Ziva awoke the next morning to find herself neatly tucked under the covers in her cot. It took a second before the events of last night began to come back to her. First the incredible cruelty she suffered at the hands of a client, then the stumbling walk back to her new room, collapsing naked on the bed, and then…
Wait. That was not right. Why did she remember kindness? Why did she remember comfort? Why was she under the covers?
The face of the girl from last night flashed before her eyes, answering all of her questions instantaneously. She needs to thank her.
Ziva heard the heavy wooden door open, but she did not sit up. The throbbing between her legs from last night had been reduced to an ache, but the pain returned with a vengeance when she moved.
"Breakfast," announced the almost bored-sounding voice that she recognized as belonging to Kameel. Through a crack in the curtain she could see him wheeling in a cart laden with food. It did not take her long to realize that she was hungry, but the prospect of getting out of bed almost made her groan out loud. No. She could starve for all she cared; she simply did not feel like getting up. Her head dropped back down on the pillow and she let her muscles go slack. Hebrew voices echoed in from outside of her room, just soft enough that their words were incoherent.
A few minutes later, the sound of her curtain sliding back reached Ziva's ears. She sat straight up in her bed, startled by the sudden sound. The blanket fell away, and she realized suddenly that she was still naked from last night. Blushing madly, she grabbed the quilt and covered up her previously exposed chest.
"You did not get your food," said the person standing at the entrance to her room. It was not the girl from last night, her neighbor, but rather another one of the numerous girls staying in this place with her. She had long, flowing dark hair that stopped at her elbows and light brown, but hardened eyes that studied Ziva's prone form. She stood fairly tall, taller than Ziva certainly, and was certainly not a teenager; she had to be at least twenty. Concern was written on her bronzed face.
Ziva opened her mouth to speak, but found that no words came out.
"My name is Esther," she introduced herself, "What is yours?"
Ziva cleared her throat, forcing herself to speak up. "Ziva," she replied.
"You need to eat breakfast, Ziva," Esther told her, "You need to keep up your strength. Why don't you come out and eat with us?" Her voice was gentle and almost motherly.
"I… I don't know if that's such a good idea," Ziva declined, shaking her head slightly. Esther sighed, taking a few steps into Ziva's room and sitting on the edge of her bed. She reached out and patted Ziva's feet.
"Look, I remember how it felt when I first got here. I was scared. We all were. I know that you're hurting and you probably feel like you're alone in this. But you are not," she assured her, sending her a meaningful look. "We've all been there. It hurts a lot right now, emotionally more than anything. But at least let us take loneliness out of the equation, hmm?," Esther insisted.
Ziva truly did not know how to respond. Kindness and openness from the other girls was the last thing she was expecting. The way that Esther said "we" implied a form of camaraderie between them, something that Ziva had not even considered existing before.
"What do you say? You're probably exhausted and in pain but, from personal experience… sometimes it's best to get out of bed. Move around a little. Walk it off," Esther told her. Ziva snorted with empty humor, and the older girl looked apologetic. "Sorry. I shouldn't make light of how you're feeling. Sometimes empathy can be… hard, after so many years of personal pain."
"You are a good person, then, too keep trying to be empathetic," Ziva said, her voice soft.
Esther just shrugged. "I'm the oldest here. Someone has to be the one that we turn to. Now, come on. We're waiting for you." She stood from the foot of Ziva's bed and extended her arm to help Ziva up. Ziva simply shook her head.
"I'm not dressed," she replied.
"Please, like it matters to us," Esther scoffed.
"No, I… Please. I would like privacy," Ziva requested, trying to keep the emotion from her voice.
Esther nodded, backing out of the room. "Sorry. I understand."
After the curtain slid shut, Ziva ran her hands down her face, unsure of what to think. She had not expected the other girls to reach out to her, to accept her as one of them. She expected to have to work to get them to accept her. The burden of this particular task lifted from her shoulders, she felt mildly relieved.
