Discernment

The park was crowded, the afternoon sun beating down on swarms of children and parents out and enjoying the good weekend weather. She scanned the crowds, trying to make out the features of their suspect among the throng. She, Tony and McGee had scattered, each taking a separate part of the park; she could make out the figure of McGee over by the batting cages, but had lost sight of Tony some minutes ago. Probably flirting with the batch of tanning co-eds they had seen down by the entrance.

She was just thinking of an ingenious way to embarrass him in front of the preening sorority girls when her eye was caught by a figure sitting on a bench near the jungle gym. He did not look out of the ordinary – average height, non-descript, jacket folded on his denim-clad lap, simply watching the children as they clambered over the climbing frames – but Ziva found herself studying him carefully. Within a second she had recognised him as their suspect.

Slowly, she walked across the grass, springy underfoot, and approached the bench. She stopped about six foot from his position, and at that range, she could see the dark circles under his eyes, and the three-days-missing worth of stubble. " Lieutenant Jason Green?" She said his name, and he turned his head to look at her. World-weary eyes stared out from an angular face, and he cocked his head in an unspoken 'who's asking?' Twitching her jacket to reveal the badge clipped to her hip, she explained, " Officer David. NCIS."

He looked at her badge for a moment - at the way it shined gold in the afternoon sun - before turning his head back towards the jungle gym. " You're here for Tippy?"

Ziva followed his eye-line to a young girl swinging on the monkey bars, long blonde hair streaming behind her like a banner. As though feeling their gaze on her, the young girl jumped down from the monkey bars and turned their way, giving her father a grin and a wave. She was missing one of her front teeth. Her father waved back with a sad smile.

" Your wife called us," Ziva explained succinctly, her posture relaxed but unmoving, arms held loosely but purposefully at her sides.

" You mean ex-wife." His words were not angry, but corrective, and he shifted a little in his seat.

Ziva nodded her head. " Yes. You have not complied with your arrangements for custody. Your daughter was supposed to be returned to Norfolk three days ago."

There was a pause, and a sigh, and finally, " I can't."

She had just started in with, " I would be more than happy to drive her - " when she was cut off by his soft voice.

" You don't understand." He again shifted his position on the bench, and the jacket he was holding slid off his knee just a fraction. " I can't give her back. She's gonna' take her away from me and…I can't let her go." Under the material, something smooth and metallic glinted in the sun.

For a long second, it seemed like there was no sun, no breeze over the carefully trimmed lawn, no current of laughing conversations. Instead, there was only a complete stillness, as the butt of Lieutenant Green's gun pointed at the pink clad back of his six-year-old daughter as she sat at the top of the slide.

Heart beating in her throat, Ziva considered her options. The park was far too crowded for a shot to be safe, even as quickly reflexive as she was. And as she looked closer she saw that his finger was wrapped around the trigger, so any false move could see his a bullet through his daughter's torso, to be witnessed by a crowd of under tens.

" You do not want to do this," she started, her voice soft, her body perfectly still. In her mind she prayed for Tony and McGee to find them sooner rather than later.

Resting his forehead in his palm, he asked, " How do you know what I want?" Then, looking up, he studied her – from her carefully pulled back hair, to her heavily booted feet, to her small-statured figure in between. " Do you have children, Officer David?"

She hesitated for a moment. " No. "

" Then you don't understand." His voice was hoarse and had a tinge of desperation to it that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. " Tippy is the only thing in my life that I ever did right. She's the only person in my life that's ever thought I was worth something."

" So you wish to kill her? Let that be her reward?" Ziva slid her feet forward on the grass, moving barely an inch towards the bench. To a casual observer, it would seem as though she had been propelled only by the lazy wind. Realising he was listening, his hand resting gently on his weapon, she continued to speak, her voice working to create a placating mist around the two of them. " You are her father, she looks up to you. She does not deserve to remember you behind bars or being taken down by Federal Agents."

It was the first time he appeared startled, as though he hadn't really thought about what the outcome of his situation might have been. Incredulity seeped into his words as he murmured, " I don't want to kill her. I just want to see her happy before I…"

Tilting his head, he was further surprised by the sight of her sitting next to him on the bench. He hadn't even heard her move. She nodded her head, her palm open in his direction. " I understand," she said softly, and then, just as quietly she requested, " Give me the gun. Let this end as a happy day for your daughter."

