their exchanged glances lost as they smiled at their child.

Sophie moved with purpose, shouldering Tali’s small rucksack and pausing to scan the perimeter and make sure the gates were locked. Her easy smile was reassuring, but her eyes missed nothing - the turn of a garden gate, the flicker of a curtain. She was more than a companion; she was the silent shield between the family and the unknown. “Tali in the middle room as usual?” she murmured low to Ziva as she joined the other adults on the path. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

“It’s such a lovely spot,” Sophie said brightly to Tali. “You can show me how to climb the tree at the back later, oui?”

Inside, the villa was cool and shadowed, light slanting through high windows. Tony set the bags down in the hallway with a sigh, his usual humour muted. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing the cold edges of his cell; it having been deliberately ignored on the drive.  The memory of the earlier message lingered like an angry bruise. He shot a look at Ziva, who caught his gaze and nodded subtly. Her own phone, also ignored and tucked deep in her bag, had delivered its on poison.  “We should really change our numbers,” Tony said quietly, half to himself as he watched Sophie and Tali disappear through the kitchen to outside. “Burners, or just…”

Ziva shook her head, lips pressed tight. “If we do, we might lose a lead. Whoever this is, they want us rattled - but they could slip up.”

He nodded, but tension curled in his shoulders.  Ziva’s hand found Tony’s, fingers weaving through his as they listened to Tali’s laughter echo from outside, Sophie’s low voice close behind. For a moment, the world narrowed to the warmth of her grip and the fragile bubble of family they’d built.

Suitcases were unpacked into sunlit rooms; Tali in the middle bedroom, Sophie at the front and Ziva and Tony at the rear, overlooking the manicured lawn that led onto farmer’s fields. They moved through the motions of normality; making dinner, setting the table, pretending the villa was a holiday escape. They traded small talk about the garden, the lingering scent of baking in the kitchen, the spectacular view from the upstairs window.

Yet, in stolen moments, their conversation circled back to unease. “You think it’s someone we know?” Tony whispered, as he passed Ziva a cup of tea.

“It has to be. But I am not about to let them win,” she replied, fierce and low.

As evening settled in, golden light stretched long across the garden and Sophie watched Tali from the doorway, posture relaxed but eyes still alert. Inside, Tony and Ziva sat side by side on the balcony above, phones silent on the table, waiting for something - an answer, a warning, a sign.  A message had popped up on Tony’s cell but it was only Senior just making sure they made it okay and telling them he was going to stay with his girlfriend for as long as they were away. It made sense.  The app on their phones had also not alerted any movement on the cameras in the house either so for now all seemed quiet.  They did not relax though by any means and as Tali’s bedtime passed and Sophie had retired too, Tony and Ziva moved back to the balcony to try and enjoy the last of the warm evening. 

Cuddled together on a sun lounger, Ziva nestled close into Tony’s side, her leg hooked possessively over his thigh. The sky had deepened to a rich navy blue, the first stars pricking through the dusk as the last warmth of the day clung to the air. For a moment, they let themselves pretend, voices soft and wistful as Tony murmured, “If it weren’t for all this, it would be rather romantic, wouldn’t it?”

Ziva let out a low, amused breath, pressing closer. “Yes. If only we could just be.” Their laughter was subdued but as the world quieted around them, Tony turned and kissed her, slow and lingering, letting the tension fade just for a heartbeat in the safety of each other’s arms.  Their lips found each other again, soft and searching, as if the world beyond the balcony had faded to nothing but the hush of their breath and the distant rush of the stream. Even as they kissed, they listened for any sign of Tali’s footsteps or Sophie’s inquisitive voice, but the villa remained wrapped in quiet. Tony shifted, the sun lounger creaking gently beneath them, and Ziva responded, her hand sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer until Tony was half draped over her.

Heat began to rise between them when suddenly Ziva’s phone lit up on the table, the glow sharp in the dusk. Tony’s eyes flickered to it, the spell broken in an instant as he stilled, one hand stopping its journey of undoing the buttons on her striped shirt.  Ziva’s brow furrowed in confusion at the interruption, searching his face for the reason he’d stopped, her own breath catching as she realised something had changed. “What?” she whispered against his lips.  

