Every once in a while, she would look at Sarah and just stare into her bright green eyes. And all she could see was Tony. These were the times when she thought about giving him a call, but the more time that passed, the more she told herself she couldn't just turn someone's life around so abruptly. So, every time she thought about calling him, she decided it would be better not to just as fast. There was another problem she had to face: whether or not to let her father meet Sarah. After how thing ended when she told him she was pregnant, she wasn't sure she wanted him to meet his granddaughter. But it was a dilemma for her. On one hand, it broke her heart knowing that Sarah would grow up without a granddad; it was bad enough that she would grow up without a father. On the other hand, she didn't want her daughter to be disappointed like she was growing up. She didn't want her to get hurt, but more importantly, she didn't want her father to raise Sarah believing that it was her duty to become a Mossad Officer. Ziva had resigned for a reason.
One good day, though, Ziva was in a good mood and so was Sarah, now around two months old. They'd both spent the night sound asleep, the previous night having been one of the few when Sarah actually slept all night long, without waking up. So, on breakfast, Ziva decided it was time to do the unimaginable: take Sarah to meet her grandfather. It was more of an impulse, rather than a carefully thought and rational thing to do. She was like that and was praying to God her daughter turned out to be more patient.
So, being a Tuesday, she went to the last place she wanted to set foot in: Mossad Headquarters. But she figured that if she didn't go through with it that day, she might get cold feet and never do it again. It was now or never.
Walking inside felt really strange to her. She didn't flash her badge; instead she was given a visitor's pass. She wasn't carrying a gun, she was carrying a baby bag and pushing a stroller. People recognized her, but she wasn't Officer David, daughter of Director David; she was Ms. David, a civilian, but still the Director's daughter, so she was still treated with kid gloves. She went up to the 5th floor, where her father's office was, and stood in front of the closed door, staring at the sign with his name on it. She was trying to gather the courage to knock, knowing that she should expect to either be turned down or get hurt by his reaction to her little girl. As Ari had once told her "it is better to have low expectations, that way you can't get disappointed". So she knocked on the door.
"Come in" A dry tone, so typical of her father. He was probably working. Like always.
"Good morning, Abba" Ziva came in, pushing the stroller in front of her, so Sarah would be the first thing he saw. He stared at the baby, and the look in his eyes was exactly what Ziva was expecting. Utter indifference.
"Can I help you?" He didn't even look at her.
"Well, no, not really, but… don't you want to hold your granddaughter?" She was sad and felt like a fool for thinking her father would actually be excited about this.
"She's half American. The result of a one-night stand with an American man. An American Agent. That kid is a bastard. That was wrong, Ziva. That was treason. She is not my grandchild. And she never will be" Still not making eye contact.
Ziva was holding back the tears in her eyes. It killed her to know that her own father would be so heartless, so cold, but there was a part of her, however small, that wanted him to meet her daughter. At least once. So, fighting back the anger and pain, she managed to say one last thing.
"Don't you, at least, want to know her name?"
"I said I'm not interested. Now, if that's all you wanted, please leave. I am a very busy man"
"Yes, I know" With that, she walked away.
For a brief moment, after her father had basically thrown her out of his office, she felt empty inside. She felt like she was back to being the cold-hearted, soulless assassin he had trained. Because that's just how he made her feel. Ever since she was a little girl, he always made her feel like she was a burden, like she was interrupting his ever so busy day. And now, as a grown woman with a two-month old daughter, instead of felling like the luckiest person in the world, she was feeling like that abandoned little girl again. The one with impulse issues. The one with anger issues. With trust issues. With daddy issues. And now, after this visit, she feared her daughter would turn out the same way.
Before going to visit her father, she had promised herself that if he turned her down, she would cut him off her life for good. That was the last chance she would ever give him to mend things between them. She was willing to forgive him for everything if he could only love her daughter and be there for Sarah the way hadn't been there for her. But he couldn't do that. So Ziva kept her promise.
For the last few months, Ziva had been working some temp jobs to earn some money, now that she was not working at Mossad anymore. But now, she wanted more. She didn't care where she worked; she just wanted a stable paycheck. She wanted to get away from her father. She wanted to move to a new place. "New apartment, new memories", she thought. And she was right. But to do that, she needed money, not a lot, but enough to support her daughter and take on a mortgage. It was during times like these when she regretted not going to college.
When she started looking for jobs, there were a few that she would never take, no matter how good they were or how much money they paid her. Law enforcement was at the top of that list. It wasn't about not having to deal with her father, although that was a big part of the reason. It was about Sarah. Ziva was the only family Sarah had, and she was afraid that if something happened to her, Sarah would be left alone. Jobs that took most of her time were close second in Ziva's list. She didn't want to be away from home for 10 hours a day and only get to se her daughter very early when she woke up and at night when she had to put her to sleep. Ziva's list kept getting shorter and shorter, until she found the perfect job. It paid the bills, it was a steady paycheck, it was close to home and it had good hours. Starting Monday, Ziva would work as a secretary. It wasn't the perfect job, but the building where she worked had a daycare, and she'd be able to drop Sarah off in the morning. She would work from 9am to 5pm, with a one-hour lunch break, which she would use to feed her daughter. The money was good, at least good enough to pay the mortgage and buy diapers and formula for Sarah. It was a good start.
