Chapter 13

Monday morning, McGee looked over at Tony as they were driving in. "You know, there's one big cold case we haven't talked about," he said.

After a second Tony said, "I'm listening, McArchivist."

"Abby and I never did get all those electronics from the Damocles working, including Cryer's sat phone." McGee waited for his partner's reaction. He didn't have to wait long.

"Tim, we are not going there again," Tony said. "Nothing any of us have found points that direction, and the Damocles is a can of worms I do not want us to open again. Not now. Not ever, really."

"And what if it's the right can?" McGee asked, unable to stop now that he'd finally broached the subject that had been on his mind. "We know Ben-Gidon and Ziva both suspected Cryer was working for somebody else. We know Vance and Eli knew each other before Vance became director."

"Ziva said they were friends," Tony said. Only the whiteness around his knuckles gave away how little he liked this.

McGee pressed on, wanting to finish the conversation before they reached the Navy Yard. "I'm not saying that's the case. I just figure we should think about it because if there's one thing that could make this week worse-"

"It's that." Tony cut him off. "I know. But if that's the key to whatever Vance is doing, he wouldn't have to go through this cold case thing. He could just do what he did last year — tell you and Abby to finish processing everything."

McGee felt a little weight lift from his shoulders. "You're right."

"I'm always right, McGoo," Tony said. "That's why I'm senior field agent."

"Senior pain in my ass, maybe," McGee retorted.

"Are you suggesting…?" Tony smirked as he let the suggestion trail off.

McGee head-smacked him. "Keep your mind on work," he said. "Things are going to be weird enough without Ziva around."

"Does Dwayne need to know anything?" Tony asked. "About Ziva."

McGee thought for a minute. "I don't think so," he said. "Not beyond the basics. Now that they leave Kevin at home for game nights, if we even have one anytime soon, I don't think there are any special pressure points there." He thought about it a moment longer. "And Josh is gone after this week."

"What do you bet McSis has already told him some of it, or will," Tony said.

"I know better than to bet with you on understanding people," McGee said. "Sarah can't really talk to any of her other friends about it because they don't know the team and can't know about Somalia, and she probably needs somebody to talk to that isn't too close. That leaves Josh or Gibbs, and I don't need to have your people-reading skills to know which is more likely."

Tony snorted. "Now that's a conversation I'd love to be a fly on the wall for," he said. "Gibbs, not Cooper."

"Does Gibbs need to know?" McGee asked.

"If he wants to know, he'll ask," Tony said. "The man's never been shy about demanding answers when he wants them."

"Good point," McGee said. "Do you want to fill Ducky in, or should I?"

"Let's see if the Boss still has us working on the petty officer who might be gaslighting women into suicide before either one of us heads down to the Duck Pond," Tony replied as he pulled into a parking space. "With Dwayne back on the team starting today, we're not going to be on cold cases very long."

But when they got upstairs, the only sign of Gibbs was the coffee cup on his desk. McGee stopped just in time to avoid plowing into Tony. "Call your stops," he said, then realized Tony was looking at the photo of Dwayne's family on Ziva's desk. The young agent was nowhere in sight, though.

"She'll be back, right?" Tony said, his voice quiet.

"She'll be back," McGee replied, then headed for his own desk, tugging Tony's hand until he followed. "Depending on how long Ziva's out, he might be moving over to my desk before she's back." He kept his voice low, so only Tony could hear.

"It still doesn't feel right," Tony said.

"He's part of the team, and it's not fair to him to stick him at the desk behind mine. Besides, Josh is sitting there for another week," McGee said. "Here he comes."

Tony headed for his own desk, dropping his backpack in its usual corner, as Dwayne walked into the bullpen carrying stacks of files.

"Gibbs told me to move my stuff over," he said, putting down the folders. He walked over to the space in front of the plasma. "How long is Ziva going to be out?"

McGee looked over to Tony, who gave a "Why me?" look in response.

"She took her plant home," McGee said.

"That's because she knows better than to ask either of us to water it," Tony said.

"You really don't know?" Dwayne said.

"I don't think Ziva knows," Tony said. "This was all pretty sudden."

"Not really," McGee said.

"That's how it hits," Tony said. "Gradually, then suddenly. Although in 'Prozac Nation' the quote was about depression."

McGee snorted. "And they stole it from Hemingway's 'The Sun Also Rises,' when it was about going bankrupt."

"You saw the movie?" Tony said. "That one's pretty obscure because it was so bad."

"I read the book," McGee said. "If I haven't watched an old movie with you, it's a good bet I haven't watched the movie."

