Hey guys, sorry it has been such a long time, i've had a majorly huge writers block. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, but feedback was kinda disappointing, i went from 13 reviews to 6! But i think this is a better chapter, but it was very depressing to write! Hopefully you will like it though. Also, i apologize in advance because over the next couple of weeks i probably won't be UDing, i have exams coming up which is annoying, and i have to do some revision :-( it sucks!

Chapter 4

What was her name?" He said in barely a whisper.

"Aimee Talia Carissa David."

There was no longer any need for her to pretend. He knew know, there was no use in hiding her pain. He would see straight through the mask that she had used for so long. That had fooled everyone for so long.

She, Ziva David had bared her soul to him. To Tony Dinozzo, of all people. The irony was almost funny. Almost.

Saying her baby's name out loud, it hurt so much. She couldn't speak, she couldn't move. The anguish, the guilt, he wouldn't understand. No one could.

Every day when she woke up, it was there tormenting her, every night the same scene replayed in her nightmares. She relived it every day. Every time she saw a mother and a daughter in the street, or on a case, thee memories would come flooding back.

Smells and sounds, feelings. Anything could trigger it; it would never stop torturing her.

She remembered years ago, the undercover assignment with Tony and when they discovered Sophie Ranier was pregnant.

"I'm just trying to picture you pregnant."

She had panicked, just for a second before she regained her composure and sent an icy masked glare Tony's way. "Don't." She'd replied.

So many memories. She just wanted to forget, forget it all. Forget that day all those years ago, when she had entered the house.

Things just didn't feel right, she didn't know what was wrong, but she just knew something terrible had happened.

She remembered, coming home, and what she had found there…

She had gone home early, begged her father to be excused. Something was wrong. She could feel it, like something terrible had happened. She tried to shrug it off, it was probably nothing, she mused as she opened the front door slowly.

She called out her lovers' name, "Adrien, mon amour." She called.

"Là où est Aimee?"

There was no answer, the house was still.

Far too still for a home with a baby in. "Maybe they are sleeping." Ziva thought, trying desperately to convince herself.

She quickly checked all the rooms on the first floor, they were all clear, there was no evidence of them being out. With a rising sense of dread, she began to climb the stairs. Every step seemed to take forever, and she felt the panic fill her little by little, smothering her by the time she reached the top of the stairs.

Her first reaction was to head toward Aimee's room, but she was paralyzed with fear of what she would find there.

"Adrien?"

"Aimee, chéri."

She slowly began walking, to the door; she turned the handle gently, and pushed it open.

The whole world stopped.

Adrien, was there lying dead on the floor, and her baby, her baby, was lying next to him.

In a millesecond, her life changed forever. She felt her heart break. It was agony; she rushed over to her baby, and tenderly picked her up and held her in her arms. Her skin was cold.

She was gone.

Her baby was dead.

The pain was unbearable, she couldn't see, she couldn't think. This couldn't be happening. This was impossible. Her baby could not be dead.

She was blinded by tears, her beautiful daughter was gone. So was Adrien.

She held her daughters lifeless form close to her body, if she held her for long if enough, if she just willed her to wake up right there in her arms maybe, just maybe she would.

But she didn't.

She had no idea how long she sat there stroking her daughter's hair, kissing her, rocking back and forward. Over and over again.

With tears falling, merciless.

She begged, begged when there was no one to listen, if they would just take her instead of Aimee, anyone but her daughter.

She begged until she could no longer speak.

In the months that were to follow she would wish someone could kill her, if she was dead the pain might go away, the tears would stop falling.

She whispered words in desperation Aimee, "Sil vous plais, veuillez revenir. Bébé, sil vous plais. Je t'aime. Vous ne peut pas meurent, chéri, Aimee. Je t'aime tellement, il blesse tellement."

She no longer cared what happened to her, her daughter was gone, Adrien was gone.

A life without them was a life not worth living.

She eventually stopped, and looked at her daughter, she was so delicate, like a china doll. Her cheeks had lost the adorable blush they had, and her face was white, her eyes were closed, she looked peaceful.

But it didn't hurt any less.

Yet here she was, years later. Reliving the worst day of her life.

In Tony's arms.

And strangely, she felt safe, secure.

It didn't relieve the pain, she had discovered that nothing did.

Sure drinking and pointless one night stands had made her forget, just for a little.

But then everything would come back, and if anything the pain would be worse.

She was supposed to be strong, to mask her emotions.

And do you know what the worst part of it was?

The guilt.

It consumes you, for a while afterwards it's all you can think about. If she had been home, she could have stopped it. She had replayed the scene thousands of different ways in her head. And it always ended up with her realizing that she could have, somehow stopped her daughter's murder.

Tony's voice brought her back to the present.

"What does it mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"Your daughters name."

"Carissa means tender touch, Talia, after my sister, means morning dew."

"And Aimee?"

She took a deep breath, "It means beloved." She said, as a tear slid down her cheek.

What do you think? Did i overdo the angst thing? Or was it ok? Please review!

Thanks for reading!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx