Title : Reading Between the Lines
Pairing : Ziva David x Anthony DiNozzo
Episode : 03.04 (Silver War)
Summary : One-shots centered around various sentences or phrases Ziva David says throughout the show. Trying to take a deeper look into her life and past, or at least putting an interesting spin on things. So, here you go.
[ NCIS ]
"I always drive fast. It's the best way to avoid possible ambushes and IEDs."
"Now, turn here. Be quick."
Whatever rubber left on the van's tires were quickly erased as they turned a sharp right down an abandoned alley, without losing speed and without losing traction. The bottled water in their laps sloshed in discontent as their bumpy path continued, through crowded streets and past decaying buildings. When you entered older parts of the city you were greeted with such sights, for better or worse. Mostly it was caused by Hammas bombings. Other times it was caused by internal conflict. The results, however, were always the same.
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel as they made their way into more open areas, eyes continuously scanning for threats near and far. "Michael, my speed has not dropped below 60 this entire time. We are fine." She bit out the words just as viciously as she yanked on the wheel for what seemed like the hundredth time today, changing direction to confuse and intimidate anyone stupid enough to follow them. They had not seen a single car on their entire journey this morning, and it was pushing them on edge.
"It is better to be safe, then sorry. Now do not complain, there is work to be done." He lit up a cigarette, much to her distaste, blowing a puff of smoke out of the window. Here they were avoiding suspicion and he was raising a well lit tip in their location. Some days she often imagined putting a cigarette out between his eyes, if nothing more then a lesson. A faint smile graced her lips as she picked up speed. "How many miles, more?"
She glanced down at the dashboard before rolling the numbers around in her head. There was no time for maps, even if they were available to them in the first place. Instead they were relying on memory and faith alone. "Thirty more miles, fifteen if we want to be direct. Which I know we do not-"
Click.
Her foot was already slammed to the floor, exhaling as she tried to loosen her white-knuckle grip on the wheel. The fireball that rose up behind them was nearly deafening. The sharp thuds of shrapnel ripped through the back of their van in seemingly record time as they jumped forward ever so slightly. Michael had managed to somehow keep the cigarette pressed tightly between his lips, eyes wild with adrenaline. A slow smirk grew on his face. "See, Ziva? Any slower and we would have shared the same fate as this poor nicotine coated stick." With that he flung the cigarette out the cracked window.
"Do not smoke in my van or I will go slower next time."