Pivotal Moments

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June 14th, NAS Sigonella

Ziva had lost the practice of waking slowly, and when she opened her eyes, she was startled by the bright whiteness that surrounded her. Slowly the brightness resolved into ceiling tiles, walls, sheets and blankets and casts. There was a soothing scent of eucalyptus wafting through the room and Ziva could make absolutely no sense of what had happened.

As she focused on the transformation of her surroundings, a weight across her waist registered in Ziva's mind. Easing her head slightly to the side—the lack of pain told her she was highly medicated—she caught sight of Tony's sleeping face, and smiled. The familiar movement of her face brought back the pain at once and also the memory of wondering if she'd ever smile again. The past week returned in a rush, along with Rebekah's presence in her cell...sharpness returning, her situation suddenly became clear. Ziva started trembling, the conflict between her relief and her shock at how close she came to death overwhelming her still-fragile mind.

She did not realize that she was clutching Tony's hand in her chaos until his eyes opened. He stared straight into hers as he cried out wordlessly in joy and relief of his own.

Tony sat up quickly, as Ziva slowly turned her head to follow him, and then Rebekah and Gibbs were bursting into the room, their hands on hers, their eyes bright at the sight of her awake.

***

By the time her friends were done exclaiming over her and the doctors had finished checking her out, Ziva was exhausted again, and the questions in Tony's eyes only made her wearier.

"Let me talk to her a minute," Gibbs finally said firmly, sending the other two out.

Once they were gone, and the door closed, he pulled a chair up to the left side of the bed and sat down. His eyes searched Ziva's face, for what she wasn't sure.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Gibbs nodded. "We're all glad you're alright," he answered gruffly.

Ziva looked away. "What do you need to ask me?"

He paused, and she turned back to him to show her willingness.

"What did they ask you?"

"At first about NCIS, generally, but when I didn't answer they didn't bother to continue to question me." She pursed her lips and glanced away again. "They did not ask me about Mossad, though they knew who I was. I am almost certain my father sent them after me. There was no purpose to what they did to me except that I should die painfully."

Gibbs stroked the back of her hand. The gentleness nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"You were in Somalia. Rebekah said that pointed to your father, too."

The confirmation sent the tears in rivulets down her cheeks. Ziva brought her right hand to her eye to stop them but her motion was impeded by the cast on her wrist. After an awkward moment, she wiped her face dry, wincing as she touched the bruised skin.

"Rebekah and the others have some plans in the works for...actions we could take," Gibbs said slowly, ignoring Ziva's tears, much to her relief.

She took a deep breath. "Let me think about it," she said slowly.

He nodded once and stood. "We'll talk more when you're ready," he said. He crossed to the door and opened it. "Tony and Rebekah are going to want to be in here with you," he told her, a question in his voice.

Ziva sighed, sinking into the bed. "Send Rebekah, then," she said softly.

She heard his voice, muffled by the closed door, and then it opened again. Ziva curled on her side the best she could, and smiled without opening her eyes as the mattress sank behind her and Rebekah settled against her body.

"Zibilya," Rebekah whispered against the back of her neck, kissing the word into Ziva's skin.

Her tears returned, slipping down toward the pillow with a quiet sob, and Rebekah wrapped an arm gently around Ziva's waist, letting her get it out.

After several minutes, Ziva's breathing eased, and Rebekah asked softly in Yiddish, the language they'd both learned from their mothers, "So?"

Ziva sighed.

"The doctors said you'd been tortured, but your injuries..."

"They were not professionals," Ziva answered softly. She could feel Rebekah's nod. It had probably saved her life—her injuries were the result of undirected beating, not the sort of careful attention to pressure points and long-term permanent damage that both women knew well how to inflict.

Ziva laid her hand on Rebekah's and laced their fingers together, waiting for the next question. They had been through this before, when each had been captured undercover and held as spies, though never for so long. Though neither said so, they both knew that the simple fact they could have this conversation meant it could have been worse, as it had for many friends of theirs in the past dozen years.

"You were raped." Rebekah wasn't asking and Ziva was relieved.

"I fought back," she whispered, "they knocked me unconscious for most of it."

Rebekah squeezed her hand tightly. "Good."

After a long pause, Rebekah went on. "When you're ready, we're going to talk about what happens to your father."

Ziva sighed. "Gibbs said."

"He ordered your death, and not within the bounds of Mossad's license to assassinate." She heard Ziva's aggrieved sigh and hugged her closer. "We'll find a way to take him out, just say the word."

"I can't..." Ziva started. "I can't even think about him yet."

"That's alright," Rebekah assured her. "Just sleep now, then. Sleep and heal."

Ziva let her eyes fall shut, but then opened again. There was something else she had to say. "I was ready to jump. When you got there—I was going to kill myself." She felt one of Rebekah's tears hit her shoulder blade.

Rebekah didn't answer for several minutes, until Ziva was nearly asleep. When she did speak, Ziva strained to hear her. The words were nearly stifled by the tears in her throat as Rebekah whispered prayers of thanks, over and over, into Ziva's skin.

