Tali's alarm wakes both sisters up at six thirty the next morning. Ziva groans and attempts to roll over, but her ever-growing abdomen gets in the way. Sometime in the past week the bump had really started to become noticeable, evidenced also by the clothing that was getting tighter and tighter on her petite figure.
She frowns when she realizes that she will most likely need a whole new wardrobe. Money is tight, and they cannot afford to buy her clothes she will only need for the next few months, not when they will have diapers and baby clothes and baby food to purchase.
We will make do, Ziva resolves, we always do.
"Tali, turn it off," she grumbles, the incessant beeping suddenly becoming nearly intolerable. There is a groan and a smack and the alarm stops.
"I don't need to go to school," Tali moans, curling back up under the covers and nestling into her sister's warm body.
Ziva rolls her eyes. "Come on, get up, you are going to be late."
"What about you?"
"Five more minutes," she insists, before pulling the comforter up above her head. It is only seconds later that she feels a whoosh of cold air.
Tali stands at the foot of the bed with her blanket in hand, grinning. "Misery loves company."
"I am pregnant, I am allowed to sleep in! It is practically doctor's orders," Ziva protests, shivering. "Give me the blanket."
Tali huffs and throws the comforter back on top of her sister before heading over to the dresser to get her outfit for the day.
"I did not get to see you after I dropped you off at the Navy Yard, motek. How was Abby's?"
Tali grins as she pulls a shirt over her head. "It was awesome. She showed me how she dusts for fingerprints and runs them through the database and how Major Mass Spec works."
Ziva frowns. "Who is Major Mass Speck?"
"She has this machine that tells her what's in different substances, it's called a… a maspectrometer or something," Tali shrugs. Ziva just smirks.
"Abby names her machines? Why does that not surprise me?"
"She's really fun, Zivi. I want to go back again, there're so many things I can learn!" Tali's face is so eager and excited that there is no way Ziva could ever say no.
"I will talk to Tony about it, yes? But right now you need hurry up so you can get out to the bus stop, you will be late."
Tali speedily finishes dressing then brushes her teeth and hair before returning to the bedside and leaning down to press a kiss to Ziva's cheek. "See you later," she bids, before darting out of the room and grabbing her backpack off of the kitchen table.
"Do not forget to eat something!" Ziva calls, and through the open door she has just the right angle to see a small arm grab a banana from a bowl on the counter before she hears the door slam.
It will be a few hours yet before Ziva can bring herself to move from under the warm comforter. Growing up in Israel, freezing temperatures were few and far between and the summers were sweltering. Temperatures like the ones in DC in the middle of January were rare, and Ziva has discovered over the past month that she has a very low tolerance for cold weather.
Her blanket is warm and the outside air is cold, which makes the battle to get out of bed one swiftly and decisively lost.
It is not until noon that she can no longer stand to be inert. With a heavy sigh, she mentally prepares herself for the rush of chilly air. "Come on, we have slept long enough," she announces to her son before bravely tearing off the cover of the comforter.
All it takes is one second of the cold before she is back under the blanket. The heating system in their apartment is not always operable, and she is sure that even people who were used to this kind of weather would be cold in this building. She is in a stubborn mood and not prepared to sacrifice the warmth, so she compromises, sitting up and swinging her feet off the bed and standing up, the comforter still wrapped around her shoulders. With a fair amount of tugging it pulls free from where it was tucked in at the foot of the bed.
"Let's go, ahuvi, I'm sure you are hungry," Ziva declares, one hand on her baby and the other holding the edges of the comforter at her chest.
With that she marches off to the kitchen, three and a half feet of beige comforter trailing along behind her.
Ziva spends a great portion of her time alone that afternoon thinking about Assistant Director Leon Vance. Every time she reviews the situation, her resolve to tell her brother about what happened in the elevator weakens.
It really should not have been a hard decision. She should have told him immediately. She should have woken him up last night and shared everything that happened. Ari is her partner in this, her confidant. They are in this together, and he would surely never keep something so important from her.
Only this is different, she tells herself. She feels so guilty, but in the end she decides against telling him.
Ari is a paranoid person, and rightfully so. Had he gone undercover in Hamas, as was the plan for him, it probably would have saved his life on more than one occasion. Now that they are essentially on the run from an incredibly powerful intelligence organization, he has more of a right to paranoia than ever.
That is what worries her.
