I'm a woman of many ideas, and this happens to be just one of them.

Dedicated to Silent Falling Rain. Don't worry girl!! I'll write you fluff all summer long if it takes your mind off of the next season and what ever happens at the ending of this season.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, besides the idea, and Mirabelle. :) Which, btw, means beauty.

P.S; If Tony isn't Catholic, sue me. Italians are usually Catholic, so I went off what my Italian mom and Popi said. :)

My parents were unusual. I knew that from the time I was five, when I could first remember them talking. I watched them at the dinner table, holding a plastic fork in my hand, while they argued over something. My mom shot my dad a glare, and then he smirked at her. That was the first real memory I ever had, and it stuck with me.

I always would think of my parents that way, and wonder how they made it. They always were fighting, and I would listen and wonder who was going to leave. But they weren't like those people in the movies, who after getting into a fight, would stalk off and go drink. No, they would sit down on the couch and watch TV together.

Holding hands.

I was always confused, surprised. I had no clue what they were doing. I didn't get it.

When I was seven, my dad took me to church for the first time. I was confused, because mommy wasn't with us. She had dressed me in a flowery dress and my good shoes, but then she just kissed my dad on the cheek and went back to watching TV.

"Pappa, why isn't mommy coming wit us?" I asked, and he smiled at me in the rear view mirror.

"You'll understand one day." He said, turning down a street.

"But I wanna to understand now!" I said. He laughed, reaching into the back seat and touching my leg.

"Patience." He said before he parked. He walked around to let me out, and I grabbed his hand and followed him into the church. When we walked in, people were sitting, but Mass hadn't started yet. Daddy pulled me over to sit next to one of his friends. He looked surprised when they saw my daddy, and I didn't understand why.

"Hey Tony. Haven't seen you at church in a long time man." The guy said. He looked at me, then back at my daddy. "Wife stay at home?" He asked.

"John, you know Ziva." Daddy said. John nodded, suddenly remembering.

"Sorry." He said.

The rest of Mass I was confused. I didn't understand what they were talking about. When we left, I sat in the front seat and looked at my dad.

"Daddy, what was that guy talking about?" I asked again. Dad laughed, patting my cheek. I glared at him.

"Mirabelle, for now just stay young." He said. I looked out the window, watching the trees go by.

"But I wanna to know." I said again.

"I know you do."

On my eight birthday, I woke up to her my parents arguing over something. I walked out into the living room to see them sitting on the couch, right next to each other, arguing. I stared at them for a moment before speaking up.

"Mamma?" I said. Mom looked up at me and got up off the couch.

"What honey?" She asked. She glared back at dad before turning her attention back to me.

"I'm hungry." I said. She smiled at me, picking me up and carrying me into the kitchen.

"What does the birthday girl want?" She asked, looking at dad as he walked in. He sat down next to me, taking one of my hands. I looked at them, confused.

"Pancakes." I said, still watching them. My mom nodded, moving to make them. Dad watched her for a minute before looking at me.

"What do you want to do today?" He asked, and my mom coughed. He looked up at her, watching her move. He glared a little before looking back down at me.

"I don't know." I said, playing with my dad's fingers. He let me pull at them, separating them. He then made them into a fist, and I laughed. I tried to pry them apart, and he let his hand fall open after a while. I laughed again, pulling at his pinky. My mom laughed, stirring some pancake batter together.

"Maybe she doesn't want to do anything." She said, and my dad looked at her.

"It's her birthday." He said. She glared at him, pouring some pancake batter into the pan. I watched them.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean she has to do something extravagant." Mom said. Dad sighed, watching her flip pancakes.

"And if she wants something extravagant?" He asked. She gave him a look before placing two pancakes on a plate and putting the plate in front of me. She moved over to the cupboard, grabbing the syrup, peanut butter, butter, and a fork. She placed them all down in front of me and I made my pancakes. My dad looked up at her.

"May I have one?" He asked. She looked at him, and then poured two more into the pan. I took a bite of my pancake, grinning.

