The Things She Wrote, a ncis fanfic

This took me a lot longer than it should have, and it is probably the longest oneshot I have ever wrote though it is still not that long. It's a little late, but I got it out before the premiere like I had hoped. It is set after Aliyah.

This is an angsty-fluff swirled piece:

The Things She Wrote: Ziva wrote letters to everyone at NCIS before she left to go on the mission to Somalia. She gave them to a trusted friend in Israel to deliver in case she did not return. The letters are sent and received and pain comes along with it all.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own NCIS, or maybe I do. [OKAY I DON'T]

ONESHOT

"That's when I decided that I would never be captured alive."

She had remembered the feelings that coursed through her when she uttered the words; so strong and powerful with her convictions – she was sure she was stating the truth. She never thought she would be captured alive, let alone captured at all. She was good at what she did, she was a silent killer, sneaky and just with her convictions; she never imagined she would be caught.

As she sat tied to the chair, her wrists chaffing, her face swollen, bruised and bloody; she thought about the irony of it all. She was alive – as much as she wished otherwise, and she had been caught.

They'd hit, punched, and scratched any inch of skin they could. Her body ached and her mind screamed at her to do something but she couldn't listen, because she knew there was nothing she could do anymore. So she sat in the chair, staring at the door with her one good eye, waiting for them to return and finish off what they had started, because she wasn't going to talk.

When the door flung open and the man walked inside with a strange glint in his eyes she was glad she had written letters to everyone at NCIS and gave them to Sanaa, a childhood friend of hers because she had a feeling she wouldn't last much longer.

FLASHBACK

Ziva tightened her fingers around the six envelopes that she had in her grasp. This was to be her final farewell to those who thought she abandoned them. She hoped they would understand, but she hoped that she would be the one to give them to them; she hoped she would make it back to be able to do that.

Ziva looked up as she saw a woman walking down the street toward her. "Thank you for meeting me." Her voice was thick and she swallowed heavily to keep in her emotions.

"It is the least I could do Ziva, after all you did save my life." The woman smiled softly at her, her eyes held traces of thin wrinkles and Ziva wondered what it would be like to smile that much.

"And I would do it again, Sanaa." Ziva's lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile but they didn't move more than that. "I would like to ask a favor of you though." She wasn't used to asking favors, she was used to either going it alone, or taking what she needed, but this was a time when she really needed something and she had to ask to get it.

Sanaa must have picked up on the worry that was swirling around Ziva's form because she placed a tentative hand on her arm causing Ziva's to look her in the eyes. "Just ask, Ziva." She urged kindly, the smile still on her lips.

"If I do not make it back," Ziva shook her head at Sanaa's look of protest, "and I do not think that I will, I want you to send these to NCIS. They are labeled, addressed and stamped." She looked away for a moment, clutching the letters to her chest momentarily before finally handing over the letters.

"How will I know if you don't make it back?" Sanaa asked quietly.

"Give it about a month. if Chilion and Eliam return without me then that means that I –"

"Do not say it." Sanaa spoke quietly again, and Ziva remembers now why the drifted apart. She never could handle the idea of death.

"It happens; Sanaa and I fear my time is near." With the letters in Sanaa's hands now Ziva took a step back. "Do this for me, please?"

Sanaa only nodded, and Ziva felt like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders, with any hope her friends wouldn't continue to hate her in her death.

She came out of her thoughts to fingers closing around her neck and a hand delivering yet another blow to her cheek. She choked and wheezed through the pain, trying to get the air that was being denied to her. She let her eye fall closed, hoping that this was all a dream but knowing that it wasn't.

She wondered how long she had been there, and she wondered how much longer she would be here. She wanted it to end because she knew that it was already all over for her. She would stay strong until then and keep all the information she knew about NCIS to herself.

She sucked in a breath when her throat was finally released. "It will not be that easy for you." A voice spoke in her ear.

She found herself smiling slightly, "I would hope not." Her face stung from the force of the blow that was delivered, and she felt the searing pain as he put out the cigarette he always seemed to bring into the room on her arm.

She hissed out a breath waiting for the pain to pass. "Know your place!" The man shouted, pushing harder on the newly formed blister.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, wondering when her letters would be received.