Ziva, using every ounce of strength she could muster, managed to pull herself up from the bed and onto her feet. She found that that was the hard part—after she was up it was not so difficult to pull on her borderline filthy jeans and t-shirt. She pulled back the curtain and peeked almost timidly out of the room. In the middle of the aisle that divided the twelve rooms sat a group of girls, food laid out before them, talking softly. The second they spotted her, the talking stopped, and all heads swiveled to see their newcomer. Stepping into the hall now, she gave them a stiff nod.
"Shalom," she greeted, her voice still low in volume. Her conversation with Esther before had reminded her of how much she truly missed speaking her native language. The words rolled off of her tongue effortlessly.
"Shalom," the girls echoed back. Ziva took a step forward, walking slowly—and painfully—towards them. As she approached their small circle she did a quick head count. Seven girls, but not one of them was the girl that comforted her so kindly last night.
"I'm, uh…" Ziva trailed off, her father's voice inside her head yelling at her that she was trained for these things, dammit. She needed to use her abilities to befriend them and get the information she needed. "I'm Ziva."
"Yes. Esther said as much," said one girl, a blonde with startling blue eyes. "I'm Gavriela."
Each of the other girls went on to say their name, introducing themselves to the newcomer. Feeling more welcome now, Ziva eased herself onto the floor between two girls that had introduced themselves as Rebekah and Ariela. She managed to hold back a moan of pain as her incredibly sore body made contact with the cold concrete floor.
"How old are you?" asked Rebekah.
"Sixteen," Ziva replied, still somewhat reserved.
"So young," Esther muttered to herself, shaking her head minutely. Ziva chose to ignore it.
"If you don't mind me asking," she began, forcing herself to speak up, "is this all of you?" Her mind still lingered on the girl from last night who had been so wonderfully kind to her.
Gavriela sighed. "No. There is one more—your neighbor, in fact. But does not eat with us, or do anything with us for that matter."
Ziva was taken aback and frowned in disapproval. "Did she do something wrong?"
"No, you misunderstand. It is her choice. We would welcome her with open arms, but… We do not think that she speaks," Ariela told her, her voice hushed.
"Is she deaf?" Ziva questioned.
"I doubt it, she responds to sound. But she does not speak. Whether because she can't or because she simply doesn't want to… We have no clue."
"What's her name?" Ziva asked, looking around the small ring of girls.
"We don't know. We call her Silent. We were going to name her something less… cliché, but we couldn't agree on a name that fit her, so Silent it is," Gavriela explained.
"We tried really hard to get her to respond to us, but… It's like she's retreated into her shell. This life takes a toll on everyone, some more than others, and it effects everyone differently. She has chosen to not communicate with us, and we can't change her mind, as hard as we try."
Ziva frowned at this. Their description of the girl, or Silent as they called her, contradicted everything Ziva had expected to hear about her. Silent was empathetic, compassionate, and from the emotions Ziva had seen in her eyes the night before, most definitely not a "shell."
Ziva picked up a piece of food from the center of the circle, beginning to eat. The rest of the meal, however, she could not stop thinking about the girl from last night.
She would find a way to get her to open up. After all, they were all in the same boat.
…
She is not sure whether it surprises her to see Tony at the diner late Tuesday night. It is half past nine when he enters, sitting down on the bar stool upon which he has essentially, in the last week, staked his claim.
"I did not expect to see you," Ziva says as she turns her back to him to pour his beer into a glass.
"I was going to tell you but I realized I didn't actually have your number. I considered looking it up in the database but I figured that's too creepy," he answers, sending her a nonchalant shrug. Ziva frowns as she sets the drink down in front of him. He is obviously, in his rambling, beating-around-the-bush way, asking for her contact information, something that she is mildly uncomfortable with. While he has been nothing but kind to her, she still has only known him for a week. Maybe Ari's paranoia has rubbed off on her, but the more likely explanation is the trust issues that she knows she has. A small, self-righteous voice in her head reminds her that she has a right to be untrusting, dammit. Either way she chooses to ignore his prompt.
