Ziva didn't know why her lip had started trembling the moment she opened the door and saw Ducky standing there, a casserole dish in hand, clearly filled with some kind of delicious food, and a bag hanging from his elbow. It was nearing sundown on the first day of Hanukkah and she had been expecting to spend it, the first one she had as an American citizen, completely alone. She hadn't extended an invitation to any friends - and it wasn't as though she had any family there to celebrate with her either.
"Potato pancakes," he said simply, handing the hot dish over to her. She took it gladly and guided him into the dining and kitchen area. Placing it onto the table, she watched as he began to unload the bag. "While I know it's usually customary to make your own apple sauce, I dare say I burned my batch terribly. So I brought the canned sort. It's quite delicious - organic and all! So I think it should suffice. I have a salad and the spicy mustard dressing that a kind rabbi showed me the recipe while I was attending a ceremony in Israel. It was some time ago..."
He was cut off as he felt Ziva wrap her arms around him, pulling him close and bending down so she could bury her face into his shoulder. He was surprised at first, but smiled softly, rubbing her back gently.
"Thank you, Ducky," she muttered, her voice soft, a hint of vulnerability hidden in it.
"Do not thank me until you've tasted my first attempt at latkes, my dear. You may live to regret having opened the door at all."
She gave a laugh, pulling away and trying to slyly wipe away the happy tears that had formed at the corner of her eyes.