Chapter 11

The three men grabbed their backpacks and jackets and headed out of the bullpen, but stopped short when they saw Ziva frozen in her chair. "Ziver? You coming?" Gibbs asked gently. The concern on his face was evident as she slowly shook her head.

"I can't." She responded quietly, the confession falling from her lips almost accidentally. She looked up, her eyes defensive. "I'm just a little tired. And you know…it would not be right. I do not want to." She turned back to her desk, dark and somewhat fearful eyes travelling to the photo of Eli and Hadar again. "Go. You have work to do."

McGee paused, searching for something to say, but Gibbs nudged him towards the elevator, shooting Ziva a sympathetically curious glance. "Be back in a couple of hours." She nodded, and he shepherded Tony and Tim into the elevator, watching over his shoulder as the doors closed, hiding the broken agent behind them.


Ziva sat at her desk, foot tapping anxiously. The chatter in the open office surrounded her, pressing into the tiniest folds of her brain. She closed her eyes, laying her pen down on the desk and splaying her hands against the cool, smooth papers. She could feel the memories coursing through her like fire. Hadar's kind face was blurred in her childhood recollections, but here and there something would surface in the murky stew. He would always bring her special German chocolate, and he would pull out her chair, always next to his own, as they sat down for dinner. Her own father changed when Hadar was around, his stoic and impassioned demeanor transforming into a youthful spunk.

She remembered one night, when she was eight or nine, Hadar and her father were sitting in the front room talking as she read a book at their feet. She looked up to see Hadar holding out a picture of a young boy to her father, pride evident on their friend's face. She remembered standing up curiously and looking hard at the picture, of a boy around her own age. Hadar's voice seemed to echo in her mind, his throaty chuckle deep and resonant. "Would you like to see Ziva?" He handed her the photo, and she examined it closely. "This is my son. He lives very far away from here, in Germany."

Her own young voice answered his, its innocence oddly comforting. "Don't you miss him?"

"I miss him very much, young one," Hadar said, his momentarily sad eyes looking over her head to meet Eli's knowing gaze.

"As I am sure he misses you, Hadar." Eli said, taking Ziva onto his lap in a rare moment of parental sentiment. He stroked her back as a warm, dusty breeze blew through the open windows, ruffling her fine, dark hair. Eli smoothed it behind her ears as he set her down on the floor. "Read your book now, Ziva, Hadar and I must talk."

As reality slowly drifted back, Ziva's heart filled with an inexplicable loneliness. She had not seen Hadar since her childhood, and had hardly thought of Anah in the time since then, but the loss of her own father made her heart ache for the young boy she had never met. The grief soon turned to bitterness as she thought about the events that had brought her here. Her fingers traced the barrel of the Glock holstered to her hip, and she bit her lip.

That night. She needed to know what happened that night. She rebuilt the scene in her mind, taking in every detail from the report. Her words to Gibbs earlier replayed in her mind.

"I would have taken a headshot. So either I decided not to for some reason or…"

"Or you missed."

"Or I missed."

"You aren't suicidal, Ziva. You might have missed a shot, but you're stronger than that"

She shook her head, still running her hand along the cool metal barrel. For the first time in years, it felt foreign against her hip, heavy and awkward. She pulled the holster out and shut in her drawer, locking it quickly, but the thoughts stayed in her head. It was Tony's voice this time, scolding her.

"Why wasn't your door locked?"

"I was distracted. I thought there was someone trying to kill me."

She was getting sloppy, Ziva recognized. Sloppy, and lazy, and out of practice, and tired. So tired. Her eyes flicked to her bottom drawer, where her Glock lay. She sighed, unlocking the drawer. She stared at it for a couple of seconds before grabbing it and slamming the drawer shut. She stalked out of the room, her heart racing with determination, but split with a tiny maul of fear, that was working its way straight towards her center.


The trip to Peled's house was tense and quiet; all three agents in the car were thinking and wondering about their friend. McGee's was the only face that showed it, his forehead crinkled from the slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. A map was lying on his lap on his lap, its pages creased and torn from years of use, but it was only to keep his hands and eyes occupied; his thoughts wandered freely.

Gibbs, driving through the quiet countryside, allowed his mind free reign as well. Although they had proved she had not tried to kill herself, it was obvious to everyone that she wasn't the same person, and Gibbs wondered if somehow, the idea of such an act had planted itself in her head and pushed her thoughts to the edge. He shook his thoughts away, deciding to trust her for the moment, and caught a glance of DiNozzo in the rearview mirror. He was sleeping fitfully, his eyes pinched shut against the setting sun that streamed into the car. His hands, balled into fists, were tucked tight beneath his arms, and his entire body was tensed, as if ready to recoil at a moment's notice. "DiNozzo!" Gibbs said gruffly, his voice surprising both agents. "Wake up. Call Abby, see if she has anything."

"Sure thing boss." He dialed slowly, his fingers tripping over themselves. Finally, she answered, and he sat up a little straighter in the seat.

"Where's bossman?" Abby immediately demanded. "Why isn't he calling me?"

"He's driving." Tony responded, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"It's never stopped him before." Tony was working on the back of his head, where the hair had been flattened from his nap. He peered over McGee's shoulder into the rearview mirror, cranking his shoulders this way and that to get a view of the back of his head.

"Abs, he just wants to know if you have anything." Finally satisfied with his hair, he settled back into his seat, staring out the front window. "Nothing? Abs, you can't have nothing. He's got to have some sort of history." Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Abby. Really. We've gone over his financials, all his past addresses and contacts, and all we needed you to do was look at his online presence….What do you mean there's nothing!?"

"Tony." Gibbs chastised sharply. DiNozzo looked up, and softened a little.

"Sorry Abs. Just…check in on Ziva, will you? Thanks." He looked up into Gibbs' accusing gaze in the mirror. "Sorry Boss. I'm just…tired. I'm worried about Ziva."

Gibbs' eyes softened as he sighed deeply. "Aren't we all?"