A/N: I thought of this the other day, and just wanted to get it out of my head. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own NCIS.
Gibbs stood sanding the frame of yet another boat. It was the middle of the day on Sunday, and though his team had the weekend off, he was staying put. He didn't really feel like going anywhere. Especially today. He had already visited their grave sites,already looked longingly at their pictures, already listened to her voice as it told him "I love you, Daddy. I love you." He leaned his head on his arm, as if rubbing his forehead would erase the memories that haunted him on days like this. He let out a sigh before beginning to sand slowly with the grain once again.
It was a couple of hours and a lot of sawdust later when he heard the squeak of his front door and the footsteps that followed. There were three sets as far as he could hear, and they were heading into his kitchen. He smiled. A least if there were going to be people in his house, they'd cook him a decent meal. He continued to sand as though there were no intruders in his home. If they were going to steal his things or try to kill him they'd be moving more quickly.
He heard a big bang from his kitchen. He stared quizzically at the ceiling for a moment, squinting slightly at the strange noise above him. It was familiar, but he hadn't heard it in a long time. It made his heart ache just thinking about it. He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the flood of memories that were threatening to spill out. He wouldn't let himself delve back into despair today, especially now that he had company.
As he began to sand once again, he heard the familiar creaks of his basement stairs. The steps were soft and cautious, stopping about halfway up the staircase.
"Are you going to say anything, Ziver, or are you going to make me wait?" He asked
"I did not know if you wanted me to intrude," she replied.
"Well you broke into my house, so I think you blew that to hell."
"I am sorry," she said as she continued down the steps. "And I do not believe that rule number six applies in this case. Personal apologies are different." He nodded in concession.
"You are probably wondering why I am here. I know you normally like to be let alone today."
"Yeah," he grunted.
"But I thought that maybe it was time to make some new memories." He nodded once again, his mute-like tendency coming through full force.
"Shouldn't you be with Tony and your son?"
"They are upstairs. I helped Julian make Tony breakfast this morning, but he said that he would like to spend some of his weekend with his Grandpa. I decided that I would like that very much too."
"Hmmmh," Gibbs said. Monosyllabic man strikes again.
Ziva moved directly in front of him, her eyes gazing pleadingly into his. "Gibbs, I know I am not Kelly, and I know that Julian may not be your biological grandchild, but you have been more of a father to me than Eli has been my whole life, and I would like to be able to spend today with my father."
He pulled Ziva into a delicate but firm embrace. " Okay, Ziver."
"I think you deserve to be happy today. You have been the best father and grandfather that I could have asked for. I'm sure that Abby and McGee agree. You have loved us as your own for many years, and I do not think I have ever taken the time to properly thank you."
"And you decided today was the day to do it."
"It seemed appropriate."
"Thank you," he said, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead.
"You are welcome."
" I do love you, ya know."
" I do."
"Just don't tell DiNozzo."
She laughed "Okay."
"Now where's that grandson of mine?"
"Upstairs, as I said before," she said as they began to climb the stairs.
"Probably covered in something sticky by now."
"He is only four years old. I think he is allowed a few more years of being sticky."
"He is. Then we'll have a few more years after that. How's my granddaughter?"
"She is just fine. Her kicks are getting stronger. She is...how does Tony put it...squirmy."
"That's good. She probably takes after her mom."
As soon as the basement door opened, Julian's joyful cry could be heard throughout the house.
"Happy Faver's Day, Grampa!"
For the first time in many years, Gibbs embraced a child on Father's Day, and strangely, wonderfully, the ache in his chest was dulled. It was replaced with a warmth that he had long forgotten, and as he stood with his grandson on his hip and surrogate children at his side, he thought maybe Ziva was right. It was time to make some new memories.