Thud!

The sound was barely audible.

Thud!

Ziva's eyes snapped open. With her hand already closed around the gun under her pillow she froze. Holding her breath, she listened to the now quiet house around her. But whatever had made that sound had stopped. Still listening closely she got up anyway, thinking that since she was already awake, she could as well go and check.

As she moved down the hallway noiselessly, she could hear her sister's breathing in the room next to hers. She stopped only briefly to listen to the steady and deep breaths. Tali seemed fine, fast asleep, which was not unusual at 0130 in the morning. Ziva continued her patrol around the house, making sure the deadbolts were all in place, every window on the ground floor closed. Of course, anyone seriously attempting to enter the house would have no problem to find a way. There was always a way. She of all people should know: with an easily crafted tool and a little bit of practice there were very few doors that wouldn't open in a few seconds. And for those, there were many other possibilities.

Luckily everything around the house seemed fine and it was too early, even for Ziva, to go on a run so she decided to go back upstairs and get some more sleep. But sleep wouldn't come. Lying on top of her covers (it was summer in Israel and the temperature was unbearable, even at night) she thought about the sound that had woken her. What had made that sound? Had she just been imagining it? There was no one in the house except for Tali and herself, her father was on a mission somewhere abroad, so was Ari, her half-brother. Her mother had died almost a year ago. Ziva didn't mind being alone with Tali, the two of them got along excellently, and Ziva was more than able to take care of herself and her baby sister. It was no use, she wouldn't fall asleep anymore. So she took some time to clean her weapon. Doing that always seemed to calm her down. When it was clean enough ( it had not been dirty before), she went downstairs and made some sandwiches for Tali to take to school. But she was done with that way too quickly, too, leaving her with nothing to occupy herself at 0330 in the morning. What else could she do? She ended up sitting in the garden under a gnarled olive tree her parents had planted the day they got married. This was Ziva's favorite spot to think, when something was on her mind. With her back against the bark she watched the sun rise slowly behind the mountains around the city, allowing her mind to wander freely. She had sat here, in the exact same spot, almost a year ago. Memories suddenly flashed by, memories she would never forget:

She began running as soon as she was sure that her father would not be able to see her through the windows of his office in Mossad Headquarters. This morning had been no different from the one before, she had gone for a run, taken a shower and left for work before neither her mother, nor Tali had even woken. The day continued to be perfectly ordinary. She was preparing herself for a mission in Eastern Europe, her flight was to depart in less than two weeks.

The sun had almost reached its highest point, when her father, the Deputy Director of Mossad, ordered her to his office immediately. She knew something was wrong the moment she entered. There were no files or reports on the desk in front of her father, which meant that this had nothing to do with any mission. All the time she had worked here he had never even once called her to talk about something other than work. At work, she was like any other Mossad Officer to him, following orders, not asking questions, not showing emotions, not failing any missions. No special treatment. Not that she would have expected any, she was, after all, raised by him the same way. His perfect assassin, completely professional and always under control. She had also been taught to read people. Some of them were as easy to read as any book, others were more different. Her father was one of the very few people she could never be sure about.

He was looking at her. A long studying look. She stood there silently, a few feet away from his desk, not looking at him directly, still waiting for orders, as she was supposed to. But no orders came. Instead, he kept looking at her as she racked her brains, trying to think of something that she might have done. Nothing came to her mind; this was a perfectly normal day to her. Until her father said her name:

" Ziva."

She looked at him, startled as he would never call her by her first name at work. He didn't seem to notice her reaction and continued:

"Ziva, there was a car explosion today, only a few blocks from the school. Your mother has been killed."

After he finished, silence filled the room like a dark, heavy cloud. She knew exactly, he was waiting for her to tear up, to show emotions, so he could tell her off. Because that was what a good Mossad officer was not allowed to do. But she wouldn't let that happen, she had once sworn to herself that she would not let any man manipulate her like that. Nodding once, she asked the only question she knew wouldn't cause her any trouble:

"Tali?"

Her father, already turning his attention back to his computer screen again only nodded and said:

"She's with Aunt Nettie. Dismissed."

Ziva didn't know how she had made it out of the room and out of Headquarters in a normal pace. Her backpack was still at her desk, as were her car keys but she didn't care. She had already put three blocks of distance between her and that office. When she got home, she walked around the house for a while. Someone had been here. All of her mother's personal belongings were gone. So that was how her father would keep her from getting distracted, from mourning. Furiously, she stormed outside, wandering around the garden. That was, when she saw the olive tree. The last thing that reminded her of her mother and the time before her father had gotten promoted to Deputy Director. The time when they had almost been a normal family. Almost. Thinking about it, it seemed like a dream, a dream from years ago. She sat with her back against the bark of the tree, allowing herself to show emotions, swearing that it would be the last time.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps on the dry grass ripped her out of her memories.