“Your cell” Tony offered; reaching across to the table as she took his weight entirely his body tucked between her thighs completely now.    He tapped in her pin code and turned the cell so they could both see.  A message was there first and then another with a video; both from another unknown number.

The message was simple.  “Do you really think he wanted you back?”

Tony’s throat dried.  He could feel Ziva’s heart start to race as they were chest to chest.  “Play the video” she stuttered, and he did.

It was them, in their bedroom, on their bed.  His shirt was already off as he fought to pull her t-shirt over her head.  They were laughing and giggling; bodies writhing against each other.  Ziva could see her own mouth form a gasp as he buried his lips into her neck, both their jean-clad hips rocking against each other.  Ziva arching her back as his kisses trailed to the swell of her breasts.  He stopped the video the second his hand went to the cup of her bra. “This is old” Tony just about managed to squeeze out as panic and embarrassment hit.

“Our bedroom hasn’t been that colour since…we decorated it…” Ziva searched her brain.  “We did that…at the start of the Summer school holidays. What?  Five years ago?”

“I suggested painting, so you had a little bit of a stamp on the apartment. We did the spare and Tali’s room”, he offered, knowing when she meant until it dawned on him with such an immense dread. “Shit…That’s the first time we had sex after you came back”.  He remembered it vividly; unplanned, out of the blue and in the middle of the afternoon before they collected Tali from school.

“That was June then…” she offered.    June 2020. “So, someone has been watching us all this time?!” she exclaimed.  Ziva was sure she was about to throw up.    She could see his mind was working overtime. 

“That angle, from where the video is taken is where those holiday apartments were" Tony offered. “Easy to rent for a few weeks then and no-one knows any different”.

That second another message lit up.  “I knew you would open it immediately…”

Ziva’s hands shook as she reached for her phone, heart hammering in her chest. Tony’s jaw was clenched, the muscles working as he stared at the glowing screen, waiting for the rest of the message to appear. The atmosphere felt suddenly colder, as if the memory of that night had been tainted by the knowledge that their privacy had been stolen.

Then another message appeared.  “He was using you”

They stared in stunned silence, the air between them thick with dread and disbelief. The phone buzzed again, relentless and merciless, as another message crawled its way onto the screen. For a moment, neither of them moved, both paralysed by the realisation that their most intimate moments had been observed and catalogued by someone else.

“And now he can’t get rid of you”.

Ziva’s fingers hovered over the screen, uncertain whether to reply or to shut the phone off altogether. The walls seemed to close in, every shadow suddenly threatening, and she Tony’s weight pressing into her though even he seemed shaken. They exchanged a quick glance, but neither willing to voice the darkest possibilities. The tension was suddenly suffocating, punctuated only by the persistent buzz of the phone, each new message a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over them.  They couldn’t call the number as it still came up unknown.  They couldn’t text it or…Another message.

“C’est dommage”

“It’s a shame?” Tony noted; confused as to what that might mean.

Another one.  “C'est dommage qu'il aurait pu avoir une meilleure vie”

It is a shame that he could have had a better life.

“I have an amazing life” Tony assured her. “The business is thriving, I have you and we have Tali.  Senior has been a better Dad to me in a long time these recent years.  The apartment is bought, this house is bought and, despite everything we’ve been through, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He reached out, turning her chin to so she was no longer staring at the screen, grounding them both. “Whoever this is, if they knew us a long time ago, they don’t know us now, Ziva. They don’t get to rewrite our story.”  Ziva managed a small, grateful smile, but the uncertainty lingered like a fog. She turned the phone face-down on the table, trying to block out its power over them.  “Come on” he offered, noticing she had gone quiet, “Let’s go to bed and try and get some sleep.”

Ziva hesitated, her mind racing with half-formed suspicions and memories that refused to settle. “Sometimes the past has a way of clawing itself back, no matter how far we think we have come.” She drew a shaky breath, steadying herself against the familiar comfort of Tony’s touch as he helped her off the lounger. The unknown sender’s words echoed in her thoughts.   It would be so easy to slip back to the Ziva that arrived in Paris almost 6 years ago - lost, guarded, forever scanning for threats. But she was not that person any longer. The years, the love, the hard-won moments of peace were not so easily erased, despite the creeping fear that threatened to make her doubt.

