Thank you everyone for the reviews! They mean a lot. Here is the next chapter. It looks a bit more at Tony and the kids, and then the start of Ziva's mission/
Covered in flour, Daniela placed another bun on a cookie sheet and covered it with a tea towel. She put on oven mitts and pulled out one of the trays and brushed melted butter over the top. Most weekends that Ziva wasn't working the two of them spent baking and Daniela had picked up on the finer points. The first bunch of buns split, and the bottoms were slightly burnt, but she made some adjustments and the next batch was much better. Both Jenny and Jacob agreed that they were great, Jenny staying close in case the girl needed her help.
Gibbs and Tony came home, Tony's eyes red and swollen, though nobody mentioned it. He knelt down and hugged Daniela until she whined about not being able to breathe, but the little girl held him just as tight. Jacob jumped into his arms and gave him an eskimo kiss.
"The buns smell great, Daniela." Gibbs commented as she sat down next to Jenny. He was walking on eggshells. They all were.
"Thank you. I found Mummy's recipe." She said softly, pulling up a stool to the island and sighed. "It is written all in Hebrew, but I rewrote it so Jenny could help." She smiled up at Jenny who looked over at Tony. His mouth was a tight straight line, the colour of his skin pale and sallow.
"They taste like Mummy's." Jacob said climbing up onto the stool and stealing another one. "We're gonna go to the BBQ."
"Yeah." Tony looked at Gibbs who raised his eyes in a silent challenge.
"Go take a shower before we go, Tony." The older man ordered. "We've got these buns under control, don't we Dani?" He asked standing up and poking the dough. "Well, maybe Jen's got it under control, but Jake and I will be the taste testers."
Nodding, Tony ruffled Daniela's curls and kissed Jacob's head as he headed upstairs. She was everywhere. Her shampoo was on the ledge, her perfume on the counter, her clothes in the closet. No matter what he did, he couldn't get away. Stripping off his clothes, Tony stepped into the shower, turning the spray as hot as he could handle. The needles of water rained down on his skin, the steam suffocating him. He emerged later, skin red and raw, and pulled on a pair of jeans and an OSU tshirt. He sat on the edge of their bed and stared at their room. Ziva had decorated it, of course. It was modern, clean lines and edges, greys with splashes of teal and purple. The grey was for him, his old place was almost fully grey. The colours, something she grew into. Walking over to her dresser, Tony pulled out a camisole and stared at it. No, no, he couldn't let himself fall into this trap. He took a deep breath and stood up, leaving Ziva's shirt on the bed. He headed downstairs and sat down on the couch.
Jacob crawled onto his lap, a book in hand. "Papa?" He asked softly. The little boy pulled out a book and handed it to Tony. "My dad finks he's funny." He said opening the book.
"Thinks." Tony said softly. He opened the book and pulled his son onto his lap and started to read. He wrapped his arms around Jacob and kissed his head as they read through the book. It was Jake's favouite book to read with Tony. He had gone with Ziva to pick it out. "My Daddy doesn't like to babysit." Jacob read haltingly. "He doesn't fink ANYONE should sit on babies."
Tony read the next part. "My Dad doesn't eat seafood. He thinks there's something fishy about it." They had read the book so many times, they both knew it off by heart, Tony could sign the book from when before Jacob could hear. Ziva read both kids lots of books, but this one, this was his.
They read through the book a couple of times before Tony looked over and Jacob was dozing in his arms. Yawning, he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes.
The air was hot and dry, the sun beating down on them. Ziva adjusted the hijab around her neck and tugged at the abaya. They were deep within Syria, heading towards the ISIS stronghold of Raqqa. She fingered the weapon held under her abaya and nodded to her three men. Their intelligence was that the officers and politicians were being held in a compound on the outskirts of town. The only problem was the area was crawling with ISIS rebels. She lowered her head as they passed a group of young men. Out of the four of them, her Arabic was the strongest, but that didn't matter. ISIS had enough recruits from all over the world to detract from their weaknesses.
Where is her niqab? One of the men asked as they stopped. They waved their gun at her, then pointed to Avidan and Udiel. Saul stayed at her side.
In the house. Saul replied sharply. I am her brother, we are escorting her home.
Make sure she gets home. I don't want to whip a woman that beautiful.
Ziva's insides crawled, but she kept her eyes down as she allowed the three men to talk amongst themselves. Out of the other five men, she heard an Australian accent, Jordanian, American and Syrian.
We just got in from Turkey. Avidan said slowly. Where is headquarters around here?
The Australian one, who introduced himself as AbuAzzam, started to explain where their camp was set up. They had a house on the outskirts that would allow them time to study intel.
Nodding, Ziva started shuffling towards their safehouse as the five Islamists walked off the other way. She made a face as they walked into the small house. From the outside it was bare, but inside it had a small generator, three separate rooms, a washroom with a shower, and a small kitchen. Throwing her bag in the corner, Ziva grabbed the largest room and sat down on the bed, unpacking her GPS phone and her laptop.
They were in the heart of ISIS territory, and as a woman she was the most at risk and she knew it. Pulling off her hijab, she let her curls free and sat against the wall of the hut. She didn't bring any pictures of Tony and the children in case the mission went awry. She couldn't have them compromised in any way. It was still early in the day in Syria, which mean that it was supper time in the US. She sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest. They had intelligence to cover, but right now she needed time to herself. After a few minutes of collecting herself, Ziva unbutton the loose abaya she wore and walked out of her room and sat down at the main table and started to scour over information with the other three men, no words exchanged.
"Mummy is at work." Daniela said softly as she bit into the homemade fried chicken Trisha provided. "But Papa and Gibbs, they said she's gonna come back." She looked over at Tony who was standing by the BBQ. "But Papa is worried." She said quietly. Jenny leaned down and kissed her head.
