In this chapter I talk a little about Islamic Funerals: from what I could find women can attend thesalat-ul-janazah (funeral prayers) and every part of the funeral ceremony, but not the burial, no matter their religion. I apologize if I insulted anyone's beliefs. If you find any errors and tell me, I'll gladly correct them. Another couple of things, much less important, I'm placing Hasmia's death six years before season 1, instead of four, and I know I need to explain Patrick behavior, I'll do it as soon as possible (tomorrow, if I can).

Ziva David arrived home really late that night; she walked from her car to the building she lived in tiredly rubbing her neck, sighing. She was just grateful Gibbs had taken pity of them (and probably of himself, even if he'd never admit it) and got Vance to assign another team to the stake-out for the following morning. They just needed a free morning and then they'd be back working until ungodly hours, good as new.

She quietly opened the door and crept into her apartment. Ziva knew she had awakened Patrick, no matter how little noise she had made- after all, what kind of operative would remain asleep? And in fact, her friend appeared from the guest room, seeming completely awake with a gun in his left hand, but not trained on her.

"Is this the hour to come home? Where were you?" He said with a smirk, playing the big brother.

And she was suddenly struck by a memory of a different time, a much different place, a completely different person. But the role was the same.

Ziva was walking home after a Saturday night with her friends, well, started with her friends and ended alone with a guy. It was really late, half past four in the morning, she had only a hour before her mother woke up. But, the truth be told, she wouldn't mind come back and find her up. The night before they had fought because Ziva's clothes were apparently not okay. She had yelled she was sixteen and wear what she damn wanted and went out slamming the door. Her night had been a failure: they had done nothing more than sitting at a table gossiping. Who was with whom, who was cheating on whom, which couple had split up and why, this kind of things. A whole lotta boredom.

After a while a guy of another class had come and asked her out. She was still short-tempered from the fight with her mother (and all the boring, insufferable chatting had done nothing to improve her mood), and this guy was one of the most popular in the school, who was always bragging about his conquests.

It had been a big, bad disappointment. Not only had she not managed to release her anger, but she was even more pissed.

So Ziva was walking home in a sour mood plotting her revenge against the guy and at the same time thinking another fight with her mother sounded good, when she became suddenly aware of someone walking beside her. Ari.

"You did have to sleep with that scum, right?"

Ziva shrugged, she was really not in the mood "Very little sleep involved."

"Seriously, Ziva what are you doing? Sleeping with scum, dressing like a whore."

"You're NOT my mother! I don't listen to her and certainly not to you. Go away Ari." She yelled.

Then lowering her voice she hissed "Have you nothing better to do? Shouldn't you be around assassinating some warlords or terrorists?"

While she always told people her brother was a doctor, she was well aware of his real job, and totally unfazed by it (much to the displeasure of her mother and Tali.)

Ari turned to her gripping her forearm with deadly serious eyes. Ziva immediately knew she had gone too far.

"The ONLY place I should be is here, putting some sense in you! Look at you, what do you think could happen if you ran into the wrong people?

"I'm NOT a toddler! I can fight you know?"

"NOT WELL ENOUGH!"

There was a staring match, that Ziva lost. She lowered her eyes, suddenly feeling her anger going away.

And with that, their fight ended. They both knew there weren't be tears, hugs or great speeches, but it was okay: Ziva had listened to Ari and would remember his words the following Saturday, that was all that mattered. They started walking again.

"Ari…any news on your mom?" Ziva asked after a while, with a soft voice.

His jaw tightened.

"Nothing. But you know what I think." Hasmia Haswari was going to work when a bomb hit the road she was driving on two weeks before. Lots of wounded, some dead. Her body was never found. Ari was working hard to find who was responsible of that bomb. No terrorist had claimed responsibility for the attack. That led Ari to believe it was from Israel, but he had no proof. Only Ziva knew about his search. Not Rivka, not Tali, obviously not Eli. Years later, thinking about that night, Ziva often thought she should have read the signs, she could have helped her brother.

"You know that if you like to say salat-ul-janazah I'll be there, yes? If you want me to be, of course."

Ari turned to look at her "I'm not religious Ziva. And you know Eli won't be fine with that, right?"

"But Hasmia was, yes? You can't…bury her, we could at least have a Imam say salat-ul-janazah. And if it's important to you dad can live with that, I don't care."

He looked at her with a kind and sad expression "We can't. You know what I do. It's too dangerous Ziva. It's a public ceremony, what if anyone see you with me and recognize us? What if they link you and me to Eli? They could hurt you. But thank you. It means a lot to me." He said and kissed her on the side of her head. That was her big brother. Not the terrorist, not the monster, just her Ari.

Ziva pushed the memories away and playfully answered "I do not recall giving you control over my life."

He put the gun down and approached her and kissed the side of her head, much like Ari had done more than ten years before.

"I left you something, if you want to eat."

"At two in the morning? No thanks." She said making a face.

"Imagined. You work tomorrow?"

"Only in the afternoon. I was planning a little Christmas shopping in the morning, do you want to come with me?"

"Ziva David doing shopping? Wow, I'd come only to see it, but no thanks, I have to go to Fairfax, I need to discuss my last mission. Then I'm all yours. And of your friend too, if you are finally quit keeping me hidden and you introduce me to this Abby. I'm starting to think you're jealous ya know? Don't want to share my awesome personality, not to talk about my astonishing looks, with the world."

"And your enormous ego too, yes?" she responded with a laugh.

"Yeah, well, but it only adds more charm."

"Sure it does. Do you need a ride tomorrow?"

He sighed, his playful behavior gone "If it's not a problem…I mean, I'll catch a cab on my way back, but if you could-"

"I wouldn't have asked if it was a problem yes? And Patrick, no need to act like that around me."

"Yes, yes I know. It's just-sometimes it is still difficult to accept."

"I understand."

"I know you do, really. But it doesn't make it any easier."

"I know-she sighed- anyway, what time do we need to leave?"

"Must be there at nine."

"Perfect. I will come home around noon, okay?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you are exploiting me as your cook."

"Ouch. I am busted."

He only laughed, his good mood back.

"You remember right? No gifts."

"Yes. I am only going to buy something for Amanda. Will you come with me when I go give it to her, yes?"

"Sure."

"Very well then. I am going to bed now, good night Patrick."

"Night Paz. And…thank you. I mean it."