Chapter One- Never Tell
He held her small hand as they waited, yet again, to be called into the room. The ugly mint green walls that seemed to be staring back at him were decorated with water-color paintings of flowers that looked like they were done by five-year-olds. God these walls are horrible.
"The color green is supposed to be soothing, Tony. Stop thinking about how ugly the walls are." She always had seemed to be able to read his mind. Ziva didn't look at him when she spoke. Her voice was quiet and she just stared straight ahead, not at the walls, not at the paintings, not at the seats that lined the other side of the waiting room, just ahead, like she was seeing something that wasn't there. She always got this way when they were waiting to be called in by the doctor. It was as if she was remembering. Remembering what though? Somalia? Rivkin? I've got to distract her.
"But Ziva, you see, if these walls are green that means they are trying to calm people down, which means that they think we're not in control, which kind of makes me mad, which means I'm not calm."
She turned her head to face me, a small smile gracing her lips. "So you're saying that it defeats the purpose, yes?"
"Yes," I say smiling. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Well, Tony, I think you're the only person that thinks about things like that," she replies, turning back to the wall.
"Maybe," I agree, turning back to the wall as well. We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes until the door ahead of us opened and out walked Charles, the man who had the appointment before us every week, along with Dr. Bray.
"Ziva, Tony, you can both come in now," she said as she lead us into the familiar room. The room had dark red walls. There was hard wood floor and a few matching carpets covering parts of it. In the far left corner there was a large oak desk covered with papers and files, a computer sat on top of it along with about twelve or so Starbucks cups. She was as bad as Gibbs. In the middle of the room there was a huge black, leather sofa, along with two matching chairs and a coffee table in between them.
After looking around the room and inspecting it thoroughly, trying not to be too obvious, Ziva sat down on the sofa which was facing the door, and pulled Tony down next to her. She never once let go of his hand. Tony looked over at Dr. Bray as she sat down in the chair across from them. He looked at the doctor and if asking "why is she always like this? Why can't she let her guard down? It has been three months." Dr. Bray just looked over at Ziva and said, "So, Ziva, how have you been?"
"I have been great," came her response. She was lying. Ziva knew it, Tony knew it, and Dr. Bray knew it. All three of them knew that, even after three months of therapy, she would probably never come out and say what she felt. She would never tell them about how she was scared of the dark, and had to sleep with the lights of, if she even got sleep, which was rare seeing how every time she closed her eyes all she saw was Saleem standing over her. She would never tell them that the reason she didn't like going down to Abbey's lab anymore was because all of the sharp things in there scared her, they could draw blood, like her captor's knives. She would never tell them that she didn't think she would ever be intimate with a man again, not after what Saleem and his men had done to her over and over and over again. She would never tell that every time she is alone she feels claustrophobic, like the walls were closing in on her and she couldn't breathe. She'd never tell them anything.