A/N: A few matters of business to attend to... First, thank you so much to the person who called me out for using Turkey as my opposing country instead of a bordering country to Israel. Chapter two has been edited to correct this issue! Next, someone mentioned that I said a year had passed in my summary but Ziva thinks several years has past. What I have intended to convey is that one year has passed since Tony stopped searching for Ziva. This means that he has already been searching for quite a while before that. I was just indicating at what time he ceased looking to get on with his life so to speak. Hope that makes sense! Lastly, I have started titling my chapters. Again...Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! I appreciate it so much! God bless, 'Kath'
CHAPTER THREE
The next hours were a blur. She wasn't sure if it had all been a dream or a very harsh reality mixed with a good dose of sedatives. Caught between surges of consciousness, the sound of a chorus of helicopters circled overhead, filling her ears with echoes of wartime song. Shadows passed over and away from the sunbathed tent. A mix of angry and calm voices rose and settled around her.
"To surgery! Stat! We got no time to waste people! This one will be dead on us now if we don't hurry!"
Ziva's eyes opened. It wasn't a trick this time. She was slowly waking up to the horror of what she was beginning to recognize as a makeshift field military hospital. She could see three men writhing in their own blood on cots nearby, one of whom was been hoisted away in a hurry, his arm barely attached to his body and covered in what was most likely the blood of not only himself but many of his comrades.
It took every ounce of strength she could find in herself to raise her head and examine her own injuries. Her left arm was wrapped up from her wrist to her elbow, tints of red showing through the gauze-like material. A makeshift splint held her right leg in place from below her knee. Now that she was fully awake as much as she could be in such a situation, Ziva realized just how much pain she was in. Suddenly she wished she could sink back into unconsciousness for as long as she could in order to escape the pain.
Ziva closed her eyes, attempting to accomplish some way of escaping the nightmare only to feel a gentle, cool hand her forehead. Before she could admit how much the sensation felt good, she seized the hand with all of her might and brought it down, flashing open her eyes to see who had supposedely attacked her. She looked into the eyes of young female perhaps near thirty with brunette locks twirled up into a secure bun at the base of her neck. Her eyes were constricted and her cheeks red as she fought the pain in her arm, her expression begging the patient before her to surrender.
"I—I'm so sorry," Ziva's raspy whisper followed her release. She tried to turn away from the woman the best she could to avoid conversing with her any further. But she could tell the woman would not leave. Without facing the woman, Ziva questioned her, "What are you doing here? I'm fine. You should tend to your other patients."
"Well, I'd be glad to if I was actually a doctor."
Ziva scoffed. "Well, you could nurse them. Read to them or some other trivial pursuit."
The woman smiled to herself, reached for a piece of paper from inside her backpack on the floor, and opened it to the first page. "Journal entry. Day One. We have escaped the attack. Thankfully I was able to get out alive. But all evidence will point to my death." The woman seemed to search for a particular passage and then resumed reading. "I pray to God that my little girl Tali will never forget about me though I will always be dead to her."
Although the woman could not see, a tear ran down Ziva's emotionless face. Suddenly, the physical pain didn't seem as bad as the emotional pain that fueled the restlessness in her heart.
"Who are you?" the woman asked Ziva gently.
"I—I don't know."
"This page from your journal I presume… It was inside your pocket along with a piece of paper that had a name written on it. Your dog tags were so messed up that we could only read part of your name. Elizabeth Perez. Is that you?"
"Yes," Ziva mumbled, tears threatening her eyes. "I suppose so. I don't know. I don't remember anything. But I do remember Tali. My little girl. That's all I can remember. Is she here? Is she alive?"
"No, Miss Perez. At least...I'm sure she is waiting for you back home. But you're home now, Petty Officer. As soon as you're well enough, you'll be on the first plane to Maryland. Your family has been informed that you were injured but are alive."
"That's good," Ziva smiled, unaware of any irregularities in what the woman was saying. It all seemed okay to her. Comforting in fact. She had family. Her name was Perez. A nice Jewish name she recollected. It seemed to suit her. "How much longer until I'm well enough to travel?"
"A week maybe until you are up on crutches. But I'm no expert. I'll have to speak to Major Wilson. He's the doc. You just rest up. Okay?"
