Hi Everyone,

Thank you so much for your nice words for my first chapter! I'm glad to see that you've enjoyed reading it! For this chapter, we are going to Israel and seeing what's going on with Ziva.

Spoilers: This story is set just after Ziva David left NCIS (S11 E02: Past, Present, and Future). I don't take in account what happened in the series after that event. As there have been many seasons (and many Tiva developments) since, let's just say that this is a fun AU.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, I don't earn any money with this story, I'm just enjoying playing with the characters.

Playlist: Every chapter is inspired by a song. For this chapter, it's Sonata Arctica - Give Me the Right. Check out my profile for more details!

I hope you enjoy!

Temples of Gold

Chapter 2: I'm Not You

The sun was setting behind the trees. Employees and workers of Beer Sheva were getting ready to go back home. Life was moving on for everyone. Everyone except Ziva David.

She had not left her pyjamas for days, let alone the house. Socialising was beyond her capabilities for now, and every day saw the same succession of bad television and half-eaten meals. She found interest in nothing. Sleep had become a comfortable refuge. She knew that she could not continue that way for too long. Money was going to be a problem, for a start. She would have to close her American bank accounts, sell her flat in D.C., transfer the money to a new account in Israel, all that from the other side of the world. She had anticipated nothing when she had arrived here months ago. The task was too overwhelming, so she was choosing to sleep her fears away.

Tony had left two weeks ago and the wound was still burning. It didn't matter that it was her choice that had led her there. If anything, it added guilt to her troubles, because she knew that she had hurt Tony very deeply. Gibbs too, she had heard it during their last phone conversation. She didn't know if she would be able to recover from everything that had happened in the past years. All the deaths, all the betrayals, it was like they had managed to poison her will to live. She had told Tony that she wanted to rebuild herself but the truth was that it was maybe too late.

As she was absentmindedly switching the channel on her old TV, the doorbell startled her. She muted the television immediately, hoping that whoever was outside would think she wasn't at home. The visitor rang the bell once more, then knocked at the door.

For a second, a crazy hopeful second, she thought that Tony had returned. He was the only one who knew where to find her.

'Ziva!' she heard calling from the other side. 'I know you are in there.'

That voice. It wasn't Tony.

'Schmeil!' she murmured, recognising her old friend.

What was he doing here? Last she had heard from him, he was still living in Washington. Not that she had bothered to get in contact with him since she had been here.

'Ziva, please open the door!' insisted Schmeil.

He wasn't going to drop it. He had travelled all this way to see her, she had to at least answer. Reluctantly, she opened the door and blinked, blinded by the sunset.

'Good evening Ziva,' said Schmeil with a large smile.

'What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?'

She knew she wasn't very polite or agreeable to her friend but she wasn't in the mood for a visit.

'Tony told me where I could find you. You left without saying goodbye.'

She stared at the floor, aware that the accusation was rightfounded. Silently, she moved away and let him in. Still smiling, Schmeil closed the door behind him, removed his signature hat and hung it to the rack next to the door.

'Schmeil… I'm… sorry.' That was all she could say.

'I am sure you had your reasons, my child,' he calmly said. 'I'm just happy to see you.'

He opened his arms and gave her the warmest hug. Just like that, a little of her guilt disappeared. Schmeil had always managed to make her feel better.

'Now,' he said while releasing her, 'tell me what happened during the last months.'

She sighed. 'It's a long story.'

Schmeil smiled and lead her through the open door of the living room. 'That's alright, I have all the time in the world.'

—

It was a new day and for the first time in a fortnight, Ziva had awaken early, taken a shower and tidied up the house. She had even popped to the closest shop to buy some breakfast. Now she was savouring her coffee and thinking about everything that had been said last night. Schmeil was still sleeping, jet lagged and probably exhausted by the long conversation they had had. She, on the other hand, had barely slept.

Schmeil had pointed out that Ziva could not keep on hiding in her childhood home. She could not wither away and do nothing of this new life that she had chosen. She had rejected Tony because she wanted to do something good. It was time to get out and rebuild herself. She was no help to anyone in her depressive state.