Sanaa stood above the dresser in her room, tears formed in her eyes as she looked down at the empty surface. Her hands were clasped together near her chest as she tried to keep her tears away, they pooled beneath her lids as she sucked in wavering breaths. "Ziva," She whispered brokenly, curling her fingers around the Star of David that was clasped in her fists. A tear trekked down her cheeks as she pulled open the top drawer, she paused briefly turning her head away before continuing. With shaking fingers she withdrew a worn box, she opened the lid to reveal six letters stacked carefully inside.

She pulled them out just as another tear fell landing on the uppermost envelope and staining the paper. She placed the necklace inside the box before lifting the entire things in her hands and heading for the door.

She hadn't thought she would really have to do this, she knew Ziva was strong and often times thought her to be invincible; apparently she'd been wrong, and apparently Ziva had been right. When Chilion had returned with a wounded Eliam, Ziva's Star of David stuffed inside his pocket she knew that her fears had come true.

With a heavy heart the box was sent to D.C. Sanaa wondered how long it took for wounds to heal, her heart felt as though it had been pierced and then roughly squeezed; she could only imagine how the recipients of the letters were going to feel.

--"It's a shame that it had to be this way,

It's not enough to say I'm sorry,

It's not enough to say I'm sorry.

Maybe I'm to blame."—

Days passed slowly, weeks coming but never seeming to go; the seconds seemed to drag by, taking their time before they ticked over into minutes and the minutes gradually formed hours. It felt like an eternity had passed, though it had really only been a month. A month with no form of contact from their previous Mossad Liaison, a month wondering where relationships stood, a month with lost hope, and reluctant resignation.

Tony no longer picked up his phone everyday to scroll through his contacts only to stop when he came to "Z". He didn't perk up when an unknown number flashed across his screen, but he did stare across the bullpen when the hours seemed to drag slower than usual.

McGee wasn't sure what to do. His workload had doubled, though he didn't mind that, what he did mind was the banter that had always seemed present at crime scenes had vanished, and though he wouldn't admit, he missed the taunts that were thrown his way courtesy of the Senior Field Agent. The change had been abrupt, and he wasn't ready for anything that came along with it.

Abby's lab was silent, no music passed her speakers since the day that Ziva had not returned, her discs lay forgotten behind the stereo, where she had thrown them in a fit of rage and sadness. She was never one for goodbyes, but this was one time that she wished she had been able to say it. Her walls were laden with photos of Ziva, and though sometimes they were hard for her to look at they made her feel at peace, they let her know that Ziva was okay.

Gibbs didn't come into the bullpen unless absolutely necessary, the drastic change was almost too much to handle because it made him realize he could have fought a bit harder, been a bit sterner and maybe Ziva would still be here. He no longer barked out his orders, merely stating them in a firm tone, and he certainly didn't issue head-slaps. His team was broken shattered, and he wasn't going to do anything to step on the tentative bond that was tying them together.

Ducky didn't talk to his cadavers any longer, and if he did it was stories of a time when Ziva was still here. He had lots of them, and he wished someone other than the dead would stick around to listen to them. He felt as though it would be good to reminisce despite the pain that it may cause, Ziva was only in a different country after all, there was a chance that they would meet again.

Palmer didn't know how to act. His nervousness seemed to fade away because no one paid him any attention any longer. Everyone kept to themselves for the most part, and the silence of the interactions was nearly deafening. He wondered if Ziva would be here right now if she realized the huge hole she left behind.

The day they were to pick a new agent was the day that the box arrived.

Tony had split the pile into two, handing one of f to McGee before taking the other himself. "Pick wisely," he stated, his tone gravelly from not being used often.

McGee nodded, knowing that Tony was not looking at him, but also noting that statement did not require an answer. After two partners had filled the now empty desk, it was going to be hard to find someone who could sit there all day, every day, without taunting Tony and McGee of days passed.

As Tony casually skimmed the folders, barely even comprehending the words written within, he wondered why he was given this assignment. Didn't they know how painful it was going to be for him to just watch someone take over her desk? But actually having to put them there was going to be torture at its highest form.

He tossed yet another file into the "no" pile, he was already half way through the stack, and there was nothing in the "yes" and there was certainly no "maybe's".