"I'm lost," Dwayne said.

"Ignore us," McGee said.

"Good advice, Elflord," Gibbs said as he walked into the bullpen.

"Yes, Boss."

"We catch a case?" Tony asked.

Gibbs shook his head. "Stick with the cold ones." He picked up his coffee cup and headed upstairs.

"I'm still confused," Dwayne said.

McGee walked over and leaned a hip in the edge of Gibbs' desk, close enough that only Dwayne and Tony could hear him. "Ziva went through hell in Somalia," he said. "She never really dealt with it. Just enough to get through her psych evals so she could come back to NCIS."

"So this has been brewing for a while," Dwayne said.

"And now she's getting help," Tony said. "And so are we: You." He walked over to join them. "So, we have one cold case we were waiting on Ducky for."

"How do you know Gibbs didn't get the information from him already?" McGee asked.

"Because Ducky emailed to say he'd be in late today," Tony said. "And since he knew Gibbs wouldn't read the email, he sent it to me, too."

"Is everything all right?" Dwayne asked.

"He just said he'd be late because he had something to do this morning," Tony said. "And he sent his report on our possible gaslighting petty officer." He pointed across the bullpen. "Copies on the printer."

"Paper, Tony?" McGee said. "Really?"

"Don't worry, I sent you the email. The paper copies are for us non-technogeeks." Tony walked over and pulled copies of the report off the printer. "Now let's see if this helps."

"See if what helps?" Josh asked as he walked in.

"We're still working on that cold case from last week," McGee said. "Now that we have Ducky's psychological analysis-"

"We can tell if it really is a case," Tony said. He spoke without looking up from the papers he was reading.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

As she drank her morning coffee, Eileen listened to the sounds drifting down from upstairs. Four months and two weeks of Sean doing all the exercises Brad had prescribed for his lungs. They seemed to be working. He at least hadn't ended up back in Bethesda. Still, she listened every morning.

Not for the first time, she wondered how Tim dealt with the thread of worry that seemed to lace through her days since Sean was diagnosed. He only rarely showed it, though she'd heard Tony call him McWorry and McMom enough to know that just because she didn't see it, didn't mean it wasn't there.

When they had talked about what they would do in retirement, this wasn't the plan. Moving to Virginia, planning to care for their granddaughter while her son and his husband were at work, hoping that Sean would be around and healthy until the baby was old enough to remember Grandpa as he was, not as a sick and dying old man, none of it was planned.

They weren't old, either of them. No more so than Jethro was, and he still chased down criminals for a living.

Eileen sighed and sipped her coffee. Worrying would not change anything. Her phone chirped at her, and she looked to see a new email from a name she didn't recognize. Renee… Oh! That was the basketball team captain.

Eileen opened the email to see an invite to join a few of the women on the team that night for an informal 3-on-3 game. She smiled as she replied. A good game was just what she needed to distract her.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

Ducky parked his Morgan in the lot next to the funeral home. It was more than half-full. But then, Mrs. Hampton was many years younger than his own mother had been, and she had lived in the area for many decades.

Once inside, he entered the room where the funeral was to take place. He'd not been surprised that Jordan had chosen not to use a church for the funeral. She stood alone near the casket at the front of the room, speaking with a woman who looked to be a contemporary of her mother's. And of himself, if he was being honest. Jordan had never minded their age difference, but this sort of event did rather drive home that he was closer to her mother's age than to hers.

As he approached, she smiled. "Donnie," she said as he reached her. "Thank you for coming."

"I am so sorry about your mother," he said, taking her hands in his. "How are you?"

She looked around, and lowered her voice. "Sad, of course, but, well, you know."

"Sadly, I do indeed," he said. "Though I wish neither of us had to learn the feeling of watching a loved one fade by inches. Even Afghanistan was not so painful to see."

She nodded, with only a shimmer of tears in her eyes betraying her emotion. "I'm glad you were able to come today," she said. "I know you probably have to leave right after the service-"

"I have no pending cases, just some cold ones that can be delayed a bit," Ducky hastened to say. "That, of course, could change, but if it does not, my day is somewhat flexible."

"Some tea, then?" she asked. "There's a shop down the street. My mother would probably prefer that we toast her memory with a gin fizz, but since it's a weekday and you have to work…"

"Another time," Ducky said. "As for today, you know I always enjoy a nice cuppa."

