The new adventures of Ziva
Frantic footsteps, stomping down on to the pavement; the motion is, running, running and more running continuously to what feels like no destination. That is all I see, the Footsteps are moving faster and faster, hitting the ground harder and harder, each time. A figure turns, it is a man, seeming to resemble Tony – he turns his back for the last time, a small plane comes in to sight, he enters, but I stand still, motionless as if my feet are grounded even though my heart beats fast and seems to be telling me to go after him. Tears streaming down my cheeks, an ache in my heart that feels like sinking, knowing I will never see his face again. I cry silently as the plane disappears into the darkness and out of my vision.
Turning, around restlessly my subconscious turns my thoughts to something else, just as terrifying. I hear gun shots – the running sensation again, it is my footsteps, going in the direction that someone went before me, chasing the source of the shots – the dream turns or was it a nightmare?- next thing I am in the directors house- I know what's coming, but I don't wake.
There it is a figure against the wall, I tense up my mind already decided on what it sees, the inevitable. Before I pay close attention to the man against the wall, I turn my eyes to meet, the one person's eyes that will either confirm or deny what I see. As I look, I see Tony's stoic figure just staring at me, his mood looks gloom. Unwarranted tears in his eyes. I ask even if I know the answer, where is my father? My voice sounds strange, choked up and full of emotion even distant. He whispers "Ziva"- so softly that I can tell he understands what's going through my mind - and turns.
I see what I feared, my father against the wall, he looks peaceful, unlike I have seen before except maybe when I was young before work took over. Dread and despair hit me first, rage second, I run past Tony, with tears streaming down my face, I scream "Abba Abba" and fall to the ground beside him, cradling his head and whispering, saying words that are both old and new to me, allowing the despair to take over for a few moments.
Waking up screaming, as I so often have, due to this recurring nightmare, I inhale and exhale, reminding myself how to breathe, gathering my surroundings back a sense of my surroundings. I see the bedroom door, the same wood, the same brass handle since I was a child; the walls are a bit worn with paint chipping away, it is all soothing though, as I look at the faded peach curtains, the sun catches my eye, slowly creeping through the window, to what must soon be sunrise; my gun is safely hidden under my pillow, if it is ever needed, was the only new accessory to this room.
It has been six months since I returned to Israel and my father has been gone close to a year, this death impacted me in so many ways, we had problems over the years there was a time where I didn't talk to him, but he was still my father. Not the first family member I have lost but will be the last. I am not a cowardly person I never have been. As general rule I keep my head held high and my emotions in check, not one to show them in front of others. There have been times, where I have been vulnerable though.
This dream has haunted me since my father's murder, a continuous reminder of how alone I am, even when others tell me different. Despair has been the emotion that I have carried for a long time along with betrayal.
My biological family is gone, murdered. My mother died then a few years later my sister was murdered due to the result of a Hamas suicide bombing. My own brother was murdered at my hands. That was painful in the aftermath, Mossad sends it orders down, specifically my father. Also I made a deal with Gibbs; he didn't ask me to murder my brother just to have his back. I grew respect for Gibbs and after hearing my brother say to Gibbs that he murdered an NCIS agent and that he betrayed our father, it was justified.
No point in dwelling on the past, it was time to start the day. Getting up I ran a hot shower and relaxed as the water fell, I allowed my mind to grow distracted, as the warmth of the water relaxed my muscles, and the consuming thoughts vanished.
Grabbing an apple to eat before I went for my morning jog was the next part of my new ritual, even though this was something I did whilst living in America, it had become a distraction to hide away the depression that was sure to takeover if I allowed it to. Exiting the front door and listening to the creakiness as it shut behind me, I allowed my senses to feel the quiet of this time of morning, the slight breeze through the trees was nice, the smell of pine, woke my senses.
I jogged up the drive and up to the corner, with no real destination in mind I just ran at a pace that was familiar and comfortable. As I ran around the neighbourhood, I soon found the route in which I had been following the last few weeks. I end up in one of my favourite places. It is a simple field, where olive trees grew, I took a seat on the park bench as I looked around at the different stages of ripeness that each olive and olive tree was in. As kids my sister and I would pick off the ripe ones, and bring them home to show our parents who would smile at us with expressions of love. Memories like these made me smile, a motion I have not felt in a while. Going back to the memories of simpler times when you could live in the innocence of childhood before life takes over, was a privilege that was soon taken away by the harsh upbringing in a country that was constantly at war and the pressures to grow up at a rate that most children did not have to experience.
