Beyond the Cliffs
Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Summary: A chance encounter with a young, green-eyed American marine sends Ziva David on a journey, through the olive groves of Israel, to the moors of Ireland, and finally, to the headquarters of NCIS. And to a beginning she never knew existed. Eventual McGiva. AU. Yes, another one of those stories.
Tel Aviv, Israel
June 1997
The sound of fighter jets flying overhead sent a rumble through the street. She was used to the rumbling, to the jets dashing about the skies above, to the sight of Marines in Uniform wandering the streets. Not their Marines, but the marines of the United States. She and her younger sister stayed as far away from them as possible, only speaking when one of them approached and spoke first. Though she had spent her formative years growing up around the American men- and occasional women- and had become accustomed to seeing them in the coffeeshops, on the bases, walking the streets and didn't think anything of it.
Although, this time, she was surprised, to walk into her favorite coffeeshop and find a man in Marine fatigues and tans, sitting at her favorite spot, back near the bookcase, a cup of coffee and a book open on the table.
This was no problem, all you have to do is go over and tell the man that this is your spot, and to find somewhere else to sit. Easy. Squaring her shoulders, she strode towards the table, stopping next to it, waiting until he looked up. Several minutes passed, before he finally sensed someone was watching him, and he lifted his gaze from the book in front of him.
"Yes?"
She opened her mouth to speak, and stopped. "You are-" His eyes were the brightest shade of green she'd seen. In a country of browns and ambers, the man's green eyes were a welcome and refreshing change. He waited, but she didn't say anything more.
"Can I help you?" He asked, and that seemed to snap her out of her staring. She started, shaking her head quickly. She turned back to him.
"Um..." Why did you come over here again? Oh, right. "You are in my spot." He stared at her, waiting for her to continue. She floundered for a moment, caught up in his green eyes again. "This is my table. I usually sit here when I am... here." She finished, realizing how lame she sounded. He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips, that only made her confusingly angry.
"Really?" He asked. She nodded. "Well," He looked around, lifting his book and cup to check the tabletop before moving back to check under the table and getting up to examine the chairs. "I don't see your name on it. And you weren't here when I got here. So you're out of luck for today." She narrowed her eyes.
"Very funny. It does not need my name on it, because I always sit here. This is my table. So you must move." He chuckled softly.
"I don't think so." He replied, returning to his book. "You're going to have to find another table-" She slammed her bag on the table, leaning close.
"Will you listen to me?" She snapped. Once again, her famous temper had gotten the better of her; she really needed to get it under better control, but then again, she was the Deputy Director's daughter, and was known for losing her temper when people ignored her. It was one of the reasons her older brother Ari had refused to tutor her in English Literature this summer. That and the fact that Ari was bouncing around England all summer, and wouldn't be back until the holidays.
His head snapped up, and he stared at her, green eyes wide. She opened her mouth, but once again, those green eyes got her to forget. He waited, but when she didn't speak, he closed his book and sat back. Her eyes flicked to the title- Lolita. "You read Nabokov?" He nodded.
"Yeah. He's one of my favorite writers. Well, him and Doyle and Hemingway." Her head snapped up and she met his gaze again.
"Hemingway?" He nodded once, picking up his coffee. "What is your favorite novel of his?" He sighed, setting his cup down and pretending to really ponder the question.
"Hmm... I guess... I'd have to say that... that my favorite Hemingway novel is For Whom the Bell Tolls. Followed closely by The Sun Also Rises." Her eyes widened and she smiled.
"That is my favorite novel."
"Sun Also Rises?" She nodded, eagerly, dropping into the chair across from him. She reached into her bag, rummaged around for a bit, and then pulled out a well-worn and much-read copy of the novel in question. She handed it to him, and he took it, quickly skimming through it, whistling softly in appreciation. "It looks like a very well-read and much-loved copy." He replied, handing it back to her. She grinned, dark eyes glittering with happiness at his praise. They fell into silence, before he realized who he was talking about and quickly gathered up his book and stood. "Well, I had better get out of here so you can have your table back."
"No, will you stay? Please?" She turned to him as he left, causing him to stop. He turned back to her, searching her face before returning to the table. Once he was seated across from her and the coffee ordered and delivered- of which he paid for- they sat in silence. "How old are you?" She asked, after a moment. With his bright green eyes and baby face, he couldn't be any older than twenty or so. He swallowed, licking his lips nervously.
"I..." He gave her a nervous smile. "I turn nineteen in September." Her eyes widened in surprise. So he was young. Younger than twenty, like she'd guessed.
"And you are in the Marine Corps." She said, confused. He nodded.
"I enlisted as soon as I graduated. The Marine Corps is what's putting me through school. I... graduated a year early, at seventeen, and I'm going to start attending MIT in the fall. I graduated a few weeks ago from John Hopkins University." She raised her eyebrows.
"Wow. What did you study?"
