A/N: This sort of wrote itself, with a lot more dialogue than I'm used to. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for your thoughts and reviews and your incredible patience!
Content warning: As always, read carefully.
Chapter 7
Washington, fall 2009 (present day)
"Ziva,"
She did not turn around, did not even look at Malachi as he entered the lady's room and closed the door behind him. She clung to the counter, her knuckles white, her lips tight, her expression empty. But as it was with the David women, the truth was in their eyes. And so Malachi had no trouble discerning what was going on inside of her.
He knew Ziva too well.
"She will come around when she is ready," he promised, hoping the fact would ease her. "Tali is not like you and me. She is—"
"I know," Ziva said. She turned to lean with her back against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared blankly at the wall. "I did not mean what I said to her," she sighed.
"You did," Malachi said and shook his head to himself. He moved to stand next to Ziva. "You meant what you said."
She looked up at him, surprised.
"You always wanted to protect her," he said when he saw her expression. "You spoke about it all the time: how afraid you were for your sister. You never wanted her to follow in your footsteps or your father's footsteps."
"She wanted to take me to Masada that summer. Tali wanted to be an opera singer."
"And had you been there, she might have become just that."
"Is that why they took her away from me?" Ziva was unable to think of a single thing that would explain why her father and Hadar had done this. It never occurred to her that the reason may have been as simple as wanting to make Tali a soldier. Eli's priorities had always been a little twisted.
"I don't know Ziva," Malachi sighed, "I don't know why they did it."
"Does he love her?"
The question caught him off guard and he looked down at her with a questioning raise of his eyebrow. "Who?"
"Hadar. Does he love her?"
"Very."
Ziva said nothing. Her head ached with memories of Hadar. ('You are the reason Rivkin is dead. All we could do is clean up after you.') It was difficult for her to imagine that this man was capable of love when he had not hesitated to destroy her apartment, to take everything Ziva held close to the heart, including the very last thing she had of Tali and Tali herself. It was difficult to imagine that her sister was still a generous, warm-hearted, compassionate woman despite having been influenced by the two most questionable men that she knew.
"Give her time, Ziva," Malachi said finally, "She will be back."
—
"It's late," McGee said as he came back from the lab and found Ziva still sitting at her desk, bent over a pile of unfinished reports and a cup of coffee. "You should go home. It's been an exhausting day."
Ziva shook her head, "I have work to do."
"Are you sure that's the real reason you're staying?" Ziva did not answer. "Have you heard anything?"
"No," she sighed, "Nothing."
No one had heard anything from Tali since she had taken off in a fit of anger. Ziva could not blame her. She would have done the same. But it was getting dark and she was beginning to worry. Tali did not know her way around Washington. She had no phone, no money, not even her coat. All that was in her bag which Ziva kept underneath her desk. Often these past few hours had she itched to look inside, to see what her sister carried with her in hopes that it would give them a clue as to where she was; but this would be a gross invasion of privacy and Ziva would not do that to Tali.
Instead she sat and waited, hoping that Tali would return to the navy yard as Malachi had promised she would.
"We will," McGee said encouragingly. "If she's anything like you, she'll want to know the truth."
"Thank you, McGee."
—
Tali had always taken to water when miserable. The water was calming. The sound of ocean waves soothed the fire that burned underneath her skin; the gentle breeze reminded her that she did not float in space, all alone, but that she was a part of this world, no matter how twisted it was. The anger had worn off many hours ago, sometime in the afternoon when she had crossed from Washington to Alexandria, and was replaced by a kind of sorrowful fatigue that left her mind oddly blank.
She found comfort in the waves that gently lapped at her feet. When she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that she was in Jaffa. Almost. The water here was cold and dirty. It smelled of seaweed and fuel. She did not sit in the warm Mediterranean sand but by an old wooden dock, and the ocean was not an ocean but a small marina. In the distance she heard the sound of approaching airplanes. She was not far from Ronald Reagan.
