The woman stood up, concerned. It was then it clicked. The slender yet sturdy frame, the matching hands, the dark brown, curly ringlets that fell in a glowing waterfall down her shoulders, illuminated by the club's neon light through the window…
It all made sense now.
"Ziva?"
"Tony?" she asked in disbelief. She ran over to the light switch, and turned it on.
There, standing in the middle of the room, was the girl Tony hadn't seen since high school, dressed in ripped jean shorts and an absurdly exposing top.
"Ziva!" Tony cried. He threw his arms around her. Ziva did the same, a tear escaping her eye. He looked at her, his expression suddenly sad. "What are you doing here? Why are you…." He trailed off, staring at her hooker getup. Her eyes watered.
"I'm sorry. I should probably go." She turned away and opened the door.
"No!" Tony cried. "Please, don't leave." He pleaded.
She paused. Then, she slowly shut the door.
"I'm so ashamed, Tony." She whispered.
"Please, Ziva, tell me what happened to the Straight-A ninja I remember on our senior year."
Suddenly, she clenched her fists. "I would like to know too, Tony! But not all of us can get jobs!" She cried out. "I've got bills to pay, a place to keep!"
Tony approached her.
"Shh, Ziva. Now, please, tell me what happened."
This was the first time anyone had actually cared to ask.
It was two weeks after graduation. She was supposed to go to college. She had a scholarship and everything. But on one condition: she continued to work for her father, the leader of an elite undercover team, until then. She did, complying with orders and not questioning his directions.
Until one day.
One day, he went too far.
She was on mission in the Slums, where it was rumored that a gang had found lodging.
Nineteen-year-old Ziva slid along the wall as a car whooshed by. She turned the corner.
"Ziva, where are you?" her father's voice rang through the small earpiece.
"Corner of Braxton and Jameson Street." She said through the miniscule mike clipped to her shirt.
"Have you found anything?"
"Nothing y-" Ziva paused when she saw the man, holding a gun, emerge.
"Ziva?" her father's voice asked, sounding slightly panicked.
"I think I have something." Ziva hissed. She watched the man walk further down, keeping to alleys. She quietly followed him, keeping to the shadows. The rest of Ziva's team seemed to appear on the street.
Ziva turned and saw her companions. She frantically nodded her head, as if telling them to back away, to wait. Suddenly, a young girl, who must have lived in the old apartment beside them, emerged, confused. She had barely taken four steps. In slow motion, she saw her companions pull their guns, and the man pull his.
Ziva screamed.
Gunshots echoed in the alley. The little girl dropped to her knees. Suddenly, Ziva was at her side, holding her as the red blossom grew on her purple shirt. She held her, sobbing, as she gasped for air.
"No! No, please!" She cried. Whether she was crying to the girl, to her team, to God, no one knows.
"Shh." The girl whispered. She took Ziva's hand in her own, bloody one. "Apparently, it is my time."
Ziva was horrified. She only looked about ten!
"No, it isn't!" Ziva sobbed.
"Shh." The girl's eyes met Ziva's, and they showed something. Not fear, not grief, not anger.
They showed determination.
Determination in that Ziva should carry on.
With a final heaving breath, the girl's eyes went blank, her hand limp. Her last breath blew up small clouds, cold from the crisp air. The hand that Ziva realized she had been clenching so tightly had gone limp in hers. She let go of her hand. Suddenly, the sun captured the glint of the small object in the hand she had been holding the girl's with.
A Star of David.
Ziva broke, sobbing over the body of the little girl. One of her male companions had grabbed her shoulders, and dragged her away, shrieking and thrashing, from the body. As the dust clouds swirled around, Ziva saw the girl's body approached by a little boy with the same deep brown hair and big eyes. She cried even harder.
Ziva threw open the door to her father's office.
"Hello, Ziva." Eli greeted her, not turning around.
"No more." Ziva growled.
"Ah, yes. Hamid told me about your little…breakdown." He sighed, almost disappointed.
"Eli, she was ten at the most." Ziva said quietly.
"Ziva, it was one child. We achieved out g-"
"She was a child, Eli!" She suddenly cried. "An innocent child that was killed by your men, because they shot first! And you dare tell me to just let it go?"
Eli sighed. "You are letting your emotions get the best of you, daughter. That is not wise."
"You're inhuman, Eli." Ziva spat. She wouldn't call him father; he didn't deserve that. "You have totally lost the ability to have emotions at all, along with your robotic assassin team!"
"So what are you going to do, daughter? Quit?" he laughed.
Ziva looked him square in the eye. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."
Suddenly, Eli's expression turned grave. "Ziva, we made a promise."
"I do not remember that promise including killing children." She said coldly.
"Fine, then. If you shall not follow me, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to disown you."
"I was never yours in the first place." And with that, she walked out, slamming the door behind her.
"After that, I realized just how stupid I was. I had no money, no job. Basically nothing but the clothes on my back. Then I met Cherry, who offered me a job at the club, but not for what I thought." She grimaced.
Tony nodded.
"I make fair cash, just enough for me to keep a little apartment about four miles back, and to eat every day. But I hate it, Tony. But it's the only job I can get for now."
Tony wrapped his arms around her.
"I'll never be able to fall in love." She whispered. "Never. Because who would love a prostitute?" Tears streamed down her face.
Tony tilted her head so that her eyes met his.
"I'd love you, Ziva. No matter what happened."
She turned away. "You must think I'm disgusting."
He shook his head. "No. I understand."
She stared at him. "How?"
"You're doing what you have to do. You always were a hard worker, Zi." He winked.
"Thanks." She smiled.
"You don't have to, you know."
"Don't have to what?"
Tony looked off. "Stay here. You can come with me, get a job in D.C as an agent." He smiled.
Ziva, however, shook her head. "Of course I can't. They'll know, Tony. My name is on file."
He cupped her face. "I don't want you to have to do this. Please, Ziva."
"No, Tony. I can't leave here."
"Yes, you can! You can make a new life for yourself! You don't have to live like this!" By this point, Tony's voice had risen to a yell.
Suddenly, Ziva's lips were on his, tracing, seeking entrance. He opened his, and their tongues slapped against each other. Suddenly, Tony broke the kiss.
"Please, Ziva. Don't make me leave you here."
Ziva stared at him.
Then, she nodded slowly.
"Okay."
Well? What do you think?
I'm excited for this one!
Please, please review you guys!
Love you all!
-Vi