"Dis isth geod Mamma." I said, swallowing as I said mamma. My dad laughed, but my mom glared at him. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she went back to making pancakes.

"You're welcome Mirabelle." Mom said. I took a drink of the orange juice my dad gave me, and then smiled.

"Thank you both." I said. My mom set two more pancakes down in front of my dad. He waited until she had sat down to lean over and kiss her cheek.

"I love you." He whispered to her, but I could still hear. I took another bite of my pancake, and my mom smiled at my dad.

"I love you too." She said before putting some syrup on my dad pancakes and taking a bite. He gave her a bemused look.

I, throughout this whole exchange, was still confused. Sometimes I wish I had notes on how to understand my parents. Nevertheless, I didn't. I had to sit and think hard about what they could possibly be thinking.

When I was ten, we moved. My dad had been transferred so we packed up and moved. The car ride was long, and I fell asleep. I woke up still in my seat, but the car was stopped. I looked outside, and saw a blue house full of movers. I got out quickly, finding my mom in the new kitchen.

"Mamma, this house is huge!" I said, and she smiled at me.

"Stay out of the mover's way honey. I don't want you to get hurt." She said, kissing my messy hair. I bound up the stairs, weaving through people, to find my dad. He was standing at the top of the stairs, telling one of the movers where to put a box. I knew it was mine, because it had my name on it. He looked at me, and picked me up.

"Mirabelle! How did you sleep honey?" He asked. I shrugged.

"It was good daddy." I said. He put me back down.

"I need you to pick your room." He said. I looked up at him, then back at the hall.

"Any of these rooms?" I asked. He shook his head.

"All except the huge one at the end. That is your mothers and mine." I nodded, running down to the opposite end of the hallway, pushing open a door. I smiled.

"This one!"

That night we had take out, seeing as there was no food in the house. We still had tons of boxes to unpack, and we were all going to be sleeping on an air mattress. There was a knock at the door and I jumped up to open it.

"Hi. We're from across the street, and we wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." The woman said. She had brown hair, and brown eyes. Her husband looked the same.

"Hi. I'm Mirabelle." I said, offering her my hand. The woman took it, smiling at me.

"I'm Edith Price, and this is my husband Joe." I smiled at them. My dad came up behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Anthony DiNozzo. Nice to meet you." He shook both of their hands. "It's still a mess, but you can come in." He said. Edith and Joe walked in, looking around. I then determined that they must have been much older than my parents.

My dad led them into the kitchen, where my mom got up and offered her hand.

"I'm Ziva." Mom said. Edith shook her hand gingerly, looking at her. I saw her eyes go over her necklace.

"You're Jewish?" She asked. Mom nodded. Edith smiled at her, and elbowed Joe slightly. But my parents didn't see that.

"Well, I'm Edith and this is my husband Joe. We live across the street." Edith said. Mom nodded, and shook Joe's hand.

"Why'd you all move out here?" Joe asked. I slipped away to go to the bathroom, and when I came back dad and Joe were talking out front. Edith was with them, and I found my mom in the kitchen.

"Mamma, why aren't you out there?" I asked, sitting next to her. She smiled at me weakly.

"You'll understand one day." She said the same line I had heard for 5 years. I crossed my arms, walking outside to see the Edith and Joe were leaving. My dad walked back inside, but I stayed on the front porch. I listened carefully to Edith and Joe.

"She's Jewish, and he's a good Old Italian boy?" Edith said, as if she couldn't believe. I tilted my head, trying harder to hear.

"I know. What's wrong with people these days?" Joe said, moving across the street. I got up, walking back inside. Mom and dad were in the kitchen, and my dad was holding my mother close. I watched from the doorway as he kissed her forehead, whispering in her ear. He rubbed her back before looking up at him. I saw a couple tears on her face.

"Don't worry Ziva. They don't matter." Dad whispered, kissing my mom's face. I smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his neck. Moving away from the doorway, I pulled the air mattresses out to get ready for bed.

Once again, I was confused. I didn't get what Edith meant 'She's Jewish, and he's a good Old Italian boy.' I unfolded the air mattress, trying my hardest to figure it out.