"Biomedical engeneering." At her confused look, he waved it away. "Science stuff." He seemed to curl in on himself for a moment, before asking, "If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?" She took a sip of her coffee.
"I am sixteen- or, I will be in November." He nodded, silent. "What is wrong?" He shook his head, a small smile on his lips.
"Nothing. You just look older than your age."
"And you look younger." She replied. He ducked his head. They sat in silence before he finally asked,
"What do you study, besides the basics?" She sighed.
"Well, my older brother Ari was supposed to tutor me in English Literature this summer, since I start at Tel Aviv University in the fall, but he is in England, going to school and will not be back until the holidays." He raised his head.
"English Literature?" She nodded. "I love literature. Or... I could tutor you, if you like, is what I meant. My mother is an English Literature professor at Harvard. So I am... very familiar with the subject." She seemed to brighten, excited.
"Would you?" He nodded once, sipping his coffee.
"Of course. Where and when would you like to start?" She got up, rushing to the bookcase behind their table. "Okay, we'll start now." He muttered, watching as she quickly scanned the titles, and pulled one down, handing it to him. "The Great Gatsby." She nodded, returning to her seat.
"The story is so sad; Daisy and Gatsby are so in love, and yet, they are forced apart by the past and their own faults." She said, sitting back as he opened the book and skimmed it. He chuckled.
"I wouldn't say that, but that's just me." As they got down to work, she found herself focusing more and more on him than on the literary work. He was certainly young, and looked even younger for his nearly-nineteen years. His fair skin suggested a European background or even Canadian; and he was tall, with a quick wit and even quicker mind to think up questions that she hadn't even realized he'd been asking. Despite how young he looked, he was cute, and she found herself wanting to flirt with him.
At one point, another Marine entered the coffeeshop, looking around before his eyes landed on the table in the corner. The man made his way to the table, stopping a couple feet from it, taking in the conversation and fit of laughter the two were in. "Lance Corporal McGee." The Marine's head snapped up, and he took a deep breath.
"Sergeant Wilkins." He replied, straightening. His companion's eyes widened. He was a Lance Corporal in the Marines? She didn't know much about the American Military, but she did know the various ranks- from studying the various wars and their leaders and generals- and knew that Lance Corporal was two steps up from Private, and two down from Sergeant. So this kid was bright- obviously bright enough and talented enough to rise through the ranks by nineteen. Despite his age and appearance, he obviously commanded a good measure of confidence- enough that the American Military saw fit to give him the appropriate rank.
"You are needed back at base, McGee." He nodded, thanking him in that soft-spoken voice of his.
"I will meet you outside, Sergeant." Once the man was gone, he turned back to her.
"You have to go?" She asked, a part of her not understanding why their conversation had to be cut short. He gave her a small, sad smile.
"Yeah. I wish I didn't-" He stopped, glancing at her before getting up and grabbing his things. He started to leave, before he stopped, and returned to the table. Setting his worn, much-read copy of Lolita on the table before her, he whispered, "I'm glad we both refused to give up the table. Thank you." He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. She thought a moment, asking breathlessly,
"For what?"
He smiled softly, his grin crooked. "For keeping me company." And then, without a word, he left, joining his buddy. She watched him, glanced down at the book, grabbed it, and then rushed from the shop, calling for him.
"Wait! Corporal, wait!" The men turned back, feet from their jeep. He had since put the rest of his gear on, but she could still see those beautiful green eyes. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to him, suddenly nervous. He waited, silent. When she didn't say anything, he turned back, but she grabbed his hand. The simple gesture was like a bolt, driving through both of them and rooting their feet to the dusty ground. She struggled to think of something to say, before reaching up and removing her necklace. The simple golden Star of David had been a gift from her father for tenth birthday; she'd worn it every day since, rarely taking it off. Now, she clasped the chain and held it out to him. The star glinted in the Israeli sun, catching the sun and sparkling like the most beautiful of diamonds. He glanced first at her and then at the necklace, his eyes asking a million questions. She waited for him to hold out his hand. He did so, and she dropped the necklace into his palm.
He looked up at her, confused. "What is this for?" Quickly, she folded his hand over it, holding his fingers closed so he couldn't give it back.
"For keeping me company." She whispered, rising up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. When she pulled back, a light blush had colored his cheeks.
"McGee, we have to get back to base now!" He nodded, but didn't move. A moment passed, before he asked,
"What's your name?" She opened her mouth to respond, when one of his buddies pulled him onto the jeep and started it up. She rushed after it, struggling to keep her eye on him. As they reached the city limits, she called out to him, but he only caught the last of her name.
"-Iva!" As they drove off into the hot Israeli dust, he turned the name over in his mind, fist clenched tight around the necklace. Iva. It would be the only clue he would have to go on for years. Just as McGee would be her only clue to the green-eyed Marine she'd met in the coffeeshop. Once they were gone, she reached up, brushing her fingers against her cheek. She could still feel his kiss, and told herself she would treasure it forever.
