Stories Threaded through Ashes of Red
Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Summary: "You will be my best friend forever, right..." At six-years-old, their simple game of house set off a chain of events that would dictate their lives, though neither knew it. It would chart the paths they would take, and seal the fates of their own flesh and blood. But in the end, after the dust settled and the game ended, they'd come out stronger for it, wouldn't they? McGiva. Sequel to Game of Love and Started With a Kiss. Enjoy.- Licia
Washington, D.C.,
The Navy Yard,
2029
"I wonder who the new director's going to be? God, I hope it's not Jarvis, he's such a bast-"
"Jarvis is the new SecNav, Tony. And I agree, but he's not the new director. Trust me."
"But how can you be sure, McGee?" Tim looked up from his work; Tony leaned back in his chair, tossing a baseball into the air and catching it.
"Isn't it obvious, Tony? If Jarvis were the new director, he'd be here by now-"
"I think it is Vance." Ziva announced, taking a sip of her coffee. Tony caught the baseball, sitting up.
"Vance? That pompous, overachieving-" But both Tim and Ziva slid their hands across their throats, having suddenly lost their voices.
"Pompous and overachieving what, Agent DiNozzo?" Tony turned, to find Vance standing behind the partition behind his desk.
"Did I say pompous and overachieving? I... I meant... particularly... outstanding..." He stopped, when Vance raised an eyebrow and then turned on his heel.
"Consider this a warning, Agent DiNozzo." Once he was gone, Tony relaxed, sinking back into his chair.
"Thanks for backing me up, you two." He muttered, returning to tossing his baseball.
Jenny had been killed in a shootout with a group of... well, to be honest, no one was really sure who had killed Jenny... out in the Nevada desert a few months earlier. Since then, the agency had been getting used to the search for a new director, and had finally settled on former Agent Leon Vance- the first African American Director of the agency. Of course, his first course of action had been to try and split the MCRT up- sending Tim to Cyber Crimes and Tony to Agent Afloat, and trying- unsuccessfully- to send Ziva back to Israel. Of course, once Gibbs realized, he'd put his foot down, informing Vance that Ziva had been an American citizen since two-thousand-fourteen. He'd then managed- using his 'Gibbs powers' as Tony often joked- to get Tim back from Cyber Crimes and Tony from Agent Afloat.
That had been two weeks ago, and the team had since fallen back into their old routines, as though no time had passed at all.
"Either of you heard from Cookie recently?" Tony asked, tossing the ball to Ziva, who quickly threw it back; the ball bounced off the wall behind him, narrowly missing Tony's ear. "Jeez, no need to be so rough, Momma Mossad."
The Israeli glared at him, before sitting back and taking a sip of her coffee. "No, we have not heard from Shirah." Ziva replied; only Tony called their oldest daughter 'Cookie'- for some unknown reason that neither could figure out and that Tony wouldn't- or couldn't- explain. Born in late two-thousand-nine, a few months after her mother's Aunt Nettie passed away, Shirah was the oldest of Tim and Ziva's three daughters, an archaeology student at Tel Aviv University, on a full scholarship in her great-aunt's name. The twenty-year-old had come home for Hanukkah and Christmas, and then returned to Israel for school.
The elevator doors opened and Gibbs came out, coffee in hand. He took a seat at his desk; cold cases had filled the day, and the team- or, the three younger members of the team- were dying for a case, anything to get them out of the monotony of rechecking facts that had already been checked a thousand times-
Once more, the elevator doors dinged open, but none of them looked up. Footsteps quickly made their way across the carpeted floor, before stopping in the bullpen. Someone cleared their throat, and Tony looked up. "Yon-Yon!" He leapt to his feet, moving quickly around his desk towards the eighteen-year-old.
"Hi Uncle Tony." Yonah, Tim and Ziva's middle daughter, wrapped the agent in a hug, allowing him to lift her slightly off the ground. A recent high school graduate, Yoni- as her friends and family called her- had decided on a degree in social work... but more along the lines of international aide. Though she had originally considered a career in the arts- for she and both her sisters had inherited their mother's voice- the girl had left the performing to her baby sister.
"Where's Nara?" Tony asked, setting the girl back on her feet.
"Where do you think? Down at check-in, trying to get Mick to give her her guitar back."
"Why does your sister insist on carrying that thing around anyway?" Tony asked, referring to the acoustic Gibbs had made the girl for her thirteenth birthday.
Nara had loved it, and immediately started lessons, forcing her parents and sisters to suffer through the wrong notes, untuned chords and occasional relief as a string snapped- which immediately prompted the girl to break down and come running to her father, begging for him to take it to Gibbs so he could fix it for her, the man was that skilled with his hands. But now, at sixteen, the baby of the family was actually pretty good. So good- and brilliant- she'd graduated high school a year early, as her father had, and somehow managed to get into the American Academy of Performing Arts in New York.
"Because she insists that when 'inspiration strikes then she needs to be able to play it.'" Yoni replied, air-quoting her sister with a sarcastic roll of her grey-green eyes. "I do not see why she cannot just write everything down, it would be much easier."
"Because I do not like writing everything down. Shi is the writer, not me." Yoni turned as the girl in question hurried toward her, guitar case in hand. After giving Tony a quick hug, she made her way to Gibbs's desk, laying the case on the floor and opening it up. She then held the guitar out to him; one string had curled back on itself, having snapped at some point. "Can you fix it, Gibbs? Please?"
The Team Leader chuckled, reaching for the guitar and case. "I'll see what I can do, kiddo." Nara instantly relaxed.
"Toda." Once relieved, she rushed to her father, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Shalom, Abba." She then bounded over to Ziva, doing the same. "Ima, do you know when Shi is coming home?"
Ziva turned to her daughter as Tony returned to his seat; Yoni followed, perching on the edge of his desk. She worried her lip briefly, glancing at Tim, who sighed and sat back. "I don't think Shirah's going to be able to make it home, girls." He replied, getting up and going to Ziva's desk. Yoni raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure, Abba?" She asked, playing innocent. Tim glanced at her as she got up, going to him. He wrapped her in a hug, kissing her forehead.
"Of course I'm sure, baby girl." Neither Tim nor Ziva heard the elevator doors open and someone get out. Yoni snuggled into her father's side, glancing at Nara.
"But are you absolutely, positively, completely sure that Shi is not coming home, Abba?"
Tim furrowed a brow, glancing quickly at his wife before pulling away from his middle daughter. "Of course I'm-"
Ziva choked on a gasp, causing Tim to turn.