He moved along then, sensing somebody behind him, and took a seat along the side. Director Vance and Anthony both knew he would be in late once they read their email, but it was most improbable that Jethro would read his.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

As Ziva entered Dr. Rojas' office, she reminded herself that she must be honest during her session. It was like cleaning an infected wound in the field. Everything must be drained or the infection would only fester and worsen. She rubbed the spot on her hip that puckered, a wound that had become infected many times while she was in Somalia, and could not heal cleanly. She did not want those bumps on her heart, at least not more than she already had. So, she must be truthful.

Her resolve already was faltering after she heard the doctor's first question.

"My weekend was … fine," Ziva said, then realized she sounded like Tony. "No, it was not fine." She searched for the words. "I met my friends on Saturday," she said. "Mostly the team, and Damon. He had…" She hesitated. "I asked him to tell Tony and McGee about my experience so they could tell those who needed to know and I would not have to. Not Sarah," she hastened to add. "I told her myself. I needed to, and she needed to hear it from me. But the others."

"They needed to know?" the doctor asked.

"Abby, she wears her heart on her arm," Ziva said. "No, sleeve. On her sleeve. She and Jimmy, they have been trying to have a baby. It has become something of a team joke, though it would take too long to explain why." She swallowed. "Abby, she miscarried a few months ago."

"And your team is joking about her having a baby after a miscarriage?" Dr. Rojas frowned.

"No! No, that is not what I meant," Ziva said. "I am sorry. English expressions, they are difficult for me." She explained their nicknames, the lab bat and the Autopsy Gremlin. Despite the pain, she could not help but smile at the bemused expression her therapist wore. "When they first got together, there were comments about shotguns and bat-gremlins," Ziva said. "This was several months ago, before Sarah knew about the baby and before Tony and McGee were talking about starting a family. Before Abby, too, learned what it is like to lose a child, only hers was wanted."

"Unlike yours."

Ziva nodded. "Tony and McGee, I knew they would tell Abby and Jimmy so I would not have to. And Abby, she has many emotions. She expresses them, and for many months after I joined the team, we had difficulties because we could not understand each other. I came from a world where emotions often put you in danger. Abby hugs as though if she holds on tight enough, it will keep us safe from everything." She hesitated. "On Saturday, she was being careful around me. She did not hug me, although I could tell she wanted to. And I know I am not ready for Abby as she usually is, but I also do not want to force her to change because of me."

"Why do you assume you're forcing her?" Dr. Rojas asked.

Ziva replayed the question in her mind, but it made no more sense. "I do not understand," she said.

"You said you forced Abby to change," the doctor said. "How?"

"Because she was not being Abby around me," Ziva said.

"Did you ask her to behave differently?"

"I… No, I did not speak to her. Tony and McGee did." Ziva forced her hands to stay still in her lap.

"And what did you ask them to do?" Dr. Rojas asked. "The exact words, or as close as you can get."

Ziva thought back to the previous week, remembering her last day in the office. "I asked McGee to talk to Damon," she said. "I told him to tell Damon I had said it was all right, that he should tell them everything I had told him. That I trusted him and Tony to know who should know the details."

"Do you trust Abby?" Dr. Rojas asked.

"Yes," Ziva said, not even pausing to think. "She, they, are family. I trust them with my life. I have trusted them with my life, because they are the ones who saved me."

"So why are you having trouble trusting that they are trying to help now, by giving you what you need, even if it's not exactly what you're used to."

The silence hung in the air for a minute.

"Because I do not want to be different," Ziva said, the words rushing out. "I want to believe I can get past this, and it will become like Eli, something that we can mention and it no longer hurts. Something where it is, not a joke, but not something we tip-tap around."

"Tiptoe?" Dr. Rojas asked.

"Tap, toe, whatever," Ziva said. "The point is, Eli can be mentioned and somebody will curse him or say he would be dead if he set foot in NCIS and it is fine. I am fine. They are fine. Nobody feels like they have to apologize to me for saying it."

"Eli is your father?"

"He is. Although we have not spoken in more than a year, and I do not believe we ever will again. He puts Israel and Mossad ahead of everything." She swallowed as she recalled a memory. "I heard him say, many times, how he looked forward to the day his grandchildren could be doctors or lawyers, could grow fat and happy because they were not living in a war zone. That is why he does what he does, to secure Israel's future." A tear rolled down her cheek, and she could not figure out why.

Dr. Rojas pushed a box of tissues across the table toward her. Ziva ignored them.

"Last week, you mentioned a sister and a brother," the doctor said.

"Tali and Ari," Ziva said. "They are both dead."

"Do you have any other brothers or sisters?"

