"This will do for you, right?" Ziva's father asks as he leads her to a small, simple bedroom with a bed and a nightstand. Ziva took notice of the bolts that kept the windows tightly shut and only a light weight lamp was provided leaving her no object to break the glass. Her father knew what she could do, would do, in order to get away. There was a heavy duty lock on the door from the outside so she could not break the door down, although it was not as if she could do that even if it was different since she was sure her father would have one or two men sit outside the door and listen to make sure she did not do anything that could actually lead to her escape. There was a small bathroom and Ziva smiled at the prospect of a shower. Sometimes small things could make horrible situations just slightly and momentarily better. Of course there was no phone or anything she could use to communicate with anyone from back home. Bottled water and a magazine were also provided and Ziva knew that her father was trying to make her feel like a guest, not a prisoner. Even men like him must have somewhat of a conscious.

"No," Ziva tells him truly not caring if she angers him or not. He's trying to kill her and all those she cares about; she could be a little bitchy. "I want to go home."

"Ah, but my dear daughter you are home. This is where you were raised and this is where you belong," her father tells her and Ziva realizes that although Israel is where she has come from and is the country of whom she protects, to her DC was home. The place where she had found comfort, the place where she had learned to have fun. Where she was able to be a child even if only for a moment. It was no longer all about bombings and attacks. Not every house had a bomb shelter and not every family owned a gun. You did not have to fear for your life every time you stepped outside your door and you could let others see your weaknesses along with your strengths. Trusting was not stupid and loving was not irresponsible. Maybe this was more about her father than Israel. About her life here, not every one's. All she could be certain of was that she did not belong in Israel, not with these people, and that she never had.

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"So there's a Hebrew girl downstairs and she's saying Ziva's in Israel?" Abby questions McGee after he hangs up the phone from talking to Tony. Appearently the three of them, Tony, McGee and Gibbs, were going to Israel. McGee still hadn't gone back upstairs since he and Abby got to talking as usual.

"Yeah and now we're all going to Israel," McGee says. "The little girl barely even speaks English, yet we're going completely off of what she's said."

"Well we have had some pretty remarkable kids here before," Abby reminds him. "Plus it's all you guys really have to go off of since so far I've found nothing."

"I know. I just wish we had something more definitive," McGee says and Abby looks at him for a minute before pulling him into a tight hug, her form of comfort. "Thanks Abby."

"My pleasure. Now go find Ziva and keep me posted," Abby tells him and he smiles at her.

"Will do," McGee says and turns to leave looking back to see Abby saluting him. She could cheer anybody up.

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"Still nothing back on the BOLO, boss," Tony informs Gibbs who was still talking with Hannah. Tony handed her a bottle of water and was surprised when she took it but sniffed it's contents before continuing.

"To da," she says telling Tony "thank you" in Hebrew.

"Who is your Aba and Ima?" Gibbs asks and she looks down avoiding eye contact with him.

"A man shoot my Aba," she tells him. "My Ima, she no love me." For the first time through all of this Tony sees tears build in her eyes but she blinks hard and several times so that they go away and then takes a drink of water.

"Who takes care of you?" Gibbs asks and the small child once again meets him in the eye and they no longer show her sadness, they show nothing.

"My savta. Me and Ima live their but Ima ever stays."

Gibbs nods and gives her a minute before asking another question. "Does she know where you are?"

"Ken," Hannah says and then remembers that she should use her English. "Yes."

"Why are you here?" Tony asks still wondering of what purpose a small child could do to prevent them from finding Ziva. If anything she was helping them, wouldn't Ziva's father have figured that? He was a smart man, smart enough to realize that this was in no way a set back.

"I do not know. My savta bring me to the man who take me here. She did not care what he did to me," Hannah says.

"What's your whole name?" Gibbs asks wondering if she was somehow connected to Ziva.

"Hannah Caitlyn Haswari."

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Tony sighed as he threw another few shirts into his bag. They were to pack their things and then take a private flight to Israel. They were granted the right to take Director David into custody but they were not to charge him until the whole story had been told. Originally it was told to them that taking him into to custody was not even allowed but as soon as the fear-stricken word of terrorist was mentioned it was given that he would be brought back to the states. Vance did not seem to believe them or even work with them for all of this. Tony wanted to think that this man could have something to do with this whole ordeal but his gut told him that Vance merely did not want to believe what one of his close friends was planning and had begun putting into action.

The apartment looked no different from the last time Tony had been there. Even her note was still laying abandoned on the kitchen counter and her bag still tossed carelessly in the corner. A bottle of wine and a box of pizza were laid out in front of the TV along with Casablanca which the two of them had watched the night before she went for that damn jog. The bed was unmade, not that that was anything different for Tony.

Tony's thoughts were like an overloaded train. Going at high speed with so much to handle that it is about to spill over but there is no way to stop it. It is like Tony is on autopilot as he does everything. One second he is laying on his couch thinking about her and the next he is showered and dressed still thinking about her. His subconscious took care of everything he had to deal with while his mind played through his thoughts. The thoughts that followed him endlessly. Even last night as he desperately tried to fall asleep all he could think about was her. It was as though there was a movie in his head that just replayed the memories. From three years ago to just a week ago when she had fallen asleep while watching The Sound of Music and they had then proceeded to stay the night together. Her laugh was like a soundtrack and her words were the voice over. Things they had said to each other, things they hadn't. Tony remembered what Paula Cassidy had told him a few years ago, something that had a much different meaning then than it did now. She had told him that life is just too short to not tell someone you loved them. Tony had never been really cared to use the word love. Tony feared love, love tore his family apart at least that is what he used to believe. Now he understood it was not love that had done that to them, but hate.

