A/N: I know, I am once again following the hoard, but forgive me please. NCIS has been too good not to write something. My opinions will be (more than likely) vastly different from many. I believe that everything comes in time. Spoilers for Shiva. Happy Reading!
Disclaimer: It is definitely not mine. These writers are able to combine the perfect amount of hope and sorrow. Great job NCIS writers! I own nothing.
The After
The meaning of the word home varies depending on the person asked to define it. It can be a place of dwelling that offers shelter to a household or family, a person's country of origin, or even the place where affections lie. With each definition comes the responsibility to prove that is the case. One can provide evidence of shelter by providing an address to send mail to. Country of origin is decided by language, look, and in many cases passports and birth certificates. It's the final definition that can get difficult. How does a person verify the existence of the place or person with whom their affections lie? What if those affections are not reciprocated? It's these questions that plaque her during the journey back to the country she resides in. The place she has called home for years now.
The man responsible for ending the life of a mother caught in the cross hairs along with a father ever targeted has been caught. She would not be surprised to learn that no one had slept until they found him. Gibbs is very good at finding people that wish to remain hidden. It also would not be a far fetch for her to believe that Tony had to be personally instructed not to kill the man responsible once found. Mossad will want to take care of him their way. It will be less than deserved, but more than the United States will do to the man. Mossad is not kind to those that go against the wishes of those in charge. Killing those in charge offers a much greater punishment; one that he will not live through.
The thought doesn't comfort her as much as it could. She had trusted the man responsible for her father's death and trusting anyone has always been difficult for her; she was raised by a man that insisted she look into everyone. The only people worthy of trust were those that had the same blood running through their veins. As she grew older even blood could not be trusted, Ari was proof of that. He had used her, and gotten what he deserved for it.
She toys with the idea of having the opportunity to dispose of him herself. If the opportunity had arisen, she would have taken it and no one would fault her for it. There would be an investigation, possibly keeping her in Israel longer than she had initially planned. She would have been found innocent of any charges brought against her. Mossad would have been forgiving and NCIS would turn a blind eye to the matter. He was a man to be taken down, yet it is better she didn't. Facing him would have made her life more miserable than it already is. She knows she would have asked him why, and his answer would have haunted her. Sometimes ignorance is better than the truth. Her heart is damaged enough right now.
Shmeil is beside her for the flight. He accompanied her to Israel and volunteered to see her back to Washington. His smiling face keeps her mind from wandering too often down roads that are unsafe to travel in her current state. He speaks of nothing of importance, merely keeps her engaged in conversation. She knows he can tell when she is too deep in thought and needs to be brought back to the surface, to the present. Many times she comes back easily, but there a few times it takes quite a bit of prodding. He uses her name, nicknames and at one point brings up the man that made Shmeil's presence possible. Hiding her inadvertent smile of appreciation is more difficult than initially calculated and the return gesture from him enforces the failed attempt. Shmeil knows more than he is entitled to.
"Do you think I could stay with your friend again when we return? I could stay in a hotel, but I do like his company," Shmeil asks her simply. She chooses not to respond. Shmeil knows the answer to the question. Tony would offer Shmeil a place to stay any time he was in town. The two get along better than she could have hoped, and introducing them to each to each other is a decision she is glad she made those few months ago. Shmeil has made the entire process slightly easier. He understands her customs on a level that her co-workers cannot. They try, but it is not the same.
Their final plane lands at Regan International at 11 in the morning. She is expecting to take a taxi home. Gibbs and the others will be at work and she is not in the mood to have them attempt to cheer her up. Tomorrow she will welcome the distraction. Today she wants to go home and go to sleep, but first she must make sure Shmeil has accommodations. She offers her place, but a slight smile creases his features as he assures her that it will not be necessary. Her mind flits back to their earlier conversation and her eyebrows narrow slightly.
Her fears are confirmed when she gets off the plane and finds Tony standing at the baggage claim holding Shmeil's luggage. Her luggage is sitting beside him. Tony greets them both with a concerned smile. Conversation starts almost instantly as Shmeil informs Tony of the differences the military planes offer compared to commercial airlines. It appears that Shmeil prefers the comfier accommodations and breaks compared to the straight military flight. The two chat the entire way to Tony's car where Tony loads Shmeil's bag in the trunk and leaves it open for her to place hers in as well. Once the trunk is closed she slides into the backseat of his car with ease and proceeds to stare out the window. She is not ready to join in the conversation. Her mind is her sanctuary.
Tony's building looms in front of them. He catches her eye in the rearview mirror. She does not want to go back to his place. She wants to go back to hers. He nods slightly and turns down the road that will take them to her building. Shmeil is sleeping in the passenger seat exhausted from the two long journeys in a few short days. The emotional toll creates an even deeper exhaustion, one that does not disappear with sleep alone.
Her building is within sight in moments and she breathes a sigh of relief. It will be nice to be surrounded by her things once again. Normal is what she needs right now. Being here is normal, Tony's is not. Her first memory there is one of fear and confusion. She did not allow him to give her much comfort the first time, and she is unsure as to whether she will let him now. So much has changed in such a short time. It is hard to keep it all straight.
Tony doesn't let her out in the parking lot. He insists on walking her to her door. Shmeil agrees. He stays in the car content to go back to sleep to relieve a little more of the jetlag they are both experiencing. Tony leaves the car on for the sleeping man and locks the doors. He won't be gone long and Ziva lives in one of the safer neighborhoods in D.C. Tony opens the trunk and hands her bag to her. She offers him what she hopes is a smile of thanks. He nods and follows her into the building and up to her apartment door.
She slides her key into the lock and turns it. The door swings open with a small creak. She makes a mental note to inform the landlord not to grease the hinges so much. She would rather have the sound. She looks to Tony one last time before stepping across the threshold and into her apartment. He stays in the hall, standing on the worn carpet just outside her door. She can't find the strength to close the door just yet. They study each other. She knows that she looks only half as tired as she feels. She also knows that he can sense all those things.
"Sleep well, Ziva," he finally offers in a gesture of finality. It is time for him to leave. Shmeil is downstairs waiting to be taken to a more comfortable place to sleep. The older man needs a bed, not a seat in a car after the airplane.
"Thank you, Tony," she whispers in return. She wishes she could tell him more, but now is not the time. Now she must get back to some semblance of the person she was before…everything. She doesn't know what to tell him about anything, but now he knows more than anyone else. Someday she will tell him. Someday she will let him just a little bit farther, but that day is not today. Today is only the day after.
A/N: Thanks to all that have ever read/commented. You have given me the confidence to write these 30 stories that I have posted. The number astounds me and I am blessed to see the differences in my approach and style. I believe that I have improved and it's thanks to you. Here's to 30 more!