When Ziva had shot Ari Haswari in his basement, Gibbs had felt statisfied. She had proven that Mossad sometimes actually cared about their actions and killing the right people. Then a few minutes later, he had learned that he had been her brother. Half-brother, she always corrected the people that referred to him as her brother. But the look in her eyes had said it all back then. She had loved him, no matter who his mother had been. And she had felt sorry. For whom, he had never quite been able to figure out. For him that he had to die, or for her because she was forced to kill him? And now, there was a whole new perspective. Perhaps she had felt sorry for the girl that had just lost the last member of her family the moment Ziva had pulled the trigger.
Losing your parent was bad. Losing your child was wrong. Losing your brother was an experience Gibbs did not have, but judging by how close Esfiri and Haswari appeared to have been, he thought the pain must have been similar to the one he felt when he lost his wife and his daughter. And he remembered how badly he had wanted revenge.
Looking over to the other side of the door, his gut churned. Michael Rivkin. Something about the man rubbed him up the wrong way. It was a little strange how badly he wanted in on the rescue mission, how hard he had fought with Jen in order to get her to involve Mossad, to let them have a look at their findings. Gibbs got the feeling that the Israeli was not telling the entire story. Either way, they could use anyone to help them rescue Ziva.
Nodding once, he took a stance, and the woman, no, the girl that had stood behind Rivkin kicked open the door to the motel room. Wood went flying as the three of them stormed in, their guns raised. DiNozzo and Jen were backing them up from the outside of the room, while McGee was in the car, still trying to get a position on Ziva's cell.
Rivkin was the first to relax and lower his gun. On the bed sat the girl that had been shot, her hands raised behind her head, her eyes full of quite defiance and anger. The Mossad girl, who seemed about her age, tensed, and shouted at her in Hebrew, then Arabic. Layla did not answer. Gibbs lowered his weapon, and showed her his badge.
"I'm an NCIS agent. You tried to kill one of my people. If you tell me where the other two are, I promise you will not be left with Mossad." he told her softly. He could see the fear flicker behind her eyes, before she spat him in the face. He heard Jen gasp behind him. Slowly, he got up and wiped his face. He turned around and opened his mouth to tell DiNozzo to arrest her when the piercing sound of a gunshot rang through the room. He whipped around, only to find Rivkin slowly lowering his gun. The girl lay on the bed, the wall behind her plastered with blood and brain matter, blood seeping from her shattered skull. The chocolate eyes that had just stared into his with so much life were empty.
"You bastard!" Gibbs yelled and felt Jen's firm grip on his arms, pulling him out of the motel room before he had a chance to strangle Rivkin.
TBC
Can you tell I never liked Rivkin? *whistles innocently*