Sitting here and admiring all that was offered, a new memory spiked. My father told a story of how he and someone he knew since childhood would pick olives from trees. My father said that he wanted to bring peace between Israel and Palestine. There was hope for him here, even though such dreams were destroyed rather quickly.
I have sat too long let my mind wander off to another time and another place. I get up and move, jogging through the open area; I see the olives which as I saw before were growing at different rates. I move on and begin to make the trip back home. I follow the path back the way I came, as I enter the next neighbourhood, I see a figure behind me, dressed in shorts and a running top, he sees me look at him then he turns into a nearby house, I decide that it just paranoia getting to me, I start jogging home, as I enter the next block that will bring me to my house I notice the same person again, yet again deciding paranoia is getting the better of me and he is probably just some neighbour who lives nearby, I cut him off at the next corner just after my street and make a detour to my house.
Arriving home, breathing heavily from the run and in need of water, I go to the cupboard and grab out a glass, opening the fridge I notice just how empty it is, grabbing out the jug of cold water I fill the glass and swallow the water down.
The rest of the day was quiet, deciding to spend the afternoon reading I head over to the oak bookcase and examine its contents. There were many books to choose from, ones that had I had brought with me from America and others that were recent purchases. I settled for a romance novel which was a recent purchase and sat on the old couch and sunk into the cushions. I Opened the book and begun to read.
It was about two weeks later that strange stuff started to happen, just been in the local markets began to feel like I was been watched, occasionally I would catch myself looking over my shoulder, as if my name was called. Each time feeling confused, I shake my head and decide that I was just over reacting. Whenever I arrived home I would try and work out who would be behind this, the ones I come up with seem unlikely, no reason for Mossad to be checking on me that I could think of, the threat at NCIS has been eliminated and those back in America would have no reason to have someone following my every move. The thoughts were mind boggling and eventually I would put them in the back of my head and carry on with the small daily tasks that now made up my life.
I have been using the local market as a shopping centre since I moved back, it was refreshing and a lot different to a shopping mall, which is what I had been looking for. I put on my walking shoes and take the one kilometre walk to the local markets. The walk is not overly exhausting but the hot sun on my face, starts to make me sweat. It may as well be a workout.
I arrive and see the different stalls, selling anything from fresh produce to meat or kids toys to adult's clothes. There are families trying to make their way through the crowds, telling their children to stay close so as to not to get lost. Mothers holding crying babies and dogs barking at one another. It was like a circus, but one I was used to by now.
I pick up the usual vegetables, some potato, pumpkin, beans etc. I head over to the butchers stand and without asking what I am buying, the guy knows my usual order by now, he smiles at me knowingly and his eyes slightly crinkle they are brown and friendly. My response is to slightly nod my head and thank him.
As I pass by the petting zoo, where children can get up close to little chickens, ducks and lambs, I see someone who looks just like my stalker except this time he is in a black suit with no distinguishing features - to say who or what he works for- and then in the blink of an eye he disappeared. Maybe my imagination is getting the better of me, as I have told myself so many times before. I do not have the time to check out my suspicions and decide that now is the best time to go.
Taking the bus home proved to be a quiet trip back, the scenery was nice, but I feel too drained to enjoy it. I feel like I have been on the run, even though I haven't. When I arrive home I put all the shopping away in its rightful place, I cut up the meat and place some of it into the fridge and what I am not using tonight, goes in to the freezer for another time. I find this calming somehow, like routine just something that you because you can, as well as the childhood memories which lately have been surfacing. Remembering all the times mum would come back from the shopping we would help to put the food away. Now it is just me, which I have been used to for some time now.
I move on to some house work that has been neglected in the last week or so, each time my thoughts try to wonder to some pressing thoughts, who was the man I keep seeing? Is it just my imagination? Each time I move these thoughts to the back of my mind and try to forget about it.
Eventually I give up, figuring out that all I have been doing is distracting myself from the inevitable. I need some answers, it has been what twice I saw the same man watching me and other times where I have felt like there are people are watching.
I remember one rule Gibbs taught me - there are two ways to follow someone
you make sure they don't notice you and
you make sure the only notice you
This person was clearly making themselves noticed, which meant they either knew me or were hunting me, thinking back to what I saw of them they looked unfamiliar. It seemed that it may be time to find out, just who they are.
This left me few options, one tell Mossad where I am and meet up here or to go to them, to see if they knew who could be behind this though I think that is unlikely or two to get in contact with my old team back at NCIS and see if they had anything to help me with. I lost most contact when I decided to find myself, recent conditions have changed this, and it would be easier to know if there was a threat from someone anywhere before that threat confronted me. My emptions felt like they were going to run high with stress and depression at the thought of any of these scenarios having to happen.