C'est La Vie
Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Summary: She had begged her father to let her spend a year abroad; instead of going to America, she chose Ireland. Whatever she was expecting in regards to her host family ended up being the furthest from the truth. And whatever they were expecting of their exchange student, would surprise them, and end up changing all their lives, for the better. Or as Penny always told them, C'est la vie. AU McGiva.
A/N: Written: 2007. Found: 2018.
C'est la vie is French for 'That's life' or 'that's how things happen'. So, two things regarding this story- yes, it's another one of those Pre-NCIS stories, that she wrote way back in 2007, so Ziva was just starting to become established on the show. If you've noticed, Zanie really, really liked to play with pre-NCIS What If? scenarios (Until You Are Home Again comes to my mind first), especially for her earlier works, and this seems to follow a tweaked version of the age timeline that Until You Are Home Again follows.
And second, this story is actually based in part around the music of that 1990s girl group B*Witched (anyone of our age group remember them?). From what I can tell and what I've read of her notes (because even back then, she kept detailed notes on every. single. written. story), she was pulling inspiration from the music she was listening too in regards to her writing. So, her writing, in part, is influenced by what she listened(s) to. So, just a recommendation, I suggest listening to at least the title's song while reading this, and maybe you'll get a glimpse into Zanie's writing process. And without further hesitation, I give you C'est La Vie.
- Licia
"Say you will, say you won't
Say you'll do what I don't
Say you're true, say to me, "C'est la vie"
- C'est La Vie,
B*Witched,
B*Witched album, 1998
Belfast International Airport,
Belfast,
Northern Ireland,
1997
"'Some people say I look like me dad.'"
He rolled his eyes, looking up from his book. She sat beside him, headphones in and walk man on her lap, singing along softly to the bubblegum pop song coming out of her headphones. She nodded her head in time with the beat of the song, either oblivious to or ignoring the glances she was getting from others waiting for new arrivals. Her long red hair was pulled back in two tight French braids down either side of her head, and occasionally, she'd either snap her gum or blow a bubble.
"D' ye 'ave t' sing along?"
She turned to him, pulling one of the phones off her ears. "Hmm? Ye say somethin', Timmy?"
The Irish pop band's first song from their just-dropped album bled through the phones, infiltrating his senses, and he wrinkled his nose. "I canna b'lieve ye still lis'en t'-" She took that moment to blow a giant pink bubble, and he took the opportunity to reach over and slam his palm into the sticky substance, causing it to stick to her nose and cheeks. "bubblegum pop. Ye're nearly fifteen, Sarah."
"I am fifteen, Timmy." She replied after having pulled the sticky sugar snack from her cheeks and nose and popping it back in her mouth. "I don't ask ye why ye still lis'en t' u2, an' ye're nearly seventeen."
"Tha's b'cause u2 is classic." He responded, turning his nose up in response. She rolled her eyes.
"There's 'er fligh'."
"B'sides, me taste in mus'c's a thousan' times b'tter than yers."
"Is no'! Jus' cause-"
"Tha's enough, both o' ye! Now g't ov'r 'ere. She'll b' steppin' off th' plane soon an' I will no' 'ave ye bick'ring in fron' o' our gues' like a couple o' 'ens."
The two teenagers hurried to join their parents, scanning the faces of the passengers disembarking from the flight. "'ow will we know wha' she looks like, Mams?" Sarah asked, headphones hanging round her neck, music paused.
"Easy, Sarah. She's a Jew."
"Timothy James Patrick McGee!"
The boy jumped as his sister smacked his arm, and his mother's voice rose several octaves. His father, the quieter one of his parents, just shook his head. He knew better than to step into the ensuing chaos; he would have a stern, firm talk with his son later, after the girl had joined them and they'd gone home, after dinner, before bed.
"Look! Is tha' 'er?" Sarah asked, and both her brother and mother turned in time to watch a young girl, not much older than Timothy, exit the terminal, pulling a small rolling suitcase behind her. A backpack was slung over her shoulder, and she wore a pair of jeans so worn the holes in the knees were patched over with colorful swatches of cloth. She had a light blue zip-up sweater on over a white tank top, and her hair was a chaotic mess of brown, wavy curls. She stopped, looking around, searching for someone. After a moment, their mother stepped forward.
"Excuse me." The girl turned to her. "Are ye... Ziva David?"
The girl watched her for a moment, brow furrowing.
"I don' think she und'rstands English." Sarah whispered, leaning towards her brother, who nodded, though he never took his eyes off the girl. She was the most fascinating creature he'd ever seen. The girl turned, catching his gaze, and after a moment, he broke it, blushing slightly in embarrassment that she'd caught him staring.
"Ye're th' girl tha's par' o' th' exchange program?" Kathleen asked, and after a moment, the girl nodded. "Ziva David, aye?"
Silence filled the awkwardness, before she finally spoke, exhausted brain having finally gotten up to speed. "Dah-vid." She put emphasis on the 'a' of her last name. "Ziva David." She awkwardly held out a hand, and Kathleen smiled softly at her, taking her hand gently and shaking.
"It's nice t' meet ye. I'm Kathleen McGee. Tis me 'usband, John, an' me chil'ren, Timothy an' Sarah."
John quickly shook her head, and the two teens- who looked to be not much older than her or around her age- waved awkwardly at her. As they left the airport, headed for the parking lot, Kathleen asked how her flight had gone, if she was hungry, if she was excited about starting the school year in a new country, where exactly in Israel she was from... the questions were quick and Ziva's soft answers quicker. As the three teens slid into the back of the car- Sarah on one side and Timothy on the other with their new guest in the middle, the boy finally spoke.
"Ziva Dah-vid?" She nodded. "Interesting name."
The car pulled out of the parking lot, and Sarah put her headphones back on before starting her music again. The other girl's gaze locked on his briefly, and she blushed, but she wasn't sure why. In the rear view mirror, Kathleen watched, feeling a small smile tug at her lips. "You can just call me Ziva."