A/N: It's been quite a while since I last posted anything on here, so it seems. Lately I've been writing for an Asian fandom and I don't post my story here (because admit it, nobody will read the story on here). Here's a very AU story that I've had in my comp since early 2010. I hope this is still presentable to read.

Enjoy the ride ladies and gentlemen :)

Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly.

From the moment she had laid her eyes on Ziva David, Emily Prentiss had felt something different about the younger Israeli woman. She couldn't explain it but she felt a strange connection between herself and the liaison officer.

She had reluctantly told Rossi about it after the older man caught her staring dreamily at Ziva. Emily insisted that it wasn't lust that she was feeling when the senior agent teased her for having a 'crush' and for being 'head over heels' with a woman she barely knew. No, Emily was sure it wasn't lust. It was something else – something new.

Even though she didn't understand the warmth that filled her heart every time she looked at Ziva, Emily wouldn't deny that Liaison Officer Ziva David was one of the most attractive women she had ever met. If asked, she would describe Ziva as having this mysterious exotic beauty – a kind of beauty which Emily considered as dangerous. She could tell that Rossi and Morgan had secretly been checking her out for some time and she didn't blame them. But none of this could explain why she was feeling what she was feeling.

"Ziva..." Emily rolled the name absent-mindedly as she watched people passing-by on the street through the coffee shop window. The brunette was sitting alone, enjoying her morning before going to work. She nearly choked on her coffee when she heard a voice from behind her.

"I didn't know that you know I was behind you," Ziva David said to her. She grinned shyly as she put her mug on Emily's table. "That is impressive. They teach you that in your profiling class? I should convince Gibbs to let me take one of those classes then," the young officer continued. She looked around before touching the head of the only empty chair at Emily's table. "This chair is empty, yes?" she asked.

Emily nodded and watched as the woman sat down gracefully next to her. She could feel her cheek blush. It was utterly and totally embarrassing! She was almost caught – or maybe she was caught – with her hand inside the cookie jar. She was relieved Ziva didn't seem to notice that she wasn't really acknowledging her presence earlier; otherwise there would be an awkward explaining to do.

"You are early," Emily said after taking a long sip at her coffee, trying to mask the faint blush which still lingered on her white skin.

"I am used to come early. Office hours in Mossad is quite different from it is here," the younger woman explained. She nodded at Emily. "I suppose you have already known that, no? Agent Jareau said you used to live in some Middle Eastern countries. So how good is your Arabic?" the last sentence was delivered in Arabic.

The sudden change of language sounded natural in Emily's ears. The profiler was used to hearing several different languages spoken at the same time in many of her mother's parties when she was little. "Not as good as yours, I'm afraid. I have quite forgotten some of the useful phrases," she replied modestly. She hadn't used her Arabic for quite some time now and was glad that she could still pronounce the words naturally.

Ziva's eyes lit up in delight when she heard how fluently Emily was speaking. Even from what so little Emily had said, Ziva knew that the woman was more than just familiar with the language. Her dictions showed it – she had chosen the words that no beginner would know. "I am sure I can remind you your cursing words," she said with a hearty laugh. Emily thanked her and laughed along. They then continued their banter in Arabic before Ziva switched her language – unannounced – again. "Do you speak Hebrew?"

Emily didn't even blink when she answered in perfect Hebrew, "Only a little. My mother was only stationed in Tel Aviv for a year. She was there for some time before I was born, though." The brunette smiled at her companion. She didn't remember the last time she used her multilingual ability just for the sake of having fun – for a few years now, the languages she knew had been her tool to interrogate or interview others. Now, sitting there in a cramped space of the coffee shop with Ziva and talking with various languages, Emily felt so relaxed.

Ziva was enjoying this. She knew that the federal agent might think that she was testing her language skills. It was impolite to do so, but Ziva couldn't help herself. She was curious. Emily had fascinated her in some ways she didn't understand, and Ziva wasn't easily fascinated. Of course there had been several other people who interest her – her former control officer, Gibbs, Abby – but this was different. And sometimes, in Ziva's book, different was good.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Emily asked, in English now. She didn't mind talking in other languages with Ziva, but she knew that Ziva would also want to practice her English more.