With a glace across at the jungle gym, at the beaming, oblivious smile of his daughter, Lieutenant Green nodded his head. Unwrapping his hand from around the trigger, he took hold of the barrel instead, passing it across to her before dropping his head into his hands. His shoulders shook. Letting out a breath she did not realise she had been holding, Ziva unloaded the gun, sliding the ammunition into her pocket. " Thank you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Ziva caught movement, and looking up she saw Tony standing and watching, an odd look on his face. McGee stood beside him. She recognised the question in Tony's expression – was she all right? – and answered it with a silent nod. " Tippy is on the jungle gym. The blonde girl in the pink t-shirt. Lieutenant Green is ready for us to take her back to her mother."

Nodding his head, Tony turned towards the climbing frame. Ziva watched as he spoke to the young girl, a winning smile on his face. Tippy took his hand without reluctance.

Sitting on the hard wooden bench, Ziva let her hand rest briefly on the sobbing man's shoulder; a fleeting benediction. Then, without a word, she stood up and walked away, leaving McGee to deal with the aftermath.

Later that night, she lay in the bath, staring up at the pale-painted ceiling. No matter how much hot water she added, she couldn't stop feeling cold, and shivers wracked her body. She hadn't bothered to turn the bathroom lights on, so the room was gilded in shadows and dark. The only sound was from the water as it lapped around her body. She squeezed her eyes closed, tight.

" Ziva?" his voice was hesitant, and she didn't blame him. Since returning to the Navy Yard she had barely spoken to him, or to anyone else. She had watched the interrogation in silence from Observation, disappearing without a word when Lieutenant Green eventually broke down and confessed his purpose for having the gun: Tippy, dead. Him, dead by her side.

She had turned up in autopsy almost an hour later, behaving perfectly normal, save her eyelids, which were very red, and her skin, which was very pale. She mentioned nothing of what she had seen, but Ducky had read her face with ease and set about making her a cup of strong tea as he recited at her a tale from his cricketing days. He knew she was paying little attention, but by the time she had finished sipping the warm liquid, the colour was back in her cheeks, and he had felt more comfortable letting her leave.

She had let Tony drive her home.

Stretching her toes, she listened as the water sloshed against the high sides of the bath. " You may come in Tony."

His feet were bare and quiet on the tiled bathroom floor. She didn't open her eyes to look at him until she felt his presence perched on the rim of the tub. For a second she considered pulling him into the water, just for the fun, but her arms felt too heavy to lift, so she left him alone. When she looked up, it was to find him staring down at her, concern evident in his eyes; she hated when he looked at her like that, like he could see right through her.

" Are you alright?"

Since the afternoon her heart hadn't stopped thumping, nor her mind racing, and waves of nausea kept threatening to overwhelm her. " I stopped a father killing his daughter today," she said, her voice low: her way of an explanation.

" Yeah." His understanding carried in the deep expulsion of his sigh. " I know." Then, reaching into the water he took hold of her wrist, pulling her forward. " I'll get your back."

At certain moments in life, where there was nothing to be said, she knew it was enough to feel his soft hands on her skin, soothing the shivers and spreading the warmth with his touch.

Later, skin damp with water and sweat, she lay wrapped in his arms as he trailed kisses down her throat. Without thinking them, words tumbled from her lips. " When I was twenty-three, I was ordered on a mission that I did not expect to return from," she began, halting his kisses in their tracks. " My father was the Deputy Director of Mossad. He understood the risks. He sent me anyway." She paused, taking in his silence, listening to the newly falling rain outside the window. It had rained the night Gibbs left. " You asked me once, when it was that I first learned my father was not perfect?" He had been joking, and she had been terrified that somehow he would read the truth in her eyes. " It was when he gave me those orders, kissed my forehead, and bid me shalom."

For her, the silence seemed to stretch into hours. She could feel every second jolt through her like a gunshot, almost breaking her until she felt him lift his hands to cup her face, leaning up and pressing a hot, feverish kiss right at her widow's peak. It was followed immediately by his lips crashing down on hers, his hands holding her tight. She kissed back, just as fiercely, and for a long time there were no words, just hands and lips and whispered promises.

" You know I would never put you in danger on purpose?"

His breath was hot against her cheek, and she nodded, threading her hands in his hair. " I know."

" And I will always try and protect you." He murmured into her skin; she shivered, but no longer from the cold.

Pulling back, she looked into his face for a moment, her tone serious. " Some day you will not be able to."

His eyes were wide and bright. He knew where she came from, knew what she was, knew a little of what kind of life she had led before him and them and here. Enemies and vendettas came as standard. " I know."

In the midnight light, as their lips connected and hands played on glistening skin, there was a moment where Ziva felt as though they both knew where they stood. Like eyes adjusting and making out shapes in the dark, their kisses sealed promises neither could speak.

When eventually sleep came, she felt for the first time in a long time like she was finally able to rest.