A/N: You think an Israeli former Mossad officer wouldn't know about a terrorist attack involving her death? And, she would hide her best friend's child for years because she "didn't want to disrupt" his life? Guys, its Israel. There is so much more than missed calls here. Geo-politics and family blood create tension… References to Sun Tzu's "The Art of War".
IV. Tactical Dispositions: The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and they waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy.
Bam! You're dead. Well, you're supposed to be dead. But…Are you really gone? Question: Once the soul leaves the body, are you in Heaven? Or, is there a grey zone? And, in this dead space are you by yourself, stumbling into a complete whiteout? Its funny how both light and dark can act as an impenetrable force that work against you. One blinds while the other casts you out into nothingness.
You can't turn it off whenever you need it to. It comes back to haunt you and your stupid feeble little mind. Too many years have passed for somebody, somewhere to care about you. Oh wait, what happened three years ago? A one night stand turns into more than conversation in a temporary safe space two people create for themselves.
"I am one of those people."
She used to scream out at night, clenching her stomach. It was all in an effort to protect her. She went under in-patient services at her local hospital. It was normal for a woman like her to cast out her manufactured demons with a smooth cocktail of anti-psychotics and a routine visit with a doctor.
She used to be ill in the mind; after he left it only got worse. It turns out post-traumatic stress isn't an outlet you switch off, it is a slow manifestation of fear and experience. As they blend together, it could be years before you show any signs.
The hurt was already engrained in her and the only thing that kept her from committing one last act of horror (to herself) was the small kick from a small lifeform growing in her uterus. The doctor explained that she did deserve the baby. And "you can repent for your sins, by healing yourself and loving that little child".
"But-"
"No buts!"
And so it began, month 5 is when she picked up the phone to call Gibbs. A surrogate father to her; a man whose scent of saw dust and bourbon grew so well on her.
But as soon as she dialed the number, ready to find a little happiness in his voice, another call came in. No good news. But one massive announcement was soon to change her life and her plans.
There is always someone one step, two steps, three steps ahead of you. If you're smart you cover your valuables, make yourself a 24/7 alarm, and get the hell out.
The enemy. Could be anyone. Alert the one person closest to you. Fine. Check.
Ponder and deliberate before you make a move.
Those three years were mind numbing and tricky. Her mission was to hide in plain sight. She could only visit with her child every now and then, but when she could, they both made the best of it.
In the government records she lived in the farmhouse.
In the government records she was not a mother.
In the government records, she still worked as a Mossad officer, the daughter of a dead man who pissed off a lot of Egyptians, Palestinians, Syrians, and Iranians.
So, it would be fair to say if they couldn't have killed Eli David, his daughter would suffice their blood lust. It was more than a straight kill, it was every pot of honey he had his snippy hands in: oil, gas, gold, diamonds, and nuclear deals from foreign countries. Iran had one with the United States, great, a kumbaya moment with one side of the deal waiting to stab you in the back.
Iran. She was being targeted. Until than one night in mid-May. The door to her apartment was kicked down and two men approached her from behind. One thing they hadn't prepared for was the two AR-15's in both her hands. Swiftly she gunned them down and stood over their dirty corpses. For all the time she wasted being away from her daughter to protect her, for all the running, she spit on both of them. When she positioned herself next to the door, waiting for a third militant, she was surprised by how quick he came through the door.
"Get down!" She saw him reach for his holster. "Don't even think about."
"You're making a mistake, Miss David." The unknown man said, facing away from her. He got on his knees and faced down towards the floor.
She laughs because anyone making any attempt at scaring her at this point in time is such a waste of breath. "The only mistake I have ever made is prolonging this for this long." She hears him laugh to himself, "Call in and tell him, whoever he is, that I have been killed."
"I would be lying. Lying is a sin." Such a smugness to his tone.
"And killing an innocent is not?" She hands him his phone, "Call!"
"You are not innocent. You deserve to die."
She has had enough time wasted. She kicks him over and put the cold end of her gun to his head. "Call. I will not ask again."
He calls in and tells the man on the other end that the job had been completed. "My final instruction was to burn you to ash."
She smiles at the man from the side, "Thank you for letting me know." She clocks her gun again. This makes him nervous.
"You're going to shoot me, aren't you?"
"No."
"You know if you let me go, I'll make sure you actually die. You stupid whore." He spits out.
She bends down to him, smirks, and reaches in her back pocket for a 5" blade. He can only see for a moment before he gasps for air. He falls over in his own pool of blood. It keeps gushing out. She takes the blade out from his carotid artery, and wipes it off of the man's shirt.
"I was going to say, I'm going to slice you like the pig you are." As she straightens herself, "Now, where's my phone?" She then kicks him to his side and reaches for the device in his hand. "Ah! There it is."
In May, his life turned upside down, the summer seemed to have gotten better. In the fall, he found happiness again in Paris with another little lady, whose blood had him written in it.
In May, she began the resolution process of her journey. She didn't want to come out of hiding too soon to spark another match and rock the cradle. Orli followed through on her promises; so she had to be smart if she wanted to see her daughter again.
"Ziva, you are prepared for this?"
"I could not be any more prepared. Tell him nothing."
"I won't. The wisest choice is not always the easiest one."
Orli informed her through secure correspondence, that DiNozzo had accepted the child. In that moment, she could breathe a breath of relief. It was his anyways. And no it couldn't be anyone else's. The only other man since Somalia she had any relations with was Ray from the CIA. She couldn't think of accepting another man besides Tony; any other person touching her now made her nauseous.
The summer, she moved around until she got in the south of France. She received helpful intel from the region that Tony and Tali had moved to a suburb of Paris.
He had only partially forgotten her death, but Tali hadn't. Occasionally she cried out an "imma" and he would tear apart inside by the sound.
On a cold, rainy November night, when he and his daughter were in the middle of an Indiana Jones movie, Tony got a knock at his door. When he opened it up, no one was there. He peeked out his doorway, then the sound of a crumple came from beneath his feet. He removed his foot and leant over to pick up the note; with what it read his breath hitched:
All warfare is based on deception.
Tony- I am not dead.
Tomorrow, Noon at the first place you think of.
