Tony glowered in the SUV, his eyes darting back and forth from the scenes outside of the tinted window and from the forced Hebrew conversation in the front of the car. Ziva was answering Moshe's questions with one word answers, every once in a while glancing back at him or looking out the window. The air in the vehicle was icy, and not just from the blasting air conditioner.
From the front seat Ziva gave an exasperated sigh and turned and looked at him. "Moshe still will not drive us to the hotel first."
"It's okay." Tony gave her a soft smile. "Really Ziva, it's okay. Do what you have to do."
She went back to learning against the cold window, watching as Tel Aviv grew closer in the window. She could feel the beginning of panic attack starting. She felt like that all too often around her father, it's all she could remember being constant in her life. An overwhelming feeling of dread. A feeling of disappointment. A feeling of unworthiness. A feeling of abuse. It was something that clung to her, something that followed her her whole life. She was unworthy of being loved.
The unassuming headquarters of Mossad came into view and Ziva swallowed whatever feelings she had. Moshe threw the car into park and turned off the engine. Ziva stared at the building and exited into the dry desert heat.
"Your father will be waiting for you Ziva." Moshe said over his shoulder, heading into the white building.
"I know." She snapped, pulling her hair into a tight ponytail. "I will be RIGHT there."
Tony stepped outside and walked up to her. "Are you going to be okay?" He whispered in her ear, gently pulling her close to him.
"Fine." She looked up at him. "Are you sure you want to do this Tony? This is my father, Director David."
"I work for one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, remember? I'm not dead yet from him, and nothing can be worse than an angry Gibbs." He gave her a tight squeeze and a soft kiss on her temple. "I can handle your father."
They walked into the building, their hands linked, Tony acutely aware of the band around Ziva's finger. Again, they were met with the cold blast of the air conditioner, bringing chills to both of them, though the chills weren't just from the cold recycled air. They stood silently in the elevator, one knowing what to expect, the other only imagining what could happen. The elevator opened with a cheerful ding and they walked out onto a tiled floor. Director Eli David sat behind a deep mahogany desk, his face etched with lines of concentration. He glanced up and looked at his daughter. With a sharp order he put the call he was on on hold and stood up.
"Ziva."
"Father."
They stood there in a silent stalemate. Slowly, robotically, Ziva stepped forward and placed a kiss on her father's cheek. Tony stood, watching the painful exchange, rubbing his sweaty palms against his cargo pants.
"And this is…?"
"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. My…my…" She swallowed hard. "My fiancée."
The air, if possible, got colder. The two men eyed each other, like two gladiators preparing for hand to hand combat, both knowing that only one, if that, would walk out alive. Finally, Eli relented and reached out. "Director David."
Tony shook his hand, both squeezing more than necessary.
"I suppose congratulations are in order." Eli said with a forced smile.
"It is customary." Tony said with a wary glance.
"It is also customary to contact your father if something like this happens, Ziva. To a gentile? Really Ziva. You know your place. Your place is not in America. Your place is not in NCIS. Your place is not…not with HIM. Your place is here, in Israel, in Mossad." Eli said, switching easily to Hebrew and stomping into his office. "You know better than this Ziva. I raised you better than this."
Tony stood to the side, watching with wide eyes.
"You didn't raise me at ALL!" Ziva's voice rose to a quiet roar. "I was never your daughter, I was just a means to an ends. I was your little warrior. I was primed to be a Mossad agent. You never loved me, you never cared for me."
"I clothed you. I gave you an education. I fed you."
"So could an orphanage." She spat back.
"Speaking of orphans, how are yours? The deaf boy and the girl? Daniela and Jacob?"
Her eyes went wide, her pulse racing. "How did you know?"
"Ziva, you do not think I know what goes on in my country?" He clucked his tongue. "You have forgotten what your father does. Their father, Captain Marcus Vancetti. He was US Naval intelligence, yes? Well sometimes they can get too smart."
Her blood ran cold. Colder than the air that was blowing from the overhead vent. Despite the chilly air and even chillier reception. "You…you knew that?"
"Of course I knew that the family had died, but I did not know that NCIS had any involvement in it. And I did not know that you want to adopt the little orphans."
"STOP CALLING THEM THAT! THEY HAVE NAMES! THEIR NAMES ARE DANIELA AND JACOB!" She took a glance at Tony. "I am thirsty. Could you go get me a bottle of water?"
Taking the not so subtle hint Tony nodded and walked away from the scene of his fiancée and his soon to be father in law in a verbal battle.
Ziva turned back to her father. "Do not tell me that you killed their family."
"I did not, but I knew about it. It was Hamas, they took responsibility for the bombing. But we had Captain Vancetti under surveillance. When did you get the motherly touch?"
Her eyes were black. "I always had it, you know that."
"You never wanted children."
Bile rose from the pit of her stomach. Sweat rolled down her forehead. Anger and pain filled her mind. "You took away that option, didn't you?"
"I do not know of what you speak Ziva." Eli said calmly sitting behind his desk.
"You know damn well what happened. Asher."
With one word, the bomb had been dropped. With one word, she gained the upper hand. With one word, Eli David, the director of Mossad, lost his grip. Ziva stepped forward, slamming her hands on his desk. "You know what I am talking about."
"Ziva, you were 17."
"I was in love."