She cannot picture her brother being okay with someone knowing the truth, especially when that someone is friends with the very man they are fleeing from. Add in the fact that that someone also happens to be her brother's boss, and Ziva no longer trusts that telling him won't lead to a complete relocation.
Normally, Ziva would have been on his side. Normally, she would have felt the same way and would have contacted Bashan immediately, requesting new papers and three plane tickets to Middle-of-Nowhere, Iowa. Normally, she would never have taken any risks with the safety of her family.
And her mind isn't sure what makes this situation abnormal, but her heart cannot stop beating a cadence that sounds suspiciously like To-NY, To-NY, To-NY…
Some days the guilt slammed into her like a steamroller, and she would have to try multiple times just to take a breath. Self-loathing was present in every thought, every action, and every word. Disbelief, regret, and shame rolled into one overwhelming, heartbreaking emotion that smacked her across the face in the name of her little sister.
The bitter truth was that she left an innocent, hopeful, bright-eyed little girl sisterless only a week after the death of their mother. She abandoned Tali when she needed her sister the most.
Never since Cain and Abel had such a selfish act occurred.
It would have been easy to write it off as orders. Orders were orders, and her father was not a man to be refused. However, she can lie to others, but never to herself.
She knows that, in the end, it had far less to do with orders and much more to do with running away.
The death of her mother had stunned her. She had experienced the death of a loved one before, but never had something hurt so badly. The idea of going somewhere else, being someone else—even someone like Ziva Shahar—and having a sense of purpose, a mission, was tantalizing.
She had tried to pass it off as bravery and loyalty to her country and to Mossad, but she eventually came to realize that it was nothing but cowardice. There is no honor in running away. There is no dignity in abandoning those who needed her the most. There is no nobility in forgetting that she was not the only one hurting.
She ran away to try to distract her bleeding heart, and in the process left a nine year old girl with two gaping wounds to deal with on her own. For that, there was no excuse, not even her father's orders.
For that, there was no forgiveness.
The next few weeks bring nothing but snow and, for Ziva, the unexpected reprise of morning sickness. The nausea made her terrible on her feet and left her confined to cold tile of the bathroom floor for at least a half hour on most mornings. She is incredibly glad that she decided to let go of the six hour morning shift at the diner, because at this point it would have been nearly impossible.
Her clothing also keeps getting smaller. Her knit sweaters, which she usually wears in layers to protect from the incessant cold, have to stretch to accommodate her ever-growing abdomen. A shopping trip begins to seem imminent, to her dismay.
Tali, of course, does not seem to see it so pessimistically. Perhaps it is because Tali does not have money to worry about, but she seems entirely too enthusiastic about taking Ziva shopping for maternity clothes.
Then again, Tali is a naturally enthusiastic person. She has a passion for life that even this drastic move to America has not been able to take from her.
This is exhibited in no way better than through her love for music.
The piano Tony got them for Christmas has been well-loved and well-used in the last month. Ziva often finds Tali sitting at it, experimenting with chords and singing her favorite songs along with it. The apartment is rarely silent when Tali is home. Day by day she has started singing more, everything from Wagner to Bon Jovi.
No one ever complained.
Towards the end of January, Ziva is talking to Tony at work when an idea hits her.
"Tony, is there an Opera here?"
Tony is obviously caught off guard by her question. He thinks about it for a second before responding. "I'm pretty sure there is. They probably perform at the Kennedy Center. You like the opera?"
"I like it, but Tali loves it. Her dream is to be on stage and perform in one. We used to go often, but we have not been to one in… in a long time," she admits. "I would like to do it again."
"Well I can have McTicketMaster dig around for some tickets for the two of you since you don't have a computer," he offers. "Would Ari want to go?"
She shakes her head. "No, it would just be me and Tali. But Tony, really, I do not want to impose on you or Tim, by asking I did not mean that you had to—"
"Hey," he interrupts, holding his hand up, "Don't worry about it, it's not a problem. I guarantee McGoo won't mind, and if he does then I can do it. I'm not that bad with computers."
She snorts. "I have seen you type, Tony. It takes you ten seconds to find each letter," she mocks playfully, poking at the counter with her pointer fingers in an imitation of his hunt-and-peck method of typing.
"Hey," he replies indignantly, "It gets the job done!"
"Whatever flips your ship, Tony."
He smirks. "Floats your boat, not flips your ship."
She smiles a little. "Alright, that one actually does make more sense," she concedes.
