AN: Here it is…

2010

Tony walked up behind his wife of five years. Their two children were down for a nap, and she was cleaning out one of the old desks organizing things when she started to smile as she pulled out a small box from the largest drawer. They were in the process of moving from their cramped apartment to a nice house just outside of the city—a house with a yard and an attic—a house to raise their young family.

He wrapped careful arms around her waist cherishing the soft smile she flung at him over her shoulder. "Hey, sweet cheeks." He placed a less than chaste kiss just below her ear. "Why don't you take a break from packing and," he placed another open-mouthed kiss on her neck, "help me with something in the bedroom."

"Look what I found." She held up the box for his inspection.

"It's a box," he noted ever one for stating the obvious.

"Not just any box, it's our box."

"I was unaware we had a box. When did we get this box?" He queried.

"It was a wedding gift from my Aunt Netty—you know the one you threatened—it's a memory box. We were supposed to fill it with pictures and trinkets that symbolize our love. I had forgotten about it. I haven't put anything in it since… Tali was born. We've been so busy." She flipped open the lid to inspect the things hidden inside.

He stilled her hands as they went to lift the bundle out. His own hand reached inside the box and plucked out something small. He held it up for her examination, "You kept the grass ring?"

She nodded and smiled at him. He smiled back at her entranced with his curly-haired beauty.

Ziva lifted the bundle of things out of the box, and they began to flip through the pictures in companionable silence. She broke it with a sigh, "I'm going to start keeping up with the box again."

2055

Penelope DiNozzo called out to her grandmother as she made her way down the steps from the attic. She found her Grammy Ziva sitting on the front porch still dressed in her clothes from the funeral. The eight-year-old offered to box to the shriveled older woman, "Grammy, I found a box in the attic."

Ziva let a small look of shock cross her face. It was their memory box. She felt the tears come and didn't try to stop them; she had just lost her husband of fifty years. She patted her lap as an offering to her granddaughter.

"Penny, do you know what this is?" She asked after the young girl had settled into her lap.

Penelope shook her head to the negative. "It is a memory box. It has all of the memories your Pappy and I had together. Do you want me to tell you the story?"

The small child nodded to the affirmative, and Ziva began to recount their story. Using the objects in the box as props.

It was cathartic—the retelling of their life together. She knew she didn't have long until she joined him wherever he was, but here and now recounting the story of their love to their granddaughter, she felt whole. As the words left her lips and eased her pain, she realized they weren't the perfect family, and never had been. But what they had had been perfect for them, and that was what counted.

AN: This story is officially over. Eleven moments in their lives together; two moments with their granddaughter; one burnt-out author. :) So as always when I wrap up a story I would be much obliged if you answered the following survey:

1) Favorite chapter. 2) Least favorite chapter. 3) Improvements I could make (Writing style etc.)

Oh and please go check out my new story "Broken Bird" it's a different fandom (That 70s Show) but it would make sense even if you've never watched the show. (AKA I'm desperate… and I know it)

Thanks for sticking with it. Hannah