"Why don't you go help your brother?" She suggested suggested softly.
Daniela looked around at the table of adults and nodded. She hopped off the table and went over and sat with her brother.
Jenny gave Trisha a soft look after glancing back at Gibbs who was rubbing her back absently. "We're federal agents." Jenny said softly. "Jethro, Tony and myself. And Tony's wife, Ziva. We're all agents for NCIS - Navy Criminal Investigative Service."
"Ziva's on a mission." Gibbs said brusquely. He stood up, but not before squeezing Jenny's hand softly. He walked over to the BBQ and sipped his beer in silence.
Trisha cut open a bun and silently put some butter on it. The woman was warm, inviting, her southern accent as thick as molasses. "If y'all need help, let me know." She said softly, her eyes watching Daniela and Jacob. "We're more than willing to help."
Nodding, Jenny picked at her food. She had another round of chemo at the end of the week and with the new revelations of Ziva's mission, she wanted to desperately reschedule it.
Tony walked over with a plate of food and sat down in the grass with his kids. Jacob crawled onto his lap and kept eating. They were their own little unit. The world revolved around them, though they hardly noticed. Daniela cuddled to Tony's side as she ate. Tony held his daughter close, his chin brushing the top of his son's head. He couldn't bear to be without them. Their kingsized bed was now a pow wow centre. Both children staked claim to one corner, and their nights were spent with movies and stories. If he had the ability to homeschool the kids, he would've. A perfectly imperfect trio sat in a comfortable silence, punctuated by a giggle, or a sigh.
The blonde turned to Jenny. "Let us help." She said softly. Motioning to Jenny's scarf that was wrapped tightly around her head. "I don't want you to do this on your own." It wasn't a request. Jenny nodded. "I'll talk to Jethro and Tony." She said taking a sip of her gingerale as she watched Tony clean up the plates of his children and place them in the trash.
"Thank you for dinner." Daniela said, shaking the hand of Trisha's husband and then giving Trisha a soft hug. Jacob hung on Tony's hip and nodded. "Fanks. It was good." He said resting his head on his Dad's shoulder.
"I'm gonna get these goobers to bed." Tony said shaking hands and giving Gibbs a nod. "See you at work tomorrow boss."
Her feet walked across the dirt road, kicking up clouds of dust. The niqab was stifling, cutting off her peripheral vision. The black material sucked in the heat, turning the abaya, hijab and veil into an oven. Sweat ran down her body and soaked through her tank top and into her cotton shorts. She heard cries and laughs ahead and she kept her head down. Saul walked in silence along with her. His facial hair was grown out long, and she was glad that he was darker skinned than the other two. They stayed back in the house, trying to track their movements and get more intel. Ziva avoided all eye contact, playing the role of the good submissive wife.
The noise got louder as they walked and they entered the city square. People were surrounding the square, yelling and shaking their fists. Ziva looked and spotted men with guns standing on the outside of the group, their eyes darting back and forth, anger and distrust seeping from their pores.
What's going on? Ziva asked the nearest woman who was also dressed head to toe in black.
Execution. The woman replied standing on her tiptoes to see. An infidel.
Ziva's head snapped up and she strained to see. Finally she grabbed Saul's hand and led him through the crowd until they were close enough to see what was going on. A man, in an orange jumpsuit knelt in front of the crowd. He wasn't one of their targets, but a Kurd, or the like. Ziva shuddered as she saw a young boy, maybe a year or two older than Daniela approach wearing military fatigues, a pistol in his hands. Bile rose in her throat as she heard cries rise from the street. She stood frozen as the young boy cocked the pistol and held it against the back of the man's head. Saul held her arm and started to pull her away, but her feet were rooted heavily to the ground.
Allau Akbar! The crowd screamed. She felt the intensity rise, and the boy pulled the trigger on the gun.
Ziva had seen people die before, hell, some of them had been at her own hand. But this, this was different. The young boy raised his arms in victory, his blue eyes dead and cold. Turning, Ziva lowered her eyes while the crowd cheered.
Everyday! A man beside her cheered. They will be doing this every day. Killing the infidels. The Cubs of the Caliphate are our future.
Pushing her way out of the crowd, Ziva bent forward and retched into the sand. After a few moments a hand was on her back. Looking up she saw an older woman with a bottle of water in her hands.
Drink. She ordered in Arabic.
Ziva took a few tentative sips before handing the bottle back. Thank you. She mumbled softly.
It takes some getting used to...or you just never do. The woman sighed. Reaching out, she tugged on Ziva's sleeve and pulled her away from the crowd. Not all of us are ISIS supporters, but if you want to survive you do what they say. The woman watched Ziva. Tomorrow. Meet me at the pastry shop the third block to the East from the square. Make sure your husband walks you there. After Duhr prayer.
Ziva nodded and spotted Saul. He was talking to a group of men, all carrying rifles. She knew that he was doing his job, but the looks they shot her way made her skin crawl. After a few minutes he walked over and they walked back.
"The hostages are here." He whispered as they left the group, walking back down the dusty road. "They were talking about having a mass beheading to get rid of the Jewish scum." He walked alongside Ziva. "We have a couple of weeks. They want to get through the Kurds and the American hostages first." He said dryly.
They walked down the road, but Ziva couldn't seem to shake the image of the young boy holding the gun, the river of blood flowing from the Kurd's forehead, the cries of victory from the boy.
"Send Avidan and Udeil into town." She said stiffly. "Talk to the Immans during prayer. You must go too, Saul." She said quietly. "Jummah. Women aren't welcome." Ziva said as they walked into the house. Tearing off her veil and headscarf, Ziva sat down on the char and placed her head in her hands. "Let us keep finding intel." She said softly. "The sooner we find them, the sooner we leave."