A/N: I'm on a roll will my new stories here! I hope you enjoy this one. It is dedicated to dizzy - in - the - izzy as I stole her idea =)
"Daddy? Where's Mommy?" The first time I heard my daughter Rosalia say those words, I was driving her home from school. I almost drove off the road. She'd never asked about her mother before.
"Why do you ask, Sali?" I said, channeling my voice so it sounded less like I was scared witless.
"We were doing family trees at school. And I didn't know what to write. They gave it to us for homework." Rosalia held up a piece of paper for me to see.
"Shall we talk about it when we get home?" I asked, and she tried to say something but I interrupted her. "Daddy needs to concentrate on his driving."
I hoped that she would have forgotten by the time we reached home, but she didn't. As I was unlocking the front door, she asked again.
"Where is my Mommy?" I sighed, walked in the door after her. I was going to have a whole lot of explaining.
"Let's talk about it over dinner." I needed more time to think about what I was going to tell her.
"But Daddy…" Rosalia's voice was slightly whiny, but I ignored it.
"Go do the rest of your homework, honey." I propelled her into the dining room and she hoisted herself up onto one of the chairs and pulled out some other sheets. I looked at her homework. For a six year old, they sure gave out a lot of homework. She had French to do, along with her math and the family tree. I was just leaving the room when she called me.
"Daddy, I'm stuck." I sighed and turned, and pulled out a chair to sit next to her. She pointed. "French."
"What are you stuck on?" I asked, and she poked the paper. It was matching words to their meanings.
The words were:
"Do you know any of them?" She shook her head. "Didn't you do them in class today?"
She nodded. I ruffled her hair.
"Let's start with Dad." I suggested. "Are you sure you don't know that one?"
At parents evening the teacher had told me that she was linguistically talented. She was already fluent in Italian, English and Hebrew. She only knew her mother for one year, so I don't know how she became fluent in Hebrew, since I only ever used a few words.
"Mon père?" She suggested, matching them up.
"That's my girl. Sister." She matched 'sister' with 'sœur' and then proceeded to match 'brother' with 'frère' and 'family' with 'famille.'
"Qu'est-que ce 'mom' en Français?" She asked me, and I began to realize quite how much like her mother she was. Linguistically talented. Same as her mom.
"Which word is left?" I hinted, and she glanced at the sheet.
"Ma mère." She said, and I nodded.
"Well done." I was about to stand up, but she caught hold of my hand.
"Help me with my math?" She smiled angelically, so I sat back down. She had a worksheet to do on fractions.
"What fraction of the shape is shaded?" I asked the question. She looked at the rectangle.
"There's… six little squares. And… two are shaded." She thought for a moment. "One third."
It only took five minutes to finish the sheet, and I had the idea to speak to the teacher about slightly more challenging work.
"Will you help me with my family tree now?" She asked, bringing out that worksheet.
"Okay." I agreed. I saw her name was already filled in at the bottom of the tree.
'Rosalia Ziva DiNozzo.'
She'd scrubbed out the boxes for sisters and brothers.
"Well, Daddy goes here." I pointed to one of the boxes above 'You' marked 'Father.' She was about to write, and then looked confused.
"What's your full name daddy?" She asked. I chuckled.
"Anthony Deangelo DiNozzo." I told her, and she wrote it down, only pausing to ask me the spelling of my middle name.
"What's grandpa's full name?" She asked.
"Do you want Gibbs or your real grandfather?" I asked.
"Gibbs!" She said it as if it was completely obvious. She'd never met her real grandfather. He hadn't want to see me again, hadn't even turned up to my wedding.
"Leroy Jethro Gibbs." I told her, and she wrote that down too.
"He has a weird name." She said, and I chuckled. "What about my grandmamma?"
I was stumped, so I decided to phone up Gibbs and ask. He told me to get her to write down 'Shannon Gibbs.' I was surprised, she was one wife I'd never heard about before, but Rosalia added her to the tree anyway.
"What about my auntie?" She asked me. "Does Auntie Abby count?"
"You can write her down if you want to. What about Auntie Bella? Or Auntie Magdalena?" She thought for a moment and then decided.
"I'll write them all down." She started writing in the 'Auntie' boxes. Soon, one side of the sheet was almost full, with 'Auntie Abby and Uncle Tim' and 'Auntie Bella and Uncle Fabian' and 'Auntie Magdalena and Uncle Nataniele', and below them, Cousins 'Justin', 'Bianca', 'Cristiano', 'Allegra', 'Italia', 'Lauretta' and 'Sofia.'
"What's my mommy called?" She asked.
"Ziva David." I replied.
"Not DiNozzo?" She asked me curiously, and I shook my head. It had used to be David-DiNozzo, but it had been changed.
"What are her mommy and daddy called?" She asked me, and I told her their names.
"Her daddy is Eli David and her mommy is Meira David." I said, and after asking for the spelling, she wrote them down too. "She had a brother called Ari and a sister called Talia."
"Had?" I was surprised at how she picked up on the verb usage.
"They died." I said bluntly, remembering how Ziva had told me about what really happened with her brother.
"Oh." Rosalia sighed. "So I have no cousins on Auntie Talia and Uncle Ari's side?"
I shook my head. "Sorry, honey."
"Daddy what's for dinner?" I was surprised at the sudden change of conversation.
"What do you want?" I asked her, and after a brief discussion on which pizza we should have, we ended up on pepperoni, we decided to order in. In Rosalie's words, 'to give Daddy a break from cooking.'
Our pizza came, and I served it onto plates and carried it into the dining room so we could eat. Rosalia had cleared away her school stuff so the table was clear. I was just biting into my second piece when she spoke.
"Why don't I see my mommy?" She asked, and I almost choked on the pizza I was eating.
"Why do you want to know now?" I asked her, and she shrugged.
"We were talking about what our parents do. I said my daddy served his country at NCIS, but I don't know what mommy does." I tried not to wince at the sudden conversation turn, but I already had a headache from thinking about her. Ziva.
"Your mommy worked for NCIS too." I told her.
"Why doesn't she anymore?" Rosalie pressed me for details. I remembered that day, five years ago.
"Tony." I looked up to see Ziva leaning on the front of my desk.
"Yes, Zee-vah?" I smiled up at her, but my smile disappeared at the look on my face. She had just returned down from MTAC and I wondered what had happened.
"I'm leaving." She said, and it was then that I noticed the tears in her eyes. "To Israel."
"What about Sali?" I was referring to our one year old baby. She had been born nine months after we married.
"I…" Suddenly, tears were overflowing down her cheeks. I jumped up and pulled her into a hug.
"Ziva." I brushed the tears from her face.
"My father says he wants be back at Mossad. He is terminating my liaison position here at NCIS. I told him about Salia, but he said he didn't want her. He said I shouldn't have ever married you. I don't want to go. I really don't. I'm sorry…"
"Forever?" I asked, and she nodded sadly. That night, I got home to find almost all of her stuff missing, as well as some of my shirts. When I got into work the next morning, Gibbs announced the termination of Ziva's liaison position at NCIS. It was final. She was gone.
"Her father wanted her to go back to Israel to work for him there." I explained.
"Why didn't we go with her?" She asked, and I could understand the confusion.
"Her father didn't want us there." I said sadly, and she pouted.
"I don't like her father." She said, shaking her head. I laughed.
"Me neither." I agreed.
"When is she coming back?" She asked, and I sighed.
"I don't know, Sali, I don't know."
A/N: Aw =) I hope you enjoyed that! The second chapter will be up soon.