WARNINGS: Self harm, eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, smut. If you will be triggered by this, please don't read it.

Other than that, enjoy.

xo :)

xxx

Control

Chapter 1 – Secrets

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Control.

That was the only reason I ever did any of this stupid crap. To be in complete control. One day I finally found I could live without being in control. I thought I would never do any of this stupid crap again. But I was so wrong.

Somalia took my control away. Saleem took my control away. I could not stand being so out of control. At least before I still had a far bit of control. In Somalia I had none. When Tony rescued me the control still did not return. I fell back to my old ways. And now I can't stop. I know what I'm doing is stupid but I can't stop, and I'm not sure I want to. Living like this is easier, even if it means keeping massive secrets from my family. By family I do not mean my father, I mean my team, Gibbs, Tony, McGee, Abby, Ducky and even Jimmy.

I hated keeping secrets from my family, but this time it was absolutely necessary. I wasn't going to hurt them, not after everything they had done for me. I wasn't going to let them know they had saved me from one torture just for me to torture myself. I would hide everything so well, so they would never ever find out.

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It had been 2 months since Ziva had returned from Somalia. She had slotted back into everyday life so easily; it was like she had never left, like she hadn't been tortured in Somalia for months. This worried Tony. He had no idea how she could come back and act like nothing happened. She always seemed so calm, she always seemed so happy. Tony was scared for her. She hadn't even broken down when they first came home. She had never showed any sadness, not even in the first week of being back.

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Gibbs' yell of "grab your gear" was welcomed. The team had no current case and had spent the day trying to find leads on cold cases. As they had for the last 2 months, Ziva rode in the car silently and showed no emotion, while Tony worried about her.

"So boss, what's the deal with this case?" McGee said.

"Don't know."

McGee's attempt at starting a conversation had failed, but that was to be expected when one tried to start a conversation with Gibbs while he was driving.

The scene of the murder was an abandoned warehouse and, when they opened the door, they did not like what they found. The body of a woman was strapped to a chair in the centre of the room. She had been tortured viciously, her body covered with cuts, bruises and burns.

Ziva took one look at the body and ran outside. She couldn't handle it. It was a replica of Somalia, except this time the victim had died. Victim. The word made Ziva feel like crying, because she knew she, like the girl they had just found, was a victim.

Ziva ran to the car and took a seat inside. She wouldn't let herself cry or even show and emotion. She had to be strong and keep this mask up. One slip up and everything she had spent so long hiding could be revealed.

When Ziva had gathered her emotions and walked back into the warehouse Gibbs was just hanging up his phone.

"Ziva, go home. Director Vance has decided that instead of working this case, you can find and follow up leads on cold cases," he said to her.

"No! I must work this case. There is nothing wrong. I can handle it."

"Go home," Gibbs said.

"Please? Let me stay."

"Go," Gibbs replied, with a tone that said this conversation was over.

"I can drive you home if you want," Tony offered, knowing something was most definitely wrong.

"No, I will get a taxi."

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Sitting in the taxi, Ziva finally let her emotions go. She just cried. Not the type of crying where you sob loudly and uncontrollably, it was the type of crying where you just sit there silently with tears rolling down your face, the heartbreaking type of crying. And she just couldn't stop, not matter how hard she tried.

She should have been able to handle it. She was supposed to be over Somalia, to not be upset by things that reminded her of Somalia. She didn't want to get upset; she should not have got upset. She had promised herself she would keep her emotions hidden away, far way where no one could find them. She had promised herself she would slowly kill herself without her team finding out, because it was easier like that. Slowly killing herself; they were the perfect words to describe this situation, because that's exactly what she was doing and exactly what she was aiming to do.

She deserved a slow death and that's why she wouldn't just hang herself or slit her wrists. Well, at least that's why she was trying not to kill herself quickly, but she didn't know how much longer she could hold out.

She had a feeling Tony would visit or at least ring her tonight. She wished he wouldn't. She wished he wouldn't care. She hated people caring for her. She decided she would ring him when she got home. She didn't need him worrying about her.

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Back in the bullpen, Tony was sitting at his desk. He was quiet, which started to worry his co-workers. Tony was never ever quiet. He was worrying about Ziva. She had seemed so off today. He knew she was never okay, no matter how hard she tried to look like she was, but today she just couldn't hold her emotions in and that frightened him.

His mobile phone rang and he knew it was her.

"Hello Tony," Ziva said, trying to sound as happy as possible.

"Hey, how are you? I'm kind of worried about you, everyone is. Today was a big thing for you," he replied.

"I am fine, Tony. I do not get why everyone is worried! I am safe and I am happy, so can you just stop worrying?" she said with an anger that shocked Tony. It was also obvious she had been crying, he could tell by her voice.

"Fine," Tony said, knowing lying to her was easier. "I've got to go anyway. Bye."

"Shalom."

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Ziva knew she had upset Tony, but honestly she didn't care. No scratch that, she did care. She couldn't pretend that she didn't. She needed a release; she needed to get these emotions out. She walked into her bathroom, locking the door behind like she always did. She followed her normal routine.

She pulled open one of the drawers in her bathroom, the one that contained all the items she needed for her 'release'. Like always, she pulled out a single razor blade and put it on the sink, then she pulled out a bandage and placed it next to her blade.

She pulled up the sleeve of her shirt and looked at her arm. The sight of the cuts, both recent and healing, burns and scars that covered her arm, thighs, stomach and hips made her feel both disgusted and accomplished. She hated that she was so weak that she had to cut and burn herself, but to her it was the only way of surviving.

She picked up her blade and took a breath. She put it on her arm and pulled across quickly. When you cut quickly it was deeper but didn't hurt as bad, when you cut slowly it was shallow but stung more. She cut seven more times quickly and for her final cut she pulled her blade across her arm as slowly as she could, knowing she deserved all this pain.

She watched as the blood poured down the sink. After about ten minutes, Ziva bandaged her arm. She knew she would have to change the bandages before she went to bed, as the cuts were deep and would bleed through the bandages eventually. She washed out the sink and pulled her sleeve back down, making sure the bandage was covered and unnoticeable.

This was one of her secrets; Ziva David self harms, cuts herself, whatever you want to call it, it's what she does. This was how she appeared so calm, so happy.

This was one of the secrets she would never tell her team and one part of the 'stupid crap' she did. She would take this secret, as well as the others, to the grave; no one was ever going to find out.

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Ziva then walked into her bedroom and grabbed her lighter and a packet of cigarettes. This was another secret, no one knew she smoked. It was a disgusting habit, but it made her feel calm and in control and she liked those feelings, so she smoked.

Standing outside, she lit a smoke and heavily inhaled, loving the instant feeling of calm that washed over her. She smoked that cigarette and two others, and then walked back inside, ready to have a shower and change her bandage.

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Knock, knock, knock.

"Fuck!" Ziva said, knowing exactly who was at the door. She had just let her hair out of its sleek ponytail, so she could have a shower and wash her hair.

She walked to the door and opened it a tiny bit, just enough so she could see him, "I thought I told you I was fine."

"Yeah you did and I don't believe you. Everyone is so worried about you. Stop acting like you're fine and actually show everyone how you feel. We all know you're not alright."

Ziva opened the door all the way, the anger on her face unmistakable. "Leave! Now!"

Not letting her anger faze him, Tony looked at her and saw some things he didn't like. He said in the calmest voice he could muster, knowing what he was about to say would upset her, "Ziva, why do you smell of smoke? And why is there blood on your sleeve?"

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