Intertwining Our Pasts
Tiva For Want of a Nail: A terrorist looking for vengeance against Eli David forces seventeen-year-old Ziva and twelve-year-old Tali, to temporarily move to safety in Long Island, New York. There, she stays with her Aunt Batia and meets a seventeen-year-old Tony DiNozzo, recalled by his father from military school. Planned as the first in the Ripples in the Tides Series, but no promises.
Note: I actually came up with the idea and wrote most of the first two chapters to this fic a few years ago, so the chapters that follow afterward might be a little different writing style wise. Hopefully, this time I won't lose my motivation halfway through and I'll actually be able to finish this story.
Also, assume anytime the Israeli characters are talking amongst themselves, they're doing it in Hebrew, unless specified.
Last Night I
Despite the fact that it went against all of her new training to display her emotions so blatantly on her face, Ziva David couldn't quite stop the scowl that managed to make itself a permanent fixture throughout the hour or so of packing her things. She knew she'd get a scolding if her father had caught her being so open with her displeasure, but at the moment she couldn't quite find it in her to care. Though it was perhaps a bit petty, she found some small satisfaction in being able to disobey some of his instructions. If she couldn't refuse the more important orders, she could at least play mutiny in some of the lesser ones to relieve her stress. It was a consolation prize-and a bad one at that-but it was all she had, so she made do with it.
Ziva David was not a fool. Despite the fact that she knew how to kill a man over twenty different ways with only her bare hands, had been handling knives since she was eleven, guns since she was thirteen, and could handle both almost as well as any pro in the field, she was still only a seventeen year old girl. She was still just a civilian without any "real" experience out in the field. If she stayed behind, even with all her talent and training, she would only be a liability, another civilian who needed to be protected. She understood perfectly the logic behind her father's actions, and even agreed with it, because she was nothing if not practical. But that did not mean she was happy about it. The fact that she was still being treated like a helpless child and being shipped off to safety at the first sign of trouble, despite everything that she'd learned and accomplished. It made all the blood, sweat and tears she'd shed over the years feel just a little bit pointless.
Fighting the urge to curse at the unfairness of it all, Ziva made a last check-up of all the things she would need for the trip. The estimated duration of the trip was eight months (to cover the whole school year). It was a relatively long stretch of time and the longest she'd ever been away from her homeland so Ziva had to prepare accordingly. Most of what she would need could be found in Aunt Batia's house (where they would be staying) or bought at the nearest store there so she had packed only the things that she either needed immediately or would otherwise be unable to get. This left her with one large suitcase that still had a sizable amount of space left in it. During her packing, Ziva had been forced to fight her instinct to shove her weapons in among her clothes. It was important that they keep a low profile, so arrangements for permission to bring weapons would not be happening. Once again, though Ziva understood the reasoning behind it and even agreed with it, she couldn't stop herself from being unhappy about it. The various knives and guns that were stowed away in various locations throughout bedroom would have to stay in Tel Aviv. Even the two (sometimes three, if she were feeling particularly anxious) knives she usually carried concealed on her person could not be brought.
Without her usual cache of weapons close by, and only a single small Swiss army knife (it was the most her father would allow) in her right pants leg as her protection, Ziva felt almost naked. Though she consoled herself with the fact that she would be getting replacements once she got to America (no matter what her father said against that), she still felt antsy about the time between that. While her expertise in hand to hand combat was nothing to sneeze at and was enough for most situations, the security provided by her weapons was a safety blanket that she would most definitely miss.
Trying very hard to not grab the nearest blade and slip it somewhere on her person, she did one final sweep of her luggage, person and room. She came to the conclusion that she was as ready as she was ever going to be for the sudden move, and with over half a day left to spare. Now, there was nothing left for her to do except to double and triple check her things, and find something to keep her mind off the various things that were irritating her.
Her first choice for relieving stress, which was beating the living daylights out of a punching bag or a punching buddy-also known as her sparring partners-was unfortunately currently not a viable option due to lack of time. So Ziva headed over to Tali's room to check on her sister instead.
Unlike her, Tali was actually excited about going to the United States. She had never been to the America before and was treating the whole thing as a great big adventure. However, it was clear to Ziva, who probably knew the girl best, that she was also hiding a considerable amount of worry and anxiety behind her optimistic mask. While Tali was indeed five years younger and still possessed an almost childish naivety about the world, she did understand the gravity of the situation they were it, even if she wasn't aware of all the details. Tali was not a fool either (because genetics did mean something), and she knew that their temporary move to the United States was not for leisurely purposes.
