For your reading pleasure ... a little bit of NCIS fluff inspired by watching a few YouTube clips of Gibbs with Ziva when she was fresh to the team and looked so very, very young. Gibbs reflects on that in this one-shot.
Enjoy!
...
The first time he saw her, he wondered if it was a joke. Why would Jenny have brought this ... this child into the agency with the expectation that he would train her.
Well, she was clearly no child with the sexual confidence she used to manipulate Tony into being on edge around her. But it was more to do with the energy that surrounded her, the little tells that gave away that despite her experiences, she was not truly experienced, not yet. The eyes that were large, bright, curious, when the eyes of others, even McGee, narrowed in jaded suspicion. The eagerness to head out into the field, enthusiasm overriding the natural horror. The bounce in her step whenever she got to go, the frustration bordering on a temper fit when she didn't. The tilts of the head, the fluffy curls that kept falling in her face and immediately ruined the preconceived notion of an assassin.
A kitten.
For the life of him, Ziva David reminded him of a kitten. A kitten with claws, but a kitten nonetheless.
The claws could draw blood. Just as she knew his file, he knew hers. Not her official one, but the more thorough one that Jen had eventually handed over with a lot more detail than was publicly available. She was an assassin and a good one, with experience in both the Israeli Defense Force and Mossad. Jenny bore testament to the fact that she had worked in counter-terrorism. When they first met, he had just witnessed the results of intelligence that she had gathered leading to a targeted reaction. And he could never forget that night when she chose his life over her brother's. But in that moment, she had still stood there, in shock. He had squeezed her hand for a second, then left her with her dead. She had sat there, chanting, singing, crying. He had not moved too far away from the door. He gave her privacy, but he listened. The soft cries between the reaction that her traditions and familial ties had required of her had borne similarity even then to a kitten bereft of all protection and love.
That was true. Now she had returned - or rather, was returned by meddling Jen. who perhaps had too big of a soft spot for this particular kid.
But again ... it was hard to stay mad about it when he looked at Ziva, who was very clearly trusting him.
She was a kitten, peering out at him hopefully. And though the basket had been forced on him, there really was no way that he could harden his heart against the small resident.
"Please, Gibbs? I think that I can do..."
The insistence snapped him back into the moment from his thoughts.
"I said no and I won't keep saying it. Sit down and do what I already told you to do," he growled. It put her back in her appropriate place, but she was spunky and he could easily see that it just barely worked. She was itchy for adventure, for experience, for ... guidance.
Oh, great. That was up to him.
How long did it take for a kitten to grow into a cat?
But then ... maybe there wasn't too much of a rush. As long as he could keep her safe, that wide-eyed expression was something sorta special. He already knew what would take it away - repeated, prolonged, horrifying exposure to violence, evil, pain, and loss. She had already experienced a lot of it but somehow that softness had persisted. How much longer could it possibly last?
How long could the cat stay a kitten?
...
I hope that you enjoyed. I know it wasn't long or fancy, but I had fun writing it. :)