I have not been having a good couple of weeks, and I have been struggling to write anything, or even do anything, really, but I wrote this in my lunch break today before a meeting, so it is not as good as I could have made it, I think, but I do not think that I could make it any better at the moment.
I really, really need you guys to stick with it after this chapter, because I am certainly not finished with this story yet.
LXII. Love Does Not Begin And End The Way We Seem To Think It Does. Love Is A Battle, Love Is A War; Love Is A Growing Up.
Gibbs.
Do not hate me for this. I know he might, and I do not blame him, but I cannot have this continue anymore. I have to end this. I cannot continue to live in fear that my husband and children are in constant danger all because of mistakes I have made in my past. I am doing this for them. I am keeping them safe, and that is all that can be asked of a mother. It is my duty to keep my babies alive. I have failed this task once before, and I cannot live with the idea that I will fail it again. I am doing this only out of love for them and love for Tony.
Do not try and look for me. Do not let him try and look for me. Neither of you will find me, for if Malachi does not kill me then he will remove me from temptation. I will be allowed no contact with them, and I will be forced to forget about my family. Of course I will never forget them, never. They are my life. But that is why I must leave.
I need him to stop believing in me, I need him to feel I betrayed him, because then he will be safe. He will not search for me, and he will not put himself in danger for me. He will put all of his effort into raising Ada and Bod, loving them and caring for them. Please convince him of that. For me? It will be the last ever favour I ask of you. Please. I would ask you to keep them safe, but I know you will do that anyway.
I owe you my life, Gibbs. Do this last thing for me and stop him from following me. He will be hurting, and I will be the cause of his pain, but it is the only way and I only wish that one day someone will see fit to punish me for that crime, although maybe my being away from them is my punishment.
I love them, Gibbs. I want you to know that, even if they cannot.
Thank you for everything,
Ziva
She brushed the tears away from her cheeks for them only to be replaced moments later as she folded the paper and slid it inside the envelope, stuffing the letter into the pocket of her cargo pants. She sniffed, stifling the torrent of tears that hit her when her eyes fell on the two cots built by Gibbs with her hands. It was the first night the twins were sleeping in the nursery, and she was sat in the rocking chair. She reached for the photograph of her, Tony and the twins that Abby had taken when the team had celebrated their homecoming from the hospital, and had printed and framed. Carefully removing the back so as to make no sound she took the 4x6 out of the wooden frame and turned it over, picking her pen up and writing what had to be said to her children.
I hope one day you understand why I did it. Why I left you and your father. I left out of love. I left because I could not live in a world without the three of you. You probably do not even remember me; I left two weeks after this photo was taken.
I will never get to see you grow up. But I think, maybe, you might be better off without me around anyway. More importantly, you will be safer.
I love you. I always will.
She replaced the photo and wiped her eyes again, standing silently and walking over to the two cots. She felt no desire to bar the tears that fell at their sleeping faces as she stood over them, committing their peaceful looks to memory. "I am sorry. I do love you." She pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads. She continued to watch them for ten minutes before turning the volume back up on the baby monitor on the side table and leaving the room, walking down the hall to the master bedroom. She crept through and crouched beside Tony's side of the bed. His hair was soft as she ran a hand through it and his day-old stubble coarse against her palm. "I love you, Anthony DiNozzo." She brushed her lips lightly against his and froze when he shifted in his sleep. He settled back down again and she sighed, standing up. She moved over to her side of the bed and slipped both her wedding band and engagement ring off of her finger, laying them side by side on the cabinet, next to her alarm clock and the photo of the team that she kept there. She slipped out of the room and down the stairs, pulling her combat boots on and picking her backpack up. She took one last look at the house before stepping outside into the darkness. The agent at the end of the street had his back to her as she walked quickly and quietly past, her head down and her deep blue hoodie and dark pants concealing her in the dark. She was grateful he was only paying great attention to people turning onto the street and not those leaving for she was finding it hard to step back into what Tony called the 'spy routine'. Tears rolled down her cheeks at the thought of Tony, his smile and laugh, the way he looked at her, touched her, and soon enough she was struggling to walk. The low wall of a property gave her the opportunity to sit and she did, weeping silently into her hands. Time slipped past as she sat on that wall, and soon enough the sky began to lighten a touch, deep indigo fading to denim. She sniffed and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, standing up and looking in both directions. Her first instinct was to go home, crawl into bed and relish in the warmth of her husband's body, but she knew she could not. She had to protect them. She let her feet guide her to Gibbs' house, shutting her mind down completely. She pushed the letter to him through his letterbox and turned away, not letting herself stop any longer than necessary.
