Title: Stutter
Disclaimers: NCIS, the rights to the series and the characters do not belong to me. They are property of CBS, Donald P. Bellisario and the other producers and writers. I am only borrowing them, I take them out of their boxes and play with them for a little while before I hand them back.
A/N: English is not my native language. Please forgive me my grammar and/or spelling mistakes.
Category: Tali David character study
Written: November 2009
Summary: There was one person that made her stutter go away. She would look into his face, his eyes, and lose herself in them, forget about her surroundings, and the words would just come.
A/N2: I just can't let go of her. I watched Kill Ari the other day, and can't help but wonder how Tali David had been, what kind of person she was, how she looked like, her personality, her relationship with her sister and Ari...Though I tried to work out a timeline, I have a hard time accepting Ziva's YOB given in S7. Hence why I am going with a four year gap between Tali and Ziva, and an eight year one between Ziva and Ari, so Ari is twelve years older than Tali, who is five years old when the story begins.
Warning: Contains a very brief mention of child abuse. Nothing explicit or graphic, though.
There were very few things she enjoyed. It did not have anything to do with money, she came from a wealthy family. Not that she knew it, she was too young to understand that. It had everything to do with the people around her.
Her father was always absent. He had an important job and came home late at night. Sometimes he never came home at all. Some of those nights, there was a lot of tension in the house. Her Ima, usually a very nice and caring woman, would snap at her and even hit her. Though she always apologized for it later. Her sister would avoid her, her and her mother as best as she could. She never was able to find her in the house; she was too good at playing hide and seek. The nights her father did not come home and the house was full of tension, she could hear her mother cry softly next door. And the next day, when her father did come home, her mother would not even look at him. Though those days, he seemed to be in a better mood than usual.
Her sister was older than her. She did not like playing with her, and quickly got annoyed. Then other times, she would hug her tightly, stroke her curls, sing to her and refuse to let her go. When she was upset herself, her sister took her anger out on her. She made her cry once by saying nasty things. Though she apologized when she saw the tears and cried herself, holding her close, telling her how much she loved her.
Her mother was trying very hard to help her with her speech. She was sorry that she was not like her sister, that she was not as eloquent. That she could not get out a single sentence without stuttering. And the harder she tried, the worse it got. Though she was glad for that sometimes. Because with her stutter and people always having to concentrate on what she was saying, they often missed her lisp. Her mother did not, however, and when she found that she could not cure the stutter, she concentrated on the lisp, and it got better, though only slightly.
Her father often ignored her. When she wanted something, she never went to him. He never had the patience to wait until she got the words out, and his look of annoyance made her even more nervous, intent on getting the syllables out she screwed them up even more. And then he would call for her mother or sister and talk about her like she was not even in the same room. She stopped going to him when she needed something when she was three. It was easier going to her mother or sister, because they were more patient, because they did not get angry at her for not being able to say it shortly in one go, but to have to take a lot of breaths and make pauses. Or they did not get angry, most of the time.
There was one person that made her stutter go away. Whenever he visited, he would spent time with her, and she got more attention than she was used to. They would play hide and seek, he would read to her, and get her to tell him stories. At first, her stutter was worse than when she spoke to her father, but it soon got better, until it disappeared completely. She would look into his face, his eyes, and lose herself in them, forget about her surroundings, and the words would just come. One time, her mother and father had found her like this, and their gasps of surprise had pulled her from her stupor. Her mother had been so happy and cuddled her close, showering her with kisses. Her father had just looked at her, before turning away and walking out of the living room. The boy had run after him, and she had heard his soft voice asking him what was wrong. And her father's enraged question why she could not behave like this, why she could not be a normal child when he was not around broke her heart and she had started to cry against her mother's neck.
The boy had taken her into his arms after a while and calmed her down. At night, when he had read her a bedtime story, he had suddenly put the book away and told her that he had had a stutter, once. That her father did not know about it. He told her it came down to the way you breathed, and that you did not need to concentrate too hard once you got the hang of it. He promised her that he would show her how, and help her get better at it.
A year later, she had stood on a small stage, reciting a poem in front of the parents of the children in her class. She still had her lisp, and her stutter. Especially when her father was around, it seemed like her throat was closing up and she could not force enough breath into her to keep going. Uncertain, she scanned the crowd, looking for her family. She found her Ima, who smiled at her, though it looked more like a grimace. Her sister sat next to her, giving her a short wave of her hand before she buried her nose in a book, earning herself a hiss from her mother and a slap on her hands when the book was taken away by her. Next to her sister, however, did not sit her father. He had told her he would not be able to come. That he had important business to look after. Though she was old enough to realize the truth. He did not want to watch her fail him, to be embarrassed by his stuttering daughter. He would not expose himself to that humiliation.
Any sadness she had felt at his rejection dissipated quickly when she saw the young man sitting next to her sister. He gave her a genuine smile and a thumbs up. He believed in her, they had practiced together. He was also the one that had convinced her mother to let her do it, to convince the teacher that she could indeed go through the entire poem on her own, without help. He believed in her, he always had. And she would not let him down.
Closing her eyes, Tali David took a deep breath. As she opened them, she easily found and held the gaze of her half-brother Ari Haswari and smiled before she started to recite the poem. She did not even notice that she was finished until the applause of the audience started. She blinked in surprise and saw her brother standing, clapping loudly, a huge grin on his face. Her mother sat, staring with an open mouth, like her sister before both of them broke into a smile and joined the applause. Tali stepped down and waited patiently in the row of the other children until the last one had finished his rendition. When she was free to go, she quickly ran to where she had seen her family. To her mother's surprise, she flung herself into Ari's arms and the young man picked her up, twirling her around, holding her close, and telling her how proud he was of her.
There were few things Tali David enjoyed as much as the visits of her older half-brother.
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