Ziva sat listening to 'O Mio Babbino Caro' with her eyes closed. Of all the Puccini arias, the CD had to start with this song. Tali had sung this very song in a recital only a few months before her death. Ziva had recently returned from two years in IDF. It was one of the only times that she saw her sister perform in a concert, instead of just in the living room at home. She had a beautiful voice.
When Ziva left for IDF, Tali had still been a little girl, a gangly fourteen. She was tall for her age, all arms and legs. Ziva had returned home a few times on leave during her IDF contract, but she had not noticed how much Tali had grown up until this particular recital. Her little sister had command of the stage, singing an elegant aria in a long, black, velvet dress. She had grown into her height, now a mature young lady where the awkward teenage girl had been.
Their father made the time to attend Tali's concert—he usually made time for his baby. Ziva did not begrudge her sister this attention. At least he was making an effort for one of them, and Tali needed it more, especially after their mother died when she was so young. Tali was always more sensitive, more in need of love than she or Ari had been.
The song came to an end, and Ziva clicked the remote to jump back to the beginning. There were probably other tracks on the CD, but she wanted to listen to this particular song and revel in its memory again. There was no way Tony could have known how special it was to her. But he had been oddly thoughtful about this whole thing. It was likely that he had chosen this particular Puccini aria because it was a young female soprano, which was what Tali was likely to have been.
It was after several times through the song that Ziva finally got up to leave. She took the CD from McGee's computer and put on her coat, suddenly very tired. Thinking of Tali always left her a bit melancholy. This time of year in particular. This year particularly.
When the elevator dinged open in the lobby, Tony stood there leaning against the wall facing her. Of course. She had not even noticed when he left her alone in the bullpen, she was so swept up in the music.
"You did not need to stay," she told him. But deep down, she was kind of glad he had.
He shrugged. "I thought I'd see if you wanted to ride over with me."
"I-" she started to decline his offer, and pause. "That would be nice," she told him after a moment. She had certainly driven under more distress over the years, but why do it if she did not have to?
They headed silently out into the chilly November evening. She was regretting the choice of a dress on such a cold day. He jacked the heat up as soon as they got into the car, turning on the foot blowers in an effort to keep her bare legs warm. He pulled out of the Navy Yard, and onto 295 without saying a word. He was letting her have her silence, which she appreciated.
They were halfway to Alexandria before he asked, "Did you like the CD?"
"It's a good recording-"
"That's not what I-"
"I know." She rolled her eyes. "It is a good recording though. I know that song well."
"Which one?"
"The first one. 'O Mio Babbino Caro'. I have not listened to the others yet."
"Oh."
"I will," she assured him. "I took the CD."
"You were up there for a while, so I thought you'd listened to the whole thing. There's only five songs on it."
"I listened to the first song five times," she explained.
For a moment he looked over at her thoughtfully, then turned back to the road.
"Tali sang that song in the last recital I saw her in," Ziva told him. "It was beautiful."
Tony smiled, sneaking another look over at her again. "Is it hard for you to listen to this?" he asked carefully.
Ziva took a deep breath and considered that for a moment. "It is…but it is such a wonderful memory," she explained. "I had just returned from the army, after two years of service. The awkward little girl I'd left behind was now practically a woman, commanding the stage in this elegant dress, with the voice of an angel." Ziva swallowed hard.
"I'm glad I picked this song then," Tony grinned. "Gianni Schicchi is the show playing at the opera house, so I figured I'd start with the big aria from that."
"It was a good choice," Ziva smiled. It was as she had guessed, and very thoughtful. She leaned her head back and turned to look out the window. "Do they all know, at Gibbs' house?"
"No," he assured her. "But Gibbs does. I didn't want to lie to the boss. I just thought-"
She nodded. "No, I am glad you told him the truth."
"And we shouldn't be too late," he told her, "So there shouldn't be too many questions." After a moment, he continued, "I tried to get tickets again. Through a few different channels. No luck. Had to settle for the CD."
Her gaze snapped back to him. She had not expected that. "The CD was lovely."
"Now I wish I'd tried harder since this show has such meaning for you," he said.
"It does," she sighed. If he had managed to get her tickets after all, that would have been incredible.
"But…?" he asked.
"This year is particularly difficult," she told him.
"Yeah?" Tony asked, encouraging her to continue. She nodded, and his brow furrowed for a moment. "Ten years."
She nodded again. "She would have been twenty-six today. It is hard to believe it has been that long. The actual anniversary…" She shuddered. That day was going to be very, very hard this year. For some reason, ten years seemed so much more profound than nine years.
His hand brushed hers, clasping fingers in fingers. "You've got friends who care. Don't forget that. We're here for you."