"You were too young. And in love with a MUSLIM." He spat the word at her like it burned his mouth. "You were going…"
"To be Mossad, whether I liked it or not. You killed my baby." She whispered, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. "You did not just kill my baby, but you took it from me. Can you hear my screams from the night you took it? How much did you pay the doctor to do the procedure? Did you enjoy seeing me, drugged, helpless? Did you enjoy seeing my baby…HIS baby, be thrown out like garbage?"
"I did what was best for you. It is a father's job after all. Just like I am doing now. You will not ruin your life by marrying that gentile. I know more about him than you do…and those children. They are not even yours Ziva."
"I am not wrecking my life being with Tony. He has changed mine. He has made me a better person just knowing him. And those children, while I may not have given birth to them, they are much more mine than I ever was yours." Without a look back, Ziva slammed her Mossad credentials on his desk. "I quit."
"You cannot quit Mossad."
"I just did. And the joke's on you, father. You wanted to keep your bloodline going? You wanted to keep the David bloodline going? Tali is dead. Ari is dead. And me…ha. You made sure that I cannot have children."
"What?"
"That's right father. Good luck trying to have more little Mossad agents. Your doctor? He rendered me infertile." Ziva hissed, turned heel and leaving the room.
#
Tony leaned against the wall and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He rewatched the video message that McGee sent, rolling his eyes at the Star Wars comment.
Don't wreck my kids. I can do that myself. We're in Israel. Tell the kids we're safe. Tony typed sending the long distance and expensive text. He saw Ziva storm out of her father's office, her body shaking.
"Ziva." he rushed towards her. "Are you okay?"
Tears flowed from her brown eyes, soaking his shirt. He held her tightly, her body tiny against his, shaking with rage, sadness and pain. "It's going to be okay baby. It's going to be okay." He muttered into her hair. "We're going to be okay."
She shook her head. "You do not understand Tony. You do not quit Mossad. You are done when you die." She whispered.
"Gibbs'll never let that happen. Neither will I. You know that." He held her tight. "Come on, let's go to the hotel. You have enough firepower to protect the President."
Shrugging, she allowed herself to be pulled into the elevator and into a cab. "Tony, I have something to tell you."
"Shh…it can wait Ziva. It doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that you get you to the hotel." He hugged her tight.
"Tony, you are going to hate me…" More tears soaked his shirt.
"Ziva, I will never ever hate you. Ever. There is nothing that you can do that would make me hate you." He whispered, ushering her into the hotel. "Nothing."
She collapsed on the bed as soon as they got into the room, clutching the pillow to her chest. "Tony…"
"Tomorrow I'M going to talk to your father."
"Tony…no." Her voice was weak. Defeated. "Not tomorrow. I…I cannot take tomorrow."
He nodded, sitting down beside her. "Whenever you are ready Ziva. Whenever you're ready."
She hugged the pillow tighter. "Please Tony, just hold me. Please?"
Her wall was down, her defenses lowered. Lower than he had ever seen them. He held her. And she held him. Held him like a drowning victim would hold a life preserver. Tony held tight, not uttering a word, allowing the strong Mossad agent to become what she really was. A woman in pain..
#
Marguerite Taylor had a Masters in child psychology, which made her the perfect foster parent for Jacob and Daniela. Her husband, Derick, was a counsellor at the local high school. They had had foster children before, they usually got along with their three biological children, David, Bennett and Ashley. But these kids were different. They weren't any trouble, but they were hiding something. Or more like internalizing it.
Daniela sat at the kitchen table, a pad of paper in front of her and a pile of markers. The girl was drawing madly, an intense look on her face.
"What're you doing there Daniela?" Marguerite asked, sitting down across from the girl.
"Drawin'." She replied, replacing the cap on a marker. "A picture of Mummy and Papa when they get back…one for Jenny 'n' Gibbs and one for Abby 'n' McGee." She smiled.
"That's great. Can I see the pictures?"
Daniela nodded. "Okay." She passed the pictures to Marguerite. "That one is Gibbs and Jenny. They are sitting and laughing in Jenny's office. They do that a lot. And this is McGee and Abby. They are playing computer! On the same computer!" Her face was relaxed and happy. "And this is one for Mummy and Papa." That picture was simple. It was Tony, Ziva, Jacob and Daniela.
"Those are great pictures Daniela."
"I know." The girl smiled. "Mummy and Papa are going to come back, right?"
"They are. Why wouldn't they when they have two awesome kids sitting here?" Marguerite placed a kiss on the top of the girl's head. "I'm going to check on your brother and Ben, okay?"
"Okay." The girl went back to colouring. "They are coming back okay." She repeated, a soft mantra to calm herself. "They are coming back and we shall be a family."
#
Timothy McGee was not much of a people watcher. He wasn't very observant, and honestly he would rather be staring at a computer screen, but even he could tell that Gibbs was on edge.
"Boss?"
"Coffee." Gibbs grunted and left the bullpen.
The phone on McGee's desk vibrated and blinked. Text message. He read the message that Tony sent him with a smile. He made a mental note to give the Taylor's a call with the message, but that was the least of his concerns. Gibbs's sudden departure made him uneasy. Like Gibbs knew something that he didn't and it was something to do with Ziva and Tony.
"Director?"
Jenny looked down from her perch and shrugged. "He went to get coffee."
"Should I be worried?"
"With Eli David…we should all be worried."
.