Back To December
Ziva was sitting at her desk in the MCRT bullpen. The team didn't have a case and she had already finished all of her paperwork for the moment. It was only noon. She was about to leave for lunch when a man entered the bullpen. It was Malachi.
"Ziva," he called out. She looked up as did the rest of her team. "I…"
"Malachi, what are you doing here?" She sounded angry. The rest of the team looked it. Gibbs looked about ready to shoot him and Tony and McGee were ready to jump to her aid at a moment's notice.
"I know you do not want to see me, but I must give you this," He handed her an envelope. Her name was written on the front of it in what looked to be her father's handwriting. She opened it.
Ziva,
Thank you for actually reading this letter. How are you and how it your team? I haven't seen either of you since you all saved my life. I still am appreciative of that. I hope you are good and I know that that agency is making good use of your talents. I hope the weather is as good in DC as it can be. But, look at me I am stalling. I know you probably do not want to read this letter, but I am glad that you are. You see, I gave specific instructions to give this letter to you only if I was dead, and if you are reading this that must be the case. I hope that you will come to the funeral, but I do not have high hopes that you will. I hurt you, very badly, and I hope you know that was not my intention. Throughout your training I was trying to strengthen you, make you strong enough to handle everything. I wanted you, Ziva, to become a powerful woman in this world, not another man's door mat. You showed me love and affection, and I fazed it all out and never showed them same to you. I realize now that that was a mistake. On the inside, I was pained because I couldn't show you affection. On the inside, Ziva, I was so very proud of you, so very proud to call you my daughter. I also need to tell you that I did look for you while you were in Somalia. I am just not as good as your team at NCIS. All I am trying to say to you, Zivalah, is that I am so sorry. I look back on your childhood and only feel pain in my heart for not treating you better. I should have done that and I am sorry I didn't. I sent you to America all those years ago to strengthen you further, but now I realize that it was the final step to losing you completely. I am so very sorry, Ziva, and I do understand if you do not want to come the he funeral. But please, as a dead man's final wish, please find it somewhere in your heart to forgive me.
Love,
Your father
"Oh my…" Ziva trailed off with tear stains on her cheeks.
"Ziver?" Gibbs called to her questioningly. She looked up at him. "What's happened?"
"He is dead Gibbs," Ziva was barely able to choke out. "E… my father is dead." She finished with a sob and Gibbs held her as she cried. "I… I have to go to the funeral, Gibbs. I do not care how much you object to it, but I am going."
"I know," He responded. "And we're going with you." Tim and Tony, who had made their way to stand by Ziva's desk, nodded in agreement.
"I am sorry, Agent Gibbs, but you cannot do that," Malachi objected. Ziva jumped slightly because she had forgotten he was there. "I have strict orders from Mossad. If Ziva is to come back she is to be under Mossad protection at all times. If she must, she can bring one escort."
"But… I… Please Malachi," she pathetically begged.
Malachi looked at her. He had never, emphasis on ever, seen her look this sad. Hell, he had never even seen her cry. "I'm sorry Ziva. It was your father's last wishes. I cannot disobey them."
"Alright, I will not argue," On shaking legs, she stood. "I am going to go down and talk to Abby and Ducky, they deserve to know. I do not want to choose who comes with me. Can you please decide amongst yourselves who. I do want one of you to some but… I do not want to choose only one." She fled from the bullpen and headed towards the elevator. Malachi followed.