And the Big Bad Is...
I started writing this as a joke, but it's become horrifyingly plausible. At least the loose ends would get tied up... I know this ditty has the potential to continue, but I'm only writing one chapter. My life is too hectic to get more written before Tuesday, and it wouldn't make sense to continue it afterward.
Ziva tried the handle of the door to Gibbs' house and rolled her eyes. He'd gotten the lock but still hadn't gotten used to actually locking it. She entered and headed for the basement stairs without preamble. He'd headed out abruptly, and no matter how shaken she was by the case, she owed it to him to make sure everything was alright.
She had reached the landing of the stairs before Ziva caught sight of M. Allison Hart leaning against Gibbs' workbench and studying her calmly. A quick scan of the room told her Gibbs wasn't there, and Ziva took the last few steps slowly.
"Shalom, Ziva," Mallison said calmly, her tone knowing in a way that instantly set Ziva on alert.
"Shalom," Ziva answered coolly.
"He told me you would be here."
"Gibbs?"
She shook her head, a wicked grin twisting her face. "No. Your father."
Ziva straightened instantly into a fighting posture, dropping her coat to the ground.
Mallison waved it off. "Don't worry, Ziver," she cooed. "He doesn't want you dead. If he did this all would have been a waste of my time."
Ziva's eyes narrowed. "Then what does he want?"
She shrugged. "He wants what every father wants—his daughter's love and affection. That you've given yours to a criminal instead only deepens his anger at your betrayal."
Ziva's nostrils flared. "It is my father who is the criminal. Gibbs' worst actions are more justifiable than my father's best."
Mallison's smile deepened. "Interesting that you see it that way. At this very moment, he is facing the consequences of his actions against people whom he deeply wronged. Very serious consequences indeed."
A chill ran through Ziva. Was it too late? Was that why Mallison was speaking so openly?
"We actually used the research you did for Ari. It wasn't hard to figure out what Gibbs had done once we saw what you'd found about his wife and daughter. You were very thorough." She was taunting now. Ziva had to struggle to remain impassive.
"Where is he?" she asked, her tone unaffected.
"Mexico."
Ziva frowned slightly. "What did Colonel Bell have to do with any of this, then?"
Her adversary shook her head. "You misunderstand. You all spent so much time studying the pawns you forgot about the players."
The chill of her fear was so strong Ziva had to repress a shiver. "Mossad has Gibbs."
Mallison cocked her head. "Mossad's intermediaries, we'll call them."
"But this is my father's handiwork."
The other woman shrugged confirmation.
"If he is hurt or killed," Ziva snapped, "my father has to know I'll never--"
"Ah, but what if he isn't?" Mallison cut her off sharply. "What if the one thing that can guarantee him protection is you? Your promise not to go through with changing your citizenship, your return to Israel."
Ziva glanced away as she imagined it. Instead of a ceremony, a long plane ride, agents waiting for her on the tarmac. "I doubt I'd last a week there."
"But Gibbs would still be alive."
Ziva took a long, slow breath. "Are you threatening me?" she asked evenly.
Mallison shrugged. "Why don't we sit?" she suggested, gesturing to the bench. "There's a call conference call between the Reynosas and your father in a few minutes. I think your input might be valuable."
Ziva weighed her options, swallowed hard, and sat.