The unidentified woman smiled, patted Ziva on the shoulder softly, and stood to visit the other soldiers. But it didn't take long, Ziva noticed, watching as she discovered most of them were either unconscious or had died within minutes. In some weird, morbid way, Ziva wished she was one of them.
Tali's hands flew in the air as she ran to meet Tony at the door of their apartment, leaving the nanny rather upset and annoyed that the girl had abandoned her homework.
Tony spent the next few moments holding and embracing his daughter before giving the woman a secure wink. "It's okay," he insisted. "Now! What about that arithmetic, young lady?" He joined foreheads with Tali, locking eyes with her and triggering a giggle. "Have you gotten better?"
Tali nodded vaguely and raised a finger to her book on the countertop. "Look, papa! I'll show you!"
"She really is good," the French woman replied, her advanced English skills in good working order. Her mouth then turned downward as her eyes focused on Tony's. "Can I speak to you for a moment? Alone?"
"Yeah," he nodded eagerly. "Sure. Tali, dear, Miss Emile and I will be in the next room. You finish your homework. Okay?" Tali nodded eagerly, and Tony followed Emile to his makeshift office in the adjacent room. Tony gently closed the door, leaving it open about an inch before he turned to Emile, eyes open and waiting for her to speak.
"I wish you would tell Tali the truth," Emile spoke bluntly right to begin with. "She thinks her mother is on some heroic mission. She's dead, Tony! Dead!"
Tony raised a finger to Emile's lips and felt her soft quivers. He tucked a bit of her long black hair around her ear and sighed. "Please. Not so loud. Tali might hear."
Emile tore away Tony's hand from her face. "And she should, Tony! You can't lie to her forever. She's old enough to hear the truth. You're her father. You can't keep it a secret forever. Do you want her finding out some other way and hating you for it?"
"Emile, I will tell her. Soon. But I hope you're not pressuring me into telling her because you want Ziva to be dead. It would be easier for you to take her place that way. Wouldn't it?"
Anger seared through Emile's eyes as she glared into Tony's. He was right. She had feelings for him she couldn't deny. But it was not all about that. "Tony, I love that little girl. I don't want her to get hurt. And she needs a mother."
"She has a mother!"
"A mother who died years ago!"
"We never found her body…"
"Because it was set on fire in the blaze…"
"It could have been a setup."
"Or you don't want to admit the truth, Tony! Let it go! Let her go!"
"I won't, Emile..." Tony suddenly halted his words, his voice catching in his throat as he heard pounding little footsteps run across the apartment hallway. He could have sworn he saw Tali's little frame pass by the door and prayed she had heard nothing. "Emile, you mean so much to Tali and me. But until I have proof that Ziva is dead, I won't be able to forgive myself if I started a new life with someone. I'm just not ready. I love you. But not in that way. Please…I hope you can understand."
"You've changed," Emile cried softly. "When I first met you a year after you moved here, you were willing to start fresh. But it seems like the more time has passed, the more you believe she's alive."
"I'm sorry, Emile, if you can't understand. It wouldn't matter how many women I met. After all, you're the most special of anyone I've met here. When I have proof, I'll consider it. But you need to move on with your life, Emile. Don't wait for me."
"Fine," Emile whispered after a brief moment of thought. She sniffed hard, wiping her tears away forcefully before plodding a path to the door.
Tony jumped a little inside as he heard the door slam. It broke him to have to tell her that. But it had to be said. He owed it to his daughter to see this through. More than that, he owed it to himself.
Suddenly remembering hearing Tali run past them, Tony traced the path down the hall anxiously, hoping to clear up any confusion with what she may or may not have heard. But as he stood at her closed door, all he could hear was her uttering a prayer in Hebrew, her gentle voice making him smile. He decided to let her be alone, returning to the kitchen where Tali's homework was still scattered everywhere haphazardly. That's when the note on the counter caught his attention. His brow furrowed curiously as he reach for the page, unfolding the unconventional mode of communication to see Jim's sloppy handwriting before him.
Tony: I broke into your apartment today. I guess that's pretty obvious. I'll owe you one. But I couldn't chance someone tracking down any digital communication. I was wrong, mate. There were several survivors in that attack I told you about. Several U.S. soldiers. One IDF special assignments officer was killed though. I couldn't squeeze out a name. But it was a female. She was former Mossad. I figured you might be curious about it. Meet me at HQ first thing in the morning. Later, Jim C.