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Ziva had finally been left alone and was now laying, wide awake, in bed. She had taken her shower which was pure bliss for the whole ten minutes of hot water she had received. Now she had been left to her thoughts. Thoughts that haunted her ones of fear and sadness, memories of what led her to be who she is today. Who she was at that very second she spent staring up in the darkness of the prison she had been sent to. Memories she had blocked out for years were seeping into her mind. She remembered when she was only eight years old and her mother was teaching her an old family recipe. Ziva remembered every little detail of that glorious day, one of the last blissful and carefree days she had with her mother, the last one she had forever. The fragrances and the tastes, how her mother had pulled Ziva's unruly hair into a braid so that "she would not be eating hair soup" her mother had told her. Ziva remembered how her mother had given her an apron and how long it was on her but that she had insisted on wearing the garment.

Ziva remembered when Tali had coming rushing into the room fully drenched in four year old excitement that she always seemed to carry with her, even when she was fourteen. Ziva had told her young sister that it was her special time with mommy, that Tali got too much mommy time and now Ziva got a turn. Tali had started crying but instead of giving a lecture Ziva told Tali that they would call her when they needed a taste tester and the bright smile returned to the small girls face. Ziva used to wonder if her smile took up her whole face since when Tali smiled there was no trace of sadness left in her. It was as though she was on top of the world when she smiled because that is exactly what she looked like.

Ziva remembered how later that day when the three of them sat in the kitchen how her mother had sung a sweet sounding lullaby one that Ziva later begged her mother to teach her. Ziva remembered how the night had ended badly when her father had come home. Something bad had happened that day and her father was in a foul mood. They had all learned from past experiences to not do anything that could upset their father but he would still find something to complain about. If her father was in a bad mood there was no way to get out of the screams and the pain that was inflicted upon them. Then the next day it would not be discussed and when they would all leave their home they were to act as though they were the happiest family, as though nothing was wrong. ZIva would love those days out because her father never yelled, never hit. He would talk kindly to them almost sickeningly so. She had caught onto the fact that he would do nothing if she acted out and then begun taking complete advantage of it. She quickly learned her lesson when they came home from one outing when she had over done it and she received a prompt and well deserved beating. Ziva understood after that that she was to be perfect at all times, end of story.

When her mother died a few short months later the bond between her and Tali became so strong that it was as though they were more than sisters. Ziva became the nurturer and protector of Tali, she became the replacement mom. Ari had already begun to drift away at that time and went to boarding school during the fall Ziva turned ten. Leaving the young girl to take care of herself but also her small and fragile sister. Tali took to sleeping in Ziva's bed with her and they would hide out together when their father was in a bitter mood. Ziva would do an impersonation of their father when he was angry and how he would so easily switch when they went out. She did it so exaggeratedly and yet so truthfully that she would have both herself and her sister on the floor laughing with pure joy.

Even as Ziva grew older she and Tali stayed close. Rarely would Ziva go anywhere without her younger sister and that did not bother Ziva much at all. Tali was still recovering from the loss of their mother while Ziva mourned the loss of her brother even if he was still alive he was not with her and that broke her heart. Ziva went into training for Mossad as soon as she became a legal adult and she remembered Tali warning her to not turn into daddy. Even at fourteen Tali was still very innocent and naive but she would not have been Tali if she was throwing knives and aiming guns because that was not Tali. Tali did not believe in war or death that was unnecessary. She believed in life and she told Ziva that many times as they grew up. She found it so strange that they wold do everything to save someone from a disease yet some of those same people could go kill someone that had no reason to die. It made no sense to her and she said that she hoped it never would.

One day in the winter Ziva had received news that the same little sister that despised war so much was killed by a bomb. The same little sister that she had raised and that had become her best friend was gone. Ziva was there while they buried her body next to their mother's. Ziva did not cry that day, nor did her father or Ari that had come to the funeral only to return home to another. Ziva only cried when it was dark and when no one else could see or hear her, then it was safe to cry. One day she decided that tears were unacceptable and unnecessary and that she would not allow herself to cry again, end of story. Her training became her life, no relationships, no friendships, just learning how to kill.

Ziva laid in bed thinking of all of these things, remembering all of these things. Memories she had spent her whole life burying in her mind, yet she had never managed to dig the hole very deep because it took no more than a moment to remember.

Her mind switched to her life now. All that she had now. The life she had found or more like the life that had found her. The life where pain was traded for comfort, sadness for joy, anger for love. This life was the life she wanted to live. As she lay there thinking the melody of a song ran through her mind. It's soft, calming piano and the honest, truthful lyrics. One part continuously ran through her mind. It seemed to explain some of her thoughts so perfectly and as she lay there she sang in a quiet, barely audible voice.

For me it's a glance and the smile on your face,
The touch of your hand and an honest embrace.
For where I lay it's you I keep this changing world I fall asleep,
With you all I know is I'm coming home,
Coming home.

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Another day, another chapter. I never intended it to be so long but I really got into the last part but I hope it's okay, not too long or dull or anything. Thanks to all of you who reviewed last chapter and I hope you do for this one too. Have a great day, or night depending on when you're reading this because right now it's almost midnight :)

Savta means Grandmother in Hebrew sorry I didn't clarify that in the story!