Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Fourteen down, one to go.- Licia
Washington, D.C.,
Navy Yard,
Interrogation Room A
An Hour Later
Mara watched through the one-way mirror, noticing how Malachi seemed to be searching for someone behind the glass.
Her, most likely.
She crossed her arms, studying the man. He was two years older than her, more experienced in missions, and yet, when it came to having her back, the rat bastard had turned tail and run. In Mossad, abandoning your partner was a criminal offense. Or at least grounds for dismissal.
The door to Observation opened and footsteps sounded, but she didn't turn around; she knew who it was- Agents Todd and DiNozzo, who both quickly sidled up on either side of her to watch. The door to observation opened and Gibbs soon entered, her father behind him, and her aunt bringing up the rear. Despite his training, Malachi jumped, especially when Tali moved towards him, running one small hand over his shoulders and up the back of his neck, her fingers just barely grazing his skin.
The only people Malachi truly feared were her mother, aunt and uncle, and for good reason.
All three were the best assassins- and agents- Mossad had ever turned out. The term 'living legacies' didn't even begin to describe the three David children.
"You are in a lot of trouble, Malachi." Tali whispered, leaning down to brush her lips against his ear. When she wanted, Talia could play the seductress, the siren, but her absolutely favorite role had to be the dominatrix- a dominatrix of a different type, that is; there was something exhilarating about holding a man's very life in her hands, asking the right questions, using the right touches and caresses to get him to squirm exactly as she wanted.
When Ziva wasn't running the interviews, Tali was, and she enjoyed every moment.
She glanced at Gibbs and Tim, before brushing a feather light kiss to the shell of his ear; he jumped, causing the chair to scoot back an inch or two. "Stealing intel from the American Navy to sell to their enemies, abandoning your partner to take the burn," Neither Gibbs nor Tim corrected the woman's mistake; they stood back and watched, allowing her to control the interview. "You do realize your mistake, yes?" He swallowed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, the tip of Tali's tongue darted out to brush along the top curve of his ear. He winced, pulling away as she chuckled. "You see, Malachi. The partner you abandoned, well," She leaned closer, her breath warm on his skin, igniting goosebumps. "she's my niece."
Then, she leaned closer, her dark hair cascading down to block her face from view as she whispered something in his ear. Not that Mara needed to hear her or read her lips to know what she was informing the younger man.
You will pay for messing with my family. Especially my niece.
By the time Tali pulled away and straightened, Malachi was ready and fully willing to talk.
She had never wanted to stay in one place more than she wanted to in that moment.
After Tali's little interrogation act, Malachi had sung like a nightingale- no, that wasn't right, was it?- and told them everything. How he'd set Mara up to take the fall, how he'd gotten in contact with a friend of his that worked for al-Qaeda, who had been interested in buying the intel, how he'd set up a meeting for in New York to pass off the intel, and how he'd ultimately slipped up by-
Mara shook her head; that wasn't important. What was important was that the intel was back at NCIS, where it belonged.
And she was going back to Israel, where she belonged.
Because her father had made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with her.
So now, she sat with her mother and aunt in the boarding area of the D.C. airport, waiting to catch a flight back to Israel. Namir had gone to check on the flight details, and her mother was engrossed in a much-read copy of A Little Princess. Only Tali wasn't buried within something; she had just gotten off the phone with the director of Mossad, informing him of the conclusion of the case, and promising to hand deliver Malachi personally to him. As she plunked down in her seat, she caught sight of the dejected look on Mara's face and sighed.
"I know that look. What is wrong?" The girl turned to her.
"Why do you think something is wrong, Doda?"
Tali raised one slender eyebrow and Mara shivered. The resemblance between her aunt and her mother was creepy. "Talk to me, Mara. Something is bothering you."
Slowly, the girl reached into her pocket, pulling out a business card, and, swallowing the lump in her throat, she handed it over. Her aunt glanced at it, before the other eyebrow joined its sibling. "I see. Does Ima know?" The girl shook her head. "Does your father-" But a quick shake cut her off. "Okay. If this is what you want." Mara bit her lip, before nodding, slowly. She glanced over her shoulder towards her mother, who turned another page in her book, oblivious to the conversation, her daughter's idea, or how her sister would contribute to her daughter's next act of delinquency. "Are you sure this is what you want? Because we cannot stop-"
"I am sure." Tali nodded once at the firmness in her niece's voice. "But," Mara licked her lips, suddenly nervous. "What about Ima?" Tali wrinkled her nose, that familiar wiry smile coming to her features- the kind she got when she was in on something and Ziva wasn't.
"Do not worry about her. I can handle Ziva. I have always been able to handle Ziva." The teenager threw her arms around her aunt, burying her face in Tali's dark curls.
"Thank you." The older woman quickly rubbed her back, pressing a kiss to her hair before pulling away.
"Not a problem, motek. Now go." The girl grabbed her things and stood, before leaning down and kissing her aunt on each cheek and then quickly on the lips.
"Toda. Ani ohevet otach."
"Gam at." She gave the girl a reassuring smile. "Go." As Mara rushed past, Ziva looked up, confused. But before she could say anything, Tali replied,
"Bathroom. Did not want to sort through her bag. That time of the month."
Ziva narrowed her eyes, but all her sister did was get up and join her, slipping an arm through hers and asking what chapter she was on, glancing behind her every so often to make sure Mara had slipped into the crowd.