IV. Anything, Right?

.::.

Saleem Ulman.

She learnt his name on what must've been the thirteenth day or so, through the jumble of a familiar yet completely unfamiliar tongue that grumbled through the corridors. She hated him, hated that he had caught her, defeated her and proved that she indeed was weak. On the contrary, he brought back memories that she was the stem of her values and morals; something she never could really identify was shaped by her own personality or by others.

She knew she couldn't keep going like this; her grasp on the days she'd been captured were vague and she was bound to lose count altogether, very soon. Her body was clearly weakening to the point she felt like coughing out her lungs. So she promised herself, five memories and she'd be done.

The five memories took a lot longer to meet than she had anticipated; her plan initially was to have it – her life – over and done with in a matter of days. But obviously he had other plans, he refused to meet her promise to herself, but after breaking nearly every other promise in her life, she knew she had to keep this one. This one was for herself, for every one that she'd ever broken.

.::.

"Abba I love you," a girl dressed in a green dress smiled up at her father, her eyes filled with joy just to see him and his eyes filled with protective love.

"I love you too, but I have to go very soon so I need to pack," the smile on the little girl's face drowned to a frown and the man let out a deep sigh, "now let's play nice, I can't do that face."

"Abba please?"

"Okay, I've got a few more hours, how about I take you to the park? We can have some ice cream," he suggested and the child brightened up and raced out of the room to get ready.

.::.

"You are the director of Mossad's daughter, I wonder how much I could fetch for you." The dark empty cell echoed with her melodious laugh.

"What is so funny?"

"My father does not care about me, trust me, it would be a miracle if he bothered to even consider paying for my freedom."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I am his daughter, am I not?"

.::.

"I want strawberry Abba," the innocent voice of the little girl sang as she walked along the footpath with her father.

"When I get back I'll bring you the best present ever," the man crouched down to his knees and gave a kiss to his daughter's forehead.

"Where are you going Abba?"

"That is not for you to worry about, you just focus on studying well at school, okay?"

"But I will miss you…"

"I will miss you too, but promise me just this Ziva?"

"Yes Abba, anything for you."

.::.

"You can try all you want, but he is only good at using people, I am already dead in his eyes."

"Eat your bread." The door slammed shut and she grabbed greedily at the little flat dough that sat dirtily amongst the sand.

.::.

A/N: Yes, please do feel sorry for Ziva, she is just like any other girl at heart.

And also prayers for the victims and families affected by the Japan earthquake and tsunami.