For My Sister

Disclaimer: Not my property. All recognisable characters belong to CBS.

It's been some time since I posted anything but I'm back! Between my Creative Writing MA, research for a novel and an Asperger's book and now planning a wedding (in less than four months' time now…!) I've not been writing much fanfic. Also, I'm working on Aftermath: Rebuilding Lives, which is the sequel to my post-season-9-finale fic Aftermath: Irrevocable Changes. I will finish Rebuilding Lives, but I never post a fic until I've finished writing it.

Started working on this back in January and have finally finished it (re-finished, seeing as I managed to accidentally delete the entire middle section…). Obviously we don't know yet what's happened to Gibbs, so he's recovered from the injuries sustained in the season 12 finale in this story; thus, set early June 2015.

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Chapter 1

The dark-haired woman in his living room ended the call on her phone, then turned to face him and smiled, her relief perfectly apparent. "It is now officially mine," she announced, putting the phone back into her pocket.

"When can you move in?"

"Five weeks." The smile on her face broadened. "Soon I shall be out of your…hair?"

He nodded briefly. "Gonna miss you."

She frowned a little in confusion. "I will only be one street away; it is not as if I will be living on the other side of the country."

He shrugged and gave her a wry smile. "Kinda got used to having one of my kids in the house again."

Her eyes widened. "I did not mean…"

He waved it away, chuckling a little, then gestured to her to approach. When she was within reach, he pulled her into a tight bear-hug. "It's good to have you back, Ziver."

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At five minutes past seven, the lift let out its trademark ding and Special Agent Timothy McGee glanced towards it over the head of Probationary Agent Ellie Bishop. His gaze settled on a hunched-over Special Agent Tony DiNozzo scuttling towards his desk, eyes darting from side to side. "You're late, Tony."

"And it's only Monday," added Bishop, leaning back in her chair, shaking her head.

Tony dropped his bag behind his desk, still looking around the squadroom. "Boss here yet?" When McGee gave him a look that clearly said, are you kidding me? Tony relented. "OK, OK, I guess it was too much to ask. Where is he?" He hastily glanced over his shoulder, relaxing at the absence of his boss.

"In with the Director," Bishop informed him, returning to her intense scrutiny of the document on her computer. "Has been since before I got here at six."

Tony gave her a disbelieving look. "Why were you even here at that time?"

"Breakfast with Abby." Something on her screen caught her attention and she drifted away from the conversation.

A quick check of the upper level overlooking the squadroom reassured Tony that despite the sense that he was being watched, it was not actually the case, and he switched on his computer. "Hey, McGee, is it just me or has the boss been acting weird the last few days?"

McGee rolled his eyes. "Weird how?"

"It's almost like he's happy. Definitely in a better mood than he has been for the last few months."

"Tony, if you're going to begin another speculation on Gibbs' love life and the latest redhead you think you saw him with, I will not be part of it," warned McGee. His expression abruptly changed and he turned back to his computer.

Recognising the look, Tony began looking busy by going through his desk drawers. He lifted up a file – and froze. The overhead lights glimmered off the dainty gold chain and Star of David necklace that lived there, a constant reminder of the last nine years and his own painful loss. She's not dead, DiNozzo, he reminded himself. She'll call when she's ready.

A throat being cleared brought him out of his reflections and he raised his head. "Hi, Boss!" he said, mustering fake enthusiasm. Gibbs cocked his head to one side and the grin dropped from Tony's face. "Sorry I'm late, Boss."

Gibbs regarded him for a moment, then went over to his desk, coffee in hand, and nodded to McGee. "Any news from Norfolk about the UA petty officer?"

McGee, still going through his emails, held up a hand. "Harper said he'd email me…" He squinted at the screen until he found what he was looking for. "He's checking out a reported sighting up in Maine today, says he'll let me know."

"Director's being hounded by the petty officer's wife," Gibbs informed him. "Might want us to go up there."

"That why you were up with Vance?" asked Tony.

Gibbs gave him a brief nod as he sat down at his desk, just as an email popped up on his screen. After skimming through it, he forwarded it to Tony. "Need you to get everything you can on this guy," he told his senior field agent.

