Tiva Short Stories

Oh Wow

I miss Ari.

I'm alone. That's typical for me. But this time, I'm alone in an empty, foreign NCIS office, trying to sleep under a desk. My stuff doesn't arrive from Tel Aviv for another week.

I should sleep

 HonorYourOTP But I keep thinking about everything I could have done differently, as waves of hot guilt and cold tears come in unison. 

Shot his ankle

Let him shoot Gibbs

It sounds wrong, but he was all I have left

Had left, I suppose

My father is... my father, and he wasn't any better growing up

We watched out for each other 

He called me Ziver

I hated it

He taught me how to throw my first knife

He beat up the boy who picked on me in the 3rd grade for acting like a boy

We would play spies together in our front lawn

My brother is not a terrorist

Was not, I suppose

It doesn't seem right.

None of it seems right.

They took my gun(s)

Ari gave me my  first SIG

I miss Ari. 

I take out my knife from its sheath on my hip and run my finger along the blade. Inscribed on it is שתי בחזרה עם השריטות רק להיות אלה על הסכין שלך, הדברים היחידים שחסרי הכדורים . Ari gave it to me before my first undercover mission. It said what he told me  before missions "come back with the only scratches being those on your knife, and the only things missing your bullets," my brother and I don't (didn't) pray, but I would repeat this each day until he returned home from each mission. The blade catches on my bitten fingertip and draws the familiar scent of blood and pang of hurt. For a minute, I just watch the blood drip down my hand. 

How can one know exactly where they are yet be so lost?

I can't go home, I have no one.

Have.

How can I tell my sister in law I killed her husband?

How can I face my father?

I asked to be transferred as a liaison here, but I'm not sure its any better

They have a job opening, but not open hearts

There's this constant all too familiar  feeling of being unwanted 

They won't event let me touch her desk

I miss Ari.

The blood running down my hand stains my knife. My tears burn my eyes. Suddenly, I hear footsteps. I stand up, dizzy and pull my arm back to thrust by bloody knife. 

"Oy there crazy Isreali" yells the insufferable "special (needs)" agent Dinozzo 

"Sorry" I say as he approaches, refusing to make eye contact.

He looks at his gaudy, obviously expensive swiss watch. " 0100 is a little early to start work, even for you" He smirks.

"Must still be on desert time" I shrug, "what are you doing here?" 

"I left my ID here, need it to buy some more beer" He chuckled, it was apparent he had been drinking. He walked over to his desk and flicked on a lamp, as he shuffled through his drawer and grabbed his ID. He began to leave, but turned to me suddenly,

"David-o is that blood?"

"What? where?"I said, faking surprise. Tears still strew down my cheeks, blurring my vision and glistening in the orange light of the crappy lamp. I went to wipe a tear and left a crimson stain on my cheek.

"Your arm, its covered in blood, and so is your face."He muttered slowly, pressing his brought hand to my cheek, brushing back my hair. I flinched. 

"Here lets get you to a hospital or something" He said, picking up his phone.

"I'm fine Tony" I stated abruptly and took the phone out of his hand, "Go get your hooch"

"Let me just take a look at that, we're going undercover tomorrow as married spies and I would rather not have to faux marry McGee" 

"Married spies?" I repeated and wiped my blade on my shirt.

"Jesus Ziver what have you done?" He said as he grabbed my bleeding hand.

I couldn't help it. I began to sob. Tony stared at me with unquestioning eyes.

"Sorry, its just that...that was what Ari called me"

"Before Gibbs shot him?"

"Before I shot him. I killed my brother Tony." I cried.

"Oh"

"Oh wow"

"Oh wow"

"What?"

"I'm going to pass out, I'm horrible with blood"

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