New story- this is really special to me! Big huge thanks to Mechabeira- I couldn't have done this without you! Please leave a review on the way out- enjoy :)
"You can bury the past, but it's a moselaum".
Indigo Girls, Tether
Ziva sighed and dropped her keys and gun on the coffee table and hung her head- her neck was killing her from a day spent on top of a building in one of her oldest roles- sniper. She wanted a glass of wine and a hot bath, maybe another chapter of her new book. She was about to sink into the warm bubbles when her house phone rang.
"David." She snapped, daring the caller on the other line to piss her off.
"Is this Ziva David?" A warm, accented voice asked.
"Yes, this is she. May I ask whose calling?"
"This is Chana Goldman… you may not remember me, but my husband Isaac and I lived in the apartment next door to your father's in Tel Aviv."
"I remember you." Ziva confirmed, remembering a young, beautiful couple, madly in love and childless. Isaac was a banker and Chana a secretary who was working towards her PhD in English Literature. The Goldman's had invited the David's over for a few Shabbat meals, and would call to make sure Ziva was all right after Eli had noisily stormed out of the apartment, drunk and enraged. They moved to New York City when she was sixteen, after...
"Oh, good!" Chana breathed, relieved. "I know this is very hard for you, but Sarah would love to meet you..."
"Sarah?" Ziva questioned, confused and hopeful all at once.
There was a small, awkward pause. "Your daughter. You…gave her to us."
Ziva's vision began to swim, her breathing ragged with imminent tears.
"I did not know she was placed with you," she finally said, her voice small.
"You- you didn't? You're father said you requested us to have her." Chana replied, obviously distressed. "We've sent you letters and pictures throughout the years."
"I did not receive them. And I was told she was placed in an orphanage. I- I am glad she has you."
"I am so sorry. I thought you'd known!" Chana's voice was small, remorseful even guilty.
"Do not be sorry. How is she?" Ziva asked, her fingers trembling.
"She is amazing. She turned twelve last month, which, uh, I was sure you knew, and her Bat Mitzvah is in January. She has always wanted to meet you, and was hoping to have you there."
"I would like that very much." Ziva whispered. "What is her name again?" She felt inadequate, angry and cheated- she didn't even know her daughters name.
"Sarah. Sarah Ya'el Goldman. We live in New York City. We would be happy to fly you from D.C to our home. Perhaps you would come a few days early so you can get to know her. I will email you the information."
"Sure." Ziva whispered.
"Well, I will tell her what you said. It was so good to speak to you- I hope you are well."
"Yes, thank you. I am glad you called."
They hung up, and Ziva let the phone drop to the tile floor. She was livid and grieving. She picked dup the phone again and dialed Eli, not caring what time it was in Tel Aviv.
"Shalom." He answered.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Ziva questioned.
"Ziva? Is that you?"
"Yes! Now answer me! Why did you not tell me you gave my baby to the Goldman's?"
"Ziva, that was a long time ago-"
"Tell me! And why did you keep their letters to me about my child secret?"
Eli grimaced. Ziva could picture him running a calloused hand over his eyes.
"Because Ziva, you had a duty to Israel- and you could not fulfill that if you were distracted by fantasies about some baby!" Ziva's heart began to pound, her throat closing. Sadness was tearing her resolve to shreds.
"My baby! It was not my choice to give her up- you decided that for me! If that wasn't enough, was I not allowed to know she was safe and happy?"
"It would have distracted you! And Ziva, you didn't know how to be a mother, how to love a child- you are a killer! It is best this way!"
Ziva's eyes filled with angry tears, bile rose in her throat like the growing pit of anger in her stomach. "You will send me their letters and pictures via overnight express." She finally said, voice low and dangerous. "Shalom". And with that, she hung up on him.
No matter how much she resented it, on some level, Eli was right. How could she successfully raise a child while on missions all over the world? Would she have ever met Jenny Sheppard, or come to NCIS? And if she had, how would she have handled Gibbs' work ethic with a seven year old? She imagined Abby fixing pigtails on a smiling, sun kissed girl, Gibbs pinning her stellar report card behind his desk and teaching her how to build a boat. Ducky telling an eager-faced girl stories, McGee helping her with homework. She could see Tony throwing her up in the air and grinning like a maniac while she squealed with laughter.
Her head hung in her hands and she climbed into her bed, bath time forgotten. Ziva had no more energy, she simply wanted to sleep for a year.
In sleep, she dreamed of Sarah as a newborn. She dreamed of how it felt for her to be ripped from her arms and sent to a faraway land. Of diapers and kisses and baby soft skin and Eli yelling in the background, a constant reminder of her inadequacy. Tomorrow, everyone would know her shame and grief. For now, she wanted to be left alone with her fantasies.