Chapter Two

Ziva's father, as a way of bringing his children - well, stepchildren - together, had paid for the trip. Michael was the son of Eli's second wife, but he was in Ziva's life a lot growing up, and was there when her father or Ari couldn't be there. Their bond was strong, as if they were indeed blood relatives. They had gone through the occasional rift, including after Ari died, which had nearly brought a permanent end to their relationship. But Ziva had felt lost coming back to Israel, and she knew if there was one person she could turn to, who would listen to her, it was Michael.

During her time in Israel, Ziva found herself discovering even more about herself, and she talked through her discoveries with Michael. He didn't know anyone at NCIS, he knew only a few Mossad officers . . . It was refreshing to talk to someone not even in law enforcement for once. She could talk about her life outside of work, and he wanted to hear about it because he could relate, she was just his stepsister. And because he didn't know her co-workers, he could listen to her talk about them without suggesting any actions for her to take. Yes, it was about Tony, but he wasn't the only member of the team . . .

Ziva's thoughts were disrupted by the voice of the captain announcing their arrival in Tel Aviv. She smiled and prepared to exit the plane . . .

"Zivaleh."

The greeting was a refreshing and needed breath of air. Ziva broke into a wide grin, meeting him halfway and throwing her arms around him, just as she had imagined.

"Shalom, brother."

. . . Ziva couldn't keep the smile from her face as she boarded the plane to return to the U.S. The vacation to her homeland had been all she had hoped it would be, full of family and friends, love and laughter. Ever since she'd come back to Israel earlier in the year, things had been the way they'd never been before, and Ziva liked to think it was because her family – what little of it she had left, anyway – had finally come to realize that they'd come close to losing her again, and even if she was thousands of miles away in the United States, she was still family.

And she was happy.

It had hurt to see at first, how she would rather be with a group of strangers than her own blood, especially when her boss there had been responsible for Ziva's brother's death (in their eyes, at least). But it had been even more heart-breaking to see the dried tears on her face when she'd answer the door, her eyes red from crying. It was clear she was in pain, she wanted desperately to be with her colleagues at NCIS, the people who had taken her in as family.

But there was more to it than that. There always was. And what Ziva had discovered about herself, she hadn't discussed with anyone besides Michael. This trip had been to talk with him further about it, to solidify her decision. He had backed her up 100 percent and wished her good luck. She smiled at the thought as the plane descended onto the runway and she took in the now familiar lights of DC. She had already made the decision that tonight was going to be the night, that she would head straight to his place once she left the airport.

Ziva hurried off the plane, only stopping to retrieve her luggage from baggage claim, then hailed a taxi as she left the airport. With any luck, she wouldn't be headed home until tomorrow, anyway.

She gave the cab driver her instructions and settled back in her seat, going over the words she planned to say to him as soon as he opened his door. She was excited, but nervous. There was no telling how he would take it.

Twenty minutes passed, and the cabbie stopped. "Here ya go, Miss."

"Thank you," Ziva said, handing him the cab fee and grabbing her luggage from the trunk before heading to the apartment building.

She took the elevator to his floor, and just as she was walking up to his door, her cell phone rang. She let out a quiet growl of annoyance and pulled it from her pocket, frowning at the caller ID. "Ziva David," she answered, then waited for the other person to speak.

When they did, Ziva dropped her bag to the floor with a loud thud, and nearly dropped her phone, as well, but managed a, "Yes, yes, thank you," before hanging up. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but it opened before she could and she found herself face-to-face with the man she'd come to see.

"Ziva." He sounded surprised. "What are you doing here?" She just stared at him in shock, unable to speak. "Ziva, are you okay?"

Her mouth slowly parted and she finally found the words she'd been seeking. "McGee . . . Michael . . ."

"It's okay, Ziva," she said, giving her a concerned look.

She shook her head. "No, it isn't." She looked at him. "He's dead, Tim. My brother is dead."