19

A/N: Some of the fun of this story was talking about Israel. I spent a couple of weeks there a few years ago. I thought it was magical. One of the reviewers referred to the fact that Rebekah would undoubtedly know about skype and that Israel is not a backwards nation. It is certainly is not. If you are reading this story carefully, you know that setting up video conferencing is not why Rebekah wants to see Tim. It's her excuse to see him, not her motivation. I have the utmost respect for the nation of Israel and I cannot wait until I have an opportunity to visit there again. Let me know what you think about the story, positive or critical. Sheila

Waiting for One Day

Part 2 of 2

McGee slept on the plane almost the entire way. Instead of being a man returning from a four-week respite, he found himself exhausted from the many motivations of the David family. He never really knew what he was doing there nor did he ever understand what would happen next.

He landed in D. C. at four a.m. and was surprised to find Gibbs waiting at the baggage claim. A smile spread across his face. "Boss! I didn't think you knew my flight number."

Gibbs allowed a grin. "A cab to Silver Springs at this time of the morning would cost you a pretty penny."

McGee shrugged. "I was going to go straight to work. I thought Ziva could drive me home afterward."

"Really?"

"I slept all the way across the Atlantic. Figured I could get a shower at the office. Kind of miss being in the bullpen."

"That's music to my ears, McGee. I got a pile of people doing your work, and none seems to understand what they're doing."

Tim chuckled. "Okay. Let's go and fix it."

Gibbs slapped him on the back. "Good to have you home, Tim."

'Thanks Boss."

…..

Abby tackled him like a linebacker and Tony was almost as exuberant. Ziva was the surprise. She stayed back, and if he didn't know better, he would've thought she was being shy. It was later in the day when he was working doggedly on his computer that she came up behind him, leaned over, and kissed him softly on the cheek. "I missed you."

He froze for a moment, his gut filling with feelings he'd never allowed himself. Then he reached over and grabbed her hand. "I missed you too."

"Will you tell me all about your trip?"

He smiled. "I was hoping for a ride home."

She lightly brushed her cheek against his. "Good! We'll pick up takeout and talk about everything."

She left him and he struggled to regain his concentration.

"McGee!"

He looked up, blinking.

Gibbs was in front of him frowning. "Have you figured out what those cyber maniacs did yet? We're standing around like a bunch of idiots with nothing to do until you find those bank records!"

"On it, Boss."

…

They didn't finish until almost midnight, and so there was no take out or sharing of stories. They ate pizza in the bullpen, and then Ziva drove him home while he snored with his face plastered against the passenger side window.

He tumbled out of her car, pulling his luggage up to his apartment. The rooms smelled stale, and so he propped open a couple of windows. He swung his suitcase on the bed and started digging for toiletries. Suddenly, he felt something unexpected and he pulled out the book of poems that Rebekah had given him. He stared at it in confusion. Two nights ago, he couldn't find it anywhere, and he knew he never put it in his luggage, but there it was. He paged through it and a small card fell out. "Please read and try to understand what I can not say to you. My love to you, Rebekah."

He sat down on the bed, his exhaustion temporarily forgotten, and looked it over. It was a book of poems from a small publishing house in London. The author, Adina Cohen, was not a name with whom he was familiar. He went to his computer and googled her name. There was more than one Adina Cohen, but after a bit, he found an Adina Cohen in her twenties who was teaching creative writing part time at a liberal arts college outside of London. This was the woman who wrote the book. The only picture he could find was the same one on the back of the book: a young blonde woman with curly hair. While he didn't recognize her, the more he looked, the more familiar she seemed to him.

He lay down on the bed and opened the book to the first poem, and for the first time since he was seven years old, Tim McGee didn't brush his teeth at bedtime.

….

McGee read until nearly four in the morning. Pure exhaustion finally took over and he fell asleep with the book on his chest. He slept through two alarms before he finally woke. When he got up, he felt numb, but it wasn't from lack of sleep. It was from the poem he read on page 37 about a fierce young woman with dark hair. He'd read it at least ten times.