Once the old man would wake up, she would take care of her legal situation first. She had gone into hiding for a good reason. Parsa's men might still be after her, even though his cell in America seemed to have been dismantled. Rebuilding anything under her real name would probably be too dangerous. If she wanted a new life, she needed to have a new name. She had given a lot of thoughts about it and her best option was to contact Mossad, no matter how reluctant she was to deal with them again. Once that was done, she would take care of her possessions in Washington D.C. Then, she would start her new life.

She had no idea about what to do with herself but she assumed that she would find it somewhere along the way. One step at a time.

For the moment, she grabbed her cellphone that hadn't been used in ages and searched through the directory for the name of the one man in Mossad she didn't despise completely: Adam Eshel.

—

The Mossad headquarters hadn't changed since she had last been there after her father's funeral. Same large windows. Same busy faces. She couldn't believe that at some point in her life she had felt at home in here. Today, she felt out of place. She was glad that Schmeil and Adam were with her, otherwise she might have turned back and fled before meeting Orli Elbaz.

Adam had said that the Director had insisted to arrange her new identity herself. Ziva was less than thrilled to have her fate in the hands of the woman who ruined her parents' marriage but she had no choice. If she wanted to start a new life, she needed to stop being resentful. Forgiving Orli Elbaz was a good start.

'Ziva,' welcomed the older lady as she entered her office. 'It's nice to see you in good health.'

She gestured them to take a seat in front of the large oak desk. Wearily, Ziva sat down, wondering what the Director's large smile was hiding. She was experienced enough with Mossad to know that Orli would not have bothered meeting her if she didn't need something in return.

'It is nice of you to meet us so soon,' said Schmeil politely.

'My pleasure,' nodded Orli. 'I will do everything in my power to insure that Eli's daughter gets a safe new life…'

Ziva disliked the way the Director referred to her father but she chose to keep quiet. It was better not to alienate the only person who could offer her a protection.

'Now Ziva, have you given any thoughts to your new name?'

She had, actually. 'I want to keep my first name. As a surname I chose Mizrahi.'

It was her mother's maiden name. Common enough in Israel to be harmless, yet it meant everything to her. She saw clearly Orli's eyebrows raise. Of course she knew. She knew everything about her family. About the marriage she destroyed.

'Are you sure Ziva? It could be still traced back to you…'

'I don't think Benham Parsa is interested in my genealogy.'

There was a pause. Next to her, Ziva could feel Adam hold his breath and Schmeil silently disapprove her tone. She ignored both. Yes, she had decided to forgive Orli but it didn't have to be without a fight.

Finally, the Director sighed. 'Fine. I'll get your new identity created. It will take a couple of days. Agent Eshel will take care of the details.'

Ziva waited, certain that there was something else. And she was right. Orli leaned forward and added, 'There's another matter we need to discuss.'

'Go ahead.'

'After his passing, your father's lawyer carried on his will as you probably know already and divided the inheritance.'

A couple of days after the funeral, Ziva had been in the attorney's office and had accepted the possessions her father had left her. The house in Beer Sheva was part of this legacy.

'However, your father had a second will, this time concerning some assets he acquired in his position of Director of Mossad.'

'Really?' That was a total surprise. Ziva had never heard of any assets other than what was in the first will.

'As the new Director, it is my duty to fulfil your father's wishes. I have carefully reviewed his legacy and I must say that most of these… assets, as you father calls them himself, are a matter of national security. I cannot release them to you, not without re-incorporating you into Mossad active service.'

'That will never happen,' Ziva replied with a firm tone. Never, ever. She would never go back to her past self. To the assassin. She hadn't left the NCIS for that.

'I assumed you would react that way, so I have a proposition for you.'

'What proposition?'

'You could bequeath these assets to Mossad.'

Ziva was starting to understand. Orli Elbaz did want something from her indeed.

'In exchange,' continued Orli, 'you would be generously compensated.'

'What do you mean by generously?' asked Schmeil.

The Director leaned forward to them and replied, 'Fifty millions shekels.'