Their father, a Mossad field agent who specialized in assassinations, was being targeted by a psychotic terrorist bent on revenge for his recently assassinated father and brother. This was not a rare occurrence, and despite some slight anxiety, everything was still more or less standard. Two weeks ago, however, their paternal grandmother was nearly killed by an unknown assailant in her sky-rise apartment. The unknown assailant was later identified to be the psychotic terrorist in question. He had been attempting to put a bullet through the old woman's head, and it was only through her own skill (she was retired Mossad, after all) and some luck (because it was two in the morning, she was caught by surprise, and she was sixty-two after all), that she managed to survive the encounter.
Arrangements for her grandmother to stay with an old friend in Switzerland, as well as their own temporary move to the US, had immediately been made. Ziva and Tali would be staying at their maternal aunt's house in Long Island, New York, and attending the local high school once when the school year started in a week. The rest of Eli's living family, which included his younger brother (who refused to leave his horses) and his older half-sister (who refused to leave her job), would be put under protective surveillance but remain otherwise undisturbed from where they were.
While her father, as well as her older half-brother Ari, would remain in Tel Aviv to assist in the terrorist's capture. This fact was one of the focal points of Ziva's irritation. Ari's smug and taunting look as the announcement was made had not helped matters. They had always had something of a rivalry, their competitive streaks making it so that they were constantly one-upping the other in just about everything. Through forces beyond her control, namely her father and practical reasoning, she had been forced to wave her white flag for this round before the battle had even begun. Ziva anticipated a year's worth of ribbing before Ari would let it go. Sometimes she wondered which of them was truly four years older than the other. This time, Ziva really wished the answer was her so she could be the one helping her father put down a rabid terrorist instead of flying off to safety with the civilians.
As she neared Tali's room, she heard the tell-tale noises of her sister's growing frustration. Clearly, even the little ball of sunshine that was her sister could fall prey to the lesser emotions. Not bothering to knock on the door (older sister privileges and whatnot), she found herself greeted by the sight of a disheveled and slightly red Talia David engaged in a one-sided conversation with her suitcase.
"What are you doing?"
Ziva's irritation with the overall situation was chased slightly away by her confusion at the scene before her.
"Packing my things," her sister answered with an angry pout as she leveled her best death glare (which looked too cute to be entirely menacing) at the suitcase lying on her bed.
"I can see that," replied Ziva with a slightly raised eyebrow as she took in the two bulging and clearly over-packed suitcases which were currently split wide open for all the world to see.
"I can't get it to close," Tali explained a bit belatedly, as Ziva had come to the same conclusion after taking a look.
"Perhaps you should lessen your things then?" Ziva suggested, a touch of amusement coloring her voice.
Tali frowned before saying, "But then I won't have everything I need."
Ziva gave a long suffering sigh before she said, "Tali, we are not going to the South Pole. I'm sure you can find most of what you need when we get to America."
The frown on Tali's face grew deeper and with an indignant huff she retorted, "Maybe I don't want to waste my money that way."
Ziva's calm gaze did not waver as she ordered, "Show me what you've packed and I'll explain to you why you ought to leave it behind."
This time, the frown on her face was downright comedic.
"But—"
Moving over to the suitcase, Ziva picked up an object at random, "Do you really need to bring five stuffed toys?"
Tali made a very convincing impression of a ripe tomato as she quickly snatched the offending item from her sister.
"You can bring one, Tali," Ziva's voice brooked no argument as she moved on to look at the rest of the items.
"But then she'll be lonely," Tali argued futilely as she gripped Mrs. Muppet closer to her chest.
"You can get her a new friend once we get to America,"
"But-"
"Why do you have three tubes of toothpaste? You do realize they sell toothpastes in America, don't you?"
"They don't have this brand in America-I checked. We don't know how long we'll be staying there, and besides, they're all different flavors. I even have your favorite."
"Bring one, Tali,"
"But what if it runs out?"
"Use frugally," she shrugged nonchalantly, utterly inured to Tali's growing distress.
"You have entirely too many clothes. I believe I have already told you, but we are not going to the South Pole. What do you need all of these clothes for?" She asked incredulously, pointing to the large pile of clothes in the middle of the suitcase.
"It's not like I can just wear the same thing over and over again!"