"On it, Boss." With that, Tony got to work. He was convinced that Gibbs was keeping something from them but knew better than to push when his boss was clearly unwilling to give anything away, especially with a missing petty officer to find.

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Ending the fifteenth long call of the morning, Ziva put the phone down on Gibbs' kitchen table and buried her head in her hands, emitting a deep sigh. It was barely lunchtime and she was already exhausted. Although everything was just about ready and in place, she was desperate for it to go perfectly and was paranoid that something would go wrong. A break would do her good, she decided; she pushed her laptop to one side while it shut down and gathered the various papers together. It was time for a run.

Fifteen minutes later, she was already feeling more relaxed and it showed in her run. The June sun was pleasantly warm on her face but the East Coast early-summer breeze was sharp enough to keep her cool as she steadily made her way along her chosen route. The neighbourhood was nice, the route options variable, the air clean. All the jumbled thoughts and emotions were starting to untangle and she allowed herself to begin to work through them as she ran. Being back in DC. Her plans. Staying with Gibbs. Rebuilding her life. And the hippo in the room. No, that wasn't right. Giraffe? Rhino?

Whichever animal it was, was irrelevant. It had been nearly two years since they had last spoken, on the tarmac at Ben Gurion airport. Would he even want her back in his life? Maybe this was a mistake. Although it would probably be easy enough to avoid him now that she was steering her life in a very different direction, it would always be hanging in the air, awkward, tense.

On she ran, barely taking in her route or the distance she was covering as she attempted to process the muddle in her head and heart, until she eventually decided to talk it through with Gibbs that evening. At least, she would talk and he would nod and make a variety of facial expressions with the occasional word. Yes, that was best.

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Walking into his house that evening, Gibbs could tell that something was bothering his youngest surrogate daughter, from the delicious, varied smells emanating from his kitchen, so he shut the front door and strode straight towards the aromas.

Sensing his presence, she turned around, an uncooked pie in her hands. "You did not go to Norfolk."

Gibbs shook his head. "Sent McGee and Bishop. What's for dinner?"

"Take your pick." She put the pie into the oven and glanced at her watch, noting the time, then checked the temperature of the oven. She knew she was stalling, suddenly nervous now that Gibbs was home, and she bit her lip. Before she turned to face him again, she took a deep breath and calmed herself.

"What's that pie?" he asked, gesturing to one that sat on a cooling rack in a corner.

"My mother's recipe. Lamb and a mixture of vegetables," she explained.

"Perfect. Anything I can do?"

"Just get some plates."

A few minutes later they were sitting down across the table from each other, Gibbs with a beer and Ziva a glass of water. He took a bite, then pointed his fork at the food, nodding emphatically. This earned him a hint of a smile from the woman opposite, who sat with her head cradled in her hand and fork pushing food around her plate, making no attempt to eat. He put down his fork and reached out to place his hand over hers, stilling the motion. "What's up?"

But she shook her head and stared at her meal, the fork clattering on the plate as it slipped from her hand. Her appetite had gone completely, replaced by a tight knot in her stomach. She had hoped that by focusing on cooking, she could distract herself enough – and while she had been busy, it had worked. But now she had stopped, she could no longer hold back the thoughts.

"C'mon, Ziva, talk to me."

She swallowed hard and chewed on her lip.

"Something wrong with Friday?"

She pulled a face. "Yes and no."

"The venue or the people?"

She could feel his eyes boring into her but the words stuck in her throat and she pushed her plate away, the smell now making her feel slightly sick.

"This about DiNozzo?"

She stayed silent, not trusting herself to speak.

"He on the invite list?" His eyes scanned the part of her face that he could see, gleaning as much information as was possible. Her brief nod told him plenty. "You should talk to him. Before Friday."

For the first time, she raised her head, blinking rapidly as she attempted to keep the rising tears at bay. "What do I say?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Gibbs got to his feet and went over to her, kneeling down so that he was on the same level as her, and met her eyes. "Same as you told me when I got home a few weeks ago to find you in my basement without prior warning."

