I opened this up by accident a year after I posted it and realized how many mistakes there were. So this is the revised edition. Please review!
I took a deep breath as I stood outside of my father's office then pushed the door open confidently.
The director, Gibbs, officer Hadar, and my father all looked up at me with curious eyes.
"I would like a private audience with my father," I said then watched Gibbs frown and Vance's eyes furrow.
"Agent David-" Vance tried to begin, but was cut off by father.
"It is fine, Leon," he interrupted. I saw Vance glower at him. My father continued, "We may continue this meeting later. I think it is due time I was properly welcomed here by my daughter."
I frowned as they collected their files. Gibbs spared me glance as he passed me, but left without incident.
"Hello my daughter," he said with a deep voice and hearty chuckle, and graced me with a kiss on each cheek.
"Abba," I said silently, refusing to succumb to his lighthearted greeting.
"Is there something wrong?" he said gruffly then, noticing my less than pleased mood.
"Did you try?"
"What?"
"Did you try, at all, to save me? Did you even think about me once when I was out there on a suicide mission?" My voice rose.
"Ziva."
I shook with anger, not knowing what to say next.
"Ziva," this time with a sigh, "You have to understand. When Malachi returned injured, and said you had continued alone, I could only assume you were dead. It was not within my control to conduct a rescue mission-"
"Not within your control! You are the director of the Mossad! You have armies and operatives at your beck and call!"
"I could not send an army into a country that is not stable, and expect to not start a war." He said this calmly despite my growing anger.
"It has never stopped you before! And you underestimate my abilities so much that you did not think I could get through the camp alone."
"Ziva," another sigh, "I do not underestimate your abilities. I trained you myself. What does any of this matter anyway? You are alive."
"I was not for a very long time," I said this more quietly. "Do you understand what they did to me, Abba. How they spat at me, kicked me, and called me a dirty Jew." I sank to the floor feeling the tears falling down my face.
"They beat me, and raped me. They took turns raping me over and over again. I begged them to stop and they never did. And the only thing keeping me alive was that my Abba was going to come save me. But you never did." She paused then began again, "And when I came back, I didn't even receive a call."
I stopped speaking and sobbed into my knees.
"Zivaleh," I heard from beside me. I raised my head and glanced at my father who was now sitting beside me. "I am sorry." And with that he grabbed me into his arms, and let my cry into his shoulder.
"No one treats me the same. They all walk on ice around me. Even Tony, who is supposed to be my best friend, is afraid that anything he says will upset me. Vance said that I was damaged goods.
"I have nightmares so terrible that I can't sleep. And panic attacks, which often send me to the emergency room.
"I can't be with a man. If a man I do not know tries to come near to me, I flinch. I am afraid. And tired, I sometimes I just want end all of it. All my pain."
"Ziva. I have not been the best father I can be. I have neglected you when you needed me most. I can only ask that you forgive me. I am here now, and I wish to make up for all the time I have lost. I love you Ziva. The woes of running an agency such as mine, has always taken time from my family, and I lost my wife, my son, my youngest daughter. I have almost lost you as well." He said this to me slowly, with truth in his eyes.
He got up and led me to the desk. Then he took my face in his hands. "I have lost much time in your life. I neglected you. I hope you can forgive me. You should know Ziva, that I intend to relinquish my role as director by the end of the year, and then maybe, we can reconcile and I can be the father I was meant to be." He kissed my fore head.
"I must go know, Ziva."
"I know." He planted another kiss on my fore head then left the room.
I sat there for a few minutes before I started to cry again.
"Ziva." I recognized the soft accented voice at the door. I looked up and Ducky was walking to me. He kneeled down by my chair.
"Ziva. How did it go?"
"Well," I replied after a few a moments of silence, "as well as it could have gone." I sniffed and wiped at my eyes. "He apologized. He asked for forgiveness. He said that he hoped to reconcile with me. He held me when I cried."
"That's out of character."
I snorted with a watery laugh, and then frowned again. "I do not know if I can forgive him. Is that bad?"
"No. You have to want to forgive him. And he needs to show that he is worthy of it. He's you're father. You love him. If he is serious about wanting to properly make up with you, his actions will show it, and you will want to forgive him."
I nodded and got up. Ducky took my hand. "Ducky?"
"Yes dear?"
"Do you think I could trouble you for a cup of tea?" I asked almost embarrassed with a small smile.
"I think that is a marvelous idea, and I know exactly where we can get some." He took my arm and folded his elbow around mine and escorted me out the room and to the elevator.
"You know this reminds me of a time when…" I smiled as I listened to Ducky recount his tale. I had finally made right with my father.