The Flames You Stirred
Mar. 3rd, 2010 12:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
odette_riverTitle: The Flames You Stirred
Fandom: NCIS
Character: Ziva (with slight Ziva/Gibbs and Ziva/Ari undertones)
Prompt: A souk
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,004
Summary: If she looks at things out of the corners of her eyes, she can almost believe that Ari is with her.
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
story_lottery. Title from "Toast" by Tori Amos.
For the week after they leave, Ziva sits in her room and pretends that she isn’t thinking about anything. Her father has kept her room the same, a fact that she should probably find creepy, but actually finds a bit comforting. If she looks at things out of the corners of her eyes, she can almost believe that Ari is with her.
He wasn’t in here much, even back then, but if he was in Tel Aviv he would visit, and if he wasn’t he would always call, except, of course, when he couldn’t. And then she’d worry, and play with the tassels on the rug that her father had bought in a market somewhere, and wait. Sometimes Tali would be there, too, until she wasn’t anymore.
She’d always worried about Tali more than Ari, though it hadn’t done any good. Tali hadn’t liked it, hadn’t wanted her sister to worry, but she’d also accepted that she couldn’t change things. Ultimately, that was the difference between Tali and her brother and sister: they never accepted things; they always wanted change.
When Tali was killed, Ziva went sort of crazy. Ari hadn’t been there—he was off in Zimbabwe, or Turkey, or Scotland; anywhere but Israel—and she’d only had her father. Predictably, he hadn’t been much help. He told her to be calm, to go back to work, to present a good face for everyone. It had taken her and Ari eight months before they were able to find the man who’d planned the bombing and kill him on a side street in Barcelona.
Ari had come back to Tel Aviv with her after that, and he’d slept in her room, holding her shoulders when she cried. She hadn’t cried at Tali’s funeral, but she did that night, and in the morning she dried her eyes and moved on.
Right now, she is moving on again.
She wonders if Ari had to do this: close himself off, cut ties to the people who matter, and find another self inside his head to take over. She doesn’t know if it would be worse if he did or if he didn’t. He still talked to her. Does that mean that she didn’t matter, or that she mattered too much?
She knows that Ari mattered too much to her. That’s why she agreed to follow him around the world like their father asked her to, cleaning up his messes and protecting him. He’s the one who taught her to do that.
She hadn’t believed he’d killed Kate because if he had, he would have told her. That’s what she believed. He told her about everyone except for the ones who really mattered. He never told her about his mother. Everything she learned about the woman came from what her father said, or the way Ari acted, and that was enough. She didn’t know anything about Kate. That should have been her answer.
She needs to accept that there are some things she will never know. This is why she says yes to her father and walks away from the airplane. What she will remember from that day is the brightness of the sun and the feeling that her brother is at her shoulder.
That week in Tel Aviv, she speaks to her father as she always does, does not touch a phone, and touches the edges of her carpet.
Ari always wanted her to break free of their father. He said that was something he couldn’t do, but that she could. She never believed him. She said that they were the same and Tali was the one was different. But now Tali and Ari are dead and she is the one left apart, alive. Well, soon she will be joining them. Once she’d tried to stop doing what their father told her to, but that hadn’t worked. Ari had been wrong.
When they left, she’d thought Gibbs would argue with her. She was glad that he hadn’t. She’d asked him to choose and hoped that he understood why she’d done that. And he had. And he’d believed in her. He was just about the only person who did that anymore, and she was grateful. It meant she was making the right decision or, more accurately, that he trusted her to make the right decision. It was nice to know that someone still thought she could think of things besides the best way to kill someone.
She never thinks of Michael, which is strange. It’s not that she doesn’t care, and it’s probably not that she cares too much. Instead, she thinks of Roy.
Everyone dies, whether they deserve it or not. They close their eyes and everything stops.
She wonders if she deserves it.
She wonders if God is real.
She never used to ask questions like that, and it should scare her, it should leave her terrified, but it doesn’t. Ari used to go to Temple with the rest of them. They were just like a good little family, except with no mother and a bastard child. She clearly remembers holding Ari’s hand and stepping through the doors, dressed up and pleased because her father was proud of how she looked. She’d always thought that Ari believed. In the end, it doesn’t matter.
She wonders if her father believes. He probably does. He’s probably the only one. She thinks she might really, truly hate him, for playing games with her for her whole life, and with her brother and sister. Worse yet, he doesn’t try to hide it, and that makes her hate him more.
Maybe she’s evil. No child is supposed to hate its parents. Maybe that’s why she’s stopped believing in everything except for the man who kissed her goodbye on the cheek. He might not be proud of what she’s going to do now, but he trusts her, and she is going to use that trust to walk away from him and everything else.