She refused to surrender the life they had built together.

They just needed this ghost to reveal themselves.

Chapter Text

Night pressed thick and silent against the windows of the safe house.

Sophie was asleep, Tali was asleep, everywhere was locked up tight and in the large bedroom at the back, Tony and Ziva lay legs wrapped around each other, the hush broken only by their soft breathing and the distant rush of wind that was picking up as the night wore on.

The bedroom at the back of the safe house was spacious and dimly lit, its walls painted in muted tones that blended easily with the night pressing against the windows. Heavy curtains were drawn tight now, muffling the outside world, while a thick duvet and soft, mismatched pillows adorned the large bed where Tony and Ziva lay entwined. A sturdy wardrobe stood in one corner overlooking the comforting clutter of hurried travel, making the room feel lived-in and, for a moment, secure.

Sleep had been fleeting since the messages started, both of them on edge for the next ring or beep of their cell phones, but it was perhaps the concentration of the long drive that had rendered them quickly unconscious. 

Deep in slumber, Ziva drifted out of that quiet room and into a world of water. She floated, weightless, beneath a shimmering aquamarine surface. Sunlight slanted through the blue, dappling her skin, painting her arms in gold as she swam entirely submerged. The water was beautifully warm, a gentle caress against her body, soothing every ache and fear she carried. She moved with easy grace, slicing through an endless, peaceful current, feeling the safety she so rarely found on land. It was as though even breathing was not necessary as her limbs glided through the water without a negative thought in her head.

Breaking the surface, she gasped in the crisp morning air. Soft sand greeted her toes as she almost soared ashore as her eyes settled on a figure standing near a small hut.  

There, in the gentle glow of dawn, Tony stood waiting. His eyes, brighter and lighter than the sky, held all the warmth of home. He smiled, arms wide open, and she ran to him, heart pounding as she picked up speed.   He was standing in khaki shorts and a plain white tee – a look that, outside of dreams, always interminably caused her to go weak at the knees.  She did not this time though as she ran launching herself into his arms.

The kiss was fierce, urgent, wild and tender until he broke away, pulling her to sit on a pale blue blanket he had clearly placed there for them.  They tumbled together onto the sand, breathless and alive, the world shrinking to the space between their hearts.

Suddenly, a violent thunderclap cracked the dream and Tony’s body jerked in her arms, crimson blooming on his skin.  The noise faded to a piercing whistle in her ears, replaced by a terrible silence. Ziva clutched him, pressing trembling hands to his wound, desperate and helpless. She could not even scream as the shock gripped every cell in her body.  His face, so close, twisted with pain yet softened as he whispered, “It’s all right, Ziva. I love you. I will always love you.”

Her mind spun as she stood, stepping away as the cold reality set in.    All of a sudden, as she watched him bleed, she had a cell phone in her hand pinging incessantly with messages.

“He never loved you”

“He’s lying”

“He only wants to make you feel better”

“He didn’t have a choice but to take you in otherwise you’d be on the streets where you belong”.

“Or dead”.

“He always wanted me more”

Each text appeared and vanished, barely giving her time to read or ingest them.  They were cruel and nonsensical.

“Tell him to come home”

“He doesn’t trust you”.

“He needs me, not you”

The words tangled with Tony’s fading voice at her feet, swirling around her, clawing at her sanity. Doubt and guilt surged, drowning her breath but she could not scream for help as the once peaceful water from before now churned violently behind her swirling into a tornado of anger.  

“Don’t think you will succeed in keeping him happy”.

“You are not important to him”.

"He needs more than just you.  You can never keep him satisfied".

All of a sudden, all she could hear in her ears was a high pitched whistle and Ziva jolted awake, her breath ragged, heart thundering in her chest. The safe house was as dark and silent as when she’d first drifted off, but now the air felt suffocating. She gasped, shaking, as the last echoes of the nightmare retreated. Beside her, Tony stirred, instantly alert. He reached for her, pulling her close. “I’m here, Ziva,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep but strong. “You’re safe. I promise”.

“I dreamt you were dead”. Her voice was flat; devoid of emotion as she froze in his arms.    “Shot”.  It sounded like someone else was speaking, not her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he offered, pulling her back down onto the bed, as she pressed her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm, proof that he was alive and real.   She sighed, swiping tears away from her eyes. 

