Title: Divided Paths Entwined
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Kate Todd/Ziva David
Spoilers: Right through the first and second seasons to Silver Wars in season three, just to be safe.
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, and blah, blah, blah.
Author's Note: This is my first fic, so lotsa feedback will be most appreciated! And thanks on the feedback already received! Sorry this chapter's taken so long, uni makes for a hell of a hold up! Also, this story contains femme-slash (probably not 'til further chapters though), so if you don't like it, don't read it!

Ziva David was one of the most respected young female officers in Mossad when it came to hand-to-hand combat. She was disciplined with her training, fast with her movements and practically fearless. Older, more experienced male officers were rarely offended or had their egos bruised if they came off second best in training fights with the young David. She was a child of Mossad, with her father having been Deputy Director of Mossad for some time, and she had also just finished her three year service in the Israel Defence Force. David quickly earned her stripes in Mossad with her combat skills, leading her to be assigned to the agency's covert operations and assassinations division, Metsada. Unfortunately for Ziva, her biggest critic and harshest disciplinary was the same man she had to report to: Eli David, her father.

Eli David was often a very misunderstood man. Seen as being a hypocrite by using and placing his own children in harm's way to further his agency's cause, not considered by most to be unlike the child bombers used by the Hamas. And some of them would be very correct, as Eli had Ari's dangerous mission planned before his son was even conceived. However, it was a different case with Ziva. Eli made no apologies for teaching his daughters to shoot and fight, to the death if so required, as soon as they'd learnt to run. Eli knew all too well that Ziva wouldn't be safe from a life of violence just because she was born female. Women without guns could still die from them. It wasn't until Ziva lost her sixteen year old sister Tali in a Palestinian bomb raid that Eli saw the makings of one of Metsada's most deadly operators. Looking at eighteen year old Ziva cradling the lifeless body of his youngest child, Eli saw through his own tears that Ziva has shed none, but that a fire of hatred and revenge burned in her eyes instead. This scared Eli, but a week later when Ziva decided to join the army, he knew this perilous path was being one of Ziva's own decisions.

It was late in the evening on a very special occasion for Ziva; she got to spend a entire evening alone with her half-brother Ari. This was a rare treat, as since Ari went to medical school in the United Kingdom, they hardly got to see each other, especially without their father present. Ari was a good eight years older than Ziva, so she'd last had decent bonding time with her brother when she was about ten. However, the bonding time they had together of late had not have been as higher quality. Most of their conversations were based around their latest assignments. Also, Ari had grown a lot more cold and distant since his mother's death, which occurred only a week before Tali's. Ziva couldn't blame him, she'd only lost one family member in that week and she'd completely closed down, appearing like a zombie void of any emotion. Lord knows how Ziva would've coped if she'd lost her mother at the same time too.

They were sitting in the lounge of Ziva's apartment, each with a glass of wine in hand. They'd already covered the small talk necessary for the evening and had moved onto the topics of the latest threats, missions and operations they were involved in. It wasn't until Ari had mentioned a run-in he'd had with a man of similar breeding to himself, half Arab and half Jew, that Ziva's curiosity was sparked.

"A bit anti-semantic for a half Jew, don't you think Ari?" Ziva commented on Ari's recital of the conversation he had with the man.

"Not everyone has to be proud of the lineage of their bloodline, Ziva. He had good reason to hate his father." Ari lay back into his chair, eyes focused on his third glass of wine in his hand, as if his mind had disappeared into it.

"Even so, he's painting a lot of people with the same brush. Didn't you say he was born in the States?"

"Yes, born and bred there I would guess, judging by his accent. I'm sure he's nothing to worry about, Ziva. If he wants to take out his anger on his wife-bashing father, let him. It's the local metro cops' problem, not Mossad's." With that, the two of them descended into silence, mulling quietly into their glasses of wine.

It wasn't until the following morning that Ziva decided to act on the suspicion she'd developed the night before when talking with her brother. Reaching for her phone, she dialled the number for a Mossad contact of hers in Washington DC, America. After being informed about the recent letter threatening the President's life, and the incomplete profile on the author of the said letter, Ziva was pretty convinced that it was the same man Ari had spoken of.

"Thanks Aharon, I owe you one. Just one more thing, do you know the name of the agent who wrote up the profile?"

"I'm afraid I can't give you that much, Ziva. It's a newbie, some chick fresh out of her degree so I hear. Think Agent Baer's testing her out. That's all I know, sorry."

"No, that's great. Thanks again, Aharon." And with that, Ziva disconnected the call and finished the last few notes she'd been taking. Not wanting to waste any time, Ziva got in her car and drove like a crazed taxi driver to the Mossad headquarters to report to her father.

After having told the Deputy Director all she had heard from Ari the previous night and from Aharon that morning, Ziva watched her father lean back in his chair, rubbing his fore brow and thinking hard. Ziva didn't like the look of this; if her father was to agree with her in this situation he would not have needed to contemplate so long. When Eli David sat forward again, Ziva's line of thought at his behaviour was proven correct.

"I understand your concern, Officer David, but I doubt the two situations are related. You should trust my son's instincts. If Ari does not believe this man is a threat, then accept his judgment and focus at the task you have at hand."

Ziva shifted her weight from one foot to the other, crossing her arms at the same time. To anyone else this would have just been an unconscious moving of stance, but Eli could see that this was his daughter's way of unleashing pent-up, annoyed energy.

"What task is that, Deputy Director?" Ziva inquired in a disinterested monotone, another subtle way of conveying her displeasure.

"Ari's mission will soon be requiring him to operate within the United States. As I have recently made you his control officer, you will need to travel to the States to set up some safe houses where he will be required to operate from. Go home and make your preparations, you fly out tomorrow."

Already planning a detour with her trip, Ziva turned for the door, considering herself dismissed when the Deputy Director called her back.

"A kiss for your father?"

A little ritual that she and her father had always had since she was little, they would part in the good terms of a kiss. However, the meaning behind it had slowly morphed for Ziva. What had once been a display of affection and love in case their meeting would be their last, was now not much more than a ritual to show that Ziva hadn't lost all capabilities of showing affection. After kissing her father briefly on the forehead and allowing him to reciprocate, Ziva headed out the office, her thoughts bound for Washington DC.