Moving On and Letting Go

CHAPTER 4 - Now I must Pray

Ziva's POV

It's too late now, it took awhile to go through that box, so I organize everything I just looked at, leaving the list out. Now I understand why my father used that title, that way it's just "the list" not "every single person Ziva has taken off the face of the earth." It would never be to that extent, but in a nutshell, that's what it is. I make sure to leave the list in this room, that way it's not following me around more than it already is and I go to bed.

I wake up, go for my run, shower, eat and then I grab the list to go to the synagogue. And so the praying begins. I start at the first names on the list, then go down to the most recent, this is going to take more time than I have today. I read the first name, say I'm sorry, pray for their soul then pray for their loved ones still left with the space in their hearts. I go through that over and over for every name on the first page, reading, praying and I wish I could say that with every name I read and pray for a weight is lifted off my shoulders, but that would be a lie. 

I finish the first page, and I don't feel a little bit better, but that's all I have in me today, plus there is a group coming into the synagogue that I don't wish to bother or be around. The weight of those names are still on my shoulders, but are slowly getting lighter, so I decide that this is indeed the way to do this, I'm doing it alone, I'm praying for every man I've killed, and for every person crying. I'll get there.

I can't do more today, I can't look through another box, read another file, pray another prayer or even cook supper. So I just decide to go on the deck and read, something I haven't had time for in a while, but that I love. Books are to me what movies are to Tony, although I don't quote them as much as Tony does, I could. Why do I keep bringing up Tony? I know nothing can happen, I know I can't go back now, I know he can't drop everything and stay here, so what's bringing him up doing for me? I just can't help myself, just like he is the one person that I have let in to some extent, just like I couldn't help myself from forgiving him, and like he said, this has been the hardest 180 of my life.

The next day I go to the synagogue and pray for the people on the second page, oddly enough I don't remember these names as much, it must have been during a time where I was so deep into Mossad's ways that they became targets, not humans, but now they get their time as people with families, better late than never, I guess. I get through the second page, slower than the first and go home to my book once again.

I continue on to the third page after my normal morning routine, these names I recognize, I pray for them one by one, slowly freeing them and myself from the cage that has been created. This page went quicker, and for the first time, I'm feeling better. The weight is not entirely off my shoulders, it never will be, but there is no longer the hidden guilt from the fact that I did nothing to redeem my former assassin self. Just because I'm feeling better doesn't mean I'm not still tired, focusing and praying and the emotions still tired me out. Even though I don't show my emotions like most people, they still can put a toll on me from the inside out. 

Today is day 4, the last page, not the last day of prayer, but the last day that I'm spending entirely on the list. I read each name, some pulling more emotions than others, some I recognize, others I don't, until I get to the last name recorded: Ari Haswari. My half brother. My last kill before NCIS. The shot I took to save Gibbs. The shot I took that brought me to NCIS. The shot that killed my brother. The walls I've built are not strong enough to hold this in. I read his name over and over before I begin my prayer, the hardest one I've had to pray. I say I'm sorry, I try to explain, I apologize to him, to Tali, even to my father. I pray for everything good he did, say thank you for every good memory we made, and lay my prayer for him to rest.

The emotions I'm feeling are visible on my face so I get home, ready to have a drink, something strong, something to make me let go for a while. I open my door, and my ninja senses (as Tony called them) go off, something is off, nothing is stolen, nothing is out of place, but everything is not normal.

There's someone here.

A/N—Ooooh who's it going to be??? Tony? Trent Kort? A childhood friend? Take a guess, feel free to comment, I want to see where you guys think it's going. Thank you so much for reading and I'm super excited for where this story is going to go.