However, as she runs through his words in her head again, another red flag pops up. "You… have access to my information?" she questions, trying not to look too panicked.
"Yeah, but don't worry, I have clearance for that," he assures her.
"What… kind of information?" The fear that he would look into her past fills her mind. Even though she has only known him for a short period of time, she does not want to lose him. He is, after all, her only friend. What would he think if he sees who she is—who she's related to?
"Do you have something to hide, Miss Regev?" he teases her. The words actually calm her down. Regev. She has an alias now, thanks to the help of an old friend, and if he looked into her past, he would see only… Well, she does not know what he would see, but as long as it is not the truth she does not care.
"No. Just curious."
"It's no big deal. Just the basic stuff. Don't worry, I wouldn't access it without your permission," he promises.
"I believe you," she replies, honest this time.
"So, are you and your siblings doing anything for Thanksgiving?" he questions, taking a sip of his beer.
Ziva frowns, confused. "Thanksgiving?"
Tony chuckles to himself. "Right, sometimes I forget that it's only an American holiday. Well basically it's a holiday where families and friends get together and eat a buttload of food. Turkey, stuffing, corn, mash potatoes, lots of gravy, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie…" Tony trails off.
Ziva smirks. "Your mouth is watering," she teases him.
"Well if you'd ever tasted the food yours would be too!" he protests.
"What day is this Thanksgiving?"
"Next Thursday, the 22nd, I think. It's always on a Thursday for some reason," he replies, shrugging.
"That is my sister's birthday," Ziva answers, "So no turkey for us."
"Your sister doesn't like Turkey?"
"No, but Tali is usually very particular about her birthday meals. Plus, it's an American custom."
Tony looks appalled. "But you live here now! And it's Thanksgiving."
"I work from six to ten, Tony, plus I don't exactly have time to do that kind of thing. I have not cooked in… a long time."
"Don't be silly, Ziva, no restaurants are open on Thanksgiving. Look, if you don't want to cook, why don't you bring your family over to my place? Abby cooks this amazing jello, the recipe's been in her family for generations," he invites, his face hopeful. Ziva shoots him a skeptical look.
"Abby? The goth scientist from NCIS?" she asks, confused. Abby had been the one Ziva had given her clothing to the day after the shooting; there had been some kind of test that she had to run on them.
"That's the one."
"You celebrate holidays with your co-workers?"
"Sure. McGee will be there, too. I don't think you met him, but he's my geeky Probie of a partner. And Ducky, our medical examiner, will be there, too," Tony explains.
"What about your family?" she asks, and the words are out before she can stop them. She can't help but feel guilty at the look that briefly crosses Tony's face.
"They're… out of town. I've gotten pretty close with my co-workers recently, and none of them have family to spend the holiday with, so I figured why not?" Tony explains, shrugging a little. "So what do you say? The more the merrier!"
Ziva sighs. She does not want to disappoint him, but even if she really wants to go to Tony's house for dinner, there are many obstacles. Tali's birthday for one, and she also is not quite ready to introduce her brother to her new friend, more for Tony's sake than her own.
"It sounds nice, and I thank you for your invitation, but… It's my sister's birthday. Sorry," she replies. It is evident from Tony's face that he is trying his hardest not to appear overly disappointed.
"Hey, no problem."
A/N: In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty much butchering canon here. I included McGee because without him I feel like the team dynamic is off and for some reason I just can't write when that happens. Also, pretend that Tony's completely cool with people seeing his apartment and it doesn't take 12 years and Ziva's father dying to get him have anyone from his team over, okay?
Thanks so much to prince-bishop, NCIS Ziva DiNozzo, dvd123, Angelhaggis, and pirate-princess1 for the awesome reviews! And as always thanks to Cameron-sarah for the amazing help.
