A/N- I don't own NCIS
Present Time
"That isn't your choice to make!" The pain was obvious in his voice. "You don't get to choose who lives and who dies here!"
"Yes, I do, Tony." Her voice conveyed just as much pain as his.
The bindings holding them to their chairs were cutting off circulation and making their hands numb. He could not help but think of the last time they were held captive together. It was in the desert, the room an exact copy of the one they were sitting in now. He looked at the girl sitting in the chair across from him, so close their knees were almost touching. Almost but not quite. The room brought back painful memories. He looked into her eyes and could tell her thoughts were on the same path. The man they had trusted, the one who was doing this, had a sick sense of humor.
"No, Ziva. I die or we escape. I told you before, I won't live without you again!"
Tears began to flow down her face. Unchecked for the first time since long before her half-brother was killed. The man she loved had all but admitted that he loved her too. But he was afraid of commitment. He had lost so much that he was dedicated to. Jenny, the NCIS family mother. Kate, the long-lost sister. Jeanne, the first true love. He blamed these deaths on himself. When Ziva was sent on the Mossad suicide mission he nearly got himself and his partner killed to get her back. Though the choice to return to Isreal was hers, he blamed the result on himself as well. But he succeeded. He saved her. The woman he loved. They both knew that if one of them were to die, ever, that the other would as well. Their only choice was to escape.
But their captor was smart. Unlike the terrorist in the desert, who had an addiction to Caf-Pows, this man did not. They stopped their argument about who would die first, if given the choice, at the sound of a dead bolt being pulled back. The single door in the plain, bare room was pushed in. Their captor walked in. He was a man they knew well. He was tall and dark-skinned, a toothpick in his mouth.
"Leon." They greeted, their voiced simultaneously dripping with contempt and concern for the other. All respect they had for this man gone.