He had just grabbed the next file in line when the package came. It was the simple brown postage paper, beat up from its travels, with a white sticker on top stating the address, but it caused his heart to beat with anticipation and his gut to churn. This wasn't a simple package, it was something.

The mail deliverer placed the package on Gibbs' desk before moving on, Tony didn't even have a chance to move before Gibbs came strolling into the bullpen. He stopped in front of his desk, staring down at the package on top of it.

"Gibbs." He heard Tony choke from behind him, and he spared him a glance before his attention was back on the box.

Gibbs set his coffee down slowly, picking up the package with a tentative hand and a wary eye. "Stay at your desk, DiNozzo." He ordered, without turning around, knowing that the man in question was seconds way from running and snatching to box out of his hands.

He tore the paper off in quick succession, letting it fall to the floor without paying any attention. In his hands was a jewelry box, the wood was old, obviously used, but it made it now less beautiful. He set the jewelry box on his desk, before opening the lid.

The first thing he spotted was the golden Star of David necklace, and his heart clenched in a way that told him something wasn't right. He pulled out the necklace, laying it on his desk before pulling out the rest of the boxes contents.

With the white envelopes secured in his hands he turned to face his team, his eyes were intense as he stared down the two men, unsure of what to say. He didn't have to contemplate it long before Tony spoke, "What happened to her, boss?"

Tony's voice was barely above a whisper, and his gaze was firmly trained on the broken necklace that lay on Gibbs' desk. He would know that necklace anywhere, four years of seeing the same necklace would do that to a man and he also knew that if that necklace was here something had to have happened, something big.

Gibbs shook his head, laying down the envelope addressed to each of them flat on their desks. He silently left the bullpen, words were unneeded, because the package had spoke volumes.

--"The whispers turn to shouting,

The shouting turns to tears" –

Envelopes were opened, tears were shed, and hearts were shattered. Out of all the scenarios that had run throughout their minds over the past month this had not been one of them.

The first blow had been delivered after the first line, the words were different but it was the same no matter which letter you looked at: If you are reading this, then I am dead.

So casually in its delivery, cliché in its use, but it still brought forth the tears that they didn't want to shed. Dead; it seemed bigger than the rest of the words, taking all of your attention and stealing away your breath, bringing images of blood and suffering to their minds, tied in with images of their Israeli friend.

After the first line there were the parting words, different for each person; all denotated their meaning in her life, the roles they played, and their meaning to her.

Each letter brought feelings of regret, love and sadness. Regret of not saying a proper goodbye, not being able to recuperate the words written to them, and most of all not being able to see her one last time. Love for Ziva, for all that she was, and all that she didn't get to be. And sadness for her passing, sadness for not letting her know just how much they cared for her. Too much emotion had spilled forth, and none of them knew where to go from here.

More days passed, slower than before and twice as painful. It was hard to focus on anything, the letters playing heavily on their mind and the necklace framed behind Gibbs' desk a beacon to their sadness.

To Gibbs it was like losing Kelly again, Ziva had become like a daughter to him, and the fact that he failed her as well was never going to leave. To Abby her sister was gone, her best friend; and with that loss came the loss of her pigtails as well. To Ducky, a dear friend had been taken, a granddaughter of sorts; he'd let her stories live on in the way that she should have been able too. To Palmer she was a mentor, he looked up to her, idolized her strength; he'd be strong for her, because she was who taught him strength came from within. McGee lost a friend, a sister, a colleague; she was always there, and he wondered if the emptiness he felt when looking at the desk she once occupied would ever go away. His tribute came in the form of black ink written on white paper, his next book was finished, still unpublished, in it read "In loving memory of Ziva David. You'll always live on." Tony lost his love, she'd meant so much yet he never told her; he whispered it in the darkness now, hoping she would somehow catch hints of it upon the wind; "I've always loved you, Ziva David. Always will."

Weeks passed since they heard of her death, cases came and went, blurring together into one unintelligible mass. The pain didn't leave, and the desk stayed empty. Vance stopped pressuring them to fill it after the letters came, the grief was palpable on everyone's features and he was smart enough to know when to leave well enough alone.

Vance fount that his work could now be done in peace, though he didn't revel in it like he once thought he would. It only signified all that NCIS had lost, and he found himself inexplicably angry at one Eli David. He should have been notified of Ziva's assignment, he should have been warned of the potential dangers so he could have pass that warning on to Gibbs' team and they would not have been as lost as they seem now.

