Title: Illuminated

Author: IronIsraeliButterfly

Chapter Title: Saying Goodbye to Hello

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews… I know the chapter was a bit dramatic and an unexpected twist. I'm having a hard time with the page breaks… I'll be working on it. And yes, "Raining" is being worked on. And I am accepting requests for songs… Also, I am very aware that Ziva was 25 when she first joined NCIS.

"Hey there stranger, how you been
Feels like I'm standing on the outside looking in
At the mess we left behind
And it's a long way to fall
I gave you everything I had
I gave it all
And then my heart was on the line"

-"Say Hello to Goodbye," Shontelle

Gibbs stood in the "Foreign" line in Ben Gurion, edging forward to get his passport stamped. He watched the scene in front of him. Mothers with kerchiefs and wigs clutched screaming babies while husbands in dark jackets and hats tried to track down the older ones. There were several baseball-capped tourists with cameras hung around their necks, as if there was something to take a picture of in the passport lane. Some Israelis were congregated in the "Nationals" line, more prepared for the Israeli chamtzin. They were wearing t-shirts and shorts, holding backpacks.

It had been five months without Ziva. Five months. The office was strangely quieter and less enjoyable. Gibbs spent more hours at the office to stave off his return to home, the eerie silence. He had gotten so used to it, the wonderful cheer in the house, the laughter and the dinners. He had fallen into a depression of sorts, barely working on his boat.

He had been sitting on an airplane for about twelve hours, worrying about what he had left and what he was about to go do. He had left the office in charge of DiNozzo, but had told McGee to "keep an eye on him." Gibbs had no idea how long it was going to be in Israel. He had packed for the heat and the cold, but he was rather sure that there was going to be more of the former.

He felt like a stranger. Even though the signs were printed in English and in Hebrew, he still felt out of his element. Here his legal authority carried no import. Now he was just a tourist. The only weapon on him was the training he learned in the Corps and his tongue, which was a weapon to be reckoned with.

Malachi Ben-Gidion was supposed to be meeting him in the arrivals terminal. Eli David had contacted Gibbs earlier the week before. "Jethro, chaver sheli," Eli had said. "I need you to come to Israel to talk to Ziva."

"What's wrong?" Gibbs had asked, his heart jumping into his throat.

"Nothing on the surface, but below the surface, I believe Ziva has been sad and missing all of you. She trusts you, I believe. Ziva is still fully functioning and she is better than ever, which I believe is your doing. She used to be a mediocre officer, I'll have you know, but the Prime Minister told me just last week that he is thinking of replacing me with Ziva." Eli chuckled. "It is the dream of every father that their child will surpass them. Anyway, Jethro, I will purchase you a ticket – first class – and maybe you can talk to Ziva. Do you think Miss Scuito really meant what she said?"

Gibbs sighed. "Director, I work –"

"And I understood you were involved with my daughter. What kind of man are you if you do not come and extradite her from her sadness? I spoke to Leon. He said you can take as long as you want. Besides, Jethro, from our records, you have only been to Israel once, and we know what that had involved. I will arrange that you will tour Israel. There is much to see, from every standpoint. I imagine you will enjoy yourself. Nu, come, Jethro, one cannot work their entire life."

And so Gibbs had agreed to come. He had desperately wanted to see Ziva, but he didn't know if he could manage to see her without bringing her back.

"I can't hate you
Any longer
I know I'm going to miss you
I'll forget it and let it go."

Malachi flashed his Mossad identification at the armed guard, who waved him through. Malachi pulled the Opel into the carpark and stepped out into the Israeli heat. Even though it was technically winter, the weather was thirty-two degrees Celsius. Great welcome for an American who wore a coat from the beginning of September and possibly to end of May.

When he entered the arrivals terminal, he looked for the silver haired man. Malachi was rather excited to see Gibbs. He hoped that the American would be able to release Ziva from her torment. Malachi had once hoped Ziva and he would end up together, but it was apparent that her heart was connected to Gibbs's. The wonderful part of working in Mossad is that most everyone could talk to the director to discuss problems in the workplace that the director could solve. After several months of working with Ziva, Malachi became sure that something was terribly, terribly wrong. He approached Eli about the problem, and to his surprise, Eli had already known about it.

Ziva had seemed upset and more dedicated to her job than ever. Malachi knew about her horrible past and her heartbreak. He couldn't imagine that what had happened in NCIS could have possibly jarred her than what had happened previously, eight years before. She tried so hard to being happy and pleasant, but it wasn't her. It hadn't been her since the bombing.

