Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: I had to do this, get it out of my system. It feels like this needs to be told, to fill in a chapter of the story from Ziva's perspective. For those that don't like Ziva, please just give her a chance; she's not replacing Kate. She's misunderstood, so here goes… Oh, and Hannah, it's not shippy in the least, so don't worry! R&R
"In Her Own Way"
Ziva David sat silently in the plush airline seats, shifting uncomfortably after such along flight. She surveyed her company silently; older, balding men in crisp business suits with briefcases pushed under the seats in front of them; women with their restless children; and couples linking hands over their adjoining arm rests, contently dozing off to sleep as the plane hummed quietly.
Ziva didn't pay much attention to them, but more so the men accompanying herself on the flight, one tall sandy-haired man in a white pinstriped business shirt; and one Middle-Eastern man who sat straight in his seat, his white cloth shirt dangling over the arm rest. His turban bound round his head, covering his dark hair, his black beard still visible under the layers of cloth. In his right hand was a small book that he hung to tightly, his fingers curled around the smooth spine. Ziva watched them both out of the corner of her eye, observing them in silence.
They had been on the airliner for only six hours so far, and Ziva was getting restless. She lent forward in her seat, the seatbelt stopping her from reaching all the way. She undid the silver buckle swiftly and dug around in her brown bag for some reading material, pulling out her copy of GSM. She turned the pages quickly, the sound of the pages whipping together awakening her company, the man in the pinstriped shirt opening one eye to the sound. Ziva flashed a quick smile to him in apology; he smiled back, closing his eyes once more. Ziva lent back in her seat, stretching her legs out and yawning widely. She wasn't tired, despite getting up at 0500, but that was per usual for Mossad. She was just restless, the magazine doing nothing to push the images out of her mind.
She couldn't stop thinking about the past few weeks, the unusual sensation of fear that she felt when she heard about her half-brother, venturing into new territory to stake his claim, causing panic and fear in the process. Whilst it wasn't completely his fault; Ziva knew that Ari had always been the ringleader, taking control of almost every situation he entered; yet some of the blame had to fall on their father. A cruel man, he had trained his own children to be strong, decisive, smart, which were not bad qualities, but Ziva knew that they were not intended for good. Director David had trained his children to be soldiers of sort, drummed into them the qualities that were supposed to make them resilient, strong and proud.
But that wasn't all that was preying on her mind. The thought of her brother's body, dressed neatly in his white cloth attire, the Star of David necklace around his neck, distressed Ziva somewhat. The image of his cold, stiff body lying horizontally in a dark stained coffin some distance below Ziva kept flashing into her mind. The thought that he was finally with her again, to guide her and care for her, was not a comforting one. She had seen many bodies of slain men and women in her lifetime, but the image of her brothers' body; cold and lifeless, a deep red hole in the centre of his forehead; kept jumping into her head. She had killed her own brother. The same brother who had helped her up when she fell, wiped away her tears and shared his last breadstick at supper. He was kind and loving, thoughtful and generous. He loved her immensely and she trusted him completely. Well, that was when they were young, very young. So young that Ziva couldn't be sure that the memories were real or not. But really, she knew in her heart that they were. That was until they met up again after so many years, separated by vast desert for so long, each of their mothers taking them away to grow up as individuals.
Although kindness in childhood wasn't a determining factor of how Ari would turnout as an adult. He had killed people in cold blood, Ziva knew that. But he was still her brother. She didn't know whether she would ever get over that, not in the near future anyway.
The plane jolted suddenly, Ziva's first thought of her brother, the coffin strapped securely in the cargo bay. She tensed, sitting upright in her chair. An air hostess came along the isle as the seatbelt light came on, checking each passenger and their belongings were secure. She stopped at Ziva, gesturing towards her seatbelt. Ziva picked up each end, pushing them together with a click. She sat still for a minute until the plane stopped shuddering, coming clear of the air turbulence. The copy of GSM slid off Ziva's lap and she kicked it in the general direction of her bag. A voice came over the speaker system, in Hebrew then again in English, telling the passengers to keep their seatbelts done up, and that the stopover connection in Osaka, Japan, due in a few hours, may be delayed because of an unforeseen occurance at the Osaka International terminal. Ziva sighed, she just wanted to get back to her homeland so Ari could be laid to rest, undisturbed and finally at peace with himself.
Ziva knew there would be a ceremony when she got back to Tel Aviv, but she wasn't sure she wanted to be there. Her father would insist upon it, but Ziva couldn't stand the thought of saying goodbye to him, let alone saying goodbye to a murderer. She didn't want to hear the Rabbi's words of praise when they were so undoubtedly tainted with the names of men, women and children that Ari had killed in cold blood.
The name of Caitlin Todd, one of Ari's last victims, kept drifting into Ziva's mind. Ziva had saved the life of Kate's boss, Gibbs, while at the same time ending the life of her only brother. She had to look into Gibbs' blue eyes, so deep and knowledgeable, knowing that it could have been him. It was like Gibbs knew what Ziva was thinking, that at that moment after Ari's death, when blood still seeped out of the wound in his forehead, that Ziva had looked into the eyes of this man and knew that he trusted her. Ziva would never betray him, and he knew this. All from that look in his eyes. Gibbs was the kind of person that never gave too much away, just enough to let you hear snippets of information, but not enough to piece them together. Not unless you looked in his eyes, they told you everything you needed to know about him. For a man who had been through a lot, experienced so much and lost even more, he was incredibly trusting to strangers, but you had to prove yourself first. Of course he would never tell you that he trusted you, not unless you'd been in a situation like Ziva had with him. He was a complex man on the outside, not so much on the inside. He was vulnerable like anyone else, but more able to hide his vulnerability than some.