Echoing the words in her own mind, Ziva relaxed and slept, soundly, for the first time in a week.

***

The next two days were filled with slow convalescence and initial rehabilitation, as well as frequent video conferences once Abby got Tony to hook up a computer in Ziva's hospital room.

Ziva was laughing despite herself, alternately smiling and wincing in pain as Abby mimed McGee's efforts to wrestle to the ground a man who'd been overbearing toward Abby in a bar the night before, when someone knocked at the door and Rebekah entered, her stance and the tension in her face revealing her agitation.

"I have to go now, Abby," Ziva said, quickly and firmly, then closed the video window before Abby could question her. "What is it?" she asked her friend.

Rebekah fell unconsciously into a military posture. "Your father is coming here."

Ziva jerked back defensively. "How did he find me?"

Rebekah shrugged. "He has Italian contacts, no doubt." She stopped. "If you don't want to see him, we can keep him out for you."

Slowly Ziva shook his head. "We should hear what he says. But don't leave me alone," she added quickly.

Rebekah nodded at once, then a trace of a sly smile snuck across her face. "I took the liberty of having my father send some things from our apartment in Tel Aviv."

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "What things?"

Rebekah held up a bag she had set down on a chair when she entered, and set it by Ziva's legs before reaching in to pull out a yellow linen blouse, edged in eyelet lace, that made Ziva yelp in surprise.

"You went through my boxes?" she demanded.

Rebekah gave her a remonstrating look. "Would you have stopped me if you were there?"

"No." Ziva shrugged. "But you know that's not mine.

The sly look returned. "I don't think she'd mind, and I'd be interested to see the effect it has on your father."

"Reminding him of the daughter he lost in the presence of the daughter he nearly had killed?"

Rebekah smirked. "Something like that."

Ziva shrugged, gave a half smile as she struggled to sit fully upright. "Alright then, help me put it on." The other woman helped her out of her hospital garb and into the top and a pair of pajama bottoms that were soon hidden by the coverlet. When Ziva was redressed, Rebekah spoke again.

"Is there anything else I can help you do to get ready for him?"

Ziva simply looked up at her, wide-eyed and muted by the question.

A tumult in the hallway turned both women toward the door, the noise resolving as Gibbs was heard ordering Tony to stand down. Rebekah rapidly moved toward the door, opening it just wide enough to signal Ziva's willingness to Gibbs before moving to stand at Ziva's side.

Ziva laced her fingers through Rebekah's as her father's outline appeared through the frosted glass window in the door. After a moment, he entered, with Gibbs close behind.

"Ziva," her father said, stopping at the end of the bed, his voice deep, his face etched with concern.

"Shalom," she said woodenly.

"You cannot imagine how relieved I was to hear of your recovery—I only regret that I did not take Agent Meir," he indicated Rebekah, "seriously when she thought you were in danger."

Ziva studied her father, surprised to find herself calm and impartial after three decades of awe and fear of this man. Someone who didn't know him might have believed the worry and relief in his eyes, but she knew better. She watched as he took in her bandages and stiffened almost imperceptibly at the sight of her shirt. Ziva revealed none of her own appreciation for his discomfort. And to be honest, she felt very little. So little it startled her. After everything that had passed, she no longer thought of this man as her father, and that change alone lifted from her a daughterhood that had always been a burden. He was just a man, a man who had no morals and fewer scruples, a man who would hurt her and her friends if given the change.

"Get out," she said calmly in Hebrew.

Eli's facade faltered for a moment, his eyebrows lifting slightly as her words registered.

"I don't ever want to see you again," Ziva said firmly.

His lips pursed in dissatisfaction, but not heartbreak. As he turned and left without another word, Rebekah squeezed Ziva's hand tightly.

When she heard the fire door at the end of the hallway slam shut, Ziva spoke again, this time in English. "Make sure there's no way it can ever be traced back to you," she said coolly to the room. She looked at Gibbs. "Not for vengeance. Just so he can't hurt us again."

Gibbs nodded, then gestured Rebekah toward the door. She leaned down to kiss Ziva's cheek swiftly, then followed.

When they were gone, Ziva's fear of her father finally filtered into her brain, and she clenched her hands in the sheets, struggling to process what had happened. A second member of her family would soon be dead because of her. And only the fact that these few people did love her enough to save her kept Ziva from further desire to end her own life instead.

Tony stepped in after a moment, and Ziva smiled at him as he approached her bed. In the last two days, she hadn't found a way to speak to him, to tell him the things that were easy to share with Rebekah because she knew them firsthand. What she'd found herself most grateful for, however, was Tony's silence. While making no demands, he had never left her except with her explicit permission and a promise on his part to return shortly.

Now she scooted to one side of the bed and he sat beside her.

Tony reached out to touch the scalloped edge of her blouse. "What's this?" he asked, perplexed.

Ziva smiled. "A gift from Tali."

He raised his eyebrows in a question, but she shook her head, then stretched out her arms to him.

Tony wrapped his around her in turn and held her, and it occurred to Ziva like a revelation that she was still alive, that there was still time to create a family of her own with him, with these people around her who loved her.

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A/N I think one more chapter...