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Author's Disclaimer: Don't own, not being paid
Authorís Notes: Written for a prompt by july_july_july of "What, if anything, does Ziva miss about Israel?" Thank you to starrylizard and pixie_on_acid for the very thorough beta. Any and all mistakes are my own. Title gleefully stolen from the musical "Chess".
It's not the times when she looks at the buildings around her and thinks that they don't even have one billionth of the beauty of the architecture that she grew up with, or the sense of history that surrounds you in Israel.
It's not when she doesn't have to argue about whether she'll be able to eat the fourth meatball she's ordering in what essentially is someone's kitchen, and then has to stuff it down when it turns out that they were right: three would have been enough. Americans always give you what you order, no questions asked, and would not even dream of sitting so close to strangers while eating.
It's when she can't understand a thing people are saying, even when she knows all the words, that she really misses home. At least there she'd understand and be understood, and the cultural idioms would be hers, not leaving her feeling like an outsider looking in.
And she wouldn't have to threaten to break Tony's neck for the thousandth time.