McGee was no stranger to poetry. Poetry classes had been some of the most joy filled learning he'd ever had. He loved the story told in words rather than sentences. Never straightforward, a good poem allowed the reader to feel beauty with a set of carefully placed words.

He was worried that he was forcing page 37 tell him a story he wanted to hear rather than the story intended. There was so way to know the truth of it without reading the rest of the book so he placed it in his backpack as he rushed out the door.

The case was wrapped up by early afternoon. Tony proposed a happy hour as it was a Friday, but McGee wanted nothing more than to unlock the mysteries in Adina Cohen's poems. He also had Ziva eager for all of the details of his trip to her homeland.

DiNozzo was sent packing with promises of a team happy hour right after the holidays. After he was gone, Ziva enveloped McGee in a hug. "Please have enough energy to have dinner with me tonight. I was at the farmer's market at 5:30 a.m. picking out vegetables. I would love to show you what Marta has taught me."

He felt like a fourteen year old with his first crush. He'd never allowed emotions about Ziva to surface, but everything felt sideways since his time in Israel. He wasn't sure what the rules were anymore. "I would love that."

She smiled. "Let's go."

…

It wasn't Marta's hummus, but it was better than any he'd ever had in this country. Then she made the most beautiful beet salad and some lamb kebobs. Ziva hardly ate herself. She sat, her face on propped elbows, asking for story after story. She laughed when he told her about Raveed at the nightclub, and she wanted every detail of his time with her aunt Rebekah. He mentioned that Rebekah gave him a book of poetry, but it seemed to spark nothing in her and so he didn't say anything about its ability to disappear and then re-appear in his luggage.

He helped her clear dishes, and then she led him over to the couch. "I know you're tired, but it means so much to hear these stories. It is almost like I'm there."

"Ziva, do you know someone named Adina Cohen."

Ziva shook her head. "Is she with Mossad?"

"She's a poet, and she wrote a poem that reminds me of you."

She shrugged. "No, I don't know her, but that's very sweet that you found something in a poem that reminded you of me. I like that."

McGee thought about telling her more, but it still felt like a series of unconnected ideas. Instead, he just smiled. "Your family took good care of me, Ziva. They made me feel special."

She sighed and cupped his chin. "You are special."

"Like a brother," he said watching her carefully.

She dropped her hand from his face. "Initially, yes. Like a brother."

"It changed?"

She took his hand. "Sometimes, something profound happens so gradually that you literally don't know it's occurring. One minute, you're the brother I thought I lost, and then I wake up one day and you're more than that. My aunt Rebekah helped me see it. I think that's why they stole you away. I think they needed to see for themselves. I know my aunt doesn't have much time, and I believe she needed to know that I was in good hands before she left us."

His green eyes searched her face. "This is new to me, Ziva."

She nodded. "I worried about this: A man like you with a woman like me. Could you love the assassin?"

"Look at me." McGee moved closer. "Can you be satisfied with the geek? I want a family. I want to grow old with one woman. I'm reliable and loyal, but I'm not exciting. How long can a man like me keep your attention?"

She cocked her head. "You don't trust me."

"I trust you but I don't trust this. You are a woman built for fantasies. I've probably pictured you with your clothes off about 35,000 times as has every other man you've ever known."

"At the very least, I know you are attracted to me."

McGee let out a deep breath. "It's impossible not to be."

"Will you think about this?"

He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her into him. At first, he let his mouth only brush against hers. Then he lightly bit her bottom lip and she groaned. He kissed her, and she responded warmly. There was nothing frantic about this moment. It was like savoring the first taste of a very fine wine.

Ziva smiled into his kiss. He noticed and broke away. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. It was lovely. Sweet. It makes me happy."

He stroked the hair away from her face. "Can sweet keep your attention for very long?"

"Stop thinking so hard." She pulled him in again, kissing him deeply.

Within minutes, she was straddling him and he was pulling her shirt over her head. Then images of the mysterious Adina Cohen appeared and he broke away, breathing hard.

