Title: Three Kisses & Three Caskets
Disclaimers: NCIS, the rights to the show and its characters do not belong to me. No money was made by this.
A/N: English is not my native language. So please forgive me my grammar and spelling mistakes.
Spoilers: Kill Ari I and II especially, Bête Noir and Reveille, anything that was ever revealed about Ari Haswari's life and Ziva's
Pairing: none, David sibling relationship
Summary: Three times they saved each other. Three times they couldn't.
A/N2: As I pointed out in Soothing Delusions, my knowledge of Hebrew starts and ends with the word Shalom. I googled "freckle" because I wanted it to be Ari's nickname for Tali, and only found "menumeshet" which is supposed to mean "freckled girl". If it doesn't, I apologize.
She is three years old. Even though they have the same parents and share a similar complexion, they are night and day. Even their hours of birth reflect that. Her sister is five years older, born on a stormy night in December. At the end of a day, at the end of a year. She is younger, born in the early hours of morning as the sun rose above the roofs of Jerusalem on a perfect spring day. The beginning of renewal.
Her eyes are so much different from those of her siblings. Ari's eyes are dark brown, almost black. They are warm and soft and hard and cold at the same time. They take on a harsh golden glint when he speaks to their father. Zivi's eyes are dark brown. They get lighter when she is confused and darken when she is angry. She gets angry very often. Her own eyes are brown with golden and green spots. Freckles, her mother said. Like those on her nose and cheekbones. Ari calls her Menumeshet as a nickname. Freckled girl. Zivi says Talia. Or when she is angry, Natalia, her full name. It always means she is in trouble.
But right now, there is no one to call her by her full name. There is no one to tell her not to drink that bright blue liquid she found in the cupboard. She is thirsty, and her mother is not there, she has gone out. The maid is cleaning her room, and the nanny is yelling at Zivi. Her father is at that place that her mother hates, that caused them to move to this city four months ago.
It tastes bitter and she spits it out, brushing her hand over her tongue and spitting on the tiles. She feels strange all of a sudden. The world is spinning, and she thinks she is going to be sick. She does not want to, her mother will get mad if she throws up again after the bug she had last week, and her father will not care like always.
She starts crying as the bile rises in her throat and her vision swims. Footsteps sound on the stairs, and someone is talking to her. She feels hands on her forehead, soft hands, smaller than that of their nanny who is gasping and calling for help from the maid. Zivi is cradling her close and puts her finger into her mouth, telling her it's okay as she throws up on her beautiful dress.
She wakes up in a sterile hospital room. Wires are going into her skin, and she is scared. Her throat is dry and hurts, like her head. She wants to cry and a soft sob escapes her. A hand brushed over her curls, gentle, and someone places a kiss on her forehead. She blinks and recognizes her brother who says he will be right back with their parents and a doctor. He leaves, and Zivi scoots closer to her, grinning at her as a large tear rolls down her cheek. She runs her hand over her curls and gently traces the lines of her freckles before she whispers a tiny "I love you". It is the first time she calls her Tultul, and the first time she allows herself to believe her sister actually does care about her.
The skin on her forehead tingles for hours after her soft lips are already gone and she is left alone in the hospital bed.
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