I am so, so sorry that I have not written anything in a while. But I am back. For this chapter, at least. I am getting slow again.
It struck me when reading your reviews (I replied to none of them again – I feel bad about that, sorry, but life was…life – it got in the way) that I never actually specified that Malachi is not the Malachi we know and hate. Malachi is a different Malachi to Ben-Gidon from season 7. I mean, in this we have Malachi Levy, but I never specified that that was not an undercover name – or even me forgetting his name and not being bothered to check it.
Well, I did sort of forget. When I was choosing a name for our bad guy, I chose Malachi knowing that we could not have a Michael but forgetting that there was already a Malachi. For some reason I naturally gravitate towards names beginning with an M.
I just thought I would clear that up now, although it should have been done about ten chapters ago. So sorry about that. I hope that any confusion I have caused is gone now. If not, leave a review (or PM) with your question and I will try to answer it.
LXVII. No man, for any considerable period, can wear on face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.
"Mike. Any news?"
"I checked out the hospital." He was sat in a bar across the road, watching the main, and only public, entrance to the hospital.
"And?"
He sighed. How much did he tell them? That although the receptionist said she was there, when directed to the ward there was no sign of her? That the ward he had been sent to was the obstetrics ward? "I didn't see either of them. I'm keeping watch over it, though."
"Why? You think they're there?"
"The main receptionist said she was a patient there, but when I went up to her ward there was no trace of her and the doctor denied all knowledge of her."
"Malachi might have something to do with that. We don't know how many people he's paid off." He could have sworn he could hear Gibbs' cogs turning. "What ward?"
"A…general one."
"Mike." There was an impatience along with a threat in his tone.
"Obstetrics. Pregnancy stuff."
"Christ." Mike winced at a bang and the sound of a hammer hitting wood. "DiNozzo doesn't find out about this little bit of information until we know exactly what's going on."
"Uh-hu. Probie, I've gotta go." He threw a couple of bills on the bar as he stood up.
"Mike?"
"Malachi's just walked into the hospital."
"And Ziva?"
"Not there." He hung up, pocketing the phone and following at a leisurely pace. He accepted a small bouquet of cosmos and poppies from a street-seller, overpaying the old woman slightly but not wanting to waste too much time and lose sight of Malachi. He trailed the younger man, keeping a distance between them as he jogged up the same stairs he had already taken that morning. He hung back as Malachi signed in and walked towards the glass doors that separated the beds from the reception area. Noting that there seemed to be no discussion and therefore no hint of suggestion that Malachi was being informed of his earlier presence, he headed over to the desk, smiling sweetly at the nurse on reception duty. "You lied to me."
She looked up at him and worried her lip nervously. "I…" The doctor walked through just then and she stood up, catching his attention.
"Ah, Mr Franks. I have contacted the main desk and we have sorted out the mix up. Your daughter is downstairs with Dr Mallard. I will take you to her."
"Okay…" He nodded hesitantly, fingering the weapon concealed at his hip as he followed the doctor out of the ward, confusion written across his face. "You know Ziva is not my daughter, right?"
The doctor nodded. "My name is Dr López. I have been caring for Ziva whilst she has been here with us. I was not certain that Mr Levy would have been happy knowing that you are here to see Ziva. She told me you would trust me more if I mentioned a Dr Mallard. I apologise for deceiving you – it was for her own safety."
"Her safety? Then what are you doing letting that psycho in there?"
"Mr Levy is visiting his wife. We cannot stop him from doing so." López narrowed his eyes. "You are here to take her back home? To her Tony? She has told me to tell you not to, to let her deal with it."
"I am here to make certain she is safe. Her real husband will be flying up as soon as possible to take her home and keep her safe." He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Why's she here? She pregnant?"
"No." The doctor shook his head. "Mr Levy believes Miss Ziva miscarried two days ago. We are supposedly keeping her under observation, to prevent any further complications. She is fine."
"So she's not pregnant?"
"No." Mike heaved a sigh of relief, glad that he would not have any bad news to relay to Gibbs with his next phone call. "We are keeping her in for as long as possible, but Mr Levy is growing impatient. He is threatening to discharge her against our advice."
"When?"
"I do not know. We are doing our best to keep her here and keep her safe, truly we are."
The greying agent nodded in understanding. "Her husband will be here in a few hours. As soon as they can get a Space-A flight."
The doctor looked down to his watch and then back up to the ex-agent. "She wants to speak to you. You can wait in my office until Mr Levy has left."
"Thank you."