Ziva tilted her head. "I was wondering," she began, pursing her lips as she formed the words in her head. "Why do you offer 'a penny' for someone's thoughts? Why not offer a dollar? Or a house – for that matter? A penny does not sound like much money for something so precious."

Emily looked at the other woman, completely animated. She had never thought about what Ziva just asked her before and she found it amusing. "Oh, I honestly don't know, Ziva," she replied. "Maybe a penny was considered a fortune back then when people first say it. Or maybe they think it sounds good as a phrase. Beats me, I really don't know."

"I will not beat you because you do not know the answer, Emily," Ziva stated seriously. "I have enough self-control."

Emily's laughter was heard across the room for a full minute after that last remark. This was good. Having Ziva around... oh, Emily could definitely get used to it.

...

"I heard about your recent case involving NCIS," Elizabeth Prentiss suddenly broke the silence as dessert was served. She had invited her daughter for dinner and the field agent had kept her silence the whole time, save for greeting her and answering whatever questions asked. "How did it go?"

Emily raised her head; gazing at her mother's face. Ambassador Prentiss had never asked her about any cases before. Even when she was half-beaten to death and was almost blown up, the politician said nothing. "Why did you ask?" was her first response. If Elizabeth Prentiss was interested in one of her cases, there must be something in it for her.

"I can never ask you a question without you thinking I have hidden motives, can I?" the older woman asked sharply.

The profiler shrugged. "You said so yourself, Mother," she responded lightly. "If you have something you want to know, you can just ask me. You don't have to pretend you are interested in my job."

Elizabeth contemplated a moment before she said anything. She pushed away the dessert their cook had prepared for them, losing her appetite. "There was a Mossad liaison in the NCIS team working with you, wasn't it?" she finally asked.

Emily senses grew alert at the mention of Mossad. "I still don't think it was your real question," she said icily. If her mother was planning something that could jeopardize Ziva's position in NCIS, then she had to deal with Emily first. They have been the best of friends in just a matter of weeks.

"How is she?" Ambassador Prentiss finally asked, hesitantly.

"She is smart, for a start. Very loyal and dependable," replied Emily. "She is good – both as a person and as an agent." The brunette locked her mother's eyes with her daring look. She warned her mother not to do something stupid about Ziva without saying a word, and from the look of it, Emily knew her mother got her message.

The older woman paused for a moment, taking her time to wipe her mouth with the napkin on her lap. "You are close with her." A statement. Elizabeth didn't have to ask – she might not be a good mother for Emily, but she did know her daughter well enough to understand that Emily would defend people she cared for with her life.

"She is a friend," admitted Emily. "Like JJ and Penelope."

"Don't get too close to her," Elizabeth warned before she could stop herself. She glanced at her daughter's now angry face and realized that it was tactless of her to say so.

Emily rose from her chair and glared at her mother. "You don't control who I can or cannot be friends with, Mother. You have no rights." With those angry words, Emily marched out of the dining room and the house to her car.

Elizabeth could hear the front door slammed shut and the tires screeched as her daughter floored the gas pedal. She sighed. If only Emily knew... she thought. But then again, she could not predict how Emily would react if she knew what she was hiding. The Ambassador closed her eyes in defeat. This would not be easy.

...

Ziva was outraged. The Israeli had just been on the video call with her father – Deputy Director Eli David – and the man had forbidden her to have any contacts with FBI SSA Emily Prentiss. Ziva regretted having mentioned that name in the first place but it was her father who asked first who she had been working together with recently. The brunette officer could not forget the stunned look in Eli David's face at the mention of the name Prentiss.