She only half-succeeded in suppressing a snort. "That was a lot easier than…than this." She averted her gaze.

"You'll find a way." He caressed her cheek, then kissed her forehead. "Gotta be easier than last time you came back."

A wry smile broke out on her face; she accepted the offered tissue and wiped her eyes. He had a point. "I guess. I just… Maybe I should not have come back."

"Well, you did." He put a hand under her chin and raised her head a little "You came home to your family. Talk to DiNozzo." He got back to his feet. "You gonna eat anything?"

She hesitated, all too aware of the knot still in her stomach, and shook her head. "I am not hungry. I think I will go to bed." She stood up and gave Gibbs a brief hug before leaving the room for the bedroom that had become hers. It did not take her long to get ready for bed and she curled up under the covers, hoping the turmoil of thoughts in her head would dissipate.

They did not; it was a long time before sleep claimed her.

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Gibbs was already at his desk when McGee wandered in at quarter to seven the next morning. "Morning, McGee."

"Uh… Morning, Boss." McGee decided that Tony had been right: there was definitely something different about him. He smiled at Gibbs and cast a quick glance around the squadroom. "Bishop not in yet?" An arch of an eyebrow was enough. "I guess not." He got to his desk, about to drop his bag on the floor when something on the desk caught his eye: a simple, pale-green envelope with just his name printed on it. "Boss, what's this?"

Another quirk of his boss's eyebrows said enough; McGee picked up the envelope and was about to open it when the lift doors opened, revealing an irate Ducky, tugging Tony behind him as he stalked out of the lift, hand firmly gripping the senior agent's ear. Tony was pulling a variety of comical, agonised expressions. Looks were exchanged between the other two and McGee shook his head.

"I caught Anthony trying to sneak out of Autopsy after having set several ticking clocks in various drawers. Mr. Palmer believed they were bombs," huffed the doctor, abruptly stopping and twisting Tony's ear further; the agent let out a squeak. "Then when I opened the drawers to investigate, I was met by streamers in my face." He tugged again and Tony yelped; Ducky released the ear and meted out a headslap. Apparently satisfied, Ducky gave Gibbs a brief nod.

A now-subdued Tony edged away from the ME and shuffled towards his desk. Ducky stalked off to the lift, returning to Autopsy. Once the doctor had disappeared, Tony put his bag down, rubbing his ear. "He overreacted," he grumbled. "Hey, what's this?" He picked up the pale-green envelope on his desk.

"I got one too," said McGee. He peered across the aisle. "So did Bishop."

"You get one, Boss?" When Gibbs shook his head, face unreadable, the two agents began to open their envelopes.

"I have cake!" announced a bright and cheerful Bishop as she entered the team's area, holding it aloft. Tony's eyes instantly lit up and he forgot about the envelope.

"What's the occasion?" asked McGee.

"One of my brothers and his wife are staying with us for a few days. Gemma likes to bake. A lot. If we keep it all at home it goes stale before we can eat it all."

Tony cackled as he reached out a hand towards the box "The DiNozzo Cake Devourer mode has been activated." This declaration prompted unanimous eye-rolling.

Bishop carefully placed the cake box on her desk and caught sight of the pale-green envelope sitting there. "Ooooh, what's this?" Her question reminded the other two and all three agents turned their attention to opening their envelopes.

The first person to extract the item from the envelope was Bishop. "It's an invitation."

"For what?" asked McGee, pausing.

Bishop tucked her hair behind her ear. "It's the launch of some foundation thing. The Tali David Peace Foundation?" She pronounced the name the standard American way.

"Dah-veed," corrected Gibbs, Tony and McGee in unison.

Scrunching up her face in confusion, Bishop's eyes darted back and forth between the other three. "Who?"

Tony and McGee exchanged looks, neither wanting to broach the subject, and Tony ran his hand through his hair. Realising what was going on, Gibbs got to his feet and gestured towards Bishop's desk. "Agent before you. Tali was her sister."

Tony cleared his throat, finding his voice. "She died in a Hamas suicide bombing when she was sixteen."