“I was dreaming you were shot and I was getting more and more messages, taunting me” she offered after a moment; knowing she was internally processing what had happened, but it did not make it feel less real. 

“I wish we could find whoever this is” Tony replied, tightening an arm around her shoulder as the house lay silent around them.    “I will strangle them with my bare hands”.  Anger had slipped in.  He did not care who it was any more; he just wanted them to be out of their lives.

Before either of them could speak both of their cell phones lit up; placed on the tables either side of their bed.   They shot apart, picking up the devices and sitting up in bed.   It was another message from an unknown number.   Casting a glance at each other they opened the messages almost simultaneously.  The screens glowed with a chilling familiarity - another cryptic taunt, this time a photo from outside the safe house. Ziva’s fingers trembled as she read the single line: “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

“The…th” she stuttered until realisation washed over her with just the tiniest scrap of relief. “It is old again.  The gate is black!” she exclaimed, soothed only slightly that it was not as though they were outside the door right now.

“Maybe they guessed we might come here” Tony offered, only to see her raise an eyebrow at him.  “Okay maybe not”.

“How do they know these things, Tony?” she pleaded, throwing her cell phone down on the bed.  “They know about here, they knew where your Dad lives, they know about your Mom…”  Just how long had these people or person had been following them and documenting their lives?

Tony’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the phone.  She took it off him before he could launch it across the room, putting it and hers back on her bedside table. “They’ve always been two steps ahead. It’s like they have access to everything we do, everywhere we go.” He paused, searching the dimly lit room for answers that wouldn’t come. “We’ll outsmart them. We have to.” The words sounded brave, but Ziva could hear the uncertainty underneath.

“Maybe we should write a list of possibilities” she offered, desperate to do something instead of just hide away.  “People we have pissed off”.

“Do you have a spare three weeks?” Tony responded sarcastically. 

Ziva managed a weak laugh, the sound hollow in the quiet of the room. “Even if it takes three years, we need to do something,” she insisted, reaching for a notepad from the drawer. She flicked on the bedside lamp, the golden glow settling over them as she poised her pen above the first blank line, determination sharpening her features. “Let us start with everyone who knows we live in Paris,” she said softly, glancing up at Tony for reassurance.

Tony nodded, rubbing a hand over his tired face. “Alright, so who have we told? There’s McGee, obviously, and Abby; everyone back in DC.  Odette knows, my dad knows, but he’s not exactly discreet so who the fuck knows who he’s told.” He let out a frustrated sigh, watching as Ziva began to jot down names, each one a possible link in a chain they couldn’t yet see. “Neither of us have social media, Sophie does but she knows not to post Tali.  Everyone from work knows very little about our past and I have still not managed to fire anyone who might want revenge”.

“We will need three weeks too to write down all your past girlfriends…” Ziva offered, with no bite to her comment. “Wendy?”

He hesitated at the mention of his ex-fiancée.  The one who abandoned him at the altar.

Tony gave a rueful smile, shaking his head. “Wendy hasn’t had anything to do with me since… well, you know. Still, we can’t rule out anyone, I suppose but I can’t think of anyone who I dated who would have access to be able to track us like this… I can’t say any of them would even know how to do it,” he mused.  His choices in the past were not exactly based on IQ.   He watched as Ziva scribbled down the name, the list threatening to much much longer with each new possibility. “We should also think about people we might have crossed professionally - cases we worked, old adversaries. Anyone with a grudge. Anyone who could have access to the type of technology that could find us”

“Again, do you have three weeks...” Tony noted.

“More like three months…” Her voice trailed off, the enormity of the task sinking in. “It feels like a needle in a needlestack again, but we have to start somewhere.” She saw him yawn; ignoring her deliberate mistake.  “Maybe we should do it in the morning after all”.

Tony nodded his head, unable to fight off the heaviness in his limbs.

He stretched out beside her, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as the lamp’s warm glow cast soft shadows across the ceiling. Ziva set the notepad aside, her fingers lingering on the cover, reluctant to let go of it but realising she had little choice.  She slid down under the covers again.   “I wonder if we should suggest to Sophie that she takes Tali somewhere else” he offered.   “If they know about here, they know about the safe house in London”.