But Tali did not complain. Even as the sun went down and she began to shiver in the night air, she continued to look over the water for a long time, counting the waves as they crashed ashore. Here, far from the navy yard and the confusing truths that had been revealed to her today, she felt peaceful. As if nothing mattered but the water. As if the world around her could wait.
And the world did wait, for Tali anyway.
It was late into the night when a knock startled Malachi out of his slumber. He glanced at the clock, 1:02 a.m., and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. A second impatient knock came and he crawled out of the bed, now convinced he had not dreamed it.
"Tali," he said when he opened the door.
"I do not have my keys," she said as she pushed past him into the room. He closed the door and watched her as she moved around the room in pursuit of scattered belongings.
"Where have you been," he managed finally, stepping further into the room and into Tali's way. She stopped and looked up at him. Malachi took in his breath. Even in the dark he noticed her burning cheeks and her blue lips. Her hand was as cold as ice when it brushed past him. He shook his head, "You should have called."
"I do not have my phone, either. Get out of my way," Tali said and continued to collect a fresh set of clothes, a hair brush, and a bottle of aspirin.
"We were worried about you."
"Oh, really," Tali said, but her tone implied that she did not want to hear about it.
"Ziva, especially. She feels terrible."
Tali said nothing and headed towards the bathroom, but Malachi moved to stand in the door. She glared at him threateningly but he did not waver.
"Be angry at me all you want, Tali. God knows I deserve it. But Ziva does not."
Although she continued to say nothing, Malachi knew his words had reached her when her eyes softened and she looked away to hide it. He moved out of her way and let her go about her business. Once Tali was in the shower, he picked up the phone.
"She is home."
—
Ziva felt relieved to know Tali was safe, even though she had not returned to the navy yard but the hotel. The nausea that had been caused by anxiety, too much coffee and too little to eat, disappeared almost instantly. She hung up the phone and let her head fall into her hands, suddenly overcome with tiredness.
"I don't think you will need this," Tony said as he arrived back at the squad room with two coffees in his hands. "Was that Malachi?"
"Yes. She came back to the hotel room," Ziva said, her relief apparent in her features. They were oddly vulnerable and available. Tony saw for miles into her eyes.
"Do we know where she was?"
"No. She didn't say."
Tony lowered himself into his chair, happy about this news. He had been worried about Ziva since Vance had taken her into interrogation this morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they had all watched the surveillance video of Hawthorne's murder; difficult to believe it was not more than twenty-four hours ago. He wondered how Ziva had managed to stay calm during all of this.
"Let me take you home," he offered then. "Nothing is going to happen until tomorrow. You need to sleep." Tony knew she did not sleep. He knew she struggled. And he knew she would never admit it.
"I am fine, Tony," Ziva said and even mustered a smile.
"Great, then how about a drink?"
They did end up at Ziva's new apartment after all, having decided that drinking in their state of mind would be unwise. They opted for mild liquor instead and currently sat over two glasses of wine in the living room.
"I saw her, you know," Ziva said after a while. "I saw her a year ago in Jerusalem. I did not believe it."
"What do you mean you saw her?" Tony frowned.
Ziva put her glass down and sighed. "Before I went to Morocco I went to Jerusalem. She walked by me, and," she shook her head, "I should have known it was her, I should have—"
"How could you? You thought she was dead."
"That is no excuse."
It never was. Tony knew this as well as Ziva. There had been a time when he trusted his instincts, a time when he had considered them above reason, above logic. He should have known Ziva was alive when everyone believed she was dead, should not have given up hope so quickly, should have looked for her instead of sentencing himself to death. He understood that nothing excused not having looked closer, not having paid better attention. Maybe he could have saved her sooner. The guilt of this weighed on him as much as he was sure it weighed on Ziva.
"Get some sleep," he said finally and put a hand on Ziva's shoulder. "You have a long day tomorrow."
"What happens tomorrow?"
"You will talk things out with your sister."
—
Tali slept in late. Not even the midday sun that burned through the curtains woke her. Malachi checked on her every other hour to make sure she was still breathing. She had started to cough during the night and he was worried she had caught a cold during her stubborn retreat. But he did not wake her, knowing just how much she needed these few hours of sleep.