As if his thoughts were heard his phone rang, "Director Vance." His tone was gruff, filled with authority.

"Shalom, Leon." The voice that filtered through the phone had Vance's spine stiffening as he sat up straighter within his seat.

"I'm surprised you're calling, Eli." He spoke, the authority was still there, and there was no traces of his usual warmth when greeting his once upon a time friend.

"Can I not call an old friend?" Eli asked.

He wanted to say "no", he wondered how a man whose daughter died not long ago could be so cheery. His blood broiled, and he could now see that Gibbs' feelings towards this man were not unfounded. "I'd think that after everything that has happened recently you'd want some time to yourself." With great effort his voice was kept level.

Eli chuckled, and the sound grated on Vance's nerves. "Well, I have called to warn you."

The words "too late" almost spilled past his lips when he remembered his etiquette, he was director after all, it would not do him good to run his mouth unnecessarily. He opened his drawer, pulling out one of the many toothpicks that lay within before closing it and popping the unwrapped stick between his lips. "Warn me about what?" he questioned, his teeth grinding down on the toothpick with great force.

"About Ziva."

The toothpick snapped, and the papers that rested on his desk were no longer in the pristine condition they once had been. "I already know, Eli." He forced out, angry for the people downstairs who would not get this chance.

Laughter again, Vance found himself wondering how Gibbs didn't throttle this guy when he had the chance, because in this moment it was the only thing on his mind. "Seems that your Intel is better than I had originally thought."

"Ziva sent letters." He gritted, his patience weaning with every word that was thrown into this conversation.

"I should have known." Eli muttered to himself. "Goodbye then, Leon. Until next time."

The line went dead, and not even a second later Vance slammed the receiver down with enough force to rattle his desk. He didn't realize that it was possible for someone to care so little about their own children, apparently he'd been wrong.

He exited his office with his head hung low; he figured he owed it to Gibbs to know the truth, to know that Ziva's own father didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that she was gone.

With subdued steps he walked down the steps, his feet seemed to be dragging and he purposefully avoided staring out over the bullpen; he'd see them in a few seconds, he would be hit with the brunt of their sadness, frustration and anger. He hoped they'd be able to hold up, when he knew they were already treading a thin line. They'd lost too many important people in their life, and one day the only option they would have left would be to snap.

As he entered the bullpen the silence that surrounded him was heavy almost stifling. . In the back of his mind he noted Abby sitting in the corner behind McGee's desk, and Jimmy Palmer and Ducky standing behind the wall; he wondered what had them all gathered here, looking so remorseful, the bad news had already been delivered. "I got a call from Eli David today." He announced, watching as the heads swiveled in his direction, hope shining within their eyes

He shook his head, quickly and efficiently squashing any hope before it could manifest into anything bigger. "He just wanted to tell me himself." His eyes were trained on the opposite wall, he could feel the heat of their gaze on him and it made him uncomfortable in these moments. "He didn't seem sad, or remorseful." He added, and he knew the outburst was coming before it happened.

Tony stood up from his desk, his chair falling over in the process and his hands slamming down on the table hard enough to leave a bruise. "His daughter is dead and he's not even mourning!" He shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls around them and causing heads to turn in their direction from all around. "Ziva is dead because of him!" His voice was raised and his eyes were red, something that Vance didn't take any notice of until now. "She's dead, and she's not coming back," He continued, his voice thicker as his eyes turned towards the desk. "She's never going to know…" he whispered, his voice brokenly honest, and nobody needed to ask what it was he spoke of, his sincerity spoke volumes.

A choked sobbed sounded from the corner, it didn't echo around the bullpen like Tony's shouting, but it was just loud enough that the people in the NCIS went about their tasks and ignored the happenings of the Major Crimes Response Team.

Abby stood on wobbly legs, before hurling herself at Tony, incoherent ramblings leaving her lips as she hugged him to her with all her strength. "Oh, Tony. She knew, of course she knew." The words echoed in Tony's heart only to form yet another crack, he wasn't going to argue that there was no way for her to have known. Too much had happened for that, and he wished he'd been able to speak the words that now lay like a lead weight upon the shattered remnants of his heart.