Tony DiNozzo, a man so incredibly good looking, and very aware of it, might not seem as complex. A self-styled ladies' man, handsome yet hapless. But after the loss of Kate, his partner, he was suddenly stripped of his shield, the shield he put up so not to let anyone in. He might date many women, seem to reveal a lot about himself, this was not the case. Ziva was able to read him like an open book. He may have been confused about his feelings about Kate, but because he denied it to himself it would forever remain hidden. He didn't want to admit anything in case he let anyone in again, in case he lost them too.
The plane jolted again, not as violently, as the seatbelt light came on again, Ziva hadn't even noticed it going off. The shuddering didn't last long, the pilots' voice coming over the speakers as the hostesses made final checks in preparation for landing at Osaka International Airport for the connecting flight. Ziva didn't need to get off the plane, so she remained in her seat as the plane went through the routine of its decent and landing. It took about 45 minutes to ferry the passengers off the plane and ferry new passengers on, and in no time they were in the air again.
Ziva relaxed in her seat once more, checking her company out of the corner of her eye once more as she let her eyelids droop. She pushed her thick black hair out of her face and stretched out her legs once more. She tried to sleep, but every time she was close to dropping off, the image of Ari's body lying on the cold grey concrete in Gibbs' basement kept popping into her mind. She hated Ari so much for what he had done, yet loved him at the same time, these two emotions tugging either way. She had always been loyal, and was not about to stop now, but to think that someone she had grown up with could kill in cold blood was unimaginable. It was not a new thing for people to cross over to the other side, but Ziva didn't want to believe it. She knew it was true, and common sense soon rushed over her, in realization that someone she half shared DNA with could diminish the life of others.
Many hours later the plane began its final decent in the orange streaked surroundings of Tel Aviv. Soon a car would arrive to take the coffin away, for the ceremony and burial, and the final goodbyes Ziva had to give.
Ziva got off the plane, pausing at the top of the steel steps adjoined to the airliner to take in the sight. It was beautiful, orange and greens mixed into the horizon as stark trees and shrubbery dotted the landscape. Her company soon followed, escorting her from the plane to inside the terminal where she would have paperwork to sign, and finally collecting her brother's coffin. She entered the terminal, a cool breeze brushing across her skin as she headed for the front desk to follow the directions and complete the necessary task.
She flashed her Mossad badge and ID to the necessary officials and collected the paperwork, skimming over the lines of writing and signing her name with a flourish at the bottom. The awaiting car collected her, leaving her company at the terminal for them to head off to their own destinations. She lent back in the comfy seats of the black car, forcing herself not to look back, where her brothers' coffin rested in the back of the car. It was so close to her, yet Ziva felt detached from it all, in her own world coping in her own way. In no time the car had arrived at its destination, where the necessary people were waiting to take the coffin away for its final alterations. She caught sight of the coffin being taken away by officials, the dark stain casting an odd glow as the sun hit the side of it. Ziva took a deep breath and climbed out, mentally preparing herself for the confrontation with her and Ari's father. She was not looking forward to it, the questions and predictable interrogation that would undoubtedly follow. Her father always felt the need to question Ziva's actions, making her feel that she was not worthy of being in Mossad. It only made Ziva more determined to prove him wrong.
She waited around for a few hours until everything was set, changing from her casual wear to her long black Muslim attire that was typical for a ceremony. Her company was wordless, instead turning their attention to the wooden box that encased Ari's lifeless body. A few of the women were crying, unaware that they were mourning a murderer.
The Rabbi finished off the ceremony and Ziva waited until the area was clear before going up to Ari's coffin. She looked down at it, resting on black silk cloth. She tried to think of what to say, but the truth was she had already decided to leave Mossad for a while, to go back to America. She didn't feel right saying goodbye to him when she was going to head straight back to the place where he killed so many people. Where he killed Caitlin Todd. Ziva was about to go back there, yet here she was trying to find the words to say goodbye to Kate's killer. But he was still her brother, and Ziva tried to push away those thoughts and remember when they were young children, playing with blocks, action figures and little Ari's new train set. But she couldn't – instead she kept seeing the face of Tony DiNozzo when he realized that Kate was gone, like a sudden jolt of electricity, the pain of realization.
Ziva looked at the coffin once more, reaching up to touch the Star of David necklace hanging around her neck. She closed her eyes for a moment, deep in thought, trying to think of the right words, but there were none for this situation. At least not now. Maybe some other time, when she could collect her thoughts and reflect on it all.
Ziva reached out, resting her hand on the top of Ari's coffin, saying goodbye in her own way.
I haven't decided whether to continue this fic or not, depends on what kind of feedback or not. Should I continue? If I do it will be Ziva going back to NCIS to start a new life, blah blah blah... R&R!