Suddenly, it was like the air had deserted Ziva's lungs. Fifty millions shekels? In US Dollars that would be… above ten millions! Adam whistled in appreciation, while Schmeil grumbled something about how many hats he could buy with that.

'What are these assets exactly?' asked Ziva. 'Why do you want them so badly?'

'This is none of your concern Ziva.'

'On the contrary!' she snapped. 'My father left them to me for a reason! And I want to know why.'

Orli stared at her for several seconds, then seemed to understand that Ziva was not going to let this go. She sighed and stood up. She walked towards the wall on her right and revealed a safe hidden behind a painting that looked like a Picasso. She pressed the digits quickly and opened the door. From where she was sitting, Ziva could see that the safe contained a thick folder. Orli grabbed it and presented it to her.

'What is it?' asked Ziva, without opening it.

'It is the list of every single one of our operatives, their assignments, fake identities, past actions, from the very beginning of this agency. It's everything that the Mossad has ever done. It's our history as well as our current involvements. The whole Mossad rests on this information.'

Ziva skimmed through the folder and saw pictures of hundreds of agents, places and summary of missions. She noticed that the folder had a number printed on the cover: 1/913. What she had in her hands was just the first of many folders filled with secrets. Secrets that were highly dangerous.

'I see you're starting to understand,' said Orli. 'This cannot leave Mossad, otherwise…'

She didn't finish but Ziva knew what she meant. These folders had the power to destroy Mossad. Her father had left her a weapon capable of annihilating the agency that she had come to hate over the years. These secrets, revealed to the public, would undoubtedly be the biggest intelligence leak the world had ever seen.

'Why me?' she asked weakly. 'Why did my father give this to me?'

Eli knew how tormented and angry Ziva was. She hated the Mossad, she hated everything she had done when she was an agent.

'I don't know, Ziva. Believe me, I've been asking myself the same question.'

Was it a last attempt to play with her? From inside the grave, had Eli tried to bring her back to Mossad? Or had he genuinely tried to give her something that would make her life better? Did he want her to reveal these secrets to the world? Was it his way of helping her get revenge for all these years spent tarnishing her soul?

And then, suddenly, she understood. The last time she had seen her father, Eli was trying everything he could to rekindle a relationship with her. He had talked about redemption, about leaving the past behind. He, more than anyone else in the world, knew that Ziva had the hardest time forgetting what she had done. So he had given her the possibility to do it.

Eli had finally accepted what she had tried to tell him all these years. She was never going to be like him. She was never going to succeed him in Mossad. Her time at NCIS was not a phase, a rebellion. She was going to make better choices that he had. He would never have rejected this formidable opportunity of holding power over Orli. And that was why she needed to do it.

'I don't want these secrets,' she said. 'I'm done with Mossad.'

This time it was for good. She was not going to put Mossad agents' lives in jeopardy. She was tired of seeking revenge. Tired of being brought back to what she was. Ziva the Assassin was just another page in these folders. It was History. She needed to move on, and her father was showing her the way.

'You should burn these folders,' she added. 'The history of this agency is nothing compared to what it can become in the future.'

She could see that Orli was impressed.

'I agree. I will ensure that these secrets never see the light of day again. I owe it to your father.'

Ziva nodded. Maybe Orli was not perfect but nor was she. The Director was probably wrestling with past mistakes too and maybe this legacy would help bring peace to both of them, after all.

'Thank you, Orli,' she said sincerely.

'No, it's I who thank you Ziva. I will send everything to you once the paperwork is ready.'

She stood up and shook the Director's hand, then left the office followed by Schmeil and Adam. For the first time in years, she felt incredibly light. The walls of Mossad didn't seem threatening anymore. She was done with this part of her life, and nothing could make her happier.

As she was saying goodbye to Adam, the man asked her: 'Do you know what you will do with this fortune?'

She had almost forgotten about the money, focussed on how relieved she felt. Fifty millions shekels! She would have never imagined having so much money in her entire life.

'Actually…' she replied with a smile. 'I do have an idea.'

—

Ziva was contemplating the urban landscape through the large windows of her soon-to-be new office and surprised herself daydreaming. Her life had changed so much in the past month! Would Tony recognise her now that she was ready to take the biggest leap in her life — financially at least?

