Hey hey hey! You're favorite writer is back! Um well at least someone you like
Again, if you like this, check out my other fic One Too Many. It's the same writing style and revolves around Ziva. And Nofia. And Johnny Landow. See that was me deliberately saying something you wouldn't understand unless you read it to try and coax you into reading it. Did it work?
Disclaimer: I forgot to do this. I own nada. Actually, I own beyond nada. I mean I don't even own stock or a dvd. I don't even have a savings account. Basically, suing me = waste of time.
There's a flashback in here. Pretend it's Hebrew.
Oh, and there's about a paragraph that takes place in Eli's head. I always imagined him as having a sailor's mouth but needing to contain it around diplomats. So no, I did not randomly decide to curse the world out. Just, you know, getting into character, as my actress sister would say.
And on to what you actually care about…
As though he owned the place, Eli David strode to the head of the table and sat, gesturing for the rest to do the same. Vance complied and sat at the other end. Ziva's mother was already seated. Everyone else remained standing until Vance cleared his throat suggestively. Then Tim sat down. Tony. Gibbs.
Two chairs left; one by her father, one by her mother. Ziva didn't hesitate before walking around the table to be next to her mother.
"There," Eli said, smiling in what could only be described as creepily, "now we may discuss what will be done."
"No discussion needed." Ziva immediately interjected. "I am staying here."
"Even if you no longer have a job?"
At that Ziva narrowed her eyes; her father was up to something, and she must be careful not to play into it.
"Yes, even then. This is my home now. This is where I belong."
"Besides, she has a job." Gibbs didn't like where this conversation. David was holding a card he couldn't see, and Gunnery Sergeant turned Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs did not like being left in the dark.
"True. But, let us pretend, for a second, that she did not. That, say, she was never allowed inside this building again. Never allowed to see any of you again."
"Why?" Vance interrupted, ever the practical one.
Sighing, David sat back, resting his fingertips together. "Sometimes, tragedies occur."
That was more then enough to put Gibbs on a warpath. Slamming his fists on the table he stood, glowering at the crazy Israeli Director.
"Are you threatening my team?"
"Of course not. Merely a hypothetical situation."
"Ziva stays here!"
Fast as lightening, David threw a knife. However, it was not at Gibbs, who automatically ducked but at…his wife, Ziva's mother.
Just as fast, Ziva reached out and caught the blade, with an ominous soft slish as it cut her skin. She did not put it down, but stared, confused, at her father.
"Sometimes the tragedies occur to those you are not able to protect."
Comprehension dawned on the beautiful tan face, and she slowly lowered the knife. When she spoke, it was barely a whisper.
"You want me to choose between them. Gibbs, Tony, the team… or the woman who gave me life."
"Not want, sweet, insist."
"No."
Once again, the entire room turned to look at the only other woman. Her eyes were not clear, but she appeared to have come back somewhat when the knife almost went through her chest.
"I will choose. Zivale, stay here. Your father was never kind; killing me would be too close to mercy for him. Killing your friends would cause a national incident. Even if avoided that, you would forever hate him, and me, for being what held you back."
She shook her head and laid a head over Ziva's mouth to stop the uprising protests.
"Live, be happy. It was all I ever wanted, to see my daughters grow to be women with husbands and daughters of their own. If he does kill me, it will be you fulfilling my final wish."
With that her eyes turned hard and she looked over at the man she thought she had loved.
"As for you, Eli, I dare you to kill me. We both know my sister Nettie would floss her teeth with your tendons if you did, big bad Director of Mossad or not. Leave. Ziva. Alone."
And that was it. She continued to glare for about a minute before her gaze softened and glazed over. After some time she began playing with Ziva's hair and murmuring in Hebrew.
"Yesh labat shelie tza'ar yafa c'moch…"
The elevator would not come. Admittedly, they had been standing there for less than three seconds, but it felt like forever to Ziva. Was she doing the right thing, staying? It was what she wanted, but was it right? She was wise enough to know the two are not necessarily the same.
Her mother told her to stay, that Eli would not actually kill her. But this was coming from a woman who, in the months preceding Tali's birth, had to be reminded almost daily that her stomach was large because she was pregnant. However, that very memory was enough to convince Ziva of her need to stay. Well, to be fair, it was a few months prior to that…
"Ari, why is Mama crying?"
As the big brother, it was Ari's job to know these things. He prided himself on his intelligence. He was was quick with a knife, but quicker with his tongue, and he delighted in passing on knowledge to his younger sister. This, however, he wished she did not have to know. But if he did not tell her she would eventually ask Papa, and that had to be avoided.
