Hey everyone, this is actually my first NCIS post. I've watched the show for a while now and was recently run over this plot bunny as I was watching a marathon on USA. This is just my take on what the upcoming Christmas episode should include, even though I know it won't. Pure TIVA fluff.

Disclaimer: I in no way own anything related to NCIS, not unless you count the sixth season on DVD.

My rendering on Ziva's heritage is clearly in no way canon, though I think possible.

Also any of the historical events related to Jewish history, I do not profess to be an expert on, though I studied it a bit.

~Nessa


As sounds from the office Christmas party drifted over to his desk, Very Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo peered suspiciously over his left shoulder. He had been pinned to his desk more times than he could proudly admit and head slapped out of nowhere more times than he could count, and so when doing sneaky things at his desk alone, which he had to say had been occurring less often than he was accustomed to, he had become a lot more wary.

And with good reason too, he thought as he pulled open his right bottom drawer. A certain sneaky ninja chick coming up behind him before he was ready would ruin the surprise. And that would suck big time, he mused. I've been ready to spill all day. The only way I've kept my mouth shut was randomly Gibbs smacking myself in the back of the head. I'm lucky I don't have a concussion.

As a result of his newfound "self-discipline" his team had been giving him the side eye all day. McGee had tried to figure out what the problem was with the senior field agent, but that simply caused the head slaps to become transferred from Tony to himself and in the interest of preventing the bullpen from becoming a WWE ring, and then of course from Gibbs dropkicking the both of them into the next week, he left the older man to himself.

Abby had simply taken one look at him and promptly pulled him into what Tony privately called Abby's Happy Snuggle Feel Good Hugs. When she finally pulled away she gave pat on the shoulder and went back to decoding some perp's DNA. He sometimes thought Abby might be psychic, not like Gibbs' gut but pretty damn close. It was like she knew what he was up to and was giving her own silent encouragement.

When he smacked himself down in autopsy, Ducky had launched into a university worthy lecture on medieval monks and their methods of self-flagellation. Needless to say he made a swift exit to the safety of the elevator. Palmer had simply shaken his head and went back cracking the rib cage of their latest body.

Gibbs just gave him a look. That look. The one that said if he didn't get it together soon the only place he would be getting to soon was the unemployment line. So after that he made sure Gibbs didn't see any more of his near slips. It was all about self-preservation; though he couldn't be sure that he hadn't seen a slight twinkle in the eye or a glimmer of a smirk on the silver-haired agent's face.

It was Ziva's reaction, however that most intrigued him. Instead of commenting on his apparent lack of focus and obvious distractedness, she merely gazed at him with that penetrating stare that saw far more than he wanted and probably more than he knew. She knew something was up, but was patiently waiting for him to let her know.

That's some trust on her part, he thought as he looked across the bullpen at her empty desk. Seeing as how I'm not exactly the most forthcoming person. Well, he corrected, not forthcoming about things that really matter.

And so it was as Tony continued to gaze at the Israeli's vacant seat, his worst fears were realized. All of a sudden the air was knocked out of him as he became pinned to his desk with his right hand still stuck in his bottom drawer. He could smell the shampoo in her hair, feel the heat from her skin as she brought her lips to his ear.

"Do not think that I have not noticed your discomfort throughout the day Tony."

He tried to laugh it off, though it was hard with his stomach pressed tightly against his desk. "Discomfort?" He scoffed. "That's just how the Dinozzo genius works. Plus I was saving Gibbs from expending the required energy to head slap me." He looked around secretively. "Between me and you I think the Boss it getting a touch of arthritis."

She laughed low in her throat. "Though amusing as always, Tony, you have still not answered my question."

"Question? I think you're getting your English grammar messed up again, Zee-vah. I distinctly remember you making a statement, not asking a question." With a sigh she suddenly freed his torso from its metal confine. He finally got a look at her and saw she was clearly frustrated with his evasion. She sat on the edge of his desk and peered down at him with a concerned look on her face. "Statement, question, it does not matter. Something is wrong." She looked down at her hand, so close to his she swore she could actually feel warmth radiating off of it. She looked back up at him underneath her eyelashes. "I would help you if I could."

He smiled slightly. Finally bringing his hand out the drawer, he set its contents on the top of the desk. It was a long, rectangular red box. "The only problem I have is my apparent inability to keep a secret." He slid the box over to her hand. "Merry Christmas Ziva."

