"You spoke to him?"

"He told me that he could never face you again. He said he left Israel, knowing that he took the one thing that ever meant anything to you. He told me that he didn't mean to hurt you, but that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. He knew you'd never forgive him, so he walked away."

"He doesn't get to just walk away. I did not just get to walk away. I woke up, and I couldn't even walk. I spent three weeks in the hospital. I couldn't run away from what happened. I tried. I did everything I could think of, to try to make the gaping hole go away, but nothing worked. I tried every trick I knew to try to make the emptiness disappear, but I never could. I faced the fact that it was something I was going to have to carry around with me for the rest of my life. I can't... I can't get the picture out of my mind, no matter how hard I try," she admits.

"I know."

"No you don't," she argues. She gets off the coffee table, and goes into her bedroom. She returns with a picture. She hands it to him.

"Every single day of my life, something reminds me of this. Something reminds me of the life that I could of have. Someone reminds me of the fact that I let this, turn me into something that I never wanted to be. After I lost..." she trails off.

He wipes the tears from her cheeks. "It's ok, you can say it."

"I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I feel broken, and vulnerable, and out of control. I hate it."

"I know."

"To you that is just a black and white blob, but to me... it was the future that I was going to have. It was the fairytale that I was going to live. It was a face that I dreamed about, every night, I dreamed about it."

"Did you know, what it was?"

"It was too early to tell, but I always dreamed of a little girl. A little girl, that I will never have. A life that I will never have."

"What happened, afterwards?"

"I had no mercy. I wanted revenge, and it didn't matter who was in my way. It didn't matter who I hurt, because I had nothing to live for. It didn't matter what I did, because I did not care about my life. I did not want to live. I went off the deep end. The only thing that drove me was anger. I felt angry, all of the time. I did everything in my power to feel nothing. I never succeeded. I just dug myself into a hole."

"Sometimes I think that you are still there."

"Sometimes I am."

"Maybe you could use a shovel, to dig you out?"

"It will take more than that."

"A backhoe, maybe?"

"I am damaged goods..."

He smiles, and wraps her in his arms. "Nice to finally meet you, the real you."

She buries her head in her shoulder. She was not used to letting him see her this way, but she didn't care. He knew the truth. She knew there was nothing she could do to get rid of him now. She sobs uncontrollably.

He holds her, and strokes her hair, but she is inconsolable. She clings to him. He holds her, not willing to let her go.

"Maybe a light would be better, than a backhoe?" he whispers.

"The darkness, it is the worst part," she admits, beginning to breathe again.

"I know."

"I hate my father for so many things, but if he had not forced me to go back to Mossad, I would be dead. I did not want to leave that hospital, unless it was in a body bag."

"Ziva..."

"What?" she snaps.

"Maybe you should talk to Gabriel."

"Why? I have nothing to say to him."

"I think that you know that isn't true. You have a lot of things to say to him, to say to your father."

"What I have to say doesn't matter, it never has."

"It does matter."

"To who?"

"It matters to me."

"Why?"

"Because saying something, anything, is better than holding it all in."

"I am not good at just talking. I would rather use actions than words."

"And where has that gotten you?"

"No where."

"So just once, could we try something my way?"

"If we must."

"I am not asking you to be nice to him, I am not asking you to see him in person. Just call him. Tell him how much he hurt you."

"And if I can't?"

"You have to. You have to start healing. You let time pass, but your wounds never heal, because you are always ripping them back open. You are always creating new ones, so that you never have to deal with any of them. You go from one pain to another. It's time to stop, it isn't healthy. There has got to be more than this. You have to choose something more than this."

"How? The only thing that I am good at is... running, at avoiding things."

"That isn't true."

"Where would I even start?"

"It is simple. You take it one thing at a time. First you pick up the phone, and dial his number. He'll answer, and you'll say hello. He'll ask you questions, and you will answer. Then you will come up with questions to ask him. And you will have answers. Answers that you need to hear, from the source."

"What if I do not like the answers that he gives me?"

"I never said that you would. You just have to take what you learn, and figure out how to deal with it."

"I do not know how to deal with this. Is there a secret, or a trick that I should learn?"

"It's simple."

"What is it?"

"It's not a trick, or a secret."

"So what is it?"

"Don't let it consume you. Learn to find closure, so that the things from your past don't swallow you up, whole. If you keep going the way that you are, never deal with any of it, never letting anyone in, one day you will simply disappear, into the whole that you have dug, and there will be no way to get you out."

"So how do I change?"

"You start, by asking for help. Stop being afraid that people are going to think you are weak because you ask for help. It is not a sign of weakness, it takes strength to admit when you are over your head, and you need help."

She swallows hard. She looks at him. He stares into her cold brown eyes. He sees the light bulb in her head go off. She takes a breath, and then opens her mouth to speak.

"Will you help me?"