(Tony's POV)
She's not fine. I know her face as well as my own and she's in pain. Maybe not physically, but definitely mentally.
"Come on," I say, taking her arm and leading her to the staff room. It's practically a ghost town at this time of day, right after lunch but too soon for dinner. She follows me, not resisting. Usually, Ziva would make some attempt to resist me pulling her anywhere, this is how I know she is not fine.
"Sit," I say, going over to the coffee machine and emptying the remains of the jug into a Styrofoam cup. I push the cup across the table at her, "Drink. Then spill. Your secret, not the coffee." I say, trying for a lame joke, but it falls on deaf ears.
" I am sorry. I did not mean for you to find me like that." She begins quietly.
"What is it Ziva? You can tell me anything, you know that." I say gently, trying to be nice, But here's the incredible thing, Ziva gets angry.
"That is just it though, I cannot. Because you will judge me, just like everybody else did, just like my father." She shouts, standing up and pushing her chair back.
"I'm not your father, Ziva. I could never judge you. Please, sit back down." I say, trying to hide the desperation in my voice.
She obliges, and starts to finger the cup, "I had a daughter, before I came to NCIS. Her name was Tali."
I hear my sharp intake of breath, "Your sister?"
Ziva nods, "That's who she was named for. Now Tony, I am going to tell you the story. Please do not interrupt until I am done." I nod, I'm not about to interrupt the most personal thing she will ever say to me.
"Five years ago, just before I came to NCIS, I had a daughter, her name was Tali. We lived in Tel Aviv. Her father was Mossad, I met him through the Kidon unit. His name was Eli Shavell. Eli was smart, sweet, gentle, he had the same name as my father but that was where the similarities ended. He was everything my father should have been.
"We were young and in love, this was ten years ago. I fell pregnant unexpectedly but to us, it was a blessing. I was twenty-two, so was he. I had been working in Kidon for quite some time and had grown customed to the violence and hopelessness. But I was determined to have my child in a safe environment. I left Kidon for a while. Eli and I found a beautiful house, and were all set up to start a beautiful life. But then Eli got killed in a bomb blast in Iraq. I was eight months pregnant."
I realise there are tears coursing down my cheeks. That is so awful. I knew Ziva had a difficult past, but I hadn't imagined anything like this. I nod for her to go on.
"Tali and I managed. I was moved from the Kidon unit to regular field work. My father gave me some sympathy, he paid for my house despite my severe protests. We got along fine for five years, until we went to the beach.
"It was a sweltering Israeli summer, hotter than usual. Tali and I decided to visit the beautiful beach in Tel Aviv. We had a wonderful time. There was a… a carousel and ice cream. Tali had been playing in the sea, cooling off. We had to leave after a while, to get the train back to the main part of Tel Aviv, I did not have a car.
"We were in the ladies toilets when people started running, screaming from outside. I immediately knew something was wrong, I expected Tali to know too, but then I remembered. I had not brought her up the way my father had brought me up. I had not taught her how to fight, I had not taught her how to use weapons. Nothing.
"When I drew my weapon, her eyes grew round in her head. I had never shown her my weapons or even told her I owned any. I had told her to stay where she was, that I was just going to find out what was happening. I could see she was scared but she nodded and I… I left.
"When I got outside, I saw…" Ziva falters, tears starting to make their slow descent down her face, "It was a suicide bomber. Dead man's switch. I drew my weapon, made myself known. I knew it was, um, futile. He could blow that thing before the bullet got itself from the gun to his head.
"I remembered the alarm. In Mossad, in Kidon, we carry these alarms, which, when pressed, send a silent alarm to any operatives in the area, they are to be used for grave emergencies only. They are a bit like your panic buttons I suppose.
"I saw two fellow operatives sneak up behind the man. One of them shouted for me to leave, to get out. I did not need to be told twice. I ran outside, my confused brain thinking Tali would be outside. I was outside for ten seconds when I realised Tali was still in the toilets. I saw an open fire exit, I would be in and out of there in ten seconds, the toilets were just down the hall from the door."
I what to ask what happened, but the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me I already know. The hurt I am feeling, tells me I already know.
"I was just at the door. It went off. The bomb, went off. And Tali, Tali was still in the toilets, exactly where I'd told her to stay." Ziva finishes and bursts into a sob. Ziva never cries. I pull her into a hug, trying to offer comfort when there is little to be found.
"It is all my fault Tony. If I had trained her, If I had told her to wait outside. If I had brought her up the way I had been brought up. Tai would still be alive."
I push her away from me, and look her in the eye. "Ziva, it is not your fault. You didn't know it was a suicide bomber. You did the right thing, bringing her up the way you did. Otherwise she would have your unhappy childhood. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault."
Ziva nods but I don't think she believes me. She just keeps sobbing, her tears making my shirt wet, but I don't care. Ziva's tears matter more to me than a stupid shirt. I look up at the clock, we've been sat here for almost two hours. I can hear people starting to make their way towards the room.
"Come on," I say, taking her by the arm and pulling her out of her chair, "I'm not leaving you here alone, especially with witnesses to your tears. Come on."
She comes without resistance, which worries me. I can't leave her alone like this, "Ziva, your coming home with me."