When he came back from a coffee-run, however, he was surprised to find her awake and restless at the foot of her bed.
She looked at him when he entered the room. "Is that for me?" Tali asked, referring to the single cup of coffee he held in his hand. Malachi said nothing as he gave it to her. She took a sip and made a face, "Ugh. That is disgusting."
"How are you feeling?"
Tali inspected the cup closely, opening the lid and taking a whiff of it. "Is this some kind of pumpkin brew?"
"It is Halloween soon," he said matter-of-factly. "You know how much the Americans love Halloween."
"It is not for another month," Tali said and tossed the cup away. Malachi sighed as he looked after his coffee in the trash but decided to say nothing about it. He would get another one on his way to the navy yard.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired," she said.
For a few moments no one said anything. Tali rubbed her eyes and pushed her hair over to one shoulder and leaned back into her bed. Malachi watched her closely, wondering if and when she would come forward with the questions that were sure to burn at the tip of her tongue.
"Ziva asked about you," he said finally, no longer able to bear the silence. Malachi understood the dilemma, and the pains of the sisters: two lives that had once been closely intertwined were now held together by a single thread. Old roots had withered away and new ones have anchored miles apart. And he felt wholly responsible for this. All the more he wanted to make it right; not for himself but for Ziva, and especially for Tali. "She would like to speak to you."
Tali pushed herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow at Malachi. "Did she call?"
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, considering carefully. "Three times this morning. She wants to apologize. You did not give her the chance to explain yesterday, and I think it would be very important for you to hear her out."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Because you can trust her, Tali. That is why."
—
It felt much like a déjà vu when Ziva waited in the squad room for Tali to arrive. Only this time she knew what to expect. The elevator door opened and she perked up. Tali walked in, followed by Malachi and Gibbs who had just gotten himself another coffee. She watched them closely as they entered and felt mildly surprised when Tali came to a stop in front of her. They looked at each other for a long moment.
Then, "Ani mits'taeret," Tali said, nodding sincerely, "I should not have walked away."
Ziva was so stunned that for a moment she did not know what to say. Here was Tali, her sweet baby sister, speaking to her for the first time directly. And although they did not know each other, Ziva found familiarity in Tali's eyes, a kind of comfort. She shook her head, "No, you—I am sorry. I am," – a suddenly emotional breath – "so sorry, Tali."
The swell of emotion, especially coming from Ziva, surprised everyone that knew of her habit to suppress. And it stood as a testament of how much she cared about her sister and how much she had suffered that she was not able to keep it down, even in front of Tony; even in front of Gibbs. Ziva swallowed hard, battling the feelings.
A moment passed in which Tali considered what to do. Ziva was a stranger to her, but her heart ached with anyone's pain. She was not able to ignore the tears that had welled up in the eyes of her sister, and so she stepped forward to wrap her into a shy but genuine embrace. Ziva, in her confusion and surprise, did not know how to respond and could only fall into her sister's arms as she had longed to do for so many years.
"Ze beseder," Tali whispered into Ziva's hair, "It is okay."
They stood like this for a long time. Tali ran her hands through Ziva's hair, finding a strange but familiar comfort in it, truly, as if she had done this before. The scent of Ziva's skin and hair woke something inside of her, but it was a feeling she could not identify. Instead she decided to linger silently in this embrace and to give Ziva the comfort she so obviously needed.
Only then did Tali understand that Ziva cried because of her; because she had missed her and spent years mourning her and mourned her still. All this time, Tali had been dead to her. And although present in the flesh and blood, she was no longer the baby sister Ziva had known and loved as her unintentional outburst had made very clear.
There was so much that was wrong in this moment, but nothing mattered as their hearts began to beat in sync and Ziva's breathing began to even with Tali's. She continued to whisper reassurances, sweet Hebrew songs into Ziva's ear to calm her.
A phone went off in the back. Tony answered.
Then, "Boss… Eli David is downstairs."