"Mmph…Ziva, 's your turn." Tony mumbled into his pillow as the incessant wailing continued. "Ziva, I went last time." He reached over, intending to nudge her awake, and hit cold bed sheets instead of warm skin. "Ziva?" He sat up and blinked, focusing his eyes on her empty half of the bed. He yawned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his face and walking through to the nursery, frowning at the room devoid of his wife and full of screaming children. Well, two screaming children. He sighed and walked over to Ada first, knowing that if he could settle her tears, then she would be able to sleep whilst Ichabod still cried. "Hey, Baby Girl, what's the problem, hey? Do you need changing?" He sniffed and groaned. "Yep. What a great thing to wake up to, hey?" Carrying her over to the changing table he sighed, following a now well-rehearsed routine. "Where's Ima, huh? How come she's not in here changing you? No, I don't know where she is, either. Maybe she's downstairs, hm? Yeah, that must be it. Ima's just downstairs and didn't hear you." He bit his lip, locking eyes with his daughter and shaking his head. "You don't believe that, do you? You know what? Me either." He did her sleeper up and carried her back to her cot, laying her back down and brushing his hands over her soft smattering of hair before turning to her brother, already starting to quieten down. "Was it just your sister who woke you up, hey?" He cooed, bouncing him gently in his arms as he walked around the room. "Where's Ima? Where's Ima, hey? Shall we check downstairs?" He headed out of the nursery, grabbing the baby monitor from his and Ziva's bedroom on his way downstairs, and circuited the house. "Nope, not here." He shook his head, crossing the kitchen to the back door. "Where is she, huh?" He unlocked the door and stepped onto the patio, moving to the steps that lead to their sunken garden. The agent sat on the chair swing looked over and frowned.
"Problem?"
"Ziva's not come out here has she?"
He shook his head. "No. Why?"
"I can't find her. She's probably just…in another room. I'll continue looking." He stepped back inside and locked the door, heading back upstairs. "Maybe she's gone for a run? Ima likes running, you know. We'll phone her." He picked up the landline and dialled her mobile. Ichabod jumped in his arms when the shrill ringing broke the silence of the house and Tony picked the phone up from the dresser, frowning. He hung up and sighed, chucking both phones on the bed before checking the wardrobe. Her running shoes were where they always were, but her favourite boots and a pair of her black heels were missing. "I've really got to get your Ima some more clothes. It's wrong for a guy to know every item of clothing his wife owns. I bet she doesn't even know every item of clothing she owns. Well, she probably does, 'cause your Ima is cleaver like that, but…" He turned in a slow circle, analysing every inch of the room, as he spoke, until his eye caught on something shining on her bedside table. He walked over and froze, unable to take his eyes off of his mother's rings. "Bod, please tell me those aren't what I think they are. Please tell me this is some sort of sick dream, because I can't…" He reached out to touch them, pulling his hand back when his fingers came into contact with the cold metal he was so used to feeling around Ziva's warm finger. "Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God."
She had walked approximately ten miles by the time she had found what she was looking for. The roads had filled with people going about their daily business and she had removed the dark hoodie, leaving her in a tight, long-sleeved dusky-blue t-shirt that allowed her to blend in with the rest of the population to an extent. She scanned the coffee shop that she had stepped into for any familiar faces and was uncertain whether she should have felt relieved or disappointed that she recognised nobody. She stuck her hand into her backpack, pulling out a handful of coins and walked over to the payphone in the corner. She dialled the number she knew so well and fed coins into the machine, groaning when she got the switchboard. She gave the four-letter code and was immediately patched through to the line she needed. "Shalom?"
