A/N: For the purposes of this conversation, please assume that everything they say is in Hebrew. I know it's short, sorry, but I didn't want to force it and try to make it longer. I hope no one's disappointed. ~Aliyah

A day after her return to Israel, Nettie burst into her brother's office. The first words out of her mouth were, "You are an idiot!"

He barely glanced up. "It is nice to see you too Netta."

She glared fiercely at him and crossed her arms. "Do you know where I have been?"

Eli put his pen down and met her eyes. "I distinctly remember a threat of removing my ability to father children if I was ever to track your movements achot. So no, I have no idea where you have been. Besides, I thought you were not speaking to me." Sister

Her ire calmed and she lowered her voice. "This is the last time."

The serious tone got Eli's attention and he frowned. "May I ask why?"

Nettie's grey eyes grew sorrowful. "I was in America, visiting Ziva." Her words sharpened again. "You remember, the daughter you left for dead in the desert?"

Her sarcasm was not appreciated and Eli waved his hand. "Ziva knew the risks."

"Did she know that you were willing to sacrifice her life for loyalty? That you cared more about the mission than whether she lived or died? That is what 'at any cost' means, yes?" she retorted hotly.

"The Director of Mossad cannot show favouritism. I would expect the same from any of my officers."

"Ziva is not your officer!" Nettie spit out. "She is your daughter Eli. Your own flesh and blood. Do you care nothing for her anymore?"

He stubbornly held onto his convictions. "She was serving her country. And if she had died in that service it would be nothing less than she signed up for."

"Ziva was a motherless girl, a child eager to please, a young woman with hopes and dreams. But you made her into a weapon and look at her now!" Nettie slapped a polaroid down on his desk, a picture of Ziva from the field hospital. Deep sadness coloured her expression. "How can you see what was done to her and feel nothing?"

Eli studied the picture briefly and turned it over. "She was trained to survive. That is what she did."

"Shmendrik!" she hissed at him, turning to go. (A contemptible, foolish person) Then Nettie stopped at the door, defeat in her posture. "What happened to you Eli? What happened to my brother?" She wiped her eyes. "When did it become okay to use your children as pawns in this war? Because I remember a man holding his baby daughter for the first time and gazing at her as if she was the most amazing miracle he'd ever seen. I remember the look on your face when Ziva's tiny fingers curled around yours, the tenderness with which you kissed her forehead, the protective way you cradled that brand new life in your arms. How could you have gone from that to...this?" Her disgust was clear. Nettie straightened her shoulders. "Goodbye Eli. I hope someday you will see every precious thing your misguided loyalties have cost you. May you forever regret the choices you have made."

With that she closed the door, leaving Eli alone, her words still hanging heavy in the air. As if the wind had been knocked out of him, the director sat back in his chair and turned the picture back over. But no matter what his sister said, looking at the young woman in the photo Eli David saw not his daughter, but a soldier who had failed in her duties. And because of that there were plans to be made. Ziva had much to answer for and someone would see that she did. The Americans could not protect her forever, of that he was quite sure.