Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Cambridge,
Massachusetts
With shaking hands, he opened the envelope, pulling out a letter. Slowly, he unfolded it, recognizing Ziva's familiar handwriting. As his eyes began to scan the contents, he sank back into his chair. He'd climbed to his feet, coffee cup in hand, but as soon as the contents of the letter met his gaze, he stopped. His breath caught.
Tali... dead... bombing... Hamas... gunshot...
"Tim, what is it?" After a moment, he looked up, to find Penny and Jason watching him. Taking a shaky breath, he forced himself to clear his throat. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe-
"Ah... it's from... Ziva."
"The oldest David girl?" Penny asked. He nodded.
"Yeah. She... said that... she and Tali were... heading to a cafe in downtown Tel Aviv, when it... it exploded and..." He heard Penny gasp. "They were okay, but..." He swallowed thickly. "As soon as Ziva moved to... to help survivors... Tali was shot... died... died in Ziva's arms..."
"Oh dear God. I can't imagine what her parents are feeling-"
"Her father." Tim whispered. "Rivka... Rivka was killed in a bombing in Ammon... a few months ago. God, I..." He set the letter down, running a hand over his face. "I canna imagine wha' she's goin' through." He looked up when Penny took his hand.
"You need to call her." A moment passed, before he nodded. "Give her our sincerest condolences." Without a word, he stood, grabbing the cordless from the wall and slipping upstairs. Once he reached the guest bedroom, he took a seat on the bed, dialing the number with a glance at Ziva's letter. He waited, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.
It was evening, if not midnight or two in the morning in Israel-
Just as he was about to hang up and resolve to call her later in the evening, when it was daylight there, a soft voice answered. "Hello?"
"He... Ziva? It... it's me."
"I was hoping you would call, Tim. I was beginning to think-" She stopped, sniffling. "You got my letter?"
He nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah, I did. God, Ziva, I'm so sorry, I canna even imag-" He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose to get his swirling thoughts in order. "Have you had the funeral yet?"
"No. Abba ordered an autopsy... the coroner will give us back her body today and her funeral will be the day after tomorrow." She took a shaky breath. Hearing Tim's voice on the other side of the line gave her a strength she'd been missing since Tali died, but it also brought fresh tears. To have both her mother and- now- her sister dead, Ari in Iran and Tim clear in America- "Please say you will come, Tim."
He sighed, laying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "Ziva, I have classes to-"
"Please, Tim. I need you..." A moment passed, before he sighed and got up, heading downstairs and settling in the seat at the desk and quickly pulling up travel plans on Penny's computer. He could feel Jason and Penny's eyes on him, but focused only on Ziva and Tali at the moment. Minutes passed in silence, minutes that Ziva relished, just knowing he was on the end of the line. Eventually, he spoke.
"All right, I'll be catching the red-eye- well, for me it'll be a red-eye- at about five a.m."
"Okay. I... I will meet you at the airport." She took a deep breath. "Thank you, Tim."
"Don't mention it, Ziva." When they hung up, he sat back in the chair, propping his elbows on the armrests and steep-ling his hands, pressing his index fingers into his forehead. He felt a headache coming on. "Please, don't tell me I've made the wrong decision."
"Oh, sweetheart, you've made the best decision you could. And Ziva... she needs you right now." He turned to her as she took a seat on the sofa.
"I just booked a flight to Israel, Penny-"
"I know." She quickly got up, going to him. "And you did it because Ziva needs you. Tim, she just lost her sister. Put yourself in her shoes. Imagine if you lost Sarah, wouldn't you want her to be there?" He sighed, pulling away and picking up the envelope and letter.
"I know. I just-" But he stopped, when something caught his eye. Slowly, he pulled what appeared to be a couple of newspaper clippings out of the envelope. As he unfolded them, his breath caught, seeing the photographs in the center of the pages. It was evident that the girl sitting on the ground was Ziva, with Tali cradled in her arms. Her beautiful features were twisted in anguish, and he could see blood coating her hands.
Quickly, his eyes scanned the heading; his Hebrew wasn't so bad that he couldn't read the title-
Unknown Number of Hamas Casualties, as One Survivor Weeps for a Victim
The second article was a French newspaper, the third, an Italian one... so on and so on, until he finally recognized the familiar heading of the New York Times.
Violence in Israel Continues; Mass Casualties of Cafe Bombing;
Youngest Daughter of Deputy Director of Mossad among Victims
He swallowed; the photograph turned his stomach as much as the famous photograph of Omayra Sanchez or the footage of her did.
In the aftermath of a Hamas suicide bombing at a cafe in downtown Tel Aviv, Israel... while both girls were caught in the blast, only Talia, sixteen, the Deputy Director David's youngest daughter, was killed. Her older sister, Ziva, eighteen, sustained minor injuries in the bombing that killed over one hundred. A private funeral will be held for Talia...
He set the clippings down, taking a deep breath. It stunned him, that Tali- sweet, innocent, curious Tali- would lose her life to such violence. Tali wasn't like other girls- she wasn't even like her sister. Not that Ziva wasn't, but she never showed it, unlike Tali, who'd always showed it...
Tali had compassion, deep compassion; the very thing this world needed, and yet, one single, ongoing act of violence, had so cruelly taken that compassion from the earth with Tali's final breath.
