Vulnerable
Chapter 7
Tony delivered as he promised. In fact, when he let Mr. Kaufman know how ill Ziva really was, he gave him what he called "the works". She had soup, falafil, hummus and the sides that she wanted and gave Tony an on the house special pastrami on rye and asked him for Ziva's room number so he and Sarai, his wife, could visit and bring comfort.
Tony accepted the free sandwich, after protesting, but not too much, that it wasn't necessary. "I'll tell her, Mr. Kaufman."
"Aaron, Anthony; Aaron. Zivelah is one of my favorite customers. How is she doing?" Mr. Kaufman asked. He really wanted to know. He and his wife kept Ziva in their prayers every day. "Is she any better?"
Tony smiled at the elder man. "She isn't good, but she always perks up when I bring her your food. She always says that she feels better afterward. She really hates the hospital food, but until her temperature goes down and stays that way and the congestion in her lungs clears, the docs aren't going to let her out. I'm sure this will help her feel better."
"You tell her that Sarai and I will be by soon and we will bring her special treats, but she has to promise us to get better." Aaron said, slicing the best pastrami Tony ever ate, ever.
Tony smiled again, accepting a couple of things he didn't pay for and was hushed up and not to; gifts for him and Ziva. "I'll tell her and thank you again. Your food is just about all she'll eat...and you make the best pastrami on rye I've ever eaten...Uhm, Toda and Shalom." He was proud of himself for remembering the Hebrew word for "thank you". Ziva taught it to him.
"Shalom, Anthony."
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"Hey, Sweetcheeks, I got the gold here!" Tony announced, entering Ziva's hospital room. Ziva still looked terrible to him, but he hid his concern. "The Kaufmans asked about you. They asked for your room number and promised to visit you with treats. Mr. Kaufman is very insistent. They want to see you. They sent extra comfort foods for you."
Ziva coughed hard. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" Tony asked unpacking the soup that he knew Ziva loved.
"Sitting with me, bringing me comfort foods," Ziva said. "It is hardly like we know each other all that well. So, why?"
Tony shrugged. "Because you asked me to. That and you're my partner and I have your six. I need to do this for you. Face it, Ziva, we're stuck with each other."
Ziva coughed again. "Like family. Stuck with each other." She coughed again, harder this time and Tony held the kidney shaped tray under her so she could spit. "That's gross. Thank you for not running."
"Partners," Tony said, opening the soup. "Here, have some soup and then rest."
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Mr. Kaufman opened Ziva's hospital door to find her awake and visiting with a man he didn't know.
"Come on, Ziver, one more bite," Gibbs coaxed, handing Ziva a piece of pita with some mushroom and hummus on it.
She obliged and accepted the pita and ate. "No more, Gibbs. I cannot. I will be sick if I do."
"Okay."
"Nonsense! Zivaleh, you will eat! You need to to get well," said the white haired man that Gibbs didn't know.
"And you are?" Gibbs challenged.
"Aaron Kaufman and this is my wife Sarai. We run Ziva's favorite deli. You've had a sandwich or two from there. Where do you think she got all this food?" he asked. "So you are the famous Gibbs. Move over and let the professionals do this." He sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked Ziva's hair. "Zivaleh, a few more bites for me and Sarai. Food makes you strong. I know you're strong, but you need to keep yourself that way. Don't make me speak Hebrew. You know I don't like to."
Miraculously, she ate several more slices of pita with the mushroom and hummus mixture before she waved him off. "I will be sick!"
Aaron would have none of it. "Nonsense! A good burp will do!" He leaned her forward and held her while Sarai patted her back until a large and embarrassing belch came through.
Ziva felt like a small child and it made her embarrassed. She was only ill and not a four year old. Why did everyone make her feel that way? She was Mossad! A trained assassin! Why was she being treated like a child? "You know that I am a Mossad assassin, yes? I am Liaison to NCIS? Why are you all treating me like a child?"
"You are not a child, you are sicker than you have ever been, Zivaleh." Sarai said, smoothing back Ziva's wild curls. "You need a Bubbe and Zaida right now to care for you. You can go back to protecting Israel and our America when you get well. Do not fight your new family. Aaron and I have seen it. They care for you a great deal. Do not push them away." She gave Ziva a soft kiss on her fevered forehead. "When you have enjoyed what we sent, there will be more and we will visit you every day. And, perhaps, bring you treats. Aaron has stories that I am tired of hearing and that he will tell you. They are new to you. Feel better, my little Zivaleh. For now, eat up and then be still and grow strong again. You must eat and rest." Sarai picked up another pita slice and dipped it in the mushrooms and hummus. "One more, for me?"
Ziva ate.
"Aaron looked at Gibbs and smiled. "Like I said, let the professionals do it."
