A/N: I found this on my computer today and re-wrote it into a little story. There won't be a sequel, just so you know. The story is, as you can figure, sat after 'Aliyah' if Ziva didn't go to the Somalia mission. I would really appreciate reviews, as I was a little disappointed when 'Survival' (my other fic) only got one. It's up to you guys, but remember: reviews = happy, inspired writer.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of its characters. I do, however, own Delilah, Isaac and Joseph, who might turn up in later stories (not related to this).

Realization

I was devastated, no - I was angry - no… That was what bothered me; I didn't feel anything. I was lost, emotionless for once. I didn't know how to respond to that demand, that had ruined my life. My father always wished my numbness in pain, but I'd always managed to be weak as what I was; human. If he saw me know, he'd smirk and his pride would swell. The perfect warrior, wanted for my whole life, planned since my first breath. He didn't care if I was hurt, physically or emotionally, in the long run. He just wanted to have the obeying daughter, the excellent officer. He had that now and I didn't even pull up a fight. I was broken, but to my father, I was finally invincible.

But here I was, back in Tel Aviv, back in Mossad. Back in my father's web again. I was so damned unlucky, that I for once would be able to cry. I had been taken away from my family. The family, that cared about me like if we were blood-relatives. The family, which didn't sent me on mission without daring to care if I survived or not; if I died today, my father would mourn an officer, not a daughter. I had never been anything else to him.

I couldn't help myself from imagining the rest of the team. Gibbs as the father figure, Tim as the awkward computer nerd, but loyal brother and Abby as the sister, who always knew how to cheer you up, even though she didn't understand why you was sad in the first place. Even Ducky as the uncle, you loved, who sometimes bothered you with his endless stories; although you didn't listen, his patient voice made you calm down and he comforted you when nobody else couldn't. Palmer, the cousin, who you quite liked, but always managed to pull a prank on.

And Tony…

They would all think that I had gone back to Israel voluntarily - that I had left them. It was especially hard to realize that I'd might seen them for the last time in my life. I wasn't going back, if my father was to decide. I had already been put undercover again on an operational mission. I could not be sure, but my father was trying to distract me from where I had been the last five years - what I had been. Definitely not an officer of the Mossad; I had been an agent of NCIS and he resented how I had liked it and the fake web of safety, I had built. I had broken some of my guards and walls down and he hated that; saw it as a weakness. I was too emotional to tell him otherwise, because inside myself, I knew that it was what would get me killed in actions on a mission of Mossad.

"David, you're ready?" Delilah asked for the second time. I slightly nodded as I returned to reality, putting the thoughts of my what I former considered family, which actually cared about me, away. I couldn't afford to be distracted, not now, not ever. I sighed in myself; I hadn't missed the eternal distrust and the ability to never be able to relax, always be ready to snap a neck or stab who you thought was your friend.

"Let's go." I saw the smile as the young Israeli's face. She was twenty-four and stable to work with; I trusted her too easily, I knew that. She could handle the toughest guys and there was always a flash of excitement in her eye, which didn't always fit in with her responsible personality; both an excellent skill, but it could also lead to dangerous situations. However, I knew my father had ordered her to keep an eye on me, which she did, pretending to be my friend as much as I pretended to be hers.

I got out of the car and secured my gun. For the first time, I let my thoughts go, and concentrated on my performance - just as I had done five years ago, without the involvement of American agents - American friends. Deep down, I blamed Ari, although I knew it wasn't his fault. I blamed him for sniping Agent Todd, so I had to come to NCIS and grow weak, but I blamed him for causing my family pain. In my years as a liaison, I had learned just how touchy the subject of Kate was. I shook my head. Now I couldn't afford to get distracted, not only for myself, but also for my group - Isaac, Delilah and Joseph. If I compromised us, we would be killed. Definitely.

Something inside me wanted to test if the terrorists bullets were real, if this wasn't just some nightmare and by the morning, I would wake up, go for a run and go to work at the Navy Yard, I wished it to be true, that none of this had happened and that was when I realized that I didn't care if I was shot. Only my dignity held me back from jumping out and taking several bullets to the torso. The thought was oddly relieving and I knew it was because I didn't want to move on without Gibbs, Tony, Tim, Abby, Ducky and Palmer… even Vance! What I wouldn't do just to get to see them all again, to force that toothpick into Vance's teeth.

Pushing these thoughts away, I sneaked up with Delilah (I was her back-up, meaning she was the first to shot. Unfortunately, this meant I couldn't commit suicide, although the thought was tempting), Isaac and Joseph were taking the other exit, cutting them off of their ways of escaping. Our targets were five terrorists, according to out notes, not armed at this location, but we couldn't count on the notes when it came to terrorists.

"Ready?" Delilah asked again, before she received a nod and stormed the building, guns drawn and creating multiple shots fired. I heard it, saw it, and was a apart of it, because of the bullets, I added to the enemies. The last thing I remembered before all went black, was Isaac smiling widely and saying: "We got them."

Later I woke up in a white bed, drugged by medications. I felt my fragile body aching and groaned soundlessly, my 'Crazy Ninja skills' as Tony would put it, holding me back from screaming when I moved my sore muscles. I noticed how the curtains were pulled back, revealing the landscape of Haifa, if I wasn't wrong. The sun was either rising or going down; I wasn't certain, my mind was still fuzzy and dizziness hit me like nausea. I could feel the weight of my hair, which had been sat in a French braid and could feel the sterile air reach my nostrils. I frowned in displeasure but didn't show any other complain. I listened to my own heartbeat for a few minutes until I licked my lips and opened my mouth. Unfortunately, I made an incorrect movement, which sent an indescribable, subdued (probably by painkillers) pain down my hip and thigh. I released a moan of pain.

Lying there, bleeding in the hospital bed, a nurse coming to dose my morphine correctly, it occurred to me that I wasn't where I was supposed to be. I wasn't with the people, who loved me. I wasn't with my friends, or the people that even cared about me. If I didn't resist, I would become a cold killer again. And I didn't want that. I was alone, nobody cared enough to visit me or to be there when I woke up. I shouldn't expect it, but I did, thanks to the care, Gibbs' team had shown my over the years. A single tear crawled down my cheek as the cry in my throat was forced back. I closed my eyes, picturing my father there and was not amazed, when I couldn't. however, it only took my a split second to imagine myself surrounded by them - my true family.

I got my cell from the bundle of my cut-off clothes. The action hurt, but I chose to ignore it. I was on a personal mission, which couldn't be stopped. The nurse tried to calm me down, but I sent her a killer glare, which she sighed to and in response, gave my a strict back, not even able to rival my weak one. I fumbled with the small piece of electronic, but sighed relieved when I could support my weight to the pillows, the nurse had been kind enough to offer. Pushing speed dial one, I felt the tears on my cheeks and my throat getting hoarse. It was calling and answered at third call (almost devastating my ever time, nobody answered):

"Gibbs."

THE END