Danke Gasthrer, freut mich sehr dass es dir gefällt. Und ja, die Geschichte ist keine leichte Kost aber es ist eine wunderbare Art die Ziva-Eli-Beziehung zu beschreiben...

Thanks BKeh, Debbie, Hetwaszoietsals, spicyanemones and Guest, I'm so happy you like it and reading your nice words always makes me smile. I hope I can live up to your wishes and expectations.

And because I reject Gibbs' rule #6 (a stupid one as I see it, seriously, apologizing is not a weakness): I am very sorry you had to wait so long for this chapter.

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Of Homes and Families

Accusations and talking

Ziva sat in the garden in the shade of a fig tree. Lia's present lay in front of her and she smiled at the sight of it. She had solved it the day before. Knowing the trick, it was easy.

Her hands stroked over the dry grass. Back and forth. The house was full of ghosts. Her mother but mostly Ari and Tali. Her father had changed nothing in their rooms nor the interior decorations or furnishings.

Ziva spend much time in Tali's room. She sat on the bed looked at the ceiling decorated with stars, at the posters of long forgotten boy groups and pictures of her friends and some of Ziva and Ari as well. Their father appeared in one picture, holding Tali as an infant. Ziva herself had made that shot although she didn't remember it. Her mother had told her. Apparently, she had been excited about the camera that day and wanted to use it on her new sister. It had been an old camera, big and heavy almost too big for the small girl. The picture was tilted but Tali had loved it.

oOo

Ari's room was more difficult to visit than Tali's. At first, she just stood in the door and hesitated to continue. It took some time until she dared going inside. She had killed him. Her big brother. Her protector from childhood. She had shot him without giving him a chance to explain it to her. Yes, she overheard him talking to Gibbs and it was obvious how much he had turned into a monster, into a murderer who killed an innocent woman in cold blood to hurt Gibbs… Still, before the confrontation they had spoken on the phone and she had told him she was afraid of losing him as well and that had been absolutely true. And then, the next time… she shot him. What kind of sister does this?

What kind of family were they? Mother died too early, sister killed by suicide bomber, brother shot by second sister, father put work before family…

Yes, her father… Deputy Director Gyran had been here twice. They had locked themselves in Eli's office and after about two hours they'd sent for Ziva and stared her down for another hour. She still refused their request. She would not tell them details of the time in the camp.

oOo

One night she sat at the couch in the huge living room staring through the window to the illuminated terrace. She hadn't touched her dinner, hadn't been hungry. Her father came inside the room and sat down opposite of her on another couch.

"Ziva."

She turned her head slowly and looked at him.

"Why do you make it so hard? Do you think I like seeing you like this?" He genuinely sounded tired.

His declaration made her blood boil instantly. She was the one to blame, behaving irrationally? And even if, he had no right to lecture her about it. Not as long as he was dictating her life.

"I make it hard!? You're the one…" she shook her head.

All the spiraling thoughts she had hold inside the last days were tumbling out suddenly. "You know I do not want to be here. You hold me here. Request information about him. Act like I betrayed you. Send Malachi to burn me. To kidnap me. What did you expect? That I dance around in the house?" Her sarcasm was like acid.

"Certainly not. However, the way I operate is not yours to question."

"You had me kidnapped," Ziva hissed.

"It was the only way to ensure your cooperation." Eli didn't seem to be overly regretful.

"You could have asked."

"I did," Eli replied. "You refused to answer."

"You never said it was official. I just refused to let you use Director Vance's authority to force me to a private talk." Ziva's eyes were still narrowed in anger. "You could have submitted an official request to NCIS for my statement. Or if you do not trust me to write down everything, come yourself or send someone to talk to me. In Washington."

"We decided it would be best to have you here," Eli said, matter-of-factly. "Be grateful that I was able to grant you some time there to recover. Others wanted you here immediately."

Ziva snorted. "Be grateful…" she copied him derogatively. "Anything else I should be grateful for? For sending Michael? For entrusting me to the Somalia mission? For forgetting me there?"

"Why do you act so betrayed, Ziva? You knew from the beginning it was a dangerous mission. You knew what happened if you failed."

For a moment Ziva did not know what to answer. Technically he was right, but his logic was twisted.

"You talked to Malachi. You knew we were the only ones left. He was injured. And still you ordered us to go on. Were you afraid of losing countenance if stopping the mission? Whose idea was it anyway? It was prepared wretchedly. Whose brilliant idea was it to go there by ship? The same ship smuggling for the same terrorist we were supposed to find? What about going in nicely by plane from some unsuspicious place and waiting for the courier? Did you want us to fail?"