Tali and Ziva came out of their embrace rather suddenly. Ziva stared at Tony with an expression of blatant horror that Tali could not understand.
Gibbs pushed himself up from his chair and walked around the table. He looked at Ziva and nodded understandingly. "Take your sister to the break room," he said.
—
"Special Agent Gibbs," Eli David said as he strode into the squad room, followed by Hadar and the agent that was escorting them. He held out his hand in a manner of greeting. "I wish we would meet again under different circumstances, but," – a pause – "there are certain things a person cannot foresee."
Gibbs accepted his greeting with a firm shake of his hand. "Director David. Officer Hadar."
"Shalom, Agent Gibbs."
"Now," Eli said, rubbing his hands together, "Where is my daughter?"
Gibbs felt oddly humored, "which one?"
"I am aware I have caused your agency quite the trouble," Eli said and looked at Gibbs meaningfully. "But I believe this business has become one of family. You understand, no?"
"No," Gibbs said simply, his tone suggested very subtly the greatest distaste for what Eli had done to his children.
There was a moment of strained silence in which they scrutinized each other carefully: the father by blood and the father by choice. Gibbs knew he was unable – unwilling if he was being honest – to give Eli what he wanted, namely his oldest daughter. Ziva may not have said it out loud, but it was evident in her body language and the look of sheer horror in her expression that she did not want to see him, much less speak with him. She had resigned from Eli's agency besides.
"With me," he said finally and with a gesture of his hand invited Eli and Hadar to follow him up into the conference room.
—
"Why did he send us away?" Tali asked suspiciously, looking down the hall as if she could see through the walls at the end and into the squad room.
Ziva glanced at Tony. He knew better than anyone why she could not and would not see her father. It was not because she was angry or hurt. It was not even because of what he had done to Tali. It was because of what lived on and under her skin; scars, visible and invisible; terrible memories of a dreadful summer in a dreadful place that haunted her and stole her sleep. It was pride that kept her from seeing her father.
And, although she would never admit it, it was also fear.
Eli David was not a father anymore. He had become a murderer when he left Ziva to die in the desert.
Tali could not understand this. She had come to know Eli and Hadar differently. She knew the latter as a loving, caring father and the former as a perhaps harsh but dedicated director. She had no idea of what Ziva had experienced, what she had been through at the hands of their father. She did not know the bitter resentment Ziva felt for the man that was Eli David. And perhaps for this, Tali was lucky.
"They are in the conference room," Malachi announced as he joined them in the break room. "Come on," he said to Tali and with one hand on the small of her back led her to the table where Ziva was trying very hard to keep still.
"They?" Tali asked.
"Hadar is here, also."
"Oh, isn't that great," Tony sighed pathetically and earned himself a glare from Tali. It sent a shiver up his spine for it reminded him of the many times in the past Ziva had looked at him like this. To him it felt as though Tali was the living embodiment of her sister's past, a glimpse of who Ziva had once been: confident, witty, not taking anybody's shit.
Tali was, in more was than one, a reminder of all Ziva had lost.
"Sorry," he said to redeem himself.
His apology did very little to appease Tali and so she sunk into her chair feeling rather defeated. It had become very clear to her that no one in this agency seemed exceptionally fond of her father, or even owned much respect for him. It felt a lot like a stab at herself, for she had believed herself a part of Hadar for many years. This sense of belonging was not going to go away simply because she had been told a number of confusing things by a number of people she hardly knew.
The little girl inside of her heart longed for her Aba, because only his truth she would believe.
Tali cleared her throat, "I am going to the bathroom," she said and got up. She paused and looked at Malachi curiously when he stood up to follow her. "What," she said, "You want to come into the stall with me?"
It was this joking manner in which Tali spoke that eased and embarrassed Malachi all the same. He nodded and settled back into his chair opposite of Ziva. And this served Tali in every way as she walked away and turned left, instead of right to the lady's room, in pursuit of the conference room.
—
Through the door she could hear their voices; muffled, silent, tense. Eli David was speaking: "What is my family does not concern you," he said in a low voice, "She is my daughter, and therefore my responsibility."