Eli had refused to explain. He had told Ziva that it was an order – and a good soldier did not question orders. He knew perfectly how to stop the relentless woman from asking questions he didn't want to answer. What he didn't know was that Ziva was no longer the same Ziva David who left Israel a couple of years before. Working with Gibbs had taught Ziva to think of the consequences of her actions, to question orders be it necessary, and to decide if the order was worth following.

Oh yes, Ziva David was a different person now. If she couldn't get the answers she needed from Eli, she would resort to the only other clue she had in hand. She smirked triumphantly and picked up the phone.

"Emily? Shalom. This is Ziva."

...

The car stopped with a loud screech. Elizabeth Prentiss was in the study and the noise made her frown. She looked outside the window and saw two women getting out of the car. Her eyes widened as she recognized who they were. She rose from her seat and strolled outside to confront the uninvited guests.

"Hello, Mother," Emily greeted her in the hallway. Her dark eyes were gleaming as she met Elizabeth's eyes. "This is Ziva David, but you probably know that. Ziva, this is my mother."

"Good morning, Ambassador," Ziva nodded curtly.

Elizabeth glared angrily at Emily although she kept her cool by greeting Ziva back. The politician in her had prevented her from yelling at Emily in front of a guest, whether or not the guest was expected. "Come to the study," she invited – it sounded more like a command in the twosome's ears. "We'll talk there." She let the two women walk in front of her. Elizabeth couldn't help but notice how alike the two were with the same slender figure and long dark brown hair – even though Ziva's was lighter. The politician's heart clenched. There was no place to hide now. She knew she had to face her worst fear.

Sitting in front of the two young women; Elizabeth Prentiss felt at loss of words. She couldn't describe her feelings to see them – one a federal agent and the other a Mossad officer – sitting side by side in front of her.

"Now, mother," Emily began. The coldness in her voice wasn't new to Elizabeth, but it still stung nonetheless. "Me and Ziva would like to hear the reason why you and Deputy Director David didn't want us to know each other."

"I did not know you are acquainted with my father, Ambassador Prentiss," Ziva said. "He had never mentioned you before. A little bit unusual considering my father is very fond of his American contacts and acquaintances." The young woman squinted as she watched the change in Elizabeth's expression. "Something happened between you two, yes?" she asked matter-of-factly.

Ambassador Prentiss was a politician. She had been a politician for so long that she could answer any kinds of political – and even personal – questions diplomatically without breaking a sweat. This time, she didn't know how to answer. She looked at Emily's dark brown eyes then at Ziva's. Both pairs demanded the same answer; both pairs resembled someone in her past.

"Ziva is your sister," She whispered tiredly, feeling suddenly exhausted. She avoided her daughter's gaze as the words came out. There. Elizabeth had said it. If something could melt the steel protective barrier she had built around her heart, it would be Emily's eyes. And now... it was Emily's eyes times two.

Emily had expected something really bad – but she had certainly not expected this one. To say that she was shocked was an understatement. Emily immediately turned to Ziva; she caught the same shocked expression in the younger woman's face.

"This is not funny!" Ziva was the first one who could find her voice back. She hit the desk in front of her and sprang to her feet. "This is NOT funny!"

"I'm not trying to be funny, Officer David," Elizabeth Prentiss replied icily. Her voice was trembled but she steeled herself. "Sit down!"

Taken aback by the sudden command, Ziva obliged wordlessly. She looked straight at Ambassador Prentiss. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to look at Emily. Thoughts raced in her head – Emily, her friend... was her sister? Did that mean that this woman was her – no, Ziva stopped herself from thinking that the woman that had raised her from infancy, the one she had called 'mother' her whole life, wasn't her biological mother. She was shocked; confused. Ziva wanted to run. Never had Ziva wanted so badly to turn back time and never to listen to this – never to question her father of his decisions.

"She..." Emily said slowly, her voice was uncertain. "She is my sister?"