"I'm not asking you to bring just one-"
"What a surprise," Tali muttered sarcastically.
Ziva spared her a glare before continuing, "They have washing machines there, Talia. Bring a dozen. I am already being very kind. I have only brought six."
"Twelve?!"
"Yes, Tali, that is what a dozen means. Perhaps you should brush up on your math."
This time it was Tali who sent her sister a glare but to her disappointment and utter non-surprise, Ziva remained unfazed.
"I'm only supposed to wear twelve sets of clothes for the entire trip? You do realize it's eight months, not weeks."
"We will buy new clothes there. I know how much you enjoy that," Ziva pointed out, "Besides, isn't fashion all about the mixing and matching? I am sure you will get over a dozen different sets from your six."
Tali wanted to object but couldn't deny the logic of Ziva's words. Letting out a small resigned sigh, Tali decided it was probably in her best interests to simply succumb to her older sister's wisdom and follow her advice.
oOo
It was nearly another two hours before the two sisters managed to get Tali's things down to a manageable level. In the end, she was left with two very stuffed large suitcases and the promise of even more things on the return trip (they were going to have to buy more suitcases).
"I hope we won't have to do the same thing on the return trip," Ziva commented as she stretched her back across Tali's bed. Packing had been surprisingly tiring work, though it had been mostly due to the constant argument over what to bring than the actual packing.
Tali's slightly sheepish smile told Ziva that her hope was futile.
Letting out a resigned sigh, she gave a tired smile and said, "I suppose this is what sisters are for."
Her sister's answering grin almost made the effort worth it. Almost. For a moment, they reveled in a companionable silence, born from equal parts tiredness and contentment. It occurred to Ziva as they sat shoulder to shoulder against the headboard of Tali's bed that moments like this did not happen too often lately. Both of them were too caught up in their separate lives to take the time to just relax and enjoy each other's company. Ziva realized she had missed it. Though in some ways, Ziva had always been closer to Ari because of their similar personalities, the bond between the sisters had still been a very close one. Tali was easy to love with her bubbly personality and kind heart, and Ziva could not deny the soft spot in her own heart for the younger girl. Ziva had also not been lying when she claimed that she probably knew the twelve-year-old girl best. She could easily recall the hundreds of hours they'd spent lying in bed together talking through the night. They had shared everything, from deep dark secrets to their most inane random thoughts to each other.
"It's been a while since we've done this-just hanging out," Tali said suddenly, breaking the silence and voicing Ziva's inner thoughts.
"Too long," Ziva agreed, because it was true.
"We should do it more often," Tali said softly.
Ziva smiled and slipped her sister's hand into hers before replying, "Yes."
The pair slipped into a comfortable silence once more, each quietly enjoying the other's company. Ziva let herself relax as she leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes. Her earlier irritation slowly ebbing away until it became little more than a distant memory. She knew it would likely come back later, with the speed and suddenness of wildfire because that was simply how she was, and at some point, something would likely remind her of the reasons she angry. But for now, she could lose herself in the nice, easy silence that grown between them, and enjoy the temporary peace it offered. This was one of the reasons Ziva had come to visit her sister. Tali could calm and comfort her in a way no one else could.
An indeterminable amount of time later, Tali broke the silence.
"Aba and Ari will be okay here, right?"
Her voice was soft, soft enough that had Ziva not been right next to her she would have likely missed it. But Ziva had been expecting it. This was the other reason she had come to check on her sister.
"Of course they will, Tali," Ziva smiled as she wrapped a comforting arm on the other girl's shoulder. "Not only can they handle themselves, they've got a Mossad team with them as backup."
Tali nodded, even though she knew all of this already. There was no stopping the fears and the worries from creeping in. Having her older sister's assurance helped to ease some of her worry though.
"Do not worry, Tali, Aba would never let anything happen to himself or Ari," Ziva continued as she gave Tali's shoulders a light squeeze, "He loves you far too much to do that to you."
"He loves you too," Tali reminded softly, and Ziva remembered that Tali knew her best too.
Despite the tightening in her chest, Ziva could only smile in response as she wrapped her arms around her sister, because Tali was Tali. Ziva thought she probably loved her more than anything in the world, and not just because she was easy to love, but perhaps also because she loved too easily. Even if it meant hurting herself, Ziva would never hurt Talia David. Words of anger and jealousy would die in her throat before they even formed.