"Something wrong?"

He gently extricated himself and got up, buttoning his shirt. "Tired, I guess. And you and I have a lot to think about."

"I like where my thoughts are taking me."

He blushed. "You're amazing, Ziva. I'm a little overwhelmed by it all."

She got up and wrapped her arms around him. "You are equally amazing."

He hugged her tightly. "Boy, are you making it hard to leave?"

She pulled away and put a hand on his chest. "No, you should go. You're right. We need to take this slow. I want this to be the real thing."

…..

Thoughts swirling of a naked Ziva on top of visions of a minor blonde poet haunted his dreams, but jet lag and nights of inadequate sleep combined to keep him sleeping until mid-morning on Saturday. He got up feeling drugged until he had a shower and a cup of coffee. Then he settled into an armchair by the window with a notepad and Adina Cohen's book and started reading. The poems had different themes, but McGee knew he'd find out a lot about this poet in her words. Five hours later, he got up to stretch his legs and review his work. On the notepad, he wrote themes he found in the poems; specifically, he looked for patterns that were repeated. It was a form of hermeneutics he'd learned from a cryptologist friend.

Two lives was definitely the right title for the book. Adina described a childhood with a loving sister and mother and a distant brother and father. There was another family that she described as "ersatz" or fake family. Many of the poems dealt with the loss of her first family. There were few clues about how she went from one family to the next other than a reference to "living in hospitals" and "learning new names".

Adina's sense of loss and secrecy was punctuated throughout every poem. A picture was forming for McGee that was both exciting and frightening. Rebekah wanted him to read this book badly. Eli David was equally desperate to control her time with him. He understood that Rebekah needed him to solve a puzzle, and he knew that Eli David was threatened by what he might find. There was danger involved in angering the head of the Mossad, but he couldn't back off. The solution to this puzzle could bring happiness to Ziva and that meant everything to him.

McGee needed more than what he could find in the thin book of poems. He stuffed the book in his backpack and headed to the office.

…

Gibbs found the bullpen empty Sunday afternoon, but as looked at McGee's desk, he found telltale signs of habitation. They didn't have a case, and cold cases didn't warrant weekend time at the office. He knew to come because he had an arrangement with the guards at the front gate that they would contact him whenever one of his people went in on the weekend stayed more than 12 hours. McGee was currently clocked in at almost 24 hours.

He wandered down to Abby's lab and found McGee sitting in a chair staring off into space.

"Tim."

McGee looked up. "They must have called you. I broke at least four protocols and maybe three of your rules."

Gibbs let out a breath. "So you've been busy. How about you update me as to your crimes?"

"I hacked Mossad, used facial recognition software for non case specific purposes, used Interpol for non case specific purposes—"

"Okay. Enough with the confessing. What the hell is going on?"

McGee sighed. "Ziva's aunt, Rebekah, gave me a puzzle to solve; one that Eli David doesn't want solved."

Gibbs grabbed a chair and sat. "Well, that's sounds ominous."

McGee passed him the book he was holding in his lap. "I think this book was written by Ziva's sister, Talia."

"Not possible. Talia David died in a suicide bombing when she was sixteen."

McGee shook his head. "I don't think she died. I think she was injured, and I think Eli David saw an opportunity to remove one of his children from danger and he took it. I think he sent her to live in London, changed her name, and gave her a new family."

"How do you know all this?"

"A lot of it is in this book. The author's poetry tells the story."

"Come on, Tim. You better be basing this on more than just a bunch of poems."

"Yeah, I found a picture of Talia in Ziva's desk and put it through facial recognition software with the face on the back of the book jacket. Both photos are pretty grainy and the resolution is poor, but I got a 89% match which is pretty amazing, actually."

Gibbs shook his head. "That's not conclusive."

"There is no record of Adina Cohen in Great Britain until she showed up at 17 years old. The family adopted her as an Israeli orphan. The only thing left to do is to go there and get a DNA sample. That'll prove it."

"Eli David hid her for a reason."