“DC?” Ziva offered before she corrected herself. “No I do not want her across another ocean again”.   Ziva hesitated, her mind racing through possibilities as she gazed at the ceiling. “We cannot afford to be careless,” she murmured, her tone low but resolute. “Whoever’s behind this is clever - and clearly has resources. We will need to think about every angle, every contact.”

She reached over and switched off the lamp, the room instantly wrapped in a gentle darkness. The quiet seemed to sharpen her thoughts, each possibility flickering at the edge of sleep. Tony’s breathing grew steady beside her, a comforting presence amid the uncertainty.

Ziva closed her eyes too, determined to hold onto at least a fragment of hope for what tomorrow and the days ahead might bring.

Chapter Text

Morning came.  Peacefully.

Breakfast happened. Peacefully.

Tali and Sophie were now tree climbing at the bottom of the garden. Not so peacefully.

And Tony and Ziva were considering their options.  Whoever it was clearly knew about this house and most likely knew of the other safe houses that Ziva had dotted around the world.  The list of possible pursuers was so endless that the idea to write them down had been abandoned once more.  Across the breakfast table from her, Tony sighed.  “They have to make a mistake at some point; give us an idea of who it might be. Question is now what do we do…”

Ziva was about to speak when her cell phone buzzed.  A facetime call. From McGee. Confused – bearing in mind it was the middle of the night in DC - she accepted.  “Hey McGee!” she smiled only to see the man on the other side clearly woken up from slumber, eyes barely open, hair askew. and was that red rimmed eyes? 

“I got your message” he responded, voice low and clearly trying to keep quiet to avoid waking anyone up.   “I am so, so sorry Ziva.  About Tony” McGee’s voice was urgent, worried and a deep frown adorned his forehead. “Anything I can do to help, just name it whatever it is and I’ll make sure its done!”

For a moment Ziva’s heart dropped unwillingly; so very confused at how distressed McGee looked.  “What?” she replied, shaking her head to clear her thoughts; her voice cracking.

“About Tony” McGee responded after a heavy pause.  “The accident”.

Ziva shook her head again, almost as though she was trying to wake herself up from a dream.    “What accident?”

“Ziva, you left me a message twenty minutes ago…” McGee responded, sounding utterly lost.

“I didn’t…” she replied, waving Tony over so he could appear in the screen with her. “Tony is here.  With me”.

A wave of relief washed itself over McGee’s face instantly.   “Shit…” he muttered.  “I’ve never been so glad to see you”.  McGee ran a hand through his hair, still clearly rattled. “I swear, Ziva, your voice was on the message. You sounded… frantic, terrified. Said Tony had been in a serious car crash, and you needed help.  It said you weren’t sure if he would make through the day.” He paused, searching their faces for answers. “I was nearly booking plane tickets! Are you sure everything’s alright over there?”

Tony leaned closer to the camera, exchanging a concerned glance with Ziva. “We’re fine, McGee. Honest. But if someone’s sending messages in Ziva’s name, impersonating her, that’s a problem.”  Another one.

“Can you send us the message?”  she asked, dread infiltrating her bones and she saw McGee nod.  

“Actually McGee there is a problem”.  Tony looked at Ziva and saw her nod to agree for him to carry on and tell their friend what had been happening.  “We are in the house in Bollenne.   We’ve been getting strange messages too and parcels. We got out of Paris. Whoever it is has been in the apartment and…” He sighed.  “We have no idea who it could be”.

McGee’s expression hardened, his features shifting from relief to concern. “This is getting out of hand clearly,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as if half-expecting someone to be listening in even though it might only be Delilah. “If they can mimic your voice and get into your place…”

Ziva felt a chill run down her spine. She exchanged another look with Tony, her mind racing. “We need to find out who’s behind this, and fast. Before they try something even more dangerous. I cannot believe they left that message for you”. 

McGee smiled. “I was inches away from calling Gibbs and Abby and everyone; thinking Abby might be the quickest to get to you from London.  I should have realised it came from an unknown number but it’s the middle of the night and I wasn’t…I’ll send you it now…”

As they said their goodbyes with another promise of any help they needed from DC, the file of the message pinged on her phone.   Walking deeper into the house, as far from Sophie and Tali as they could get, they sat down on the love seat in the sitting room and with a deep breath and a look of reassurance, Ziva pressed ‘play’.