"With all due respect," Gibbs said, his tone implying that there was none, "We got her out of the desert, not you."
"And for this, I thank you," said Eli. "I have since tried to reach out to her, but Ziva will not respond to any of my attempts at reconciliation."
"Does that surprise you?" Gibbs asked. "You left her to die in the desert, Eli."
There was a moment of prolonged silence and Tali inched closer to the door in a childish attempt to hear better what they were saying. Hadar spoke. The sound of his voice twisted her stomach into knots. She swallowed hard.
A sudden voice behind her startled her, "Miss Hadar," and Tali recoiled so quickly she nearly bumped her head against the door. She breathed a curse and looked up, trying to deflect from the flush in her cheeks with a confident recovery.
"It is Officer Hadar, Sir," she corrected the man she vaguely recognized as being Director Vance. He approached her curiously, his expression blank and difficult to read. "I was just—"
"Spying?"
"It is a closed conference."
"And you were not invited?"
"No, Sir."
Momentarily she wondered if he would give her away. And when he moved towards the conference room, his eyes wandering from her to the door and back, she was sure he was about to do just that. But then he merely regarded her with a nod and proceeded down the hallway without another word.
Tali looked after him and let out a breath of relief when he was gone. She took a moment to collect herself before leaning back against the door when it suddenly opened.
Another sharp breath, another curse, "Harah," and she stumbled backwards to find three sets of eyes staring at her. Her face flushed.
"Tali," Hadar breathed.
—
"You lied to me."
"Bevakasha, Tali, sit. And we will talk," Hadar pleaded with her when they found themselves in the interrogation room for some privacy.
"How could you lie to me like that?"
"I ask myself this question since the day you called me Aba. Please sit."
Tali shook her head, "I have a sister."
"Yes," he sighed.
"She thought I was dead, she thought—How could you do that to her? Have you seen her? Ziva, she—" At a loss of words Tali finally slumped into the chair and ran both hands through her wild hair. "I do not know how to fix this."
Hadar sat down opposite of Tali. His heart ached when she took the blame for all of this; as if she believed she was responsible for Ziva's grief, her pain. And knowing Tali's tender heart he knew that it was likely. He shook his head, "This is not yours to fix, Taleh. You have done nothing wrong."
"Ani lo yoda'at mi ani," she breathed helplessly. Her chest tightened and Tali choked. She tried to mask this with a cough.
"My daughter," he said, "That is who you are." Hadar reached over the table for her, but Tali darted away.
Again standing, she looked down at him exasperatedly. "Is it?" There was a challenge in her voice, and an undertone of pain which she also hoped to mask.
"You are feeling a lot of things right now," he said calmly as he too pushed himself from his chair. Hadar walked around the table and took her by the shoulders. She let him this time. "And you are allowed to all of them. But do not doubt my love for you, Taleh. Never doubt my love."
Tali tried very hard to stay angry at her father. He deserved it. But when he looked down at her with a desperate, deeply saddened look she could not bring herself to feel this kind of resentment. Her lower lip quivered and she looked away.
"Breathe, Tali," Hadar whispered, knowing of her tendency to forget to breathe when she was upset. Once, a long time ago, she had even passed out from a lack of oxygen; all because she had been angry at a boy. He moved his hand to her sternum, helping her find her breath again.
When she did, the tears came. Hadar, unlike Eli entirely, appreciated it when Tali shared how she felt. He supposed it was the secret to their bond, a bond that was much stronger than the bond Eli shared with Ziva. It was not blood that held them together. It was never blood. But something else; something he had no name for. And so he took her into his arms and Tali let herself be taken. For many years, it was only here that she felt safe.
"She loves me so much," Tali wept, "And I do not even know who she is."
"You will learn. You will find your way back to each other."
Tali wanted to believe him, and despite all the lies he has told, she did. She needed to believe him, even if this would be the last time. Once her breath and heart had calmed and Tali again felt steady on her feet, she pulled away. She searched her father's eyes for many moments.
Then, "What happened to her in the desert?"