"My friend has arranged a flight for us from Mexico City into Belize, and then a boat from there to the Cayman Islands, a flight to Havana and finally a flight to Spain. Then we travel through public transport on our separate identities." He grit his teeth as Ziva lay on her side, staring at her hands where they were curled onto the pillow. "Ziva, are you listening to me?" When she ignored him he kicked the base of the bed, jolting it. "Ziva, we have to leave now if we are going to make it to Mexico City on time."
"I am too tired, Malachi. I hurt." It was not difficult to make her voice sound as small as she needed it to.
"You hurt." He looked up to the ceiling. "Whereabouts do you hurt?"
"Everywhere, Malachi. Everything hurts."
He rubbed his face and stood up. "I will tell the doctor to give you more painkillers. I will see how long we can delay our transport for." He huffed as he stormed out of her curtained off area, going to find Dr López.
She closed her eyes, waiting to hear the shouting match that her captor was bound to start and not being disappointed when his loud, accented voice carried through the ward, bouncing off the linoleum floors. She waited until the argument subsided before pulling out the cellphone that she kept hidden underneath her pillow and typing in Tony's number, but before she could hit the call button she heard the curtain pull back across the rail and she jammed the phone beneath the covers, only to receive a gruff laugh from her intruder. She looked up to see Mike standing by the foot of her bed, scraggly hair and scruffy beard paired with a yellow polo shirt. "Lady Ziva. You've got a lot of people looking for you."
"We've got five seats on a Lockheed C-5 leaving in 55 minutes. Time to go, DiNozzo."
"Yeah, right. Um, can you guys give me a few minutes with the twins?"
"Sure." Gibbs nodded, ushering everybody inside the kitchen and hitting McGee when he tried to watch Tony out of the window. "Give him some privacy to say goodbye to his kids, McGee. He doesn't know when he'll see them again, or if he will even come back." The young man stared at his boss for a moment before nodding solemnly, walking over to Abby and hugging her goodbye.
"I'm gonna bring Ima back, okay? I'm not gonna be gone for long, and Auntie Abby, Grandma Jenny and Grandpa Ducky are gonna be looking after you. Which means you have to be really brave for me, just as brave as Ima is being at the moment, and I need you to not grow up too much whilst I'm gone, 'cause you've already grown in the time that Ima's been gone, and I am sure she doesn't want to miss any more." He was sat cross-legged on the picnic blanket that was now almost permanently laid out on the grass in the back garden, the picnic blanket that usually had someone entertaining the babies on it, providing there was no rain or it was not too cold. He tickled each of their tummies, chuckling quietly as each of them squealed. "You didn't listen to a thing I said, did you?" He sighed, signing 'goodbye' and 'I love you' to the two of them before kissing each of them on the foreheads and looking over to see an empty kitchen, something he had not been expecting. He stood up slowly, sniffing and swiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, then stepping steadily across to the house, seeing Abby sat on the floor with her back against one of the cabinets.
"What happens if something goes wrong?" She looked up at him, her thumbnail disappearing between her teeth as she gnawed on it.
"Nothing's gonna go wrong, Abs."
"Tony, what if it does? Have you thought about that?" He nodded subtly and she let out a small, relieved sigh. "So, what happens?"
"Well, if I fail and don't manage to get Ziva home, and if I don't come home, then Gibbs is their registered next of kin. If Gibbs does not come home either, it is between you and McGee to decide what happens. That's what it says in mine and Ziva's wills. We talked it over with Gibbs and the director and decided that that was the most sensible option. It's what we want."
Abby nodded, standing up and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Bring her home, Tony. Please?"
He buried his face in the black material of her t-shirt and nodded into her shoulder as he squeezed her. "I'll try."
"Don't just try, Tony. Actually do it."
Abby had gone out into the garden once she had said goodbye to Tony, leaving Director Shepard, Ducky and Palmer to say their farewells on the doorstep. Despite having formed relations close enough to almost class as an alliance, Eli and Amit both knew that the goodbyes and wishes of good luck were not meant for them and so distanced themselves, walking over to the two NCIS chargers that were to be driven to the airfield.
It was a sombre affair, the silent goodbyes of knowing nods and unspoken words, the emotion of the situation too heavy for even the wise-cracking clown of the group to lift. The mood was only accentuated by the rolling clouds that were beginning to creep across the sky, bringing a foreboding darkness and casting deep shadows across the street. There was a sense of dread shrouding everyone like a thick cloak and settling deep into those with guts.
"Bring her home, my boy." Ducky said finally, and though it was directed to Tony it was something that all three of the agents bowed their heads and vowed to do.
"Stay safe out there." Jenny pleaded, her voice smaller than that which she usually used as Director. There was a timidness to it, full of fear. Another nod and the three men turned away, each slinging a duffle bag over their shoulder and stepping down the steps of the brownstone to join their two teammates for their mission.