Eli was quite content with himself for making her talk again, even if her accusations were unfounded and he felt increasingly irritated by them. However, he would not stop her. At least she was talking again.

Ziva turned her head away and continued. "I knew you would not come. But I hoped for it so long. One night there was gunfire outside and I really thought… but no, of course not…"

He watched her closing her eyes briefly before she looked to the terrace again, breathing deeply and regularly.

"You knew why I did what I did, Ziva. There was a time you agreed with it."

"Guess the fact of you forgetting me in a terrorist camp changed some things," Ziva answered hotly. "Do you have any idea how it had been? Do you know how it is to sit – or lie there, waiting for them to come the next time? To know they can do absolutely everything to you, without anyone stopping them?" Her eyes were fire, but they changed to a resigned expression rather quickly.

"No, you do not know anything." She concluded quietly.

Eli waited patiently while Ziva stayed silent for several minutes. He used the time to watch her.

Besides her subdued posture – crouched, hugging her legs – she looked the same. Nothing gave away her ordeal. Face and arms were free of obvious scars. He knew the lowest burn on her arms was located on her upper left arm, hidden by the sleeve. Even her hair was as before. Secretly he wondered why they had let it be. They humiliated her in so many ways so why not shaving her? Robbing her of even more dignity, robbing her of the veil she could use to hide from the world? Maybe, he thought, it was just too convenient for them. Hair was an excellent tool to hold someone, for turning the head.

"They thought me dead, did you know that?" Ziva finally said while still looking outside.

He did not understand the sentence. Who thought her dead?

"But they came to stop him, to avenge me, even if thinking I died long before reaching his camp."

Of course. The Americans again. The angels in white.

"They made me go to a hospital and stay there. But they visited every day until I could leave. You did not come. You did not even call." Was it hurt in her voice? Eli lowered his head slightly. She was right. He had not known what to say to her, so he had not called at all.

"You did not come. No, instead you sent Malachi." She said sharply, hugging her pulled up legs tighter. "You are just like him."

"Like Ben-Gidon?" Eli asked slightly amused. Why would she think that?

"No. Like him."

"You are speaking of Ulman." Eli stated. That comparison made his anger blaze up, but he managed to control his voice.

"Of course I am!" Ziva exclaimed, looking back to him briefly. After a few seconds she continued to speak, head downcast. "You only care about the job. Ignorant, power misusing and not respecting others. The only difference is you are working for different goals. And you are not physically attacking. You have others to do that for you."

"I certainly do not agree with that comparison, Ziva," Eli said severely. "I know you spoke in anger. However, I do not fail to notice your strong dislike of the situation here."

"You have no right to keep me here."

"Yes I do, Ziva. You are part of an investigation and it is not closed yet."

Ziva turned back to him. "So why am I here and not at headquarters?" She spat. "You keep me here like a disobedient child. But I am an adult. I make my own decisions. And I do not want to be here and certainly I do not want to be a case study!"

"I know, Ziva," Eli sighted, "but you will be one, whether you like it or not. Inofficial for sure. Rookies will ask, instructors will use it as an example. Without proper confirmation the story will soon be far from the truth. Think of all the benefits if it is official…"

"No!" Ziva interrupted, eyes blazing.

He would never admit it, but he was almost relieved about her continuous resistance to Ambron's proposition. His usurpers were waiting. Add this damn case study and the ongoing conversation about it and the whole Ziva-Somalia-incident would blow up in his face eventually. Without confirmation it would just be… gossip. Far from the truth and therefore unprofessional. Easy to dismiss. Not suitable for blackmailing. No, he would – could – not admit his relief but willingly or not Ziva's stubbornness protected him as well. Of course, officially he needed to be displeased. They all had their act to play.

"Oh, Ziva. Your mother was as stubborn as you."

Ziva kept her face turned away yet suddenly attentive to his words, no doubt exactly what Eli wanted to achieve. Her mother. The magic words.

"When Rivka had set her mind, nobody could stop her." Eli seemed nostalgic and his eyes flickered to the picture frames on the sideboard.

"Is there any chance of you staying with Mossad, Ziva?"

Ziva looked up to him and he could see the answer in her eyes. "I want to go back. Please, Papa."

Eli sighed deeply. You can't force her and Don't make her your enemy. Maybe Ruben had a point.

"Okay, Zivaleh."

Epilog is coming soon…

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