"She is sad, Ziva."
"I know that, A-ri, but why is she crying like that? She's not moving or anything. Usually she moves around and jumps and screams. But she's just crying now."
"Yes, well…do you know where children come from?"
Giggling, Ziva nodded. Her friend had told her a couple months ago. It wasn't really funny, just weird. But adults were like that.
"Well, Papa wants another child."
"But he has me."
"Right, but he wants another. A… a boy."
"But he has you."
"He just wanted another, okay?"
Ziva didn't like it when Ari was angry, so she nodded, even though she didn't really understand.
"But why is Mama crying?"
"She doesn't want another child. Papa is… making her."
"She should do what Papa wants. Then he'll be happy."
"Papa isn't giving her a choice. He is forcing her to have his child. He is forcing her to… just… if you have a nightmare come to my room, okay? Don't go into their bedroom."
Ziva hadn't understood then, but when she turned twelve she asked Ari again. This time he explained in more detail. Now Ziva understood.
Rape.
Her Father had raped her mother.
And that she could not forgive.
But the future is pointless to ponder when the present is so vital. Saying goodbye to her mother was harder than Ziva expected. They held each other close, unable to deny the knowledge that they would never meet again. Ziva fought back her tears, but couldn't contain the small sob when she left her mother's embrace.
Finally, she turned to her father. Ziva did not want to touch him, see him, be anywhere near him. But. And there was always that but. He was her father. She cared not if he hated her, but did not want to leave hating him as well. So she stuck out her hand, a peace offering, and handshake between equals.
Eli knew when he was beat. Damn it, he only brought his fucking wife because he ran out of other ideas as to how to return his daughter to her rightful place. But then that same goddamned wife who bites him when he's just trying to wipe some bloody food off her bloody face, decides to be lucid. Twice. And if that just didn't take all fuckings, she manages to convince his harebrained daughter to stay. At NCIS. Eli David had learned to keep his cursing to himself, but right now he wanted to throttle these two damn women, one in each hand, and scream "FUCK!!" as loud as he could.
Ziva didn't even know how much that mother fucking Gibbs was protecting her. Screening her calls, telling the doorman at her apartment not to let anyone through without a badge, including and especially family, even taking the goddamned GPS out of her phone so Eli couldn't track her that way. And DiNozzo… that bastard was practically keeping a vigil outside Ziva's door, never letting her go home alone. That little weasel was no doubt on Gibbs' protect-Ziva crusade as well.
Still, grimacing, Eli held out his hand to shake his daughter's. As soon as he had her in his grasp, he brought his final resort out and slapped it onto the back of her hand. Blood spurted, gushing from the wound as Ziva screamed. Quickly, before anyone could react (or draw their guns), Eli took back the weapon, grabbed his wife, and stepped into the elevator just as the doors were closing.
As one the MCRT plus Vance rushed to Ziva's side to find her… laughing. Gasping in pain, sure, but also in mirth. Tears ran down her face as her laughter bubbled out of control. No one quite knew what to do.
Taking a hesitant step forward, Gibbs kneeled next to Ziva, pressing his coat to her hand to stop the bleeding. At the pressure her laughter subsided, though a Cheshire grin remained on her face until the saw the puzzlement on the others' faces.
"Do you not see?"
"See what, Ziva?"
Hurriedly she removed her hand from the coat and held it up. Before the seeping blood covered it again, everyone could clearly see the word 'Mossad' etched into her skin.
Damn bastard must have had it in his pocket, thought Gibbs furiously. Like a stamp, but with metal blades to make an imprint in her skin. God, must be half an inch deep. Stitches…
When everyone still looked angry, Ziva shook, her head, trying desperately to find a way to make them understand.
"No, no, this is good. This is it. The mark is so operatives will no longer speak to me of Mossad business, so I am no longer privy to their secrets. If someone I knew from Mossad sees me on the street they will no not to speak to me. It is part safety and part banishment. But wither way… it is over. This means Mossad and I are no longer linked. Even if I wanted to return, I could not. He can never drag me back. Ever.
"I'm free."
Wow. That ended really different than I thought. There was going to be a shootout and bitch-slaps and whole lotta other stuff. Sometimes the pen writes what it wants with writers simply the instruments.
Hope you enjoyed! Check out my other fic, One Too Many. The next chapter should be up in about a week for that one.
Reviews are most appreciated.
