It's been close to three years since Tony and Ziva went into hiding. Finally, it was safe to return to Washington and life as DiNozzo and David. But now Raphael Bashan has resurfaced as the new Mossad liaison...

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the official sequel to Be Still.


Prologue

Eremias Bay, FL (July 4, 2008)

"Is it just me, or does it seem like this is Gilead with a better view and higher temperature?" Tony commented, poking a random key on his laptop to make it seem like he was working.

Ziva laughed, setting down her pencil as tiny whines came from their newborn son. "Oh, come here, little boy," she cooed softly in Hebrew, carefully lifting Noam from his carrier. "Yeah, all this noise is too much, isn't it?"

"You've got him shaded, right?" Tony said automatically, reaching to adjust the tabletop umbrella.

Ziva wasn't listening, as busy as she was looking at Gibbs. "Look who is here," she murmured to Tony softly, sending Gibbs a slight smile.

Tony scanned the crowds, heart racing slightly. Then he spotted Gibbs and the team, relaxed and raised his glass in silent, subtle recognition. "Gibbs must've finished a boat, they've got harbour passes on," he said quietly. He watched for a while, as Ducky finished telling another long-winded story and the team burst out laughing, even Gibbs. "I actually miss Ducky's stories," Tony sighed, typing another few letters in his empty document. "Do you think they even miss us now?"

"I am sure they do, Tony," Ziva said indulgently. "Careful, you are about to be spilt on."

"What?" Tony asked with a frown, just before Shiloh accidentally knocked over her water into his lap. "Ahh! Shiloh!"


"So?" Tony asked later that evening as he slipped upstairs from the café to their upper-level condo. Ziva turned to look at him, Noam nestled in a little ball of baby boy in her arms as he blinked sleepily. "Ah. Not asleep yet."

"Shiloh is out like the dead," Ziva replied, reluctantly passing the baby to Tony as he began to pry their son from her. "What about downstairs?"

"Almost done for the night," he replied, leaning to kiss her lightly. "Ryan can handle the rest of it. So once this guy falls asleep, we have the entire night to ourselves."

Ziva laughed, kissing him back. "You only wish," she murmured into his ear. "It is your Independence Day, remember? Make sure he is well and truly asleep before you come out to the balcony," she called. Sighing, she left the door slightly ajar and curled up in the swing outside, watching as the last of the customers were leaving the café downstairs. In the distance, the harbour and local motels' lights were still shining brightly, reflecting off the water.

Tony emerged onto the balcony about half an hour later. "So, what do you think?" he asked, leaning back into the swing and pulling her into his lap.

"Stefan was not enforcing the two-drink limit tonight," Ziva commented. "Judging by how many people have been stumbling out of here."

"It's Independence Day, Ziva," Tony said in mock indignity. "You're supposed to get drunk before the fireworks. It's tradition." He kissed the edge of her jawbone, murmuring, "If we're quick, we might be able to sneak in Mommy-and-Daddy time before Shiloh and Noam wake up at the fireworks exploding..." Hopefully, he slid his hand across her waist, continuing to kiss her.

Ziva laughed and kissed him lightly before slapping his cheek gently. "You wish. Come back in another two months or so. You take Shiloh. I will take Noam."

"Aw, come on..."

"Tony, you are a single-path mind."

"One-track, and yes, I freely admit it." He dashed to catch up to her just as the fireworks started and unhappy screams came from inside the condo. "Ziva, you're not seriously going to make me wait two months, are you?"

"We can negotiate later, Tony."

"I can negotiate," Tony said brightly. "I'm good at negotiating."