Senseless angst? Check. Tiva? Check. Do I own? H-E-double hockey sticks to the NO. Reviews? Pending. :p
Ziva David was five when her father told her she would have a new sister.
She screamed. Slammed a door or two. Hit her brother when he tried to console her.
Riot was not what she was known for, even at such an unruly age. Still, her father spanked her until she cried more and could not sit down.
She showed defiance, and was met with a higher power.
At seven years old, she watched as Ari received nearly every once of her father's attention and praise. She envied it.
Then, Ari's mother died.
She wanted to be like Ari no longer.
When Ziva was eleven, Eli David blindfolded his children and sent them out into the woods. Little Tali ripped the dark piece of cloth from her sweaty eyes and spit on the ground. The six year old said it was stupid, and that this would never help them in real life.
No one would kill them, as they were children. That's what she'd said.
At sixteen, Tali was blown to pieces by people who could have cared less.
Ziva did not cry after they had found what little remains there were.
And so, eight weeks later she made her first kill and did not even flinch.
Ari killed Kate Todd because he had turned into a monster. A monster that was so similar to the ones from Ziva's nightmares. A monster. Her own brother.
Ari killed Kate, and so she killed Ari.
It was only the just thing to do. You had to find balance. And so she did.
Gibbs left for Mexico and Jenny left, in an emotional sense.
Abby had slapped her. She had reacted, and slapped her back.
When she saw the bomb destroy Tony's car, she assumed him dead. It was a survival technique, nothing more. Hope was not an option.
Jenny died. Gibbs died too. At least, all love of his had shriveled into nothing.
Tony was not there anymore. She sought comfort in Michael. He was easy, but he was also there.
You adapt to survive.
When Ziva was twenty-eight years old, she watched as her lover bled out on her white carpet from three bullets to the chest. The gun was in the hand of the man she loved.
She blamed. You had to find a sort of absolute.
Saleem and his men raped her. Over and over again.
She finally just bit her lip to stop the crying. Her lips started to taste like salt and blood and unearthed tears.
Tony looked into her eyes, and that tether that was always there gripped tighter.
A savior. A breath of fresh air. A release.
There was only one bed in Paris.
They slept together. (Take from that what you wish.)
She met a man who did not look at her with hungry eyes or a pitying look, and she clung. Excepted his invitation to dinner. That he was from Miami and that things were just starting to get put back together with Tony was not thought about.
It felt good, right then.
Tony started asking questions, and she deflected. Called him jealous.
A bomb exploded, and she pushed his body to the ground.
Somehow, they ended up locked inside a dark box. One that reminded her so much of Saleem and pain. She cried. She cried, and he held her.
He held her, and so she kissed him.
They did not speak of it again.
Tony started kissing Agent Barrett in the showers of NCIS, so she started making love to Ray in the elevator. Rubbing it in Tony's face a bit.
She went missing, and he found her.
Ray proposed (but didn't) and she kissed him and said goodbye (but didn't).
The next day, EJ was gone and Ray was too.
Tony smiled, and Ziva smiled back.