'Oh Tony…' she murmured, 'You should see this.'

Haifa was smoggy in this Monday afternoon of November and she could not see most of the buildings past a few blocks, but it was still stunning. She had not chosen these offices for the view, but for their price - very low for the city. This neighbourhood had been targeted by a Hamas rocket a few months ago and, even though the damages had been very limited, the estate value had dropped. Ziva had seen there a way to save money, even though she wasn't really limited in that department.

She had invested cautiously the money received from Mossad. She had calculated that she could live all her life comfortably without working a single day, and there would still be money left when she died.

Yet, twiddling her thumbs all day long was not in her temperament.

'I think it's perfect Ziva,' said Schmeil, standing next to her. The old man had been a constant reinsurance during the past weeks. As soon as she had exposed her idea, he had not stopped helping her. He had browsed the internet for hours to find her a flat in a city that would suit her needs better than the small town where she was born. He had organised the move and duct taped dozens of carton boxes. And he had come and visited with her several office spaces such as this one.

'I think so too.'

She could see herself building her idea in these offices. She could see herself changing the world from these headquarters.

'Have you decided on a name?'

'Yes. Tali.'

The old man nodded. Of course he understood why Ziva had decided to name her new project after her deceased sister. Tali would have wanted her to build a better life. Tali would have wanted her to help people. And she would certainly have wanted her to help fight the same terror that had killed her.

'I think no name is better suited to your charity,' declared Schmeil.

It had hit her, right there, when she had thought about the obscene amount of money that Orli Elbaz was going to send to her bank account. She had thought about why she had left NCIS and the conversation with Deena Bashan, Ari's fiancée, had come to her mind. Ari had been loved. He would have had a life and a family, had he made different choices. All her life, Ziva had fought terrorists and killers but with Deena she had realised that her actions were always coming too late. The men she had killed, including Ari, were already lost. There was nothing else she could have done for them. However, she could make a difference before they took the wrong turn.

If Ari's death had taught her anything, it was that most killers were not born evil. For some of them it was bad parenting. For others it was poverty. For most it was oppression, war, hunger, devious influences, traumas, wrong policies, corrupt governments or false hopes. There were many reasons to these men and women becoming monsters but there was only one alternative to their predicament: education. With the money, she could go to the roots of extremism and terrorism and rip them off before more people got killed. She could prevent families to be torn apart by this worldwide cancer.

That was why she had created Tali, a non-profit organisation. The charity was going to show another way to all these kids who were on the path of evil. Ziva wanted to reach every single one of them, those who felt hopeless and alone, and tell them that they didn't need to listen to any preacher, no matter how convincing they were. They could make their own life better.

Ziva was aware that the task was almost impossible but she knew that it was what she wanted to do with her life. She had never backed from any challenge and she knew she was strong enough to tackle this one.

'So what do you say? Are you taking it?' asked a voice behind them.

The estate agent was smiling and holding a contract in his hand. Ziva exchanged a glance with Schmeil and smiled back:

'Yes, I am ready to sign.'

This was the beginning of her new life. She had made a decision and she had to move forward. She scanned the contract quickly and put her signature at the bottom. While she repeated the gesture for the second copy, she glanced back through the window and could not prevent one last nostalgic feeling to seize her. She wished Tony was there to see her make this big move. She wished he could witness how her life was about to change.

—

'Don't you think it's a little rushed?' asked Ziva. 'I signed the lease yesterday, I haven't moved into the offices yet! I don't even have employees! I'm not ready to start a project right now.'

Schmeil had dragged her for a late lunch and was exposing his arguments. 'Naheem is only here for a couple of days. You should at least hear what he has to say.'

The previous evening, Schmeil had learned that his old friend Dr. Naheem Gajani was in the city for a conference. Schmeil had arranged for him to meet Ziva for lunch, but she was reluctant.

'I don't think I'm cut for such a big project. I wanted to start small, here in Israel… Learn how to run the charity. I don't have enough experience for this!'

'Trust me, experience is never as important as motivation,' said a voice behind her.

