It hasn't been easy. Losing your father wouldn't be easy for anyone, not by a long shot, but for Ziva it was especially hard. She'd spent so long not knowing how to feel about Eli David, he'd left her alone in Somalia, and let's face it, he let his only living daughter become a trained assassin, something that Ziva couldn't decide was a blessing or a curse. He'd done her so much wrong, and now he's gone, just like that. The director of Mossad was dead.
Ziva did what she could to mask her emotions as usual. She didn't want to be a burden on anyone, and besides, showing emotion was a weakness, telling anyone how she truly felt made her vulnerable and exposed. Ziva went to work when allowed, her emotional state still being evaluated, of course. She acted as she usually did, carried on her job as special agent under the order of Special Agent Gibbs and alongside Agents McGee and Dinozzo. Dinozzo. Had Tony seen through her mask? If anyone had, it would most definitely be him.
Dinozzo. Did she want him to see through it? Did she want him to see how she was truly feeling, offer a few words and a movie night? Ziva didn't know. Her feelings were so mixed up lately, she'd just buried her father for crying out loud, but throughout her whole trip to Israel, Ziva thought about Tony. His farewell hug hadn't seemed like a hug that partners would exchange, and his words, his Hebrew. He'd been practicing. "You are not alone... Aht to leh-vahd." Ziva whispered aloud, the words bouncing around her empty apartment like gunshots, shattering the quiet of her living room as she lay under a pile of blankets. She wrapped the blankets more tightly around her body hoping to block her never ceasing mind from continuing to produce such Tony consumed thoughts.
A knock at the door disturbed her lazy Sunday dive into her mind, and she hustled to release herself from her cocoon and take a quick glance through the peephole. "Great..." She muttered softly.