So, I maybe should have mentioned this before, but I don't own it.

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Katom. Little Katom. That's what Ari had called her before he had been too far lost to tease them in that always gentle way of his. Before Tali had been simply lost. Ziva had adopted the nickname with a grin and a laugh. From that day forward, their Tali had been Katom. The name, it had been often pointed out, was completely fitting. No one, young Ziva thought, in the wide, sprawling history of the world had eaten oranges with the same abandonless joy as her sister. Whenever the assassin she became paused to recall the once happy little family, the first image was always little Tali, sticky with sweet juice, laughing crazily as Ari spun her round and round on strong shoulders. Sister's squeals and father's indulgent chuckle, and she wondered at her carelessness for ever letting that moment end.

By the time she was sixteen, Tali had indulged in more of the fruit than Ziva could imagine. The sheer volume had done nothing to diminish the smile that lit delicate features as she tore into the peel that hot day at the market. Ziva, home only for a day from training, had carefully and lovingly selected the two finest orbs from the seller's stand. Walking hand in hand, the young sisters had taken solace from the blistering sun in a rare spot of shade. Tali's ever-playful chatter had soothed her now ever-jangling nerves. She smiled her genuine contentment as she cut into the fruit.

Katom. The word stood out in her mind against the vibrant sounds of market chaos. Her slender hands, sticky and coated, stilled in the perfumed air.

And then her world was fire and dust.

In the swirling horror of realization, the newly minted officer lost her training. Action seemed impossible, and yet she moved. Heat and loss made her dizzy, yet she kept her feet.

There was a moment, between the screams and the sirens, of absurd stillness. In the total silence of imagined reprieve, she almost forgot.

Katom. The word stood out in her mind. Slender hands, sticky and coated, stilled in the perfumed air.

And then the world began again.

She breathed deeply, choking on reality. As eyes and mind reconnected, she took in the sight of reddened hands. Such a small change, from orange to red. Such a slight difference. The stickiness, the way the smell permeated the air; so, so similar. But everything had changed, and for the first and last times, blood overwhelmed her vision. At a loss, Ziva David promptly vomited.

It was Ari who found her there, moments or days later. Blood on his hands, too, gloved as the would-be doctor moved amongst the wreckage. His voice, not yet cold and detached, cracked as he came to her.

"Oh, Ziva." And again, "Oh, Ziva. We thought we'd lost you too."

Too. The word stole her movement as nothing else could.

Cradling her to his chest like an infant, her brother carried her the short distance to their home. To Tali's home. Had they really been so near to safety?

It would be days before she learned that he had carried Tali, so broken, the same way. Days before she understood the horror in the "no" that had slipped past her father's steely reserve as she lay, so still, in her brother's gentle clasp. Days before she could recall the tear that had slipped from his eye when she had lifted her head. Longer to comprehend it. Days and days before they were too consumed by bloodlust to remember the family they still had left.

And it would be years before she could look at an orange without intermingling Tali's laugh with the screams. She never quite could smell that overwhelming sweetness without feeling the blood on her hands.

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Thanks to everyone who reviewed or favorited this. I really appreciate it. I have a much happier addition for this that might be posted tomorrow (contingent upon finals and the number of reviews I get.)

Please, review! It'll assuage my guilt for blowing off studying in order to write this. Any feedback on any chapter is welcome! I was a bit disheartened by the lack of response last time. Which means my two reviewers are officially my favs.