A/N: Yes, I have been gone for a very long time. No, I can't guarantee when I will be back again. Graduate school has not been nice for my time to write, especially since it is a stress reliever for me. I hope that the Fanfiction community can embrace me once again.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing pertaining to NCIS.
Remember Me
"Remember me," he tells her with a cheeky grin. He never actually thought that it might be necessary phrase. It was supposed to be a cut and dry pick-up. There was a witness to be interviewed and it was his job to pick that witness up. No sweat the witness being the victim's wife and all. Shed a tear tell her the news, then bring her back for questioning. McGee could run point on this, which is exactly what McGee did.
Halfway to the pick-up his phone rang. That's a normal occurrence during a case so he didn't bother to look at the caller id. Looking back on that moment he knows that was his biggest mistake. The voice on the line is one he recognizes from a time he'd rather forget. Hot sand and cold sweat cause unwanted memories to surface. The accent is unmistakable, so much like Ziva's only octaves lower, octaves angrier, and octaves unforgiving. There is no playfulness to this voice, no laughter, and no fear.
The voice tells him where to go. He knows better than to ignore that voice. Pulling over he allows the car keys to exchange hands and without a word hails a taxi. McGee can be trusted to tell Gibbs. Using his phone is off limits or something emotionally destructive will happen. Terms must be followed. There is no other option or any more time. The battle over what he deems too important to lose has begun. He will win or die. Those are his terms.
The taxi drops him off at what appears to be an abandoned warehouse. His weapon is out and ready to fire should the voice appear in person. There is no way to clearly tell if the man on the other end is really there. The last time he set foot in this country people died. Fear laced through him at the thought.
"You can put that down, Anthony. I only wish to talk with you," the voice echoes from within the cavernous entry space, "I do not wish to hurt you. My daughter would not approve." A chuckle follows the speech. He doesn't trust the man, but also does not have a choice. He cannot see Eli, but he is sure that Eli can see him.
"Why did you call me here?" he says louder than necessary. The room echoes around him. His voice amplified by the dark walls. Only sunlight filters through in the empty space where dust dances unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. There is no power here. The building is abandoned for a reason. Lighting and heating this place for a month would take a year's salary for him.
"Danger lurks for my daughter, Anthony. My people have not been able to track down the man that has such a vendetta against her. We are not sure if it is someone from her life with us or her life now. Alerting her to this danger will only increase the severity of the danger, but I am afraid I have no choice. She will not believe me, Anthony, you must tell her. She will be more willing to listen to you," Eli tells him as if they are talking about the weather. He is not sure what to do. A life is at stake, but the depth of the risk has yet to be discovered.
"I will let…her know," he finally sputters. Taking this in isn't easy.
"My men have been here for a week, Anthony. We can no longer risk staying here for fear of being discovered. I cannot stay away from my country any longer," Eli replies.
"Why come at all?" he can't help but ask.
"Because you would not believe me if I had called, and calling Ziva with information like this is out of the question. She would tell me that I am being paranoid. Her new life at NCIS is a good one, Anthony, but her past is still her past. It is not something she can erase, and my Ziva runs away from nothing," Eli finishes proudly. Tony is unsure as to whether that is something to be proud of. Sometimes running away can save your life, or the life of someone you care about.
He tries to resist the words that come out of his mouth next, but he can't stop them. It's like they jump from his brain to his tongue unbidden by thought. "If you hadn't trained her soul out of her, maybe she wouldn't have to watch over her shoulder all the time," he sneers. Eli doesn't flinch. In fact, the older man simply nods and walks out of the warehouse. Tony doesn't follow. He can't. There's too much at stake.
The nearest street corner is empty. He has to walk 5 blocks before he even sees a taxi. By some miracle he manages to flag it down. He's lucky the drug deal behind him didn't take notice to him. One look and they would have known that he was a cop. Trying to explain to Vance why shots were fired this far away from their case would have been hell. Hell would have looked nice compared to trying to explain it to Gibbs.
He never makes it to the Navy Yard. The taxi driver takes him to an alley behind a busy hotel, then points a gun at his head and gruffly demands his phone. In this type of situation it's a no brainer. He hands over the phone and then the gun. In a flare of superiority, the taxi driver smashes the phone as they exit the cab. Turning it off would have completed the task just as well.
"Get in the car," the man barks. He attempts to cover his accent, but it is too strong. It is clearly Israeli. Add that to the fact that he has no idea who the man with the gun happens to be it is safe to surmise that this man wants Ziva dead because of her past. Every case since she came to NCIS he has been a part of. He would recognize any of the scumbags they put in prison. None of them appear to be smart enough to research her past and hire an Israeli hit man, unless they just got insanely lucky, but the odds of that seem slim as well.
The car is an unmarked black Lincoln. The windows are nicely tinted to keep out the unwanted sun as well as any security cameras and passersby. Thus far, the man he is confronted with has planned very well. He can't find a good way out of this one and he definitely does not want to get in the car. The choice to react is taken away from him when the barrel of the gun makes contact with his back. Severing his spine is not on the top of the list of things to do today.
"Let him go," a smooth voice whispers to the man with the gun. The pressure is somewhat eased on the weapon behind him. He closes his eyes and prays she knows what she is doing. He will find out later how she knew any of the details to anything. If what Eli said earlier was true she should be sitting behind her desk sifting through paperwork.
"You can come with him, or I shoot," his kidnapper bargains. He wants to laugh. Bargaining with Ziva is not something that anyone succeeds at. The last time she bought a car is proof. He almost had to tie her to the chair so she wouldn't threaten the salesman. A price she deems 'outrageous' will come down if she really wants to item. She doesn't pay unnecessary sums.
Ziva laughs a mirthless laugh. It's empty of all feeling. The sound of it sends a shiver down his spine and he's not the one being threatened. Sometimes he forgets what she used to be, what she was raised to be. The Ziva he knows now is different from the one he met oh so many years ago.
A shot rings out into the clear blue sky. The man falls forward smearing blood down Tony's back and ruining his suite. She just stares at the body as it hits the ground at an inhuman angle. She is on the phone with Gibbs when he finally decides to open his mouth. She raises a finger and continues her conversation. He wonders if she is glad to see him alive.
"Aryeh is a man I have not seen in a long while. We thought him dead," she softly tells him, "he was once a good man, but greed consumed him. I was sent to terminate him. It never happened. He disappeared."
"Why come back now?" he asks.
"Aryeh must have found out that I was the one sent to kill him. I was the reason he lost everything, including his family. No, Tony I did not kill them, but they died just the same. I don't know if Mossad was a part of that. Did you talk to my father?" she adds at the end His silence must be answer enough because she nods and says, "He did not warn you did he?"
"Yeah, he told me that they were coming after you," he shrugs as he tells her what he views as the truth.
"If you mean to hurt someone you do not hurt them, you hurt the ones they care about," she whispers into the air. He stares at her for longer than he probably should. He knows that to be true. People have tried to hurt him before, but he takes the pain. Hurt one of his close friends or family and then it means war. His mind spins. Why would they take him? The thought rolls around in his mind until their eyes meet. Then, it's crystal clear.
Sometimes a memory isn't enough.