"I need his number."
"Ziva."
"His number."
"I do not know who you are talking about."
"Aba, I know you spoke with Malachi about Agent DiNozzo and I, now give me his number."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because I have left Tony. Things were not working between us and…I realised what I was missing out on. I realised how much I need Malachi." Her stomach knotted and twisted as she spoke in hushed tones and she placed an icy hand to her clammy forehead. Now was not the time to start feeling emotional. "I want Malachi, Aba. I…I love him."
"Hmm. Very well then." His smug voice made her fist clench around the receiver and her stomach turn, the sick-feeling increasing ten-fold as she wrote the phone number her father recited on the palm of her hand.
"Thank you, Aba." She ground out, hanging the phone up before he even had the chance to respond. She made her way over to the bathrooms and wrinkled her nose at the state of them, suddenly missing the men's room of the NCIS building as she locked the door. Her mind flashed back to conversations in there with Tony and McGee and she had to wipe another tear from the corner of her eye. She pulled out the one business dress she owned, a plain black pencil dress, and stripped down to her underwear before tugging the dress on. She frowned at herself in the mirror and shook her head at her reflection. She looked nothing like the business women out in the coffee shop and on the street, the ones she needed to completely blend in with. She yanked the hair tie out, letting the tight bun collapse on itself and tumble into loose curls. Then, she took out the small handbag that sat at the bottom of her rucksack and stowed the remainder of the spare change from the phone call in a side pocket, pulling out a lipstick and carefully outlining her lips in the tint. She checked that the bag had everything from her backpack that she needed, her back-up weapon and knifes, a passport and drivers license under the name Gina Dalton, a past alias, and a wallet of about $300 cash. It was her backup plan bag, one she had always kept containing everything she may need for a quick escape. She had had it prepared since her eleventh birthday, although its contents had changed slightly over the years. There were a few other items, but none personal. She took the black stilettos out of her backpack and swapped them for the leather boots she was wearing, removing her ankle holster and exchanging it for her thigh holster, flinching as the cold metal of the handgun brushed against the inside of her thigh. She tucked her ankle holster in the black leather bag, not wanting to loose her favourite holster, before taking one last look in the mirror and leaving, her backpack still on the counter. She was pleased to see that she attracted absolutely no attention, fitting in with all of the other professionals as they hurried down the streets. All she needed was a phone attached to her ear and she would be well on her way to being one herself. She had walked another four miles, winding in and out of the streets of DC and regretting her choice in shoes, missing her boots, when she reached a phone box outside a sleazy looking hotel. Using the remainder of the coins she had, she dialled the number on her palm and waited for it to be picked up.
"Ziva, my love."
"Malachi."
"You have come to your senses, then. Your father called."
"I expected he would. I miss you, Malachi."
"Of course you do."
"Can I see you?"
"That depends. The whole of NCIS is hunting me. Can I trust you, Ziva?"
"Yes, Malachi. I realised that you are who I truly want. Please?"
"And your husband?"
"I have left him. He does not know where I have gone."
"He will not try and find us?"
"Not if you hide us. We are two of Mossad's finest, after all. If we cannot disappear then nobody can. Please, I love you."
"Very well then. I shall send somebody to meet you at the Washington Monument. Be there in half an hour. And Ziva, if you betray me I will hurt Agent DiNozzo and your children. I might even pay a little visit to Elsie and Mina. I promise you."
She bit her tongue as words of anger and hatred fought to stream from her lips. "I would never do such a thing, Malachi."
"Good. Be there, Ziva, alone, or else." He hung up and she dropped the phone back into its cradle and exhaled shakily, trying not to choke on the tears that were suffocating her. As if on autopilot she hailed a cab and sat in the back, staring out of the window and watching the city that had become her home fly past, blurring into streams of grey as her eyes filled with tears.
I will rectify this, do not worry, but I needed a way to get rid of Malachi. I already have parts of the next chapter planned out, and there are already chapters for the future written up, so there is no panicking, it will all turn out all right in the end.
