A/N: I am so happy I am finally posting this after weeks of not being able to access my word files because my computer decided to hate me. This is one of my first NCIS fanfics I have ever written, though it will not be my last, so I hope its good. The summary sort of sucks, I know, but since it does contain spoilers for the season ending I didn't want to give it away. This story is written in Ziva's POV of the whole ordeal and all the events taken place with her back in Tel Aviv, while my bff (I shall put the information for how to get to her story here once she posts it) is writting Tony's POV back in Washington DC. Well here goes nothing, please comment below. I love getting feedback on my work.
Tony's POV can be found in her profile: CastAsideOstracized. It's title is Her Dimonds.
Watching everyone load the plane wasn't as hard as she had thought, that was until he boarded, the person she both hated and loved, that's when Ziva realized the big mistake she had made. The pain that was tugging her heart was too much to bear; she couldn't just stand there and watch her new American life, just lift off without her. Not wanting to leave, Ziva turned around away from the plane and just stared down the road tears stinging her eyes. Though she couldn't see him, she could feel his eyes on her. Did she dare to look back? No, it was way too late for forgiveness now; he probably wouldn't even take her back. And could she blame him?
As the plane took off wind whipped around Ziva, causing a few strands of loose hair to fall from her bun and fly in her face. She didn't bother pushing them back, nothing mattered anymore. Her chin crinkled and she sucked in a breath, trying to keep those tears from leaking out. A hand came down to her shoulder and squeezed the nape of her neck. "You are loyal to me now, Ziva darling."
This voice made her cringe always has. It was the soft eerie voice of her father and the head of the Mossad. Gulping back tears she nodded her head, not daring to open her mouth and having her father hear the grief in her voice.
The grip on her shoulder tightened to the point where Ziva cringed a bit from the pressure, "Now, Ziva. Is that anyway to speak to your father? Now what was that?"
"Y-yes father," she said, mustering up enough strength and force in her voice to cover up the pain and anger she was feeling. That seemed to be enough for her father, for he simply let out a small chuckle and lead her back to the truck.
"Cheer up Ziva. I'll even let you drive." Her father said as they arrived at the car. Ziva grabbed the keys out of his hand before he even let go of them. She was in no mood to wait around. She unlocked the car door and hopped in. Starting up the car, Ziva only waited a few moments for her father to buckle up before she hit the gas pedal and accelerated down the now deserted airport strip.
The car ride, for the most part, was quite as Ziva zoomed do the busy streets of Tel Aviv. Her father tried to make small talk but was answered with either silence or small grunts and soon gave up. Swerving into the all too familiar parking lot, Ziva jumped out of the car and made her way to the building, leaving her father behind her. The last thing she need right now was her father lecturing her about trusting 'Americans' and believing that a Mossad Assassin could really fit in with the NCIS team. It was bad enough that she was asking herself these questions she didn't need the leader of the Mossad asking her them as well. She quickened her pace and was soon sprinting up the stairs and through the doors of the embassy, making a few turns to throw her father off her track for a while. Since she had been gone for quite some time she was sure that her room was now occupied by some other assassin but having no were else to turn, Ziva decided to try it anyways. Making a quick U-turn, Ziva retraced her steps and when she came to the front door she made a right. Her room was on the first floor, close enough to her father's office to be easily reached but far enough away that an intercom had to be used.
Ziva's heart was beating fast and the tears in her eyes were threatening to escape, she needed to get into her room and fast. A few more minutes passed by and she made another left down a hallway and then stopped about halfway down. Taking a deep breath she focused her gaze on the plaque next to the door and realized that it was still assigned to her; looks like daddy has been expecting his little girl for a while now.
Swinging her backpack around to the front of her body, she began digging around at the bottom of it in search for something that she hoped she still had. After losing almost all hope of finding it, her hand clasped around something smooth and cold. Dragging her hand out of her bag, she looked in her palm and saw the key to her room. The key she thought she had lost but hadn't. Not bothering to reclose her bag, Ziva slid it back onto her back and inserted the key into the door knob. Hesitantly she turned the key and heard the lock click open. Taking a deep breath, Ziva David, walked into the room where she grew up when she was recruited to be a Mossad Assassin at age 13.
The room was the same as she had always remembered it. Cold. Hard. Lonely. The hardwood floor, instead of looking warm and welcoming, looked cold and dirty. The walls weren't any better, all painted a dull beige with nicks and dings in it from when Ziva had gotten really angry and punched it, or threw something hard at it. The only furniture in the room was a black wooden dresser with a built in mirror, a twin sized bed covered in white sheets, and a black nightstand, equip with a lamp and a simple black alarm clock. The only thing in the room that showed a little personality was the small brown teddy bear that sat upon the bed. This was the only thing that Ziva still had from her childhood, one of the only things her father had let her keep.
Walking over to the bed, she sat down and the bed creaked in protest but soon settled down. Ziva dropped her back pack on the bed and quickly reached over and grabbed the teddy bear, pulling in flush against her body as she breathed in the scent of her childhood. A time where life was easier, the only thing she had to worry about was not getting killed on one of her missions. Not losing a best friend, a partner and the love of her life, having a father who didn't trust her and having her team…no correction, her ex team think she had betrayed all of them. She squeezed the bear until she was sure the head was going to pop right off, due to the stuffing building up pressure inside the thing.
Feeling a bit better she let go of the bear, placing it back between the pillows. "I guess, I should unpack and make myself at home," Ziva muttered as she grabbed her bag and placed it on her lap, the contents willing to spill out any moment.
Reaching her hand in she pulled out the first thing her hand touched, it was smooth and glossy. A photograph. Pulling it out she examined it, not really having remembered packing it, but then again she didn't really pack at all, just took her "gear up" bag from the bullpen since her house had blown up. The photograph was of the team picnic at the beach.
So, what did you guys think so far? Please rate and review. (Next chapter is a flashback, just as an FYI :D)