Disclaimer: My dog ate it.
Um, yes. So this is a new story-ma-jig. It will be different to my usual stories. This will be in eight parts. All have been written already so I shall upload one every day or two days if you wish for me to continue.
So let me know your views and fave lines. And I'm open to criticism, so drop me a line.
And, in a little bit of shameless self promotion- check out my other fic, Learning Under Pressure, and let me know what you think.
Enjoy.
It is dark. It is cold. Frost clings to the hem of her gown as she runs. Her breathing comes in ragged gasps. Her footsteps pound on the dirty, sludgy remains of melted snow.
She can hear him calling her back. Just an echo, a thought, caught in the wind, dragged to her ears.
Stop. Stop.
Run. Gasp. Fall.
She hears her dress rip as she falls to her knees.
Push. Get back up.
Scrabbling to her hands and feet, she pushes away again, her blood pounding in her ears. Tears fall but she doesn't acknowledge them. She tells herself it is just the wind whipping at her face, the cold air stinging her eyes. Because no. She isn't crying. She never does.
Please, stop! Let's just talk about...
His words are stolen away by the beep of a car horn.
The beep of a car horn.
Intended for warning.
The lights flash in her eyes then. Instinctively, her hands go up to shield her vision.
Oh my god!
A massive weight impacts with her side and she is thrown, sprawling, to the side of the road.
"Oh my god, Ziva. Are you okay?" Breathless.
It takes a moment to register that it wasn't the car that had hit her, but the very reason she's even there in the first place.
She looks up at him through her lashes. "Why are you on top of me?" she grinds out through gritted teeth.
He rolls his eyes and pushes himself off her, stretching out his hand. She takes it.
"I guess it was too much to expect a thank you."
"You pushed me into a ditch." She is brushing dirt off her dress.
"That was to get you out of the way of the car that was about to smash you into teeny tiny pieces," he points out dryly.
She looks up at him, indignant. "I was handling it, Tony."
"Yeah. Right," he says, grabbing her arm. "Come on."
She doesn't move. "Let go of me. Right. Now," she says in a low voice.
He drops her arm. "Right. I forgot. You were trying to outrun me."
"Trying?" She raises an eyebrow. "I would have if not for that stupid car."
"Puh-lease," he says, grabbing her hand this time and dragging her back the way they'd come. "And don't worry, you no longer have to pretend to despise me."
"Pretend?" she quips, but doesn't pull her hand from his grip.
"Ha ha," he says sarcastically. "Anyway, as I was saying, Gibbs radioed to say he's apprehended the Wilsons. We're good to go back."
"Finally..." she mutters, relieved, and begins walking beside him.
Neither comments that he hasn't yet dropped her hand.
He looks down at her. "You crying?"
She stares straight ahead, resisting the urge to wipe her eyes with the back of her free hand. Without missing a beat, she says, "I'm an excellent actress."
A smile tugs at his lips, and in the moonlight she thinks he looks almost predatory. "Oh yes," he says. "I know."
She rolls her eyes then, her mind unwillingly flicking back to their steamy undercover rendezvous as married assassins. She knows his mind is travelling along the same track. She considers teasing him, but finds herself too tired to think up a witty enough remark. Instead, she says, "Get it out of your head, DiNozzo."
He shrugs innocently. "Get what out of my head, Miss David?" Blink. Befuddled shake of the head. "I was merely referring to your excellent drunken rendition of Chicago."
She rolls her eyes again, an action she feels she has repeated far too many times this evening. "One," she counters, "you know exactly what you were talking about. Two, I have never done any renditions of Chicago for you, drunken or otherwise. And three," she continues, pulling her hand from his and holding one finger to his lips to silence his retorts, "it is you who frequently decides to share your musical prowess while under influence."
He laughs then, and she pulls her finger away tingling. "Oh, David," he says. "Don't even pretend you don't-"
And that's when the shot rings out, they both tumble to the ground, and his blood splatters across her horrified face.
A/N: Thoughts? Favourite lines? Shall I continue?
Let me know :).
(And Happy Australia Day!)