IF I OWNED NCIS YOU WOULD KNOW MY NAME.
Please forgive this slight discrepancy: I don't live in America so don't know if there is a dam anywhere near D.C. so have just made up according. Looking back, there probably isn't.
Ziva drove faster and faster down the motorway whizzing past cars and leaving a small whirlwind and an orchestra of honking horns in her wake. The days had become increasingly insufferable and she was now going to resort to her back-up plan that she usually had to execute every three of four months but was now becoming increasingly often. She made a sharp turn off the road and onto a dirt track and was travelling at such a high speed that she was jolted around in her mini cooper. She screeched to a halt and almost threw herself out of the car and slammed the door behind her. She swept into the hut and the man behind the counter took one look at her face, reached down behind the counter and handed her a helmet and Lycra jumpsuit. She nodded her thanks but her face was white and her nostrils thin and she didn't look like she could say a word without screaming. The man flicked the sign over to "busy" on the counter and hurried off with a purpose. Ziva dashed into a cubicle to change.
#####
Ziva stood on the edge of the dam and didn't even bother to look down. It didn't scare her anyway. She closed her eyes and inhaled, allowing the wind to brush over her face and instantly her mind cleared and relaxed. She started to raise her arms but an unwelcome word entered her head "Tony, Tony, Tony." Immediately her body stiffened and her hands clenched. Again she inhaled and banished the thought of her co-worker out of her mind. She raised her hands and launched herself into oblivion.
In actual fact, bungee jumping scared her shitless. That was the point. It was the only thing that could completely release her. The moment when you were hurtling towards the ground and your instinct was telling you that you were going to smash into it, that you were going to die, even though your logical side knew you were attached to a rope of impossible strength. That blinding moment of panic when you seemed to come face to face with death, inches from the ground beneath you. At that moment there would only be space in her mind for her own safety and no room for unwelcome emotions. On the rebound, hilarity would always envelop her, as her subconscious mind would tell her that she had come close to death and survived. When she would again start to fly towards the earth it wouldn't scare her, she would laugh and know that she had been released. When finally let down she would thank Bob, the bungee-jump operator and make small talk. She would go back to work happily the next day until the urge enveloped her again. Not this time though.
At the final moment when she was at that split second of being at the nearest to the ground, the moment that her body was telling her death was upon her, she thought one word "Tony". And that scared her more than bungee jumping ever could. Ziva interpreted this to mean that she put Tony over her own safety, over her own life and she knew that she would never be free of him. Instead of the laughter that usually engulfed her, she felt tears roll down her cheeks.
#####
Tony grabbed the helmet and jumped onto the bike. In the earlier days he used to do this for fun. Now it was an increasing necessity. He gave the track a cursory glance to check for other riders or water patches but the track was immaculately kept and the owner had especially cleared it when he saw Tony's red mustang swing into the parking lot. In the earlier days, before Ziva came, he always did it by car, driving at reckless speeds and enjoying the exhilaration. But since Ziva had arrived he had tried dirt track bikes, quad bikes and even once go-carting. At last he had resorted to motorbike racing even though, if there was one thing his father had imparted to him: Never ride motorbikes it's too damn dangerous. The way your knee was an inch was an inch from the racing tarmac beneath you and if you didn't take it right you would end up sprawled out on the tarmac, quite possibly with a broken arm. But he had the concentration to stay on and he loved to wheelie at impossible speeds pass the girls in the stands, who always seemed to turn up. That confirmation that would make him feel like a man once more and would ensure, combined with the thrill of the motorcycle ride, that he could flirt with Ziva for another few weeks without dragging her into the men's bathroom that she so liked to frequent. He put on his helmet and kick started the bike and speeded off. He wobbled slightly on the corner and came a little too close to the ground then he liked as his mind had suddenly shot to Ziva's curved smile and the way her eyes would be bright and excited if she was watching him right now. At least that's how he'd like her to look. He straightened the bike and pushed into an even higher gear, barely slowing down when he came to the next turn. He closed his eyes momentarily and imagined he could smell her musky scent and her long dark hair swinging down a bare back, her eyes and that bewitching smile looking at him over her naked shoulder.
The next turn he didn't even bother to slow down. The concentration that he usually had to use didn't even matter as he almost wanted just to hurtle into oblivion and be free once and for all from Officer Ziva David. He hit the tyres that ringed the track at breakneck speed and literally flew of the motorcycle. He landed face down on the track and he heard his bike crash in the distance. He clenched his hands in frustration and allowed himself one shiny tear of self pity before letting out the pain in from the various cuts and bruises he had just acquired into a deafening yell that led to his heart. The same place a certain dark eyed beauty dwelled.