Malachi had tried to rehabilitate her himself. He had taken her North, to his family, who made barbeques constantly and watched every football game in front of his brother's massive flat screen TV. Being with normal people eased Ziva's tension slightly. His mother loved her, kept pressuring Malachi to formally ask her out. But Malachi knew he would never cross that line. She was another man's property, even if she denied it. She was Gibbs's, and Malachi wasn't going to steal another man's woman for his personal pleasure and satisfaction.

Ziva had tried to put America out of her head, but that was really difficult for her. Malachi understood. Six years in the companionship of friends, people she trusted. It would have been difficult even if she had known it was coming for a long time, but she had left so suddenly. Malachi had spoken to Michael Bashan to get more the picture, but Michael was barely able to give him part of the picture. Malachi watched her go through what she had gone through eight years before, when she had held a gun to her head and said life was not worth living anymore. Malachi had pried the gun away from her and begged her not to take her life. He had told Eli who had given them both a cruise to Greece to calm Ziva down. But Ziva couldn't manage to take her mind off the loss she had sustained. When Malachi had heard through the Israeli grapevine that Ziva and Gibbs were involved together, Malachi had been thrilled. Perhaps that would rehabilitate her, not completely, but mostly so that she would manage not to see the demons of her past.

It all rested on Gibbs's shoulders. In officer training's course in the army, he had studied psychology to make him more relatable to the people he worked with. And Malachi knew that Gibbs had better have pretty large shoulders.

"And I'll get by without you
I'm not going back again
I'm not going to lie to you
Cause, that was there and only then."

"Shalom, achi," Malachi said, slapping Gibbs on the back and shouldering his backpack. "Tell me, chaver sheli, how was your flight?"

"First class seat. Long flight. Nice flight attendants."

Malachi laughed. "Nice? All the flight personnel are government employees."

"Smart," Gibbs said, "the TSA would reduce risk if we did that."

"Ziva does not know you are coming, only Eli and I do. Tomorrow you are going to meet her."

"You make it sound like we're planning an op."

"It possibly is, Gibbs. Now, you need coffee from what I understand." Malachi went over to a coffee bar and pushed several coins across. "Hachi chazak syachol leheot," Malachi commanded the barista, who passed over the coffee to Malachi, who handed it to Gibbs, who nodded.

"And even though the tears will dry
I can't completely disconnect
Couldn't make the compromise
Didn't have a safety net"

When Gibbs entered the café in the new mall near the Jaffa gate, he experienced a sense of nervousness. He straightened his sunglasses (he had asked Tony about clothes right before he left and bought a pair of Ray-Ban aviators, a Brooks Brothers button down with the sleeves that rolled up above the elbow, a pair of high-end jeans and expensive Italian shoes.) He tried to stroll self-confidently and sat down and perused a menu. He looked like a typical Israeli enjoying the sunshine at lunchtime, and his handsome profile was attracting some attention. He watched the entry way... several soldiers were walking around, rifles and guns strapped all over them. And then, he saw a group of three people walking into the outdoor eating area: Malachi, Ziva, and another man. Gibbs's heart jumped a beat. Ziva scanned the restaurant, just like every Israeli did before entering a public area. Her eyes settled on Gibbs, but then shook her head as if telling herself that she was seeing something that shouldn't be there.

She sat down in one of the metal chairs and said something. The two men laughed and they conversed easily. The Israeli sun did well for Ziva, who was looking more beautiful than he had ever remembered her. He missed her and was awaiting her return. It was all staked on this meeting.

"Malachi," Ziva said across the table, "ani makeera oto. Hu mistakel aleniu." (Malachi, I know him. He is looking at us.)

Malachi nodded. "Lechi v'tekchi oto. Anachnu bgav shelach." (Go and take him. We have your back.)

Ziva nodded and pulled out her card. She sat down and looked at the man.

"I guess preliminaries are not needed," Ziva said, pushing her identification card across the table. "But procedures must be followed. Ziva David. Mossad. You are an American operative on Israeli soil and all federal agents who come here, even on vacation, must clear it with the Shabak. You, Agent Gibbs, did not do that. I am under an obligation to —"

"Ziva, I did nothing wrong! I called! I nearly fired Abby because of what happened." His voice became more pleading now. "Ziva, please. I loved you. I still love you. Please come home."

"I have a job, Gibbs, and I cannot leave it. This is my mission. I have something I need to do."

"What do you need to do? Let me help, Z, and then you can come home."

"You can't help. I have to do what I must do."

"Which is what?"

"What you did twenty years ago."

"I killed the killer of my wife and daughter, Ziva. I thought your sister was killed in a suicide bombing."

"I am searching for the killer of my husband and son."

"Say hello to good-bye
It's gone forever
No more try, you and I
Not now, not ever
And I'll get by without you
I'm not going back again
I'm not going to lie to you
Cause, that was there and only then."