He hugged Abby back, holding her just as tight as a few small tears rolled unchecked down his cheeks. He held her for all the times he didn't get to hold Ziva, his arms tightening around the goth as he remembered everything that could never be. "It's all over." He found himself whispering.

Abby pulled back, shaking her head furiously at the implications of his words. "It's not. Tony! She'd want you to move on. She'd want you to be strong."

Tony's eyes fell closed, he wasn't sure if he wanted to move on, and he'd been doubting his strength ever since he'd received her letter. He should have saved her, he should have done something. "For her Tony. Try for Ziva."

Hearing her name was like a punch in the gut, but he relished it all nonetheless. "I'll try." He promised, not realizing that their little spectacle had garnered the attention of the others.

The ding of the elevator was lost to them, as Gibbs offered a small smile to Tony, and McGee gave a smile with an inclination of his head. Vance stood off to the side, knowing that though things were never going to be the same things were going to be okay.

Their attention was elsewhere, each one lost in their own memories of happier times; times when things didn't feel so broken or hopeless, times were the light didn't seem so faded and there team was full.

"Excuse me." A meek voice spoke, thick with an accent and their attention was slowly pulled from memory lane back to the present. When they finally settled their gaze on the woman who spoke, they all felt confusion. She was standing off to the side, behind the dividers near the elevator, she seemed unsure of herself and they wondered who she was and why she was here. Her hair was thick, a dark brown masse that was pulled into a tight twist. Her tanned skin held no blemishes or scars and her eyes were wide with wonder. She wore a black trench coat over dark blue jeans, her hands were safely tucked away within her pockets and she caught everyone's gaze before looking away.

"Can I help you?" Vance asked, he was closer and this woman already looked frightened enough he didn't need Gibbs intimidating her.

The woman's gaze snapped to his, eyes wide and everyone could see the innocence that swirled within the tan depths of her eyes. "I, uhm. I am here because… well that is." She seemed to be searching for her words, tripping over syllables when her accent prevented her from speaking them aloud.

"It is okay Sanaa." A new voice spoke, and everyone froze as a second person stepped off the elevator. Her stride was subdued by a limp, and her head was down as thick brown clumps of hair covered her face from their view. "Thank you for all that you have done."

The woman known as Sanaa raced to her side, clutching her arm tightly causing the woman with the limp to wince. Words were whispered them, an echo upon the teams ears as the listened to the familiar language.

"Ziva?" Tony spoke up, standing between his desk and the bullpen entrance. He wasn't sure if he was seeing things, but he was positive that she was really here standing before him.

"Shalom." She whispered, lifting her gaze to theirs and they all gasped at what they saw.

Purple bruises colored her available skin, her left eye was swollen shut and bandages covered her fingers. Her neck held traces of yellowing finger marks and circular burns, blistered over from heat and age.

"Ziva," Abby cried happily, clutching onto Tony's arm because she knew she could not hold her broken friend.

Ziva patted the woman's hand that held on to her arm as she took a shaky step forward. "I was wondering," she started, and the cleared her throat as her throat seemed to scratch with each breath. Her gaze was averted when she began to speak again. "I was wondering, if I could still have a place on your team." Her gaze shifted to Gibbs, before drifting to every other person in the room and finally settling back on the floor.

The silence stretched on and Ziva found it more torturous than anything that had been inflected upon her in the previous month. When no one made any sort of movement for a second too long Ziva took a step back, a tear falling from her eye as she berated herself for even trying. "I am sorry," she whispered, casting a lingering glance to everyone she had missed before turning back to Sanaa who had tears falling freely down her face. "Let us go." She whispered, limping away once more.

"Ziva," Gibbs spoke for the first time in ages and he hated how her back stiffened. "Ziver," He amended, noticing that her posture softened a little bit but not as much as he'd like. "You're always welcome here."

She turned slowly, clutching Sanaa for support as she caught his stare to gauge his honestly, when she found nothing she smiled. Tears still lingered on her face and her bruises were there but the smile she gave them was the most beautiful thing any of them could ask for in that moment. For she was Ziva and she was alive.

Jimmy-

If you are reading this, then I am dead.