“McGee… McGee, please, you need to call me back. It’s Ziva. It’s Tony.   He has been in a terrible car accident on his way to work, I…I do not know what to do. They say he… he might not make it through! Please, I am so scared, I cannot do this without him.  I cannot raise Tali on my own again…Cannot explain to her why she lost her Abba this time! He’s in hospital, they are saying he needs surgery, he is bleeding internally.  It is in his brain and in his abdomen. The said he might not make it, and I need you, I need your help, please. Please call me, McGee…I know it is the middle of the night with you but please call me back”.

A breathless ‘fuck’ emitted from Tony.  “It sounds so like you.  No wonder he was fooled.  I would be”.  He could tell now it was obviously fabricated with its slightly computerised twang to it, but in the middle of the night, woken from sleep, half awake, you could easily be tricked.

“It is not me”, Ziva responded firmly.

“I know its not you” Tony replied to her, thoughts whizzing around his brain.

“No.  Not because its AI…” Ziva responded and she played the message again.  “Can you not hear?” Tony shook his head.  “My accent” she replied.  “The accent.    I so sound Israeli!”

“So someone sampled your voice..? What from a long time ago?” He offered.

“It must be a long time ago” Ziva responded, playing the message again.  “Even when I was back home when Tali was born my accent was never as strong as back when I first went to DC”.  Ziva winced, not meaning to mention that time but Tony did not react.  She could see his brain was working a mile a minute.

Tony nodded slowly, piecing together the implications. “So, someone had to have an old recording, something from years ago, before you’d lost the accent.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, tension shadowing his features. “That means whoever did this has been planning it for a long time, or they have access to something old.” He met her gaze, concern flickering in his eyes.

Ziva played the recording again, squinting as she listened, trying to see if she could hear anything that might help but all she could hear was her own terrified voice pleading with McGee.

As she replayed the message, a new idea surfaced. “Wait,” she said quietly, pausing the audio. “There’s a faint echo but I cannot work out what it is”. Her brows knitted in concentration. “Maybe if we can isolate the background noise, we will learn something about where it was taken from. Do you hear it?”

Tony listened more closely this time, his expression sharpening. “Yeah, you might be onto something.  It sounds like the buzzing, like computer noise but it’s so faint…We should get McGee to run this, see if anything stands out in the sound profile.” Hope flickered in his eyes, tempered by worry. “If there’s even the smallest clue, we’ll find it.”  His arm went around her shoulder and squeezed.

Determined, Ziva nodded and carefully set her spine straight, the screen still glowing with the paused waveform. “I will ask him now. McGee will sort it out”.  She typed out a quick message and heard it whoosh into the ether.

Tony offered a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Ziva. Whoever’s trying to use your voice against you picked the wrong team.”

Ziva exhaled slowly, her fingers drumming lightly on her knee knowing they would not get a response for hours yet.  McGee had probably quite rightly gone back to sleep after his shock. “It is unsettling,” she admitted, lowering her voice, “knowing someone could be using my words, my accent, for something I did not choose.  Frightening people I love.” The air between them was thick with unease, but Tony reached across, giving her hand a supportive squeeze, his confidence unwavering before he leaned across and kissed her, slowly, lazily and not hearing Sophie arrive in the sitting room, followed quickly by Tali.

“You two are gross” Tali announced as she walked past them and flopped down on the other couch.

“Tali…” Sophie’s voice was a warning, even though she saw Tony and Ziva smile as they came up for air.   “Everything okay?”  The other two adults nodded but Sophie knew them better than this.  “Tali, why don’t you go and change your shoes.   I am sure your Mum and Dad don’t want all that dirt from the garden on the couch…”  Tali sighed melodramatically in response but obeyed, kicking off her trainers and trudging towards her room.

Once she was gone, Sophie perched on the edge of an armchair, concern still evident in her eyes. “You both look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she murmured, glancing between Tony and Ziva. “Is there something I should know?”

Tony hesitated, exchanging a look with Ziva before clearing his throat. “We just got a strange recording - one that sounds like Ziva, but its AI.  Making out I am half dead in a hospital after a car accident.”  Sophie’s eyes widened slightly, piecing together the tension that lingered in the room. Ziva nodded, measured but wary. “It was sent to Tim back home”.

