She felt their eyes on her again. This past week, she had felt them watching. They were on the street. They were in the cars passing by. They were the waiters at the restaurants, the clerks at the shops, they were everywhere. They were in her thoughts.
She couldn't walk down the street without constantly looking over her shoulder – without the fear of being attacked. She hadn't been able to do that in a long time.
That particular day was worse. It was hot for a day in mid-April and the heat reminded her of that place. Every look she got frightened her, every time someone accidently brushed her she jumped and after only five minutes on the crowded streets of D.C. she decided it'd be best she turned around and took another way to get to one of her apartments. She had several of them to hide from whoever was watching, to confuse whoever tried to find a pattern in her routine. In a matter of moments she stood in an alley. Alone. Or at least so she thought.
His last step had given him away. The sound of someone taking a step was barely audible to untrained ears but she was on high alert. She quickly managed to throw him on the ground and put the barrel of her gun to his chest without even thinking about it. But then she recognized him.
He didn't even know what had happened when he found himself lying on the ground with a gun to his chest – the exact same position as in Tel Aviv all these months ago. This time though, her eyes didn't threaten him. They were widened. She actually looked scared!
They stared at each other for a long moment before he slowly moved his hand to his chest to point the gun away from his body. She found it hard to move at first but eventually, she just jumped off him and landed on her feet in barely one second. Ninja skills.
He needed a moment to sort out his thoughts but she already knew what her next move would be. She'd run. Slowly, aware of the fact that he was armed, too, she put her gun back into the holster.
Her movements didn't scare him though. If she had wanted to kill him, she could have done it months ago. He just remained motionless on the tarmac of the dark, quiet alley. Then, all of the sudden, she was gone. And Anthony DiNozzo had no idea whether he should believe what he had just seen.
He sat up, adjusted his clothing and looked around. There was no one there. No one except him. He stood up and put his hand on his chest where – so he could swear – Ziva Davids' gun had been pressed moments ago.
Suddenly something on the ground caught his eye. The handle of a knife. Without a blade? A Jack knife? He picked it up and flipped it open. Hebrew letters.
To be continued…
I know, so many questions… There'll be more, it's already written so if you want to read it, leave a review. ;)