"I know. In her poetry, she talks about not being cut from the same cloth as her sister or her brother. In essence, she says she lacks the drive and the courage that they had. She is the artist of the family. In one poem, she talks about disappointing her father because her only real skill is loving people."

"David is not going to like it if you reveal this secret to the world. You could be putting her life in danger, Tim."

"It's not my decision to make. It's Ziva's. Can you imagine what this would mean to her? She's lost everyone even her father. What if she could have her sister again? I think about how much Sarah means to me. What a gift it would be."

"You have to tread lightly here. This is powerful stuff."

"I was just trying to get up the courage to go and talk to her about it."

You're the best one for it. She really cares about you, you know."

McGee dropped his eyes. "She, uh seems to have feelings…for me."

"I know."

"I didn't. Not sure what to make of it to tell you the truth."

"You have feelings for her too."

"There's rule 12."

"Yeah," Gibbs got up. "That's mostly for guys like DiNozzo. Without rule 12, he would've bedded half the females in the agency."

"Boss?"

"The two of you deserve happiness too damn much to let this opportunity go by. She needs someone safe and loving like you, and you need someone who can love you as fiercely as she can. Make it happen, Tim."

"You mean it?"

Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah, I mean it. Go. I'll stay here and backtrack all of these unauthorized protocols you broke."

…..

When she opened her door, she was already crying. McGee cocked his head. "Ziva, what happened?"

She took a moment to breath. "I just got a call from Raveed. My sweet auntie has passed."

"Oh no!" He gathered her up in his arms and rocked her gently. "I didn't realize it would be so soon."

"She was hiding it from all of us. I should've gone to Israel to see her."

"No, Ziva," he whispered into her hair. "She didn't want that. She knew you weren't ready. She told me it was enough to just see your beautiful face again on the computer."

"She understood me so well. My dear aunt Rebekah."

McGee led her over to the couch and pulled her down with him. She laid her head on his chest and sobbed while he rubbed her back. "Take your time, honey. Take your time."

The sun started to set in the late afternoon before her sobs settled into measured breathing again. Tim stayed with her the whole time, stroking her hair and telling her that it would all be all right.

"Ziva," he said finally. "Your aunt Rebekah left something for you."

She raised her head and looked at him quizzically. He pulled the book of poetry out of his backpack and handed it to her. She looked it over and stopped at the author's picture on the back. Then she looked up at Tim. "Is it possible? How did she find her?"

He blinked in surprise. "Ziva, did you know Talia was alive?"

Ziva closed her eyes. "At the funeral, there were no bodies to view. My father told me that the damage to my mother and Talia was too great. I believed him. Then a year after the suicide bombing I was in training with someone who had been an ambulance driver on the scene. He said that the ambulance with the girl inside was diverted to a clinic outside of Tel Aviv. He complained that it had taken him hours to get her there, all because a high-ranking government official didn't want to use a city hospital. I thought about it. Looked over the reports. I figured it had to have been Talia. I never questioned my father. I knew he would lie to me, but I was grateful to him. It was the best thing for Talia. She was not built for the life of Mossad, and any other life would've been a short one. As long as my father headed Mossad, we are all targets. I wasn't trained to be Mossad to be sacrificed to the cause. I was trained so that I could survive being a David."

"You knew all these years she was alive, but you never looked for her."

"When I was Mossad, I was a danger to her. And as long as our father is alive, there will always be groups that try to take revenge on our family. To have contact with her now means putting her at risk. I try not to think about her. It makes my heart ache to know that she's out there and I can't be with her."

Her delicate hands massaged the book as if something precious. "She wrote this?"

"I believe she did."

"Rebekah told you?"

"No, she told me to read the book, and when I did, I found parts of you in there. There is a poem about you in it. That's how I knew."

Ziva looked into his eyes. "You found me in a poem. This is what I want, Tim. I want someone who can see and feel beauty like you can. I need your kindness and your sensitivity. I need a man like you to teach me how to be whole."

