I don't own NCIS or its characters!
Ziva David sat in her tiny apartment room, gently stroking her swollen belly. She was muttering words in Hebrew.
"Do not worry. We will get through this," she whispered. Glancing at the clock, she decided she should get some rest for her unborn child's sake. She lay her head down on her soft pillow, taking in the scent of the very special man who had given it to her a long time ago. As her eyes started to close, she whispered one word.
"Tony…"
Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo sat at his desk in the bullpen, his feet lazily resting upon his paperwork. His eyes hadn't left her desk since she had left them eight months ago.
Why did you have to leave, Ziva?
Ziva's replacement stared at him, slightly annoyed. "What the hell are you staring at, DiNozzo?" she yelled. Tony snapped out of his daze and shouted back.
"None of your freaking business, Elaina!" McGee sat off to the side, slightly shocked at Tony's outburst. Just then, Gibbs walked into the bullpen, his regular coffee situated in his right hand as he grabbed his jacket.
"Gear up. We got a dead marine." Gibbs watched as his three agents stood up ad grabbed their backpacks and jackets. He sighed. This just wasn't the same without Ziva. Why'd you go, Ziver? Where'd you go? Did you know that DiNozzo would act like this? All these thoughts swarmed into the silver-haired man's head. Shaking them away, he joined his team in the elevator.
A loud crash awoke Ziva from her fitful sleep. Glancing up, she saw Michael Rivkin. "Get up, woman," he spat. She unhappily obliged, sitting up gently with one hand on her 8 and a half month old unborn child. Carefully standing up, Michael then proceeded to roughly grab her arm and pull her out the door into the streets of Tel Aviv.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked fearfully. Michael smirked to himself, mentally laughing at how scared she sounded. "Your father has requested that his grandchild be born in a special place, away from anything that could weaken him." He laughed at Ziva as her eyes grew large, almost filling up with tears.
When they reached their destination, Michael roughly opened the door of a very small building, shoving the heavily pregnant woman inside before closing the door. He roughly pushed her to the ground, pointing to where a small pillow and blanket reside sprawled on the floor.
"You will stay here. The door will be locked at all times unless one of us comes in. We will bring you food and water, but nothing more. Have a good night," he commanded, smiling at the last part of his sentence. Without another work, he slammed the door closed, a click telling Ziva that the door had indeed been locked from the outside.
She refused to cry. Though she felt as weak as she ever had before in her life, she denied making herself weaker. Crawling over to the small "bed", she lay down on the blanket, slightly covering her bulging stomach with the small fabric.
The baby in her womb kicked, as if telling her that it would be alright. She smiled to herself, gently stroking where her child had kicked.
"Laila Tov, tateleh."
If my English is sometimes wrong, do not blame me. I just finished my course last week. I am not an expert, but please give me your thoughts. There will be more to come! Thank you! –Zeevah.
