Finding Home

Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Summary: He was the American Ambassador's son. She was the oldest daughter of the Deputy Director of Mossad. After an encounter at an embassy dinner, they find themselves spending one night together- until her father rips them apart. Years later, she goes to America as a Mossad officer, only to find the boy she remembered all grown up. When they finally see each other again, will it be a happy reunion? And what happens when he discovers the secret she was forced to hide?

Tel Aviv, Israel

1996

He refused to look up from his book. It was just another embassy dinner, where his parents dressed up like the rest of those who worked at the embassy and the various Israeli heads of state and had dinner and danced and talked politics. Typical.

Sighing, he turned another page in his book, and only glanced up when he heard his sister's laughter. Sarah was certainly enjoying herself, dancing with the normally stern Deputy Director of Mossad, who, for once, had a smile on his face as he twirled the thirteen-year-old around on the dance floor. He couldn't help but smile. At least one of them was having fun. Slowly, he turned another page in his book.

"I was not finished yet."

He turned, jumping in surprise to see the dark-haired beauty behind him, reading over his shoulder. He dropped the book, grabbing the stitch in his chest. She grinned, tossing her hair over her shoulder as he narrowed his eyes.

Ziva David, Deputy Director David's seventeen-year-old daughter.

The thorn in his side from the moment they'd arrived in Israel. Sure, she was seventeen, he was eighteen, there was supposed to be attraction there, but he could safely say all he felt for her was annoyance. She followed him everywhere, asking question after question about America; what it was like to go to an actual college that you chose yourself, if Hollywood actors really wore sunglasses whenever they were outside on the street, what Christmas trees looked like when they were lighted, or what spare ribs with barbecue sauce tasted like. Clearly, her father kept a tight leash on the young woman. A leash that would soon be her downfall, if she wasn't careful.

They'd only officially met once, when their parents met at the embassy that first day after getting off the plane. Then, it had been a quick introduction before his father dragged the family to their apartment. Tim hadn't really thought much of her since. Unless she pursued him like she had a habit of doing. Asking ridiculous questions and never giving him a moment's peace. When that happened, he usually ignored her.

"What do you want, Ziva?" He knelt down, grabbing the book. She leaned further over the chair as he sat back up; her voice was soft as she purred,

"Come with me. We will go get coffee and get away from here." He met her gaze, before glancing back at the rest of the guests. A moment passed, before he turned back to her.

"Coffee? At this time of night?" She shrugged.

"I know a small café that is open all night. There is also a bookstore attached to it."

That caught his attention. He stood, glancing back at his parents, before following her to the coat closet. They grabbed their coats, and silently snuck out the back, grasping hands as they rushed through the dark streets of Tel Aviv. By the time they reached the small café and bookstore, both were out of breath, but enjoying their brief freedom.


"Honestly, I hate that my father's ambassador. He used to actually care about Sarah and I. Used to come to our games, spend time with us on the weekends; now all he does is rub elbows with diplomats and other ambassadors, hoping to further his own career."

"At least your father loved you at one point. My father never has." He glanced at her. They sat on the window seat in her room, watching the stars through the glass, cups of warm coffee in their hands. They'd spent two hours at the coffee shop, talking about literature and sharing stories, before finally returning to her parents' apartment.

"I doubt that, Ziva. Every father loves his child." She shook her head.

"Not mine. My father has never loved me, nor Tali, nor Ari. I have never been his priority." She glanced down at her cup. "I am no one's priority." He reached over, laying a hand on her arm.

"You'll be your husband's priority some day. He'll love you and never let you go. He'll be lucky." She met his gaze, seeing the honesty flash before her. Then, she leaned close, taking his lips in a soft kiss.

"Toda, Tim." He grinned, searching her gaze for a moment before returning his mouth to hers. He drank her in, enjoying the taste of her on his lips. Slowly, he reached down, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. His fingers moved over the soft green material of her halter dress, lifting her onto his lap as the kiss deepened. The sensible part of his brain told him to stop, that this was just some fantasy his bored mind had cooked up to deal with the embassy dinner. But the other half, the more impulsive side, screamed that this was real, that this spark, this fire raging between them had been there from the moment they first met, and that it was useless to try to deny it anymore. That this was why she'd constantly followed him around and bombarded him with questions.

That this was why he was always so annoyed with her; it was passion.

Pure, unbridled passion.

A moment passed, before he stood, pulling her to her feet and guiding her to the bed. As they tumbled among the covers and began removing clothes, he found his rational side kicking in again; he quickly shoved it back beneath the rock. The last thing he wanted was to be rational. Once they were fully nude, he pulled away, meeting her dark eyes. She nodded, giving him a soft smile before capturing his lips in a kiss.