He kissed her forehead. "You already are whole and Talia knows it. On page 37, she writes, 'her eyes were fierce like bullets, her heart sang only for her homeland, but her soul was as soft as the dark curls I used to grab at with my little hands.'"

"Tali," she whispered, new tears filling her eyes.

He took the book out of her hands. "You just lay here, and I'll read to you."

She curled up in his lap and he pulled an afghan from the back of the couch, covering her. He no longer felt anything awkward about what was happening between himself and Ziva. "Let's start with that poem on page 37, and then we'll go to beginning and read them all."

….

McGee woke in her bed, his arms wrapped around her securely. It was not a night for memories. Ziva was too exhausted, and he was too overwhelmed about what was possible between them. He sat up and noticed that she still clutched Adina's book to her chest. In the beginning, he had only known her as an assassin, but now her heart was apparent in all of her actions. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him. "Where are you going?"

"Home for a shower and a change. Pack for the hotel. Then to work. Tony flew out yesterday to meet his father in Barbados and you need to rest. Boss and I will hold things down for the day."

"Tonight is Christmas Eve."

"You'll be joining Sarah and I for our D.C. hotel stay-cation, right?"

"I'm not much fun."

He leaned into her face. "If you are there, it will be the most special Christmas I've ever had."

She touched his face lightly with her fingertips before pulling him down for a kiss. "That is something I very much want to give you."

….

"You're sure about this, Boss?"

"I checked it out with Vance. Satellites are going to be pretty quiet today other than the ones engaged in tracking Santa Claus. See what you can find."

McGee grinned and headed up to MTAC. Gibbs stood up and saw McGee's phone still on his desk. He picked it up and looked for recent contacts.

…..

Ziva seemed bewildered when she showed up in the bullpen early evening on Christmas Eve. The room was deserted save Gibbs at his desk. He looked up as she approached. "How you doing, Ziva? I heard about your aunt Rebekah."

"I am okay. Thanks for asking, Gibbs."

"Looking for Tim?"

"He texted me to come here. We got a case?"

"Nope. He's up in MTAC."

She started to leave, but then she turned. "Gibbs, what will you be doing tonight? I know Christians find this an important night to be with those you love. Would you like to join Tim, Sarah, and me? We're going to be in downtown D.C."

He grinned. "I got plans."

"You sure?"

"Yep. I'll be too busy to hang out tonight."

She walked over to his desk, hesitated, then reached down and kissed him on the cheek. "Have a happy holiday, Gibbs."

He leaned back and watched her go up the stairs to MTAC. Holidays were always hard. Too many memories. Too many regrets. Yet, there was something about this holiday that made him feel like there was room for new memories and new possibilities. He grabbed his coat and took off.

…

Ziva logged into MTAC and was surprised to find it empty. She was used to it being a room teeming with activity. She went down the stairs and found McGee to be the sole occupant. "We're supposed to be downtown. Sarah will be wondering where we are."

McGee reached for his phone and found it missing. "I left it downstairs. Don't worry. Sarah is used to me being late. She doesn't even call anymore. Knowing her, she's ordered a bottle of wine and is playing on her laptop."

"What's going on?"

"Sit down. I have something to show you."

Ziva sat cautiously. "Please let this not be my father, Tim. I am not ready to speak with him right now."

"It's not your dad." Tim took the remote and clicked the screen. The giant screen played on a park in a neighborhood. The buildings and streets suggested that it wasn't an American neighborhood. The satellite was focused on one of the brownstones that edged the park.

"What are we watching?"

"It's not live. We pointed a satellite at it for the afternoon and captured this about an hour ago."

A woman opened the door and came out, her wavy honey blonde hair framing her face. Ziva's breath caught. "Tali."

Talia reached inside and took a small hand. Out came a little girl with raven curls in a checkered coat. Ziva's hand flew to her mouth.

Talia walked down the stairs slowly so the little girl could walk beside her. They walked across the street together, and then the little girl pointed at the swings. Talia let go of her hand and the little girl ran to the swings. She pulled herself onto the seat and called to her mother. Talia laughed and then grabbed the chains pulling the child back and letting go. The little girl's legs flew up in the air as she swung back and forth, her hair flying in the wind behind her.

