Paper Wings
Ziva gently stroked the paper wings of the small creature before her. It looked weak and tired in the dim lighting of the kitchen, yet beautiful at the same time. Each fold of the paper was so familiar that it hurt, and she sighed softly before taking the paper butterfly in her palm. It's wings were battered and wrinkled, the paper it was made out of turning a sickly shade of yellow. But it was still strangely...magical and enchanting.
It brought back memories that she had stored away in her brain. She could see them so clearly, it was like they were being projected straight into her brain, or maybe happening all over again.
XXX
Ten-year-old Ziva and Tali were sitting in the sun, folding paper with careful fingers. Each touch was delicate, and Ziva was positive that she had never been more gentle with anything. Her hands, already calloused from handling weapons so often, moved carefully, forming wings.
Tali looked slightly depressed as she studied Ziva's butterly, eyes wide with beautiful six-year-old innocence, "Yours looks prettier than mine. Why does mine look so strange, Zivaleh? Did I do something wrong?"
"No," Ziva replied, taking both her butterfly and Tali's into her hands, "You did it fine. Sometimes butterflies do not turn out well on the outside, but they still fly better than the others." To prove her point, Ziva blew and sent the butterflies up into the breeze.
Her's flew straight for several feet before plunging into the ground in a small heap. Tali's stayed up longer, doing acrobatic flips and twirls. It allighted on the ground gently, and Tali grinned, running to pick it up.
Ziva smiled as she watched her little sister send the butterfly off again, watching it with wide-eyed awe, "It looks pretty when it flies."
"It does," She smiled and ran a hand through Tali's curly hair, "And it just proves that you cannot judge someone by what they look like."
Tali nodded slowly, and Ziva stroked her hair absentmindedly, watching the butterfly float about, doing another lazy twirl. She could not force back a wince as she heard a voice from behind her, "Ziva! Talia! What are you doing out here? You are supposed to be ready to spar! I expect you to listen to orders when they are given to you."
"Yes, Abba," They said simultaniously as the turned to face their father, Tali with much more enthusiasm than her older sister. She was too young to sense the coldness and lack of caring in their father's tone.
He saw the paper butterfly as it landed and shook his head, "You are not allowed to do these petty things anymore. They distract you from what you are supposed to focus on-Mossad."
"But Abba! I like making paper butterflies!" Tali told him, and Ziva squeezed her shoulder, trying to get her to stop talking before things went to far. The younger girl ignored her, "I like it better than Mossad! Mossad is...stupid!"
Tali's eyes widened in horror as Eli picked up her paper butterfly and crushed it in his hand before saying firmly, "I expect to see you at the house, ready for sparring, in ten minutes."
"Yes, Abba," Ziva replied, while Tali stayed silent next to her. As soon as their father was gone, Ziva picked up the paper butterfly, spread out the crumpled wings, and set it in Tali's hands. Tali gently placed it in the pocket of her jeans, looking about ready to cry. Silently, Ziva slipped a hand in her little sister's, and the two headed back to the house.
XXX
Ziva, very gently, opened the window and held out her palm with the butterfly resting on it. She blew, and it fluttered away into the wind.
A small, sad smile crossed over Ziva's face. Maybe, now that her butterfly was free, Tali would be too.
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