She has an appointment with Dr. Kendiss a few days later, and this time she enters the hospital much less nervous than all the times before. Her appointment two weeks ago had revealed nothing of interest, and to Ziva's great relief, nothing of worry. The doctor had assured her that she was progressing wonderfully, much better than expected. The odds of having the baby within the month before her due date in the middle of June were looking even better each time her progress was checked, and she can't help but be excited for what this appointment will bring. The cynical part of her that worried about miscarriage and malnutrition and prematurity has been effectively silenced by her newfound confidence.
"You're entering your eighteenth week here, Ziva, in other words about four and a half months," the doctor tells her. "He's still a bit small, but nothing that worries me. As long as you keep eating right and getting enough rest, I don't see anything that's stopping you from carrying him to term. Have you felt him kicking yet?"
Ziva's eyes widen. "Should I have?"
"It can happen anytime from sixteen to twenty-five weeks, so don't worry if you haven't. But just know that if you do feel something, you shouldn't panic. It's just him moving around, trying to get comfortable."
The expectant mother runs a hand down her growing belly. "I cannot even begin to imagine how that feels," she mutters.
Dr. Kendiss offers her a gentle smile. "You'll be in awe when it happens, it's an incredible feeling. You know, he can hear you right now."
A smile spreads across Ziva's face. "He can?"
"Yep, he's developed enough now to begin to recognize noises. So talk to him, sing to him, read to him, play music, let him get used to hearing your voice and his family's voices."
Ziva takes a second to let this soak in. She glances at the doctor with a question in her eyes, and Kendiss gives her a reassuring smile. Ziva then leans forward, bringing her head as close to her bump as possible, and speaks in a voice containing more amazement and reverence than she ever thought capable of coming from her mouth.
"Hello, little one. I am your Ima, and I love you very, very much."
"Boker tov, motek," Ziva greets her sleepy sister on Sunday morning, smiling from behind a stack of pancakes. Tali grins.
"What has you in such a good mood?" she asks. Ziva just shrugs.
"Perhaps I simply wanted to make you pancakes," she replies.
Tali smirks, pulling a chair out and sitting down at the table next to Ari, who is reading the paper. "I can live with that."
"Actually, there is something I wanted to tell you," Ziva admits, pulling out a third chair and angling it towards Tali, who stops chewing immediately.
"I knew something was wrong," she sighs, swallowing the food. Ziva just laughs.
"Nothing is wrong, I promise. It is actually the exact opposite," she promises, offering a knowing smile. "I will be right back."
When Ziva returns, she is holding two pieces of paper in her hand. She sits back down at the table and hands them to her sister, a wide anticipating smile on her face.
Tali scanned the papers, and her eyes go wide. "The Washington National Opera? Tonight?" She searches her sister's face for confirmation. Ziva nods and Tali squeals, throwing her arms around her neck.
"Thank you, Zivi," Tali expresses, "I've missed going with you so much. It's been forever. Todah, todah."
Ziva grins in response, kissing Tali's cheek lovingly. "You are so, so welcome. I agree, it has been far too long. We will make up for that, yes?"
"Ken," Tali agrees, "Yes, we will."
Tali does not let go of Ziva's hand as they make their way through the throng of well-dressed opera-goers. There is excitement on her little sister's face that Ziva cannot seem to see enough of.
This excitement, however, gives way to awe the second they step into the Grand Foyer. Ceilings higher than either of them had ever seen hold huge chandeliers. The hall extends almost farther than they can see. The walls, floor, and ceiling converge far away. All of it is carpeted in a luscious deep red. People mill about, headed towards the Opera House.
The wonder in Tali's face fills Ziva's heart with a familiar pride. They have not even gotten to the opera portion of the evening and Tali is already enjoying herself. Ziva smiles.
It feels inexplicably good to do right by her little sister.
A/N: So this one didn't take as long, which I am proud of! I hope you liked it, even if it was a bit of a filler.
Thank you all so much for such incredible positive feedback on the last chapter! To prince-bishop, never-give-up-hope2, ChEmMiE, shortcake99, a guest reviewer, Nanoushka, aquasm, greeny13, dvd123, another guest reviewer, EowynGoldberry, Bex19, NCIStiva3, NCIS Ziva DiNozzo, 123sannancis, perach, JG, J09tiva and Emma for the incredible reviews! Please let me know what you thought of this one!