"You left me?" Ziva growled in a dangerous, angry tone. The Ambassador didn't know which one she would answer first, but Ziva was out of patience. Again, the young soldier slammed her hand on the table, making the senior politician flinched. "Answer me! You left me in Israel, yes?" Tears falling uncontrollably from Ziva's eyes. Memories of her unhappy childhood flashed back, cutting deep into her soul. And it was probably caused by this woman. Oh, how Ziva would love to strangle her.

"No I did not!" the Ambassador yelled back. Her breath was ragged and for a moment, she couldn't speak. "I did not leave you, Ziva David," she repeated in a calmer manner. "It was your father who left Emily."

"What?" the two women asked in unison.

"Officer Dav... Ziva," Elizabeth called out to the bewildered woman. "I am not your mother. If I were, do you think I would leave you in Israel with Eli David?"

Ziva's heart sank. She didn't know if she should be relieved or angry. She glanced at Emily, envy clouded her thoughts for a moment as she realized how lucky the older woman was for not having to deal with Eli her whole life. But as she saw how hurt the news had caused Emily, Ziva's heart tightened with a different kind of ache. It was compassion. Emily was her half-sister. Her sister. Ziva didn't realize that she had moved her hand and slid it into Emily's until after she felt the older woman squeezed her hand. A feeling of completeness filled her.

"You lied to me," was all Emily could say.

"I had to. I didn't want him to have you," replied the Ambassador.

The federal agent shook her head. "You didn't do it for me, Mother. You didn't want other people to know your mistakes," she stated sadly. She had always sensed – even as a child – that she wasn't wanted; that she had been a mistake. She had been right all along. No wonder her father couldn't look her without frowning – no wonder they didn't care much about her. Emily rose groggily from her seat, releasing Ziva's warm hand. "You have never wanted me, Mother. I wish you had aborted me!" Emily turned around and left the room, running as fast as she could.

Elizabeth Prentiss froze in her seat, watching as Ziva bolted out right after Emily, calling out her name. Emily's last statement had punched her in the face. She could not say that it wasn't true – half of what Emily had shoved in front of her face was true. It would have been easier if Emily hadn't been born. It would have been easier if she had given her daughter up for adoption. But she didn't do it. Elizabeth couldn't do it. She had never loved Eli David – the act was a mistake. But she loved Emily – not the way that she should be; the memory of who her real father was had often stopped her from truly loving Emily – but she loved her anyway. Elizabeth Prentiss covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

If Emily had ever loved her a little before, Elizabeth was sure that she had lost that little piece of love she had had.

"Emily, wait!" Ziva called out rather desperately. She could run fast – but Emily was a fast runner too. "Emily!" When she was close enough, Ziva stretched out her arm and grabbed Emily by her sleeve, pulling her hard.

The taller brunette lost her balance and tripped. She fell, dragging Ziva with her. The sisters tumbled down on the grass – Ziva was on top of Emily.

"Em! Are you okay?" Ziva asked worriedly when she saw Emily covered her face and sobbed. "Are you hurt?"

Emily shook her head furiously and continued crying. She could not think. She didn't want to think. She tensed a bit when she felt Ziva moved away from her but then her body relaxed as the younger woman shifted her position and pulled Emily in a hug – her hand were making soothing circles on Emily's back and her mouth was pressed on her forehead, whispering words of comfort in Hebrew.

"Does he know?" after a while, Emily managed to say. Her voice was hoarse and there was still a hint of cry in it. "Your father, do you think he knows about us?"

Ziva took a deep breath and sighed. She didn't know what to say. "Do you care?"

"No," a short answer. It was a negative statement, but somehow it felt so positive. "I don't want him."

"Do you..." Ziva hesitated. "Do you want me?"

Ziva could feel Emily relaxed at the question. She looked down and saw a smile across Emily's – her sister's – face. The liaison officer couldn't help but smile back – Emily Prentiss had such a contagious smile. No, Ziva didn't need an answer to her question.

Emily squeezed Ziva's arm and the younger woman tightened her embrace. They were sisters. Ziva could get used to it.

A/N: So.. did I traumatize anyone with the rusty writing? Have some brownies. Thanks for riding with me :)