Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, any of the episodes, characters, etc. I just borrow them sometimes.
Author's Note: Spoilers for the episode "Shalom," Season 4, Episode 1. This is just a collection of scenes that I've made my own... Try to guess what part of the episode they come from!!!! Hint: They're in order. *May not be exact scene replicas* If you like them, I'll do them for other episodes... but you have to tell me if you like them first!!!! (Hint... hint... hint... *cough*.... review...*cough*...)
Shalom One-Shots
The man turned, removing his sunglasses. The woman whispered his name, shocked. He turned again; replacing his sunglasses over his eyes, and strode away. The woman stared after him, slowly lowering her gun, trying to understand.
The elevator doors opened, revealing a grey suit and coffee. A hug engulfed the man inside the suit as soon as he stepped from the elevator. The hug lasted longer than was good for his lungs.
"I missed you too, Abby," the man choked out.
She sat perched on the edge of the desk, scowling, while the man walked up to her. He stopped, said something. Her face showed her shock. He was not dead. She had just seen him.
"What do they want with Ziva?" asked the man angrily. The red-haired woman looked at him.
"We're about to find out," she said. "Together." They turned to face the approaching men.
The woman shook her head slowly.
"Dear God, Mikhail," was all she said.
"There are days I don't know what to believe anymore, Mikhail," said the woman sadly. She got up, making her way for the door, only to find her way blocked. She took a step back from the man standing solidly in her path, glaring. She turned back to face the man behind the desk.
She shook her head sadly.
"I'm sorry for this." The door closed behind her. She tensed, waiting. The moment the man laid a hand on her shoulder, she reacted. Seconds later, he was on the ground.
The girl sat at her computer, staring up at the screen, where a picture of a grey-haired man was displayed. The girl was shoveling M&Ms into her mouth, talking to the man's picture.
"I really, really need you to call me. Please." The phone rang.
She sat in the basement, talking on the phone. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she said the words she'd thought she'd never need to say: "Save me." She wiped the tear away and sniffed.
Thousands of miles away, a man with grey hair and a beard covered his face with his hands. He knew what he had to do. He hung up.
The autopsy lab was dark, the only light coming from where five people were grouped around a table. They talked softly, aware that they were risking everything just by being there. Risking everything for a friend. A pig-tailed girl handed a tall man a slip of paper. The man pulled out his phone.
Three people stood in the basement. Stress was evident in the woman's posture. They spoke in slightly hushed voices. None of them should have been there, except the man who thought he should be on a Mexican beach.
Two people sat in a truck, observing the house from a distance. They had to hurry. They were not supposed to be there.
Two men stood facing each other, the younger man talking quickly. The other looked over the younger man's shoulder, trying to halt the younger man's words. A voice behind him made the younger man freeze. It was a voice he'd thought he'd never hear again.
The door to the office opened and shut. The red-haired woman turned from the window to face the man with the "scraggly beard."
"How is she?" asked the woman.
"She's scared," responded her visitor. "Not that she'll ever admit that."
She lay, staring at the ribs of the boat arching over her. She thought about the man who was building this boat in his basement... the man who was even now working to prove her innocence while she could do nothing...
The two men sipped from their coffee, motions perfectly in sync. They paused, grimaced, than switched cups. A few minutes later, both cups landed in the garbage as the men left.
The knife flew straight, thwacking into the board, just where she had aimed for. The ringing of her phone broke the silence.
She lifted the pillow. His face was pale, bloodless, his eyes open and staring. Suddenly, three bullets flew past her. She threw herself to the floor as the bathroom door was thrown open, revealing a gun.
The woman walked over to the wall, from which she removed the knife. She then walked over to the bloody and gasping woman on the floor. Holding the knife, the woman grabbed a fistful of her opponent's hair, yanking her up from the floor. Her victim groaned.
"Welcome home, Ziva." The bruised woman stood, wincing, and smiled at her red-headed friend.
"When?"
The red-haired woman looked down at the photo, smiling. Then she turned to her friend. "A lifetime ago, Ziva."
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