Ziva shook her head. "No. It was just the three of us." She forced herself to remember. "My mother, she left Abba when Tali was small." Ziva still remembered the day, watching her father leave the house with two suitcases filled with everything of his. "I did not understand at the time, but later I understood it was because of Mossad. Because he was an assassin, assigned to kill threats to Israel. Ima did not want us exposed to him because she was afraid we would become like him. She was right to be concerned. After she died, after Tali died, we did become like him." Ziva forced herself to take a breath, even in and out. "I later learned that after she left him, his star began to rise in Mossad." She fingered her necklace, the replacement Tony and McGee had given her at the holidays. "This is a Mogen David, the star of David," she said. "It was also how he was known in Mossad during that period, as Mogen David. He was alone, and could put all of his energy into Mossad. And then Ima died."

"How old were you?"

"Fourteen," Ziva said. "Tali died two years later. Both of them died at the hands of Hamas, a mortar attack and a suicide bomb. That is when I knew I would follow Eli into Mossad, to protect the innocent. That is why Ari is now dead as well, because I was determined to protect the innocent." She blinked back the stinging in her eyes. The tissue box remained untouched on the table.

"So you are the only one of your father's children still alive," Dr. Rojas said.

"Yes, for the past five years," Ziva said.

"Your father sent you on this mission," the doctor said.

"Yes." Ziva shivered. "We talked about this last week, did we not?"

"You have not spoken to him since you returned?"

"No. I emailed him to tell him I was leaving Mossad, joining NCIS and becoming an American citizen," she said. "He did not reply, though I know he spoke with Director Vance about it."

"Because you left the country he spent his life defending?" Dr. Rojas asked.

"Because my father told me when he commanded my aliyah that he demanded my loyalty, to him and only to him." Ziva looked down to see wet spots on her shirt. "But he and Mossad did not rescue me. My team did, and they are the ones who taught me that respect and loyalty should be earned, not expected. And so Eli no longer has mine, because he has done nothing to deserve it." She felt tears running down her cheeks, but let them. For once, she could not hide her feelings. She would not try.

"So, although he says he wants a country where his grandchildren can grow up safely, he also made those grandchildren impossible through his actions," Dr. Rojas said.

Ziva stared at the doctor.

"You were the only child he had left, and he sent you on that mission, and left you," the doctor said.

"I chose to-" Ziva cut herself off. "Gibbs said, last year, that I did not have a choice. That Eli did not give me a choice. That because of how he raised me and trained me, I said yes when another might not." She nodded, slowly. "Gibbs was right. You are right." Ziva reached for a tissue and dried her tears. "As a child, he was always too busy to see me dance, and I promised myself, one day I would have a child and I would never be too busy to see her dance. I would marry a man who would never be too busy to see her dance. That was another way he was shaping my life, by me promising to not make his mistakes."

"You made a decision last year, even though it was something you knew he would not approve of," Dr. Rojas said.

"Yes," Ziva said. "Yes, I did, and it was as though a weight had been lifted from my head." She thought for a second, blotting away a few more tears. "That has been part of this," she said at last. "I believed that it was how I would prove I was different, that I was not my father. And then that was taken away."

When her session ended, Ziva was still thinking about what she had realized through her drive home and for several minutes after. So many, in fact, that she had a large grain salad prepared for dinner and chilling in the refrigerator and the dishes washed before she realized what she was doing.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

Vance looked at the clock on his office wall. He couldn't delay any longer, not without raising more questions. He dialed the number he'd learned by heart.

"Eli, shalom," Vance said. "How are you."

"Leon. I wondered when I would hear from you."

"When I finally had a chance to call, I knew it would be after sundown Friday," Vance said.

As they moved into discussing business, Vance wondered if this would be the time Eli finally asked about Ziva. He wondered how he would respond.

"So, we are agreed?"

"Yes, Eli," Vance replied. "I'll make the arrangements. It might take some time."

"In some things, caution is a vice," the Mossad director said. "Here, I believe it is a virtue."

"If anything changes, I'll let you know."

"Shalom, my friend."

"Shalom, Eli."

As Vance set the phone down, he thought back over the conversation. Not a single question about Ziva. That had to change sometime, didn't it? He looked at the photo of his family on his desk, trying to imagine being able to separate himself that much from them to not ask. He couldn't.

Eli had always felt strongly about his children. But other than the conversation after Ben-Gidon's visit almost a year ago, Eli had not asked about his one remaining child. And until he did, Vance wasn't about to volunteer anything.