Tim leaned over. "The little girl's name is Ziva."

Ziva closed her eyes as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"It's okay. She's safe. Only Gibbs and I know where she is."

Ziva stumbled out of her chair and walked up to the screen, crouching in front of it while she studied her sister and her niece. The two of them played on the swings for about ten minutes until a man called from the door to the brownstone. Talia turned her head and waved. She pulled little Ziva off the swing and into her arms. Then she headed back home, the girl's arms wrapped around her neck. The little girl grabbed her mother's hair in her little hands. Ziva gasped at the memory of Talia's fingers in her own hair. Then the satellite went blank.

Ziva sat and stared at the dark screen. "Can I see it again?"

"I made a copy for you. You can watch it as many times as you can stand."

She turned to him. "She looked happy."

"I thought so too."

"One day."

"Maybe your father will retire soon. Then he won't be so relevant."

She shook her head. "Never. He doesn't know how." She cocked her head. "She really named her daughter, Ziva?"

"I found her birth certificate just this afternoon. She's almost four years. Her birthday is next month."

She swallowed, trying to contain another flood of tears. "Then we'll celebrate it. And we'll keep celebrating it here until one day we can celebrate it with her."

For a moment, it felt like his heart had burst. "Ziva, you are the most extraordinary woman I've ever known."

…..

Touching her was natural now. He wanted to keep his hands on her forever. It was impossible to be near her and not be in contact. Ziva seemed to crave the same. She leaned into him as the elevator rose. At the door to the suite, he stopped to kiss her. Their passion would have to wait until Sarah was gone. McGee opened the door and found the room dark. He flipped a light and frowned at Ziva. "I thought she would've been here a few hours ago."

He checked both bedrooms, but they were empty. Ziva saw the message light on the phone blinking and picked it up. She listened and put it down. "That was a message from Sarah. She hopes you are not angry, but she says she got an offer she couldn't refuse. She'll be here tomorrow sometime."

"It's probably that grad student that she's been talking about."

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "That means it's just you and me tonight."

McGee offered his hand and she took it and smiled. "You're so sweet."

"Wait 'til I get you into the bedroom," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. McGee hesitated for a moment as he had no idea how he was going to satisfy such an extraordinary creature.

Then he looked down into her eyes and realized something. The love she had for him wasn't about who he could be; it was about who he already was. McGee didn't have to be anyone new to make her happy. She wanted the geek the way he was: sincere, sweet, and overly bright. She wanted a man not overly consumed with his ego or needs. She wanted him just the way he was. The beauty of it filled him, and he swept her up into his arms and then buried his face in her neck.

…

"Seriously? She's hot for my brother."

"Yeah. Why is it such a mystery that your brother is a good catch?"

Sarah McGee looked up from the truck she painting yellow. "He's a geek, Gibbs."

Gibbs reached for more parts on the table and started assembling another sailboat. "He's a good man; the kind of man I would've wanted for Kelly. Ziva deserves a good man like that."

She nodded. "He is a good guy."

"Whoa! Be careful that you don't get that yellow on the wheels. We don't have time to repaint them."

"I can't believe I am spending Christmas in your basement painting toys."

"Hey, Santa needed an elf, and I figured those two could use a little alone time."

"How many Marine families are you making toys for?"

"Well Elf, you and I will be making 23 stops tonight. All families with deployed parents. We'll probably be finished sometime around 6 a.m."

"You owe me the best breakfast money can buy in the morning."

"How about eggs and bacon at Chez Gibbs?"

She rolled her eyes. "Scratch that. We're going to the Ritz-Carlton for brunch tomorrow. Mom's buying."

He frowned. "Sounds like a lot of heavy sauces and fancy desserts."

"There will be a prime rib there cut to order as rare as you like it."

He smiled. "Now, you're talking."

Sarah turned the truck over and started on the bottom.

"Hey McGee, be careful! You're painting outside the lines again!"

…

The End