"Oh. That must've been hard," said Bishop, not sure what to say. "I mean, my brothers and I fought a lot but if one of them got killed…"

But McGee's thinking was going along a different route as he skimmed the invitation and he turned to Gibbs, frowning. "Uh, Boss – does this mean Ziva's back in DC?"

A brief nod from Gibbs.

Tony and McGee exchanged surprised looks; McGee was the first to speak. "Since when?"

"A while."

"But why hasn't she been in touch?" McGee's face was a mixture of confusion and hurt.

"Busy sorting out things for the foundation."

Finally Tony found his voice. "Where's she staying?"

"That's her business. McGee, case update." His tone was brisk and firm; his agents knew that now was not the time to push this subject further so they turned their attention to the case.

For Tony, though, it was only a half-hearted effort as he tried to process Gibbs' revelation and the turmoil of emotions that had hit him with it. Almost two years, he mused. Did he want to see her? Could he see her? Perhaps more to the point, did she want to see him? He tugged his invitation further out of its envelope and furrowed his brow as a piece of white card emerged with it. Discreet glances at Bishop and McGee's desks told him that it was not common to all three of them. McGee was still talking, with Bishop occasionally interjecting, so he took the card out completely. This one, unlike the invitation, was handwritten.

Ziva's handwriting.

Tony –

I need to see you before the launch. Thursday 8pm, Anna's Kitchen.

– Z

He knew the place. They used to go to the always-open café occasionally after work, just the two of them. Clearly she was keen to use neutral ground; he couldn't really blame her.

Smack. Gibbs' hand made contact – hard – with the back of his head. "You got anything to add, DiNozzo?" he demanded, raising his eyebrows as high as they would go. The shake of McGee's head and the wince on Bishop's face told him that it was not the first time Gibbs had asked the question.

"Uh…" He put the card and invitation down on his desk. "Sorry, Boss."

"Again, McGee." With the prompt from Gibbs, McGee shot a glare at Tony, sighed and grudgingly repeated himself. This time Tony forced himself to pay attention.

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It was barely ten minutes later when the lift doors opened and Abby exploded into the squadroom, brandishing a piece of pale green card. "What. The hell. Is this?" she demanded. The squadroom fell silent and several people shrank away from her general proximity. She stopped between Tony and Bishop's desks and stamped her foot. Tony turned to McGee and pulled a face at him that said, Oh crap…

Bishop, unaware of most of what had happened, merely looked confused. "It's an invitation," she said.

Abby whirled round, bunches smacking her in the face, and glared at Bishop. "I can see that." She slammed the invitation down on Bishop's desk and fixed her eyes on Gibbs. "What the hell is she playing at?"

"I haven't –"

"Not you!" Abby jabbed her finger towards the offending piece of card. "She leaves us – abandons us! – with no warning and not so much as a good-bye and doesn't bother to contact us at all, she lets Tony chase her all over the Middle East and then throws back in our faces everything we've ever done for her, and now she expects us to drop everything for her?"

McGee took a step forward. "Abby –"

"Don't defend her, McGee!" Abby's eyes were ablaze now that she had worked herself up so much. "She left us, not the other way around! Does she seriously think she can just pretend like the last two years never happened and that we'll immediately pick up right where we left off? Because I sure as hell don't and one of you can tell her that I'd rather be dead than seen at her damn event!"

She spun round and stormed back to the lift, almost knocking Ducky and Palmer flying like skittles as they exited and she entered the lift. The ME and his assistant exchanged looks of raised eyebrows and Palmer's face went pale. "Uh, guys, what was that about?" he asked, gesturing towards the lift, Abby now out of sight as the doors closed.

McGee held up his invitation. "Did you guys get one of these each?"

"Yes," replied Ducky. "We were just coming to discuss the matter. I had no idea the dear girl was back in DC."

"She wanted it kept quiet," Gibbs informed him.

"Abby hasn't exactly taken it well," added McGee, nodding towards the lift.

"Ziva said she wouldn't understand," said Tony softly.

"I'm sure Abigail will come round," Ducky assured him, patting the senior agent's arm.

"In time for Friday?"

Ducky sighed. "Of that, I cannot be sure."

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~TBC~