Edith and Joe didn't come over much after that. Either my parents didn't invite them, or they turned the invites down. Our next-door neighbors came over a lot though. Mom became good friends with them, and so did dad.

When the holiday season came around, my parents invited all of their old friends down from Washington DC. Aunt Abby and Uncle Tim got there first, and Abby pulled me into a hug as soon as she saw me.

"Mirabelle, you've gotten so big!" She squealed in my ear.

"I missed you too Abby." I said. She put me down, and moved to give mom a hug. They moved inside, and Tim looked down at me.

"Hey Mirabelle. Like your new house?" He asked. I nodded. I pulled one of Abby's bags out of the car, helping Tim carry it inside. My dad greeted Tim, giving him a brotherly hug.

"McGee! How's it been?" Dad asked. They started to talk, and I sat on the front porch and waited for Gibbs and Jenny to get there. I saw Edith looking out her window and glared at her. She shut her blinds quickly, and I smiled. Jenny and Gibbs pulled up, and I jumped off the porch. Jenny engulfed me in a hug.

"Hi honey. I've missed you." She said, kissing my cheek. I smiled, glad they came. Gibbs kissed me on the cheek.

"Where are your parents?" He asked, and I motioned towards the house. He nodded, looking across the street. Edith shut her blinds again and Gibbs sighed.

"Nosy people."

As I got older, I began to learn. I learned a lot, mostly about the ways of the world. But I also learned about my parents. One day while helping Gibbs build his boat, I asked him how my parents had met. He dropped the sandpaper in his hand, and looked at me. I was slightly taken back by the look on his face. He looked as if he had expected this question for me one day.

"You know, I'm not really sure." He said, walking around the boat and sitting next to me. He was getting older, but needless to say, he was still agile.

"However, I do know that your parents were the best damn agents I've ever had. From the beginning, they had great chemistry. It was hard to deny." He looked at the boat, his blue eyes soft for once.

"It's cliché to say, but things got in the way, people tried to pull them apart, but eventually love prevailed." He said, picking up his water glass. He took a sip. I thought about his answer for a second.

He hadn't exactly answered my question, but I let it rest. When I got home, I found my parents in the kitchen, talking. I sat down next to my dad, and he smiled at me.

"Have fun with Gibbs?" He asked. I nodded. The phone rang, and my mom answered. She smiled at us before taking it to the other room. I took this opportunity.

"Dad, how did you and mom meet?" I asked. He looked at me, his green eyes bemused.

"Well, let's just say it wasn't picture perfect." He laughed, looking at his hands.

"What do you mean?" I asked. He laughed.

"Well, the first words she ever said to me were 'having phone sex?'" He said. He laughed, rubbing his forehead. I stared at him.

"Were you?" I asked, and he laughed even harder. He patted his stomach.

"No, but…. Oh lord." He said, obviously reminiscing. I looked at him, completely lost again.

"What's oh lord dad?" I asked. He looked at me, completely serious.

"When I met your mother, it wasn't love at first sight. I had just lost my partner to her half brother, and she was there to protect him. We got off on the wrong foot. I guess you could say that…. neither of us thought we would end up here." He said, referring to them being married, and having me. I smiled.

"Accidently in love?" I asked, and my dad laughed.

"No, us meeting was no accident." He got up, walking over to put his plate in the sink. I sat there for a second.

My parents were…. an unorthodox couple. I had finally become to understand why Edith and Joe had been skeptical about them being together. Nevertheless, to me, it didn't matter. Yeah, my mom was a trained assassin, Mossad, and a ninja in my dad's words. My dad was childish, but had an uncanny ability to see the truth of things. My mom was Jewish, my dad Catholic. Italian, Israeli. It was different, but they were the same in other ways.

They were both stubborn beyond belief, and they both cared for the ones they loved. They loved most of the same things, and had the same morals.

And lastly, they loved each other.

That was all that mattered.

Fin.

Thanks for reading. Reviews would be great. :)

Thanks, Izzy:)