She first appeared somewhat confused. Then comprehension became apparent on her face. "Tony…I don't know…"she started haltingly. His grin widened as it did whenever he managed to fluster the former Mossad agent. "It's called a gift, Zee-vah. A present, un cadeaux, un regalo. Come on, surely you know what to do with presents."

She squinted her eyes at him, speechlessness nearly forgotten. "I know what a gift is Tony. I simply was in shock over the gesture." She swept her arm around the empty bullpen. "We did not say anything about us exchanging gifts and I feel unprepared to give you something in return."

"Ah, but that's what makes a gift a gift Ziva. Not expecting anything in return." He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head effectively hiding the slight nervous trembling that had suddenly overtaken them. He was desperately trying to cover up the fact that he wasn't feeling as bold as he was trying to project. Though knowing her, she probably had seen through that already. "Open it."

She appeared hesitant. "Now?"
He sat forward with a thud. Looked at her incredulously and said, "Well yeah now David. I want to see your reaction."

Inexplicably nervous, she picked up the box with her right hand and cradled it for a moment. Then she delicately began to slide off the gold bow affixed to the center and opened the box. Her eyes became misty as they alighted on what was in the jewelry box.

In it lay an almost exact replication of the gold Star of David necklace that had been snatched from her throat in Somalia. It was simple and delicate in its elegance and it was only in the small diamonds set on the points of the star that it was distinguished from her former piece of jewelry. It was beautiful.

Dinozzo's anxious chuckle broke into her thoughts. "I hope it wasn't, umm, too presumptuous of me to get that for you. I just thought, you know that your neck looked a little bare without it and, well…I know it's not exactly the same but…"He trailed off. Man, Dinozzo this could have been a big mistake.

She looked at him with something akin to awe in her eyes, and he couldn't pretend it didn't have an immediate effect on him.

"Tony," she started. "You have tried to give something back to me that I thought forever lost."

"Well…I mean—

"Do you know where my former necklace came from," she interrupted, knowing of course he did not. He mutely shook his head. She kept her eyes trained on the necklace. "My paternal grandmother, along with my grandfather and most of their extended family were rounded up with countless other Jews during the Holocaust. They were living in Poland and were some of the first rounded up into the ghettos and then from there to the concentration camps." She paused. "She had three sons and somehow through a series of miraculous events they survived. They were the only ones to do so." Here she glanced up at Tony, and after seeing that he was deeply engrossed in her story, continued.

She smoothed her hand over the pendant. "Before she was stolen away, she gave her necklace, the one thing of value she had left, to her eldest son Adam, with these instructions. She said to one day give the necklace to his eldest daughter and to tell her to wear it proudly, for it symbolized both the joy and sorrow of the Jewish people. She said to look at it and always remember to stand firm in the face of injustice and to never fear to stand boldly for what is right." Here Ziva smiled. "I have often imagined what she must have been like."

Tony leaned forward. "A lot like you I imagine." She met his gaze with her own. Though the air was practically sizzling with tension, she forced herself to finish her story. "My uncle Adam died some years later during the Six-Day War. He had never married nor had had any children and so the necklace passed to my father, the middle child. By that time the brothers had made their aaliyah to Israel from Poland and changed their names to David. But they never forgot their history. My father used to tell me stories of the heroes in our ancestry before I would go to bed." Her gaze became bitter-sweet. "We were close then, my father and I. When I was thirteen, for my bat mitzvah, my father gave me the necklace. I never took it off from then on. It was as much apart of me as an arm or leg."

She stood, necklace in hand, and walked over to the window. Not wanting to lose this connection they were so obviously sharing, Tony stood as well and followed her. Leaning his shoulder against the window he faced her.

Fiddling with the pendant she met his stare. A slight blush stained her cheeks. "I am sorry I did not mean to blabble."

He chuckled. "Babble. You didn't mean to babble." He lifted his hand, perhaps to tuck her hair behind her ear, and then seemed to think better of it. "Don't apologize. It was an amazing story." He stuck his hands in his pockets, more to have something to do with them than anything. More so like I don't reach out and crush her to me. "Like I said I didn't want to be presumptuous, but it seemed like something was missing and I just…"

She inched a bit closer to him, crowding his space. "Just what, Tony?"

He swayed forward a bit, leaned down closer to her face. "I just wanted to," shaking his head. "No I felt compelled to do…something to make you happy." He tilted his head to the side, close enough that he could brush noses with her if he wanted to. "All I want to do is make you happy…will you let me?"

She in turn, angled her head up towards his. As she closed the gap between their lips, he felt her soft sigh puff against his mouth.

"Yes."