#everythingismadefromdreams

They’d been back on U.S. soil for over a week, but to Ziva it didn’t feel like they were truly home until both Tony and Sana were discharged from the hospital with strict home-care instructions, and Gibbs was navigating her new SUV, purchased by him in her stead—the trade-in of her barely-driven convertible proving a sizable deposit—down the familiar oak-lined street and turning into the driveway of the house with the white-washed fence and porch swing.

Tony stopped fiddling with the GPS settings and craned around the headrest, shining his most dazzling smile at the backseat passengers. “Guess what, Sana? We’re here! Home, sweet home!”

Buckled securely in her booster seat, Sana crimped her lips in a frown and leaned into Ziva’s side, as quiet and timid as she’d been all morning. But it was not just Tony’s exuberance overwhelming her.

They’d done all they could to prepare her for the transition, showing her pictures of Gibbs’ house, including her room and the toys Jimmy and Breena had gifted so she’d have something to play with upon arrival.  But Sana remained confused, sometimes equating home with Domiz and other times unable to process the term at all in these foreign surroundings. The most successful attempt had been in crayon, half completed by Ziva, half by Sana: a simple triangle atop a square, a yellow sun in an upper corner, and three stick figures situated in the vibrant green swath of grass running the bottom of the page.

“Bayt,” Ziva had said, pointing first to their creation and then between them, finally earning a spark of comprehension from big, dark eyes.

Now, there was no chance to jog Sana’s memory of their drawing, produce it from the bag at their feet, or even offer a smile of encouragement before Gibbs swung her free from the car and into his arms with an ease born only of practice, as if he carried young children instead of a gun and badge on his hip every day.

“Got something to show you, sweet pea,” Gibbs said in a voice bright and kind, a rarity before Sana that was now becoming standard for his interactions with her. He shut the door and started across the trimmed lawn.

Ziva climbed out the other side, staring after the pair. “What is that saying? Once a father…”