I really did not think things would end up this way, and I regret not getting to know you better. You were there for me when I needed my piano tuned and throughout the years you continued to be there. I thank you for that Jimmy and I want you to remember your worth. This is my goodbye, I did not get to say goodbye before and I regret that. So goodbye.

Be strong Jimmy

Ziva David

Dear Ducky

I regret to tell you this, but if this letter has been sent the likely hood of my survival is bare to none. I cannot sugar coat it, I am dead.

I want you to know that you were there for me when I did not even think I needed someone. Looking back I realize that I did, in fact, need someone to lean on. I thank you for letting me. You will never get to know the depth of my gratitude, for it is not something that can be reached in a simple letter, but I beg of you to try. I will miss your stories, and our tea time. Thank you for everything you have done for me and I will miss you terribly.

Keep on telling stories,

Ziva David

Hey Abby,

I know you are probably mad at me for leaving and not saying goodbye, and I regret that but I need you to put aside all of that for a second. If this letter has been sent it means that I have died.

I wish I had been able to hug you one last time, because in these moments as I write these letters I actually feel fear. I hope that you will be able to forgive me someday because you were like a sister to me. Family was something I did not have much up growing up, and all of you have become that for me. You meant so much to me and I hope my actions over the past month did not make you think otherwise. I am sorry for all that has happened; I did not want it to end like this.

Thank you for everything you have showed me about friendship Abby.

Never lose your smile

Ziva David

To McGee,

You've grown so much within the time that I have been there and you are a truly great agent. I write this letter to inform you of my death, I do not want you to be sad though, because it is part of the job.

In these moments I cannot help but to think about your book, this will make for a good one, yes? Keep writing McGee, you have a true talent. Over the years you have withstood all that Tony and I threw at you and you still stayed strong. You have become like a brother to me, one that I could place my trust in and never had to doubt. Your heart is true and may you follow it where ever it leads you. You meant so much to me, and I hope you realize just how much because this is my last moment to prove myself.

Continue to be you,

Ziva David

Leroy Jethro Gibbs,

I know we did not part on the best terms, and things can only get worse from here. I send this letter because I know this will be the only news you get of my death.

I wish I could make things right, but this is all I can offer. When you left I knew that would be the last time I saw you but I could not do anything to make it a nice farewell. Had I done anything but what I did you would have known what I was up to. I am sorry for putting you in that position but it was the only way. You have taught me so much about myself that I did not even think was possible. I care Gibbs, more than you will ever know. You became the father-figure in my life, and while mine was still alive, I believe you cared for me more than he ever could. I thank you for giving me that, in my last moments it will be something I cherish. I want you to know that I held on to that through my last moments.

Do not let this weigh too heavily upon yourself, Gibbs. It was my own choice.

I will never forget you and all that you have done for me,

Officer Ziva David

"Ziver"

Dearest Tony,

This letter is the hardest to write, I saved it for last because I knew that I would not be able to control my tears. This letter is the last thing I write before I die, and I am happy that I will share these last moments with you.

I never told you how much you meant to me, and now I must tell you in a letter. I love you and while I was never able to tell you to your face it is the truth. I am sorry for everything that I accused you of and I know now that you only wished to help but some people cannot be saved Tony, and I just happened to be one of those people. I thank you for caring enough to try, and though my feelings were not reciprocated what you gave me was enough. You taught me how to live, and you helped me to feel. You have done more than you could even know and you have touched me in ways I never thought possible. I know this will never make up for everything that has happened, but I just needed you to know that you always had my heart.

Go on living, and go on being the Tony that I have always love.

Ziva David

The letters she wrote would not be forgotten for they made this moment so much more than it ever could have been. They let them know just what it was that they almost lost, just who it was who had been at stake. The letters may have broken their hearts, but Ziva mended it.

END

Sanaa – means brilliance; and as you all may know so does Ziva. I did this on purpose, sweet irony in my opinion. ^_^ I did it because their personalities are the exact opposite, and I was going to touch on the fact that Ziva thought Sanaa was much better suited for her name then she, but I did not.

Angst is my middle name! Not really, but it could be, it's the same amount of letters as my middle name. XP

Thank you for reading, and I really hoped you enjoyed it. I really do!

[I know the Letter portion wasn't all that great, but I felt like I should put it in for you guys. I can take it out if you want though!]