A/N: Since I posted my first fic, the oneshot 'Act', I have been wondering what I should post (have a lot lying on my computer) and decided to write something, I love to read myself, Ziva-centric on the Israeli's childhood. How did she get that haunted expression and how did she learn to keep her face unemotionally? And talk about the awkwardness of the Eli-Ziva relationship - does he even call himself a father? Well, here's my shot at how the Israeli's childhood was.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of its characters.
SURVIVAL, Prologue
The moment, she is born, a man is shot. He is dead before he hits the dirty ground in the dim alley. The bullet hole between his eyes reveal all except why. A numb smile is seen on the face of the killer; a family member, who she will trust blindly later and be betrayed by emotionally. From her first breath, her fate is planned. She is destined to do something, few are capable of and for now it is best to keep her close ones ignorant, although her father has plans for her, just like he has for his son, who is yet a boy.
She enters the world silent. She doesn't cry and it worries the doctors, but they realize she is a fighter, although she is born three weeks premature. Her heart beats strong and nobody will ever call her adorable again. Because she is nothing to adore, only to fear later, when her mother will realize that she takes after her father, which will be too late to do anything about it. She will disappoint and impress, but that the young mother doesn't know yet as she exhausted looks at the little girl in the crib, now sleeping peacefully. Her eyes look innocent, the brown orbs glowing, hidden by the small eyelids and she is truly beautiful, underestimated from day one. Curiosity is spotted in the oculars and later, her mother will regret ever seeing it in her with excitement and she will wish her daughter never had been curious. But for now, she looks longingly at her daughter, whose curly hair is just like her own; her small fingers has grabbed the linen and she holds on stubbornly. Few hours later, a newly showered man walks through the doors of the hospital room 212. His expression is softened, still harsh from earlier, but doesn't become less unreadable and he smiles falsely to his young wife, apologizing for not being there at time, that a mission occupied him, kept him from being there at their firstborn child's birth. The mother smiles, pretends not to notice his absence earlier and informs him that their newborn is fine, healthy and strong. When she tells him it is a girl, a flash of disappointment crosses his face, unreadable to anyone but the woman lying in the bed, who has known him long enough to distinguish genuinely care. He hasn't even removed his sidearm, when he entered the room and she shakes her head mentally, too afraid to acknowledge that he feels unsafe without a gun, even in a public hospital and the fact that he wanted a boy instead of a girl.
He leans to her, whispers soft words in Hebrew to her ear and kisses her on the forehead, showing his love as he caresses her cheek, where her tendrils have glued to her temples in her hours of labor. He tells her to rest and then he leaves. It takes the mother minutes to realize that he didn't even look at the girl, opposite to her, who can't take her eyes off of the weak - no, vulnerable - girl. She sighs, memorizes the newborn's features and closes her eyes to do as he told her. To get a good night's sleep. She knows that tomorrow, he will be on a new mission and if she is lucky, she will know where it is, but mostly, she will be ignorant of the danger, location and the cause of the mission. She sighs and her smile fades until she is sound asleep.
Five minutes later, it is two o'clock. The little girl was born in the midnight, at nightfall and under the skyline of Haifa in the little hospital with few nurses and doctors. The stars are bright and glow, just as the eyes of the girl. Her will is stronger than any infant ever born and you can say she is blessed and cursed for being the daughter of an assassin and a young woman, who is ignorant of the actions her little baby will cause in a decade and through her entire adulthood. Her childhood will be too short and Ziva David will never be dependent, neither in love and career, fate or will.
A dog barks, music plays and the night continues through silent thunder of the life, that will follow and the past, that will haunt her.
What do you think? Review and let me know if I should continue!