A/N: Okay, so this is my first NCIS fanfiction. Love that show... Anyways, this is my attempt at one. Please tell me what you think. I know I probably have a million and one things wrong with my history, but bear with me. It flows better this way. (But, if I do get something wrong, I'd love to know so that I can fix it if it was unintentional)
She was a beautiful girl. She had delicate features and long black hair. And he loved her. He loved the taste of her flawless olive skin and the tantalizing smell of her hair. But, most of all, he loved that she was his. She had given him two beautiful daughters. The younger daughter took after her mother's spirit while the older one took after her in appearance. His younger daughter was sweet, popular, and always wanted peace. His other daughter was just as sweet but accepted that sometimes violence had to be fought with violence.
That was before their mother died.
He was terrified when she died. He could barely breath when he heard the news. His younger daughter fought harder for peace while his older daughter grew colder. One used burning passion while the other used cold fury to deal with their mother's death. What did he do? He sent them away. His youngest joined peace rallies when she was ten while her sister learned to sing, dance, and act. Both of them yearned for their father's love and attention. He tried, he really did, but he couldn't look at his older daughter. She looked too much like her mother. It hurt to see her smile because all he could see was his wife in her beautiful face. So he never allowed himself to see her smile. He did anything he could to stop remembering his dead wife.
The day his youngest turned sixteen, she went off with some friends. His older girl stayed home with her half-brother. The two of them were "too mature" to go out with the child. He loved his little girl. He could love her so easily... She looked only a small bit like her mother. But, she had grown up too fast. Her young, innocent life was snuffed out when she was 16. Killed by a suicide bomber.
His remaining daughter was devastated: the child that she helped raise when her father couldn't even take care of himself was dead. So she dealt with it as best as she could. She grew colder and harder. She barely spoke a word for two weeks. It hurt him to see her like that. And, for the first time, he was there for her. He could tell her how much he loved her. She never smiled so he never saw his wife in her face. He knew it was selfish, but he just couldn't bear the pain. She went back to Mossad and he was shocked that she was ready. All he could remember was the day he saw her application on his desk. He cried for almost an hour. He didn't want her hurt. But he never told her, so he worried every day and everytime he heard from her, he breathed a sigh of relief.
She was his baby, his whole world. And she was all he had left of her mother. He worried during every assignment, couldn't sleep during stakeouts, and he could barely breathe every time she went undercover. A few years later, his son was killed. Her half brother.
To his surprise, he was glad that it wasn't her lying dead in that coffin. He silently mourned the loss of his son. His little girl, bless her, tried to report to him without crying. In the end, he just stood up and held her close. She sobbed into his shoulder. The pair attended his son's funeral in all black. They buried him in a lonely cemetery in Israel. He wasn't buried next to his half sister or step mother. Shortly afterwards, his little girl transferred to work as a liaison officer to NCIS. He apporoved immediately, wanting to keep her out of Mossad's dangers. He would never tell her this, though, even if threatened.
And now he stood there, blood on his hands, crying. He had lost another one. The woman's brown eyes were lifeless and her skin cold to the touch. He dried his tears, mentally breating himself for his moment of weakness.
That's when the police broke down the door and called NCIS.
A/N: Please tell me what you think! I'd love to hear from you. :)