Startled, she stood up and faced a man, in his sixties, who was smiling at her. She recognised him from the picture Schmeil had shown her and smiled back, while shaking his hand.

'I'm Naheem Gajani,' he said, 'it's nice to meet you.'

'Ziva… Mizrahi.'

It was still weird to introduce herself with this name. However, she was getting better at it each time.

'Nice to meet you Ziva. Hello Schmeil!' he greeted the old man.

'Thank you for taking the time to meet us,' replied Schmeil.

'I'll always make time for you, my friend.'

Naheem took the unoccupied seat at the table and Ziva sat in front of him. She realised that she was nervous. It was her first real business meeting, even if it was an informal lunch, and she didn't know what to say. Fortunately, Naheem was as easy going as Schmeil and started the conversation.

'Schmeil told me that you are in the process of starting your own charity. Congratulations, it is a very noble task.'

'Thanks. Yes, it is the very beginning. I've just found the location and tomorrow I'm starting the interviews for my future staff.'

She had received promising CVs and she was looking forward to meet those who would make her vision come true.

'A good staff is the most important component of any organisation,' agreed Naheem.

The waiter came to take their orders. When he left, Ziva asked, 'So what is it that you do, Dr Gajani?'

'Please, call me Naheem! I am the Dean of the Faculty of Education at the University of Karachi.'

'That's really impressive. Is that why you are in Haifa? Are you meeting with other professors?'

'Yes… and no. You see, Ziva, over the years, my position has helped me understand the most crucial challenge that my country, Pakistan, is going to face in the next decades: the lack of proper schools all over the territory. The people I'm meeting this week are all dedicated to creating more places for education in their own countries. We just need to find the proper fundings.'

'So you want to build schools in Karachi?' she asked. 'Isn't there some kind of public funding for that?'

'Education is not the priority of my government, and yet it is how we will move forward. In the rural areas, the only way our youth can access education is through the Koranic schools. And we know that a lot of them are used to recruit for organisations such as al-Qaeda. I think that it is our duties, as scholars, to provide an alternative to our children.'

'I agree. So are you looking for private fundings then?'

'Exactly. And from what Schmeil has told me about you, you could be exactly the right person to help us. Not only in Pakistan but everywhere in the world!'

It was so overwhelming that Ziva couldn't help but object. 'My charity is not ready for so much. I think that your project is fantastic but I'm not sure how much I can help now. You might want to associate with a bigger organisation.'

'Ziva, I'm not looking for a quick-fix to a problem that has plagued my country for so long. My goal is to team up with people who share the same goals, who want to leave the same legacy to this world. And I think that you are that person.'

She was really touched and only managed to smile.

'Think about my proposition Ziva,' said Naheem. 'Just consider it. Together we can help children everywhere. We can make this world a better place.'

As the waiter was bringing their lunch, she nodded.

'I will think about it.'

—

'Are you sure you don't want me to stay longer?' asked Schmeil for the tenth time at least.

They were waiting in the airport lounge. They had come too early and the registration for Schmeil's flight back to Washington D.C. was not open yet. Ziva had decided to wait with him, not yet willing to say goodbye to her friend.

'Schmeil, you've been here for more than a month already. I cannot thank you enough for your help, but you have your own life to live!'

'The life of an old man is not that interesting Ziva,' chuckled Schmeil. 'I don't mind staying for another week. You need my help.'

'I will always need your help,' she smiled, 'but I need to learn to handle things by myself. You don't need to worry about me anymore. I'm busy now, I won't go back to… the state I was when you arrived here. And your students need you too!'

Schmeil had started teaching at Georgetown last spring as an honorary guest lecturer. His classes talked about the Holocaust and the survival of Jews under Nazi's regime. This part-time position was the reason he had met Naheem in the first place, as they had both attended several events together.

'My students are more interested in getting their credits than in the subject!'

'I think on the contrary they love Professor Pinkus!' she teased him.

He laughed softly. Ziva knew that he enjoyed giving his lectures very much and was looking forward to each of them. Never mind his age, Schmeil always had energy when it came to educate young people.