It was not that she doubted the truth of Tali's words. She knew that her father loved her. It was in the way pride shone in his voice every time he congratulated her on one of her achievements, in the way he took time from his work to show her things like how to properly disassemble a Beretta and how to keep oneself alive in the wild with nothing more than a knife. Her father loved her, she knew that. But then, Ziva saw the way he was with Tali. All kind words and gentle touches, and she couldn't help but think that he loved Tali more. He was always so much softer when he was with Tali. He rarely raised his voice with her and every time she did something wrong, all she would get was an exasperated sigh and ask for a promise to never do it again. When Ziva did something wrong, she was lucky to getonly a few lashes with the belt as punishment.
But even when she found herself bristling at the unfairness of it, she knew that it wasn't her father's fault. Not really. Her father treated Tali like a precious flower because that was what Tali was.
Tali was sunshine and joy and all the goodness in the world wrapped up in one giggly, caring and forever smiling bundle, and Ziva-Ziva was the sharp end of the spear. Ziva was all edges, fiery passion and stubborn determination. She was not something that needed to be handled gently or protected from the monsters of the world. But even though Ziva did not need to be handled softly or protected from the dark side of humanity, sometimes, despite it all, she wanted to be. Because even though Ziva had long ago committed herself to the harsh path she would travel in the name of her country-even though she had seen horrors and evils that had aged her into that of someone twice her age, sometimes-she reverted back to the little girl she hadn't been able to fully cast aside. She found herself, sometimes-always just for a moment- wishing to be cradled protectively in her father's arms as he whispered comforting words in her ear and let her dry her tears against his shirt. Sometimes, she regretted the path she'd chosen to take. Sometimes, she thought she'd made a terrible mistake in asking him to teach her how to fight.
In the end, she could not blame her sister. She didn't think she could ever blame her for anything, especially for something like this, and she could not blame her father either because he did love her even if it wasn't in the way she wanted sometimes. So she could only blame herself. It was true, anyway. After all, it had been her choice to make him look at her as though she were an assassin-in-training and not a little girl that needed to be protected.
She had asked him, begged him, for the training to become a fighter. She had hated feeling helpless. She had hated being able to do nothing while people around her died and her beloved country descended into chaos. Finding that she was good at it, that she genuinely enjoyed it had been a bonus. She loved her knives and her guns, and all the training that made her a better fighter each day. She loved to feel the adrenalin rushing through her veins and the visceral satisfaction at having bested someone twice her size. Most of the time, she thought that asking for training, for Mossad, was the best decision she had ever made.
But whenever she saw the way he treated Tali, she couldn't help but think about all the what-ifs. What if she was someone innocent again? Someone who did not know how little pressure it took to kill someone, who did not know that many ways to make a homemade bomb, who could look at America as an adventure instead of an insult to her pride. Sometimes she couldn't help but picture herself being the one comforted and protected instead. Even though she knew it wasn't the intention of either one, it felt a bit like a slap to the face every time. She couldn't help but feel like she was being mocked, taunted with a fate she could never have.
"I know," she said eventually, because it was true, even if it wasn't the whole truth, and maybe because it was all she could really say.
Her sister did not reply, but simply tightened her hold on Ziva's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. There was a sad look in her eyes, as though she knew exactly what Ziva had meant to say anyway.
"Have you said goodbye to your friends yet?" Ziva asked, because she needed to change the direction of her thoughts.
"Last night," Tali replied with a slightly wistful smile as she gave her sister's hand another comforting squeeze, "we had a sort of going away party the day before that."
Ziva nodded, shaking away her previous thoughts and focusing on the conversation at hand.
"Was it fun?"
"A lot of fun, though it got kind of sad by the end," Tali replied softly, her eyes growing slightly distant as she recalled the memory, "I'll really miss them all."
Nodding slightly, Ziva sent her sister a sympathetic look. Though she was less vocal and emotional about it, Ziva would miss her own friends as well. While she had not spent much time with them recently thanks to all her training, she would miss them all the same once she was an ocean away instead of only a few blocks.
"You will still be able to talk to them," Ziva reminded not unkindly.
"I know. There's phone calls and everything," Tali replied, frowning slightly, "but it's still not the same, you know?"
Ziva hummed in agreement, placing a commiserating arm around her sister.
"We must do what we must," she told the younger girl, before steering the conversation to less serious topics.
For the next hour or two, the two sisters chatted about inconsequential things, simply enjoying each other's company.