Ziva played the recording again and Sophie’s eyes widened again.   “Bollocks… “ she breathed.  “It sounds so real…”

“We’re hoping McGee can figure out where it was made” Tony began. 

“So what do we do in the meantime?” Sophie asked, realising that soon enough Tali would get restless and bored stuck in the house all the time.

Tony let out a slow breath, glancing towards the curtained window. “For now, we stay put,” he said. “Keep things as normal as possible for Tali, and keep our eyes peeled. We can’t risk letting whoever did this know they’ve rattled us.”

Ziva nodded, but her jaw was set. “And we wait for McGee’s update. In the meantime, we talk to as few people as possible. No one else outside this house needs to know about the message.” Her voice was low, but determined.

Sophie tilted her head, considering. “Right. Distraction and routine.  Maybe later we can all take Tali to the village - she’ll go mad if she’s cooped up much longer.” Her practicality brought a flicker of relief, and Tony managed a small grin.   “We could try the market and maybe go for lunch.  If we want to look normal…”

“Sounds perfect. We’ll keep moving forward, one step at a time” he offered.

Outside, the wind rattled the garden gate, punctuating the uneasy quiet that had settled over them. Even so, Sophie tried to focus on the practicalities, already mentally composing a list for the market and thinking about the smallest ways to bring a sense of normality back to the day. The others, grateful for her steadiness, exchanged a look that said more than words could manage; for now, all they could do was trust each other and wait for McGee.  Tony and Ziva knew full well that there was no way they would get an answer until at least supper time so instead of going crazy cooped up Sophie’s idea was the next best bet.

They gathered up coats and bags, making a show of preparations for their trip out as Tali reappeared and overjoyed to be leaving the house at last.  Before they left Ziva double-checked the door locks, her movements careful and deliberate, while Tony kept up a steady patter about which market stall might have the best pastries today. The mundane chatter was as much for their own nerves as it was for Tali’s benefit, each of them clinging to the comfort of routine in the face of uncertainty as they all loaded into the car. 

As the car pulled out of the driveway, an uneasy quiet settled over its occupants, broken only by Tali’s excited observations about the passing scenery. Sophie kept her tone light, pointing out the flocks of sheep dotting the hills and the cheerful bunting strung across the streets as the village centre approached.

Tony and Ziva exchanged another look in the rear-view mirror, silently reaffirming their resolve to keep things as safe and normal as possible, even as the shadow of the message lingered at the back of their minds.

The car rolled into the village, tires crunching over gravel as Tony found a spot near the market square. They piled out, Tali bounding ahead, her laughter mingling with the bustle of a late morning crowd. Ziva kept a watchful eye, never straying more than a few steps from her daughter, while Sophie and Tony followed, arms laden with shopping bags and cheerful banter. They weaved between stalls, pausing to sample honey and admire handwoven blankets. The familiar faces of shopkeepers nodded in greeting, none suspecting the undercurrent of tension beneath the family’s smiles. Sophie insisted on buying extra apples, declaring there would be crumble for dessert, and Tony playfully haggled for a bag of sugared doughnuts, drawing a giggle from Tali.

Afterwards, they found a table outside the café, the chatter of locals swirling around them. Conversation drifted to harmless topics- schoolwork, new books, the weather - each word an effort to keep the dark news at bay. Yet, as Tali recounted a story from the last day of school, her parents listened just a little more closely, holding on to the ordinary, protective and vigilant beneath their easy smiles.

By the time they headed home, the sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long shadows across the lane. In the quiet of the car, Sophie glanced at her watch, aware that McGee’s update might come soon. The promise of information hovered, heavy and uncertain, but for now, the day had belonged to them.

Back at the house, the routine returned - dinner preparations, Tali’s chatter echoing down the hall, and the comforting clatter of cutlery and plates. As twilight crept through the windows, and Tali was getting changed for bed, Tony, Ziva, and Sophie drew together in the kitchen, a silent pact binding them: whatever the evening brought, they would face it together. For tonight, at least, they had managed to hold fear at the door and keep their world, if only for a little longer, safe and whole.

That was until McGee’s text flew up.

‘Call me’