'So… Have you given any thoughts to Naheem's proposition?'

Actually, Ziva not been able to think about anything else since they had lunch a couple of days ago. She had weighed the pros and the cons, and had read carefully the documentation that Naheem had sent her by email. It was a lot of information to take in, especially because each country would pose different problems, but the scholars involved with Naheem really knew their subjects. They had paved the way to educating the poorest populations and all they needed was the money to achieve this goal.

'I think…,' she replied, 'I think that this project is exactly the kind of project for which Tali was founded.'

'That's fantastic!' said Schmeil, clapping his hands.

'Of course, that means that I'm going to have a lot of work in the next months. I can't finance all these schools myself, even if Mossad had given me twice the money. I'm going to have to organise a fundraiser and find sponsors.'

'You'll find the way. I trust you.'

The quiet confidence of Schmeil was not enough to reassure her but it made her feel a little bit better. The task that was awaiting her was huge. She didn't know anything about running a business, or a charity for that matter. She hadn't led any team outside of Mossad and she knew that she was not the most diplomatic person around. However, she had a will of steel. That surely counted for something.

'Attention, passengers for the flight 3445 to Ronald Reagan National Washington Airport, the check-in is now open. Please present yourself to desk 14 for registration.'

'That's me,' said Schmeil, without making a movement.

She saw him hesitating. 'What is it?' she asked.

'Do you want me to give a message to Tony?'

Ziva felt like a knife was ripping her heart out, just at the simple mention of Tony's name. Since their first long conversation, Schmeil had never mentioned Tony again. He knew that she was far to be over him, that it was still making her suffer. However, he was giving her a chance to reach out.

'… No,' she said after a while.

It was just too difficult. Tony would never fit in her new life, and she owed to herself to give the charity a real chance. She had to be focussed, concentrated on her goals and not looking back.

'As you wish,' sighed Schmeil.

Ziva stood up and warmly hugged her friend. 'I will miss you, Schmeil.'

'I'll miss you too, my child. Take care of yourself.'

'I will.'

—

The next days were extremely busy for Ziva. First, there were the interviews for her staff. Then, one week after Schmeil's departure, she had started the long process of moving in the offices.

It was now Thursday and Ziva folded the last empty carton and dropped it in the recyclables container with a sigh of relief. She was glad it was almost over. Some furnitures were still waiting to be delivered but her desk had arrived that morning and her assistant Chaviv Bakal had managed to get an internet connexion and phones working in less than 24 hours.

She was happy of her choice of staff so far. Her first hire, Chaviv, was her personal assistant. She was also employing Magda Shub as lawyer. The latter busied herself with trustees and legal rulebooks while the former dealt with all the practical issues of the new endeavour. Ziva knew she would need to hire more personnel soon, but for now it would do. It was already a huge step for her to delegate to other people. It felt like losing control of her own idea and it was highly uncomfortable to trust people she had just met with something that was so important to her. A few months ago, she would have thought it impossible, but she had pushed herself to make that decision because she was aware that she could not do everything alone.

Since Schmeil had left, she had shoved Tony to the back of her mind. She could not allow herself to be distracted, let alone depressed. She had way too much work for that and her employees counted on her. Now that she had responsibilities, Ziva found it easier to forget about everything that had happened since her father died. She was so tired every evening when she was coming back to her flat that she usually fell asleep straight away, without the usual torturing thoughts about the life that she had left behind. Exhaustion allowed her to keep her emotions at bay and it was exactly what she needed.

'Excuse-me, Miss Mizrahi?'

She looked up and saw that Chaviv was knocking at her open door, looking unsure if he could come in.

'I have already asked you to call me Ziva. What is it?'

'Someone is waiting in the lounge. He said his name was Omar Isaak. He wants to speak with you. He says it's important.'

She frowned. They had barely moved in, who could want to meet her already? Maybe this man wanted to join the little group of trustees that she had already assembled thanks to Naheem's contacts? Who knew, maybe he even wanted to make a donation!

'Let him in.'

Chaviv scampered away and came back a minute later followed by a potbellied man with white hair. Seeing his expression, Ziva knew immediately that this man was not here to make a donation.

