Disclaimer: No matter how many times i wish it, I will never own NCIS.

She would always remember that elevator ride, she knew it the second she stepped into the stupid metal box. Gibbs was standing to her left, Tony and McGee to her right. Her back was turned, but the way the hairs on the back of her neck prickled told her that they were all staring at her. She shifted uncomfortably. The shirt Tony had let her borrow was rubbing uncomfortably on one of the burns across her shoulders and her feet hurt from the shoes she'd become so unaccustomed to wearing. She bitterly marvelled at how she managed to survive three months in a terrorist camp, but was now whinging about the most menial things. She'd gotten soft somewhere along the line, which was ironic considering her father had drilled it into her from a very young age that suffering made you strong. Then again, she'd realised lately that most of what her father had told her was riddled with lies.

"Ziva," Gibbs murmured, jolting her out of her own head. She looked up and realised with a start that the elevator doors had opened and she was staring at all twenty of the Naval criminal investigative service's D.C office's full time employees. Her eyes travelled over Dolores from accounting, Mail Room Malcom and Agent Dornigate before coming to rest on Abby. Her dear, dear friend Abby. She had her arms wide open, a warm smile on her face. Her watery eyes weren't full of pity and she wasn't looking at her like she was some kind of victim, the only thing her dark green irises held was understanding and kindness. Not for the first time that day, Ziva felt her throat close up. She took a few wobbly steps out of the elevator and fell into Abby's arms. She didn't realise just how exhausted she truly was until the six foot tall goth's arms wrapped securely around her. Her knees sagged then gave out, however in a surprising display of strength Abby kept her from falling.

"Ziva," Abby murmured. "I missed you." A couple of the tears that had gathered in her eyes escaped and ran into Ziva's hair. They looked like drops of moonlight in the wild dark brown curls.

"I missed you too," Ziva replied, her voice hoarse from months of disuse.

"C'mon," Gibbs voice said, somewhere far, far in the distance. "Ducky's gotta give you a check up before you go anywhere." Abby gently let her go, though one arm still stayed wrapped loosely around the Israeli's shoulder. Together they shuffled back into the elevator, Gibbs on their tail. Tony and McGee tried to follow, but Gibbs gave them a look and they stopped dead. Dimly, Ziva wondered how this man had come to know her so well. He'd understood instantly that, save him who she saw as her father and Ducky who was after all a doctor, she didn't want men around her right now. The elevator shuddered to a halt again and she and Abby started again on their slow shuffle, this time to one of the cold autopsy tables. Ziva shakily sat down, giving the heartbreakingly concerned Ducky a brief smile.

"My dear Ziva," the scotsman greeted warmly. "How are you?" It was a simple question, one Ziva should have been able to answer with a simple 'fine, thank you.' But for some reason the words wouldn't pass her lips. Ducky saw her hesitation and smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry, that was a foolish question."

"No, no Ducky. Forgive me." Ziva looked down at her dangling feet. "I am... Okay."

"Okay is a great start, Ziver," Gibbs said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "No one's expecting you to be fine." Ziva clenched her teeth hard so she wouldn't do something stupid like burst into tears.

"I know that Gibbs, but I still..." she shook her head. "It does not matter. Let us get this over with, yes?" Gibbs noted the shakiness of her English, and wondered how long it had been since she last spoke it.

"Yes," Ducky said. He cleared his throat and his manner changed from caring uncle to brisk doctor. Abby and Gibbs made small talk about the weather as Ducky checked Ziva's vitals, commented on how thin she was, advised her to drink plenty of fluids and so on. Ziva sat like a rock through all of this, simply nodding or shaking her head if an answer was required.

"Take off your shirt please," Ducky said finally, snapping on some rubber gloves. Ziva bit her lip, her hands suddenly vice like on the edge of the metal table.

"That is unnecessary," she said stiffly, though she knew it was no use. "They bandaged my injures at the field hospital in Somal... In northern Africa." Her voice shook embarrassingly at the word 'Somalia' and she cursed herself