She’s made her decision. This one last thing and then everything—everything—stops.
Fandom: NCIS
Character: Ziva (with slight Ziva/Gibbs and Ziva/Ari undertones)
Prompt: A souk
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,004
Summary: If she looks at things out of the corners of her eyes, she can almost believe that Ari is with her.
Written for
story_lottery. Title from "Toast" by Tori Amos.For the week after they leave, Ziva sits in her room and pretends that she isn’t thinking about anything. Her father has kept her room the same, a fact that she should probably find creepy, but actually finds a bit comforting. If she looks at things out of the corners of her eyes, she can almost believe that Ari is with her.
He wasn’t in here much, even back then, but if he was in Tel Aviv he would visit, and if he wasn’t he would always call, except, of course, when he couldn’t. And then she’d worry, and play with the tassels on the rug that her father had bought in a market somewhere, and wait. Sometimes Tali would be there, too, until she wasn’t anymore.
She’d always worried about Tali more than Ari, though it hadn’t done any good. Tali hadn’t liked it, hadn’t wanted her sister to worry, but she’d also accepted that she couldn’t change things. Ultimately, that was the difference between Tali and her brother and sister: they never accepted things; they always wanted change.
When Tali was killed, Ziva went sort of crazy. Ari hadn’t been there—he was off in Zimbabwe, or Turkey, or Scotland; anywhere but Israel—and she’d only had her father. Predictably, he hadn’t been much help. He told her to be calm, to go back to work, to present a good face for everyone. It had taken her and Ari eight months before they were able to find the man who’d planned the bombing and kill him on a side street in Barcelona.
Ari had come back to Tel Aviv with her after that, and he’d slept in her room, holding her shoulders when she cried. She hadn’t cried at Tali’s funeral, but she did that night, and in the morning she dried her eyes and moved on.
Right now, she is moving on again.
She wonders if Ari had to do this: close himself off, cut ties to the people who matter, and find another self inside his head to take over. She doesn’t know if it would be worse if he did or if he didn’t. He still talked to her. Does that mean that she didn’t matter, or that she mattered too much?
She knows that Ari mattered too much to her. That’s why she agreed to follow him around the world like their father asked her to, cleaning up his messes and protecting him. He’s the one who taught her to do that.
She hadn’t believed he’d killed Kate because if he had, he would have told her. That’s what she believed. He told her about everyone except for the ones who really mattered. He never told her about his mother. Everything she learned about the woman came from what her father said, or the way Ari acted, and that was enough. She didn’t know anything about Kate. That should have been her answer.
She needs to accept that there are some things she will never know. This is why she says yes to her father and walks away from the airplane. What she will remember from that day is the brightness of the sun and the feeling that her brother is at her shoulder.
That week in Tel Aviv, she speaks to her father as she always does, does not touch a phone, and touches the edges of her carpet.
Ari always wanted her to break free of their father. He said that was something he couldn’t do, but that she could. She never believed him. She said that they were the same and Tali was the one was different. But now Tali and Ari are dead and she is the one left apart, alive. Well, soon she will be joining them. Once she’d tried to stop doing what their father told her to, but that hadn’t worked. Ari had been wrong.
When they left, she’d thought Gibbs would argue with her. She was glad that he hadn’t. She’d asked him to choose and hoped that he understood why she’d done that. And he had. And he’d believed in her. He was just about the only person who did that anymore, and she was grateful. It meant she was making the right decision or, more accurately, that he trusted her to make the right decision. It was nice to know that someone still thought she could think of things besides the best way to kill someone.
She never thinks of Michael, which is strange. It’s not that she doesn’t care, and it’s probably not that she cares too much. Instead, she thinks of Roy.
Everyone dies, whether they deserve it or not. They close their eyes and everything stops.
She wonders if she deserves it.
She wonders if God is real.
She never used to ask questions like that, and it should scare her, it should leave her terrified, but it doesn’t. Ari used to go to Temple with the rest of them. They were just like a good little family, except with no mother and a bastard child. She clearly remembers holding Ari’s hand and stepping through the doors, dressed up and pleased because her father was proud of how she looked. She’d always thought that Ari believed. In the end, it doesn’t matter.
She wonders if her father believes. He probably does. He’s probably the only one. She thinks she might really, truly hate him, for playing games with her for her whole life, and with her brother and sister. Worse yet, he doesn’t try to hide it, and that makes her hate him more.
Maybe she’s evil. No child is supposed to hate its parents. Maybe that’s why she’s stopped believing in everything except for the man who kissed her goodbye on the cheek. He might not be proud of what she’s going to do now, but he trusts her, and she is going to use that trust to walk away from him and everything else.
She’s made her decision. This one last thing and then everything—everything—stops.
