Disclaimer: I don't own most of this stuff but I do like to play with it.
Notes: This takes place 2 years after Jenny's death and the team have been split up. I hope you enjoy.
Two years after Jenny's death Ziva had found herself working in Spain trying to disrupt a weapons smuggling operation. The two years back at Mossad had not been kind. Still estranged from her father Ziva had been sidelined and was receiving all the jobs that nobody else would do. She had been to Russia to watch for terrorists, an operation that had taken 6 months and had no results. She had spent several weeks guarding a low level diplomat in Germany but that assignment was terminated after she broke three of his ribs and his nose. Then there were the boring filing tasks she had been given. Ziva's father was a powerful man and he was using that power to force his way back into her life.
Madrid was hot. Hot was how Ziva liked it. She sat at the edge of a fountain with a book but she was not reading it. Ziva was watching the building across the street. It was an old, business property and had been leased to a company called Barthos. It was a cover. The official products sold by Barthos were soap, bubble bath and luxury hair products but unofficially they were dealing in a range of weaponry from semtex to Stinger Missiles to Kalashnikovs. The building had been rented by a man named Raul Sandros but a little digging revealed that Raul Sandros had been killed in the Madrid train bombings in 2004. The company attracted a fair amount of custom, some who thought the shop was a quaint soap shop and others who were there for something a little more exotic. Ziva had counted eight known terrorists in the last week ranging from two Al Queda members, four IRA and two Basques. Business was booming.
Ziva watched as two men walked towards the shop. "Can you see this?" She asked her hidden surveillance team.
"Hold the camera up a little higher."
Ziva stretched and held the book up a little higher as though she was readjusting her reading position. The small camera concealed within the book was aimed straight at the shop doors. "How's that?"
"That's great. We're running a check." There was silence. A few minutes passed and finally the surveillance team spoke. "The ugliest one is Arun Mohammed. He is wanted by the US for supplying the Taliban with weapons. No apparent links to Al Queda. Pretty price on his head though. Nothing on the other guy."
"Ok. Send the information to HQ and ask them to forward it to the Americans." Ziva continued to watch the shop. It was a tedious task. She was expected to watch the shop until orders from HQ came in to neutralise the smuggling ring. She had a feeling that HQ was waiting for someone a little more interesting then Arun Mohammed and the others that had already visited. "Are Beta team here yet?"
"Yeah Meir is on his way out. You should see him in a few minutes." Ziva waited patiently. The change over had to look convincing. She watched Meir walking towards her with a grin from ear to ear. He spoke loud enough for people all around to hear. The idea was he would hit on her, she would look disgusted and walk away while he took up his position at the fountain. Ziva found it easy to act disgusted whenever Meir was near her. She found the man repulsive.
Ziva walked slowly away from the fountain and the terrorist shop pleased that the day was over. Four hours sat on that fountain had made her muscles stiff. The walk was better than a massage. She made it to the safe house that held the off duty teams. She relinquished all the surveillance equipment she had taken with her that day and headed to her room. The building was old and damp but it belonged to an Israeli company who were quite happy to let Mossad use it. Ziva's room consisted of very little. The large window that took up almost a whole wall was painted black and covered in bin liners. A broken mirror hung to the right wall just above a cracked sink. Against the left wall and just under the darkened window was an old matress that had been rescued from one of the top floor rooms and was now covered with Ziva's sleeping bag and an extra blanket. Ziva walked over to the sink and ran the tap. Luckily the water supply was clean. She splashed her face and neck with the cold water. She looked at herself in the mirror. The job she had once loved had become a living nightmare. She thought about giving in to her father and returning home with her tail between her legs but the thought made her angry. Why should she seek forgiveness from him? He was the one who sent her after Ari. She had to kill Ari. Why couldn't he have sent someone else? He should be asking for forgiveness from her. Ziva furiously splashed more water on her face to wash away the tears that had rolled down her cheeks. She changed into some comfortable jeans, boots and a light jumper. She grabbed her phone and headed out.
Ziva liked to walk the streets of Madrid at night. Madrid still held some mystery that a lot of cities had lost. Ziva headed through the Parque del Retiro and on towards the Palacio de Communicaciones. The walk had become a nightly ritual for Ziva. She would assure the team leader that she would have her phone on at all times but as soon as she was out of sight of the house she would switch her phone off. She knew she could get in serious trouble for being out of contact but she no longer cared. She walked on further and her body and mind started to relax. She watched as the sky became littered with bright stars and after forty five minutes walking she sat down outside a small Italian cafe. The first time she saw the cafe she had laughed, an Italian cafe in Spain. Then she realised it was no different to McDonalds in Tel Aviv. She ordered a black coffee and took a seat outside. The last few weeks had really got to her, she felt useless. The thought of resigning had been heavy on her mind but she would not know what to do. In the last week she had entertained thoughts of returning to America to see her friends.
Friends she thought sadly. Could she still consider them friends? They had called but she never answered. Abby and McGee had bombarded her with emails and she had even had the occasional voicemail off Gibbs. Ducky had written her splendid letters on expensive paper but she had never responded. DiNozzo had gone out of his way to contact her. First were the emails and phonecalls. Second were flowers every day for two months. Third was a man dressed in a dinosaur outfit knocking at her front door. Fourth was a subscription to The New American Magazine. Tony had tried hard but she had ignored them. She still did not know why she hadn't answered but it seemed to be the right thing to do. The last contact she had was another beautiful letter from Ducky to inform her of his new address and number. It had included a little story about his time in France which had ended with his mother being arrested. She missed Ducky's stories. She missed Abby's strange music. She missed Tony and McGee. She even missed Gibbs and his habit of slapping. Would they still consider her a friend?
Ziva took out her phone, switched it on and pulled up the contact list. The first name was Abby. Maybe now would be a good time to mend their friendship. Ziva chickened out. She locked the phone and put it back in her pocket. She drank the last mouthful of her cold coffee and stood up. She stretched and looked up at the sky. Maybe she would catch a break soon. Maybe she thought.