'So here's the famous Ziva Mizrahi!' cheered the man with a fake smile. 'I have heard a lot about you in the past week.'

Immediately, Ziva hated the way this man was addressing her. 'Really?'

'Yes, your name was mentioned after the World Education Conference, along with Naheem Gajani. You intend to subside his schools project, don't you?'

'Yes, I do.'

'I have come at the right time, it seems. You see, Ziva, I think you should reconsider your support.'

Ziva frowned. 'Excuse me, but who are you?'

'I apologise for my lack of manners. My name is Omar Isaak. I represent a conglomerate of businesses here in Israel and all around the world. Now, as I said, we think that your charity's support of Mr Gajani's project is ill-advised.'

Her dislike of the man grew deeper every second she was spending in his presence. 'I disagree,' she stated. 'I think Mr Gajani's project is vital in many countries and I intend to fully support him.'

Isaak smirked. 'Your charity is quite new, isn't it? You, yourself, seem to have appeared… practically from nowhere.'

'Have you researched me?' snapped Ziva.

She knew that her new identity was well crafted and there was no way someone not in Mossad would know her real name, but would it resist a close inspection? If Isaak had indeed researched her, he might have noticed some discrepancies, which would be enough to make him suspicious.

'Don't take it like that. I'm just saying that maybe it would be less… uncertain for someone in your position, new in the city, new in the business, to support a less visible project. For your own good.'

Ziva stood up and gave the man one of her nastier looks. 'Don't you dare threatening me! I am not one to bow under pressure. I will support any project I see fit.'

'Even if it means giving money to terrorists?' he insinuated. 'Because these schools cannot prevent terrorism. They are just going to spread it!'

'You're wrong!' she shouted.

'Think about it!' Isaak was shouting too, now. 'Pakistan? It's the nest of Jihad evil! Who do you think your precious children are going to attack first? You're betraying your country!'

'Get out!' she bursted, outraged.

Isaak stood up and locked his eyes into hers. 'You're making a big mistake. You're on your own here in Haifa, and you don't want me as your enemy. '

Ziva took a deep breath to prevent herself from punching the man. 'Get out!' she repeated.

Isaak seemed to understand that she was about to lose her self-control and, after a nod, turned away and left her fuming in her office.

'Chaviv!' she called.

Her assistant popped his head through the half-closed door: 'Yes Miss Mizrahi?'

'Please note that from now on, Mr Isaak is not welcomed in these offices anymore.'

'Got it.'

Chaviv closed the door behind him, and only then she allowed herself to let the air exit her lungs. She knew that supporting projects in countries seen as enemies of Israel would bring opposition. She just hadn't imagined that she would receive direct threats so quickly. It was a misjudgment on her part, she would not make this mistake again.

What Isaak had said was true, however. She was on her own here in Haifa. She could not rely on her friends to protect her anymore. In the past seven years, every time she had been in trouble, Gibbs, Tony, McGee, Abby, Ducky and even Palmer had been there for her. They had gotten her out of Somalia. They had protected her against her own father. They had even done everything they could to help her find Bodnar.

Now, she was alone and she had to carry this project on her own shoulders. It was going to be hard. Maybe impossible. She would have to defeat every opposition, without even being able to use her fists. It would probably be the hardest battle she would ever fight.

She shook her head, getting rid of this pessimism. No! She couldn't think that way! She forced herself to look at the only frame that she had hanged in her office and smiled. It was a copy of the first line of her "I Will" list:

I Will Right My Wrongs.

It was there to remind her of her goal. It was the meaning of her new life. 'I. Will. Right. My. Wrongs!' she recited with conviction.

A man like Omar Isaak was nothing compared to this powerful mantra. She was ready to face any obstacle, she was ready to give everything she had to bring more peace to this world. She was going to achieve this goal, even if it was the last thing she would ever do.

With another smile, she grabbed a folder with potential locations for her first school, and whispered resolutely, 'Bring it on.'

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review, it's always appreciated! Next chapter: a dead body for Christmas!

Loufoca