Acceptance
by Complete Synch
"Ziva David, is dead."
The words leaving his dry, cracked lips are blunt and hollow, but truthful, nonetheless. It's the first time he's said it out loud.
Sure, the words have been running through his head like a bad rap song stuck on repeat, but it's the first time he's been able to string the words together and actually say them.
It's always seemed like a distant reality, a bad nightmare he's been waiting to wake up from, because those words don't belong together, at least not in that order.
It's the reason why he's been acting so sullen and withdrawn, some would say he was mourning, and a part of him was, but the rest of him was waiting. Waiting for the storm to blow over, because Ziva David, dead, is as likely as a caffeine free Gibbs.
Impossible. Or so he thought.
And it's here strapped to a rickety wooden chair, sun, baking him to a crisp, bruised, battered and broken, dehydrated and starving, pumped full of truth serum, with a layer of dirt, blood and sweat so thick that not even Mr. Clean could scrub the filth off him, he realises.
Not even Ziva David - Ninja Chick, Fearless Warrior, Mossad Operative, Trained Assassin - could survive three months in this hellhole.
Because no matter what she was trained, no matter how strong she was, and no matter how well she held her facade, Ziva David was human.
She was not invincible, and so, she was dead.
Another shot one-shot/drabble thingy.
Who's pumped for the season 9 premiere in 43 days!
Big thanks to ForeignMusicLyrics, hiddenheart4020 and Readergirl99 who reviewed or favourited my story 'Trust'.
~Synch~