CHAPTER 1

He supposes that it's inevitable really, that he ends up here after a long day at work. Some people visit the graveyard; others spend time talking to photographs. He does neither, instead choosing build, destroy and rebuild the same boat he's been working on for the past two decades.

It's his little secret, one that he has kept close to his heart all these years. Working on the boat is the one way he can connect with his lost family; this place, this sultry basement, where one and all are welcome, is the one place where he can still feel the essence of his beautiful wife and his adorable daughter.

And this is the one place where he can talk to them, tell them about the family he has built up for himself since becoming a part of NCIS. He rarely visits their graves; it's dark, lonely and cold. None of which Shannon and Kelly were. They were bright, filled so much warmth and laughter, that he feels that they deserve to be remembered as such.

They're finally getting married, hon, he thinks. Tony and Ziva are finally getting married. If he closes his eyes and focuses hard enough, he can see her loving smile. She would have loved those two, he knows, probably would've even come up with matchmaking schemes to get them together. If she were here, she would be the loving, supporting mother figure of the team, even as he plays the role of the strict yet protective father. And Kelly, sweet and innocent, would have been friends with them, the understanding sister. She would have looked upto Ziva and Abby and gotten pissed at Tony and Tim for being overprotective brothers.

And unbelievably, the old ache returns, stronger and sharper, even as it is every time he thinks about what could've been. Only this time, it is worse, for, watching Tony and Ziva reminds him so much of Shannon and himself, that, on days like these, he cannot help but desperately long for the two people he has loved and lost. Most of the time it subsides to an almost dull ache within his chest; an ache he can even forget on good days when he is with the rest of the team. But now, it throbs and it stings, and brings back memories that he would rather keep hidden within the deepest recesses of his anguished soul.

"Gibbs?"

The call jolts him out of his musings, and he looks upto see Ziva standing atop the stairs, a tired smile on her face. He spares a quick glance at his watch, only to find that it is too early, even for her, especially for her to be here.

"Ziva," he calls back softly. "What are you doing here?"

Without waiting for a reply, he hurries over the bottom of the stairs, and helps her down the last few, even as she waddles carefully, her other hand hovering protectively over her very swollen belly.

"I came to see you," she replies, a small smile on her face.

"At 0500?" he questions skeptically. "Ziva you should be in bed!"

She pouts a little, and he is suddenly struck at how much she has changed, straight from the cold ninja Mossad assassin to a smiling, pouting to-be-mother.

"I was bored," she says, her voice a whine. He raises and eyebrow at her. "Really?"

Sighing, she flops down on a chair next to his half-finished boat, gently running a hand over the skeletal frame.

"I cannot sleep," she complains. "Tony is out, chasing down a lead, Tim and Abby are in Abby's lab, doing…something, and I am bored of sitting around the house with nothing to do!"

He chuckles at her outburst and the ache in his chest intensifies, for he remembers, Shannon was just as impatient as Ziva.

"Ziva," he points out quietly. "You're pregnant."

She groans. "I know, Gibbs," she says tiredly. "And I love it. But I am bored!" she repeats.

He moves closer to wrap his arm around her, and she settles into his side. A comfortable silence falls between them and he, to his surprise, finds that he's stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Shannon was just like you."

The statement slashes through the silence like one of Ziva's knives, as she stares at him, her doe-brown eyes widening. And he mentally winces, not sure what made him even say it.

"What?" he asks snappishly at her look. She shakes her head, the corners of her mouth lifting up in a small smile.

"You just never talk about them," she replies quietly. "Shannon and Kelly?"

He does not reply this time, and they fall silent once more; only now, it is not quite so comfortable. He sighs, leaning her against him, as a sign of apology.

She settles into him again, her hand playing with the button of her overcoat.

"She was… radiant," he whispers, as the image, crystal clear, worms itself into his brain. He's not sure when he suddenly fells the need to share this with her, but he chooses not question the urge. For once, just once, he wants to share his memories with someone, and he realizes with a start, she is the perfect choice. There's probably no one who could understand better than her.

And so, in a hesitant, quiet tone, he tells her. He regales her with tales of the first few months after his wedding. He tells her of the time when he found out he was going to be a father (Shannon broke the news on his birthday, and it is still the best gift he has ever received); of the long hours of labor before Kelly's birth; and of the absolutely wondrous feeling of holding his little angel in his arms for the first time. He reminiscences incidents, happy and sad, from Kelly's childhood and she sits there quietly listening, her eyes dancing at his stories.

Quite suddenly, he falls silent, unable to find any more to say, because unbelievably, there is nothing more to be said. And the pain worsens, for the same thought that has haunted him all these years returns with a mind numbing vengeance – Kelly never got to see a double-digit birthday. Shannon never got to moan about grey hair or wrinkles like all other women before she was brutally murdered.

Ziva, as if sensing his distress, leans into him, kissing his cheek softly. He feels something pricking at the corner of his eyes, and he blinks away the useless tears, for they do nothing to relieve his pain whatsoever.

"Thank you for telling me about them," Ziva whispers into his shoulder, and he tightens his arm around her. He closes his eyes, the image of his wife and daughter dancing behind his eyelids.

"Wanna tell me the real reason you're down here?" he asks her softly and she looks up at him, surprised.

"I told you. I was bored," she insists, and he gives the stare. "Ziver," he says, in his I-know-you're-lying-to-me-and-you'd-better-tell-me-the-truth-now-or-I-will-headslap-you-silly tone. She sighs, huffing.

"I should have known that you would not believe me," she whines.

He smirks at her. "Well?"

"I… I just…" she stammers suddenly, and he looks on, amused to see her so flustered.

"You know that Tony and I are having just a small ceremony," she continues. "I was just wondering if… if you…" she trails off, looking away embarrassedly.

"Ziver," he repeats softly. "If I what?"

"If you would give me away," she finishes quietly. Still refusing to look at him, she continues, "I mean, there is no chance of Eli even attending the wedding, much less give me away, and I love Ducky, but it is just not the same and…"

"Ziva," he cuts in. "Of course I'll do it."

Her head whirls around. "Really?" she asks, trying, and failing, to hide the child-like hope he sees in her eyes. And his heart breaks, for even though he has lost his beautiful daughter, he did have eight blessed years of fatherhood. However, Ziva, until the age of twenty-six at least, did not know what it was to have a father. Until then, until him, she has always been the little girl on stage, looking in the shadows for the familiar face that she has never found.

"Of course," he nods, delivering the gentlest of slaps to the back of her dark head. The ex-Mossad officer grins, and he has no other word to describe her – she is radiant. Just as Shannon was.

"Thank you, Gibbs," she says quietly. He looks at her, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"You're welcome, David," he replies, smiling.

"DiNozzo," she corrects him delightedly, and he suppresses a chuckle at her enthusiasm. His amusement disappears, however, replaced by alarm, as she clutches at her belly, her face contorting with pain.

"Ow!" she gasps. "Gibbs!"

"Ziva!" he cries. "What is it?"

She doesn't reply, holding her belly with both her hands tightly, eyes squeezed shut. "It… it hurts… Gibbs…" she moans. She falls silent after a few seconds, and takes in deep breaths.

"Ziva?" he asks, worried. "Does it still hurt?"

She whimpers again. "A little."

He grabs his coat, helping her up. "Come on, we need to get you to the hospital."

"Gibbs," she protests, wincing. "What's happening?"

He looks at her incredulously, his heart warmed by the fondness he feels for her. "What do you think, DiNozzo? You're having the baby!"