yo.

Taken from Sophia Chua-Rubenfeld, daughter of the Tiger Mother

Chapter 1: Black Fridays with Mangum (x) Chapter 2: Dreidels and Doctors (x) Chapter 3: Bashert (x) Chapter 4: The (Predicted) Surprise (x) Chapter 5: With Snowflakes and Tiny Marshmallows (x) Chapter 6: Oh, Christmas Tree (x) Chapter 7: Drifting Off (x) Chapter 8: Cookie Chaos (x) Chapter 9: The Grinch Who Stole the Juice Box (x) Chapter 10: The Princess and the Pops (x) Chapter 11: Holiday Rush (x) Chapter 12: Of Waffles and Onesies and Red Satin Sashes (x) Chapter 13: Fathers and Daughters (x) Chapter 14: Snow-Nozzos (x)

Chapter 15: How Do You Measure a Year (In Laughter and Strife) 

In the past six months, Ziva has attended no less than a dozen galas, balls, and charitable events. When your husband is being vetted for the highly coveted team leader position of the most effective Major Crimes Response Team unit, hobnobbing with Navy Commanders, Marine Corps leaders, and high ranking officials is just another night in an expensive dress. Tonight, however, is New Year’s Eve. An envelope arrived six weeks prior from the Office of the Secretary of the Navy addressed to Mr. and Mrs. DiNozzo. On embossed stationary in the fanciest of script was an invitation to a prestigious and exclusive black-tie affair that they were all but required to attend.

For his part, Tony had done his due diligence and had his tux cleaned and pressed, shoes shined, and cufflinks pulled from safety deposit. Ziva, on the other hand, was struggling. Not yet showing, but feeling as though the entire world would be in on their secret depending on her dress choice, she was on her fourth option of the night when she appeared in the living room.

“What about this one?” She does a quick spin in front of him, and he smiles.

“Gorgeous,” he nods resolutely.

“I am not sure. I feel a bit like a…” Lifting her arms, she turns from side to side, “like an I-don’t-know-what.” His quizzical look gives her a moment of pause before she excuses herself to change.

Less than five minutes later, she returns to the living room in yet another stunning number. “Also, gorgeous,” he says before she can ask. This time, she places her hands on her hips and cocks her head to the side. She says nothing as she leaves the room and he’s beginning to wonder if they’ll make it out the door after all.

Three dresses and a half hour later, he’s taken off his jacket and loosened his bowtie.

Another two ensembles and a change in hairstyle, he’s propped his feet on the coffee table and pulled out his tablet queuing a movie. He doesn’t bother looking at his watch.

Sitting on the edge of their bed, she’s surrounded by discarded gowns. Beads, lace, and beautiful fabrics aside, all she sees are decisions and changes.

Her new job

His new promotion

Another child

The anxiety washes over her as a crashing wave. Bringing her hand to her chest, she steadies her breathing with slow, even pacing. Her fear and excitement for the upcoming year have hit hard tonight. The invitation is on the nightstand, and there’s something in the significance of this party that has pushed her over the edge. Irrational, maybe. But the red and waxy Sec Nav seal on the envelope is mocking her, she’s sure of it. With a resigned sigh and great effort, she stands from their bed and heads back to the living room.

Tony is engrossed with a movie on his tablet, and his discarded clothing doesn’t go unnoticed. She’s grateful in this moment, and instead of asking questions she decides to curl on the couch next to him.

“I love this part,” she says as she points to the screen. Dorothy and Toto are illuminated in Technicolor as his arm tightens around her waist.

They finish the movie in silence, and she waits until the credits roll to ask, “How late are we?”

“Well, we were scheduled to arrive four hours ago give or take.” Wincing slightly, she peers up at him in apology.

“Don’t borrow trouble, Ziva,” he cocks his head to the side as he gazes down at her. She snorts her reply, with a quick pat of her hand to his stomach.

“What is that expression? That you are the one talking but I distinctly heard Gibbs voice coming from your mouth?” She holds her head up from toward him slightly, a smirk gently curving the corners of her mouth.

He rolls his eyes in a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “I’m serious.”

Settling back against his shoulder, she tightens her arm around his waist with a long squeeze as she pulls herself even closer into his side. His warm breath fans out across her forehead in a huff as he stretches to accommodate her.

Waiting has never been his strong suit. Impatience to the point of hot-temperedness has led him astray more than once with her. But his partner, this woman, was nothing if not annoyingly patient. Over the years, he’s picked up a thing or two from her about what it means to wait – for someone, on someone, with someone. How the simple act of waiting was an I love you unto itself.  He was practiced enough now in this art to know the importance of being present in the silent space that exists between two people; so he takes a deep breath with his lips against her hairline, and waits.

With her cheek pressed hard against his chest, she lets out a slow and weighted breath. One of the lessons learned with time and age, but more so in the innate knowing of a person, the knowledge that lives in intimacy and connection, is of predicted reaction. Her words are measured, but no less honest.

“You will be the leader our team needs, Tony. You will not be Gibbs,” she feels his heartbeat pick up under her cheek and is quick to soothe the sting of her words. “And I feel that is for the best. We do not need Gibbs, not any longer. He has given us each a solid foundation, yes?” While she can’t see him nodding, she can envision the furrow of his brow and tick of his jaw. Created from a group of misfits and malcontents, Team Gibbs was brought into existence on the sheer will of one exceptionally stubborn gunnery sergeant.

“From here, I – well, I am not sure what we need. But there is no one I trust more to figure that out than you. I also know that McGee, Abby, Ducky, and Palmer all agree.” She says each of their names slowly, letting understanding soak in. “As if that were not enough endorsement, Gibbs believes in you. He always has. You are ready for this, Tony. You deserve this.” There is a resolution in her voice that surprises her. Maybe, maybe, some things just decide themselves.

“Feels like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere, Ziva.” He strokes his fingertips across the back of the hand that’s clenching the fabric of his dress shirt at his waist, willing her hold to loosen in more than just her fingers.

“But,” she takes a deep breath, “I have been struggling with where my place will be going forward.” The hold she has on his shirt gives as she turns her palm over to entwine their fingers.

“I thought you were looking forward to more time at home,” his voice holds no malice only genuine surprise and a tempered sadness. He wants whatever she wants, whatever she needs – even if that means declining this promotion.

Pulling herself up, she props her elbow on his chest and leans in until they’re at eye level. “I think you are well aware of how,” searching for her next words carefully, she glances over his shoulder. She can see into their kitchen from his angle and smiles at the coloring pages and drawings hung with magnets across their fridge.

“How nervous I have been about this upcoming year and the changes we will face. That our family will face, both here and at work.” He nods silently, and she lifts herself up to press a warm, comforting kiss to his lips before she continues. “Tonight may have not been about dress choices, not entirely anyway.”

“Gee Ziva, you don’t say?” She swats at his chest as he cracks a smile.

“I am excited to have more time at home. There was a time, as you know, when I thought motherhood would not be a possibility. And then she was here, our Lena. I could never have imagined, never even dreamed that I…” She stumbles over her words slightly, and Tony’s smile falters. He does remember, could never forget. Pressing his lips to her temple in a hard kiss, he wills her to continue.

“Being a mother suits me. It is, simply said, the best thing I will ever do. Being an agent, serving the people and upholding the law, those things are important, too. I would never want to take away from that but I just want this more.” The pride in his eyes is overwhelming; and as he disentangles their fingers to move his hand up to cup her cheek, she lets out one gasping sob. He pulls her close and she buries her face in his neck, as his arm at her waist travels over her back.

“There is no weakness in this Ziva, if that’s what you’ve been thinking,” his words are a whisper against her ear. “You are a wonderful mother and our daughter – both of our children – are incredibly lucky.”

They lay together for several long minutes, his hand on her back continuing to rub and press into her muscles as the other massages against the base of her neck. He can feel wetness collecting along the collar of his shirt, but this is another of those moments where he knows to wait. She quiets slowly, and when she finally pulls back a shy smile plays on her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispers, but he just smiles in return. That Cheshire-DiNozzo grin still does strange things to her heart, even after all this time.

“Partners, remember?” Leaning forward, he steals a kiss but she doesn’t let him pull away just yet. Her hand braces at the nape of his neck, holding him to her as they breathe together. If he weren’t so close he might have missed her hushed always spoken against his lips in reverence.

So caught up in the moment they almost miss the ushering of the New Year, as the hall clock chimes the announcement. He pulls away to catch his breath, finding her rosy cheeked and with a dazzling smile.

It may just be me, I don’t know. But every single time I see this on my dash or on someone’s blog or anywhere else, I kind of just breathe a sigh of relief. That’s one more person who cares. That’s one more person who doesn’t hate me.

Because it means so much, especially when all the media is spewing out is that I’m a terrible person and no one wants people like me near them. It means so much because I’m tired of people who won’t sit next to me in class, or who choose to join the longer line at the grocery store because they don’t want to be beside me and my family. It means so much when I have to lift my head any time someone says the words Islam or Muslim because I’m scared that they’ll say something that’ll hurt, when I have to pay attention to the news because who knows what so and so is saying now, who knows which of my people are being attacked now, who knows what’s going to happen to me now.

It means so much because I’ve been given the idea that the world is against me. And a huge part of it may be, but at least I’ve been reminded that some of it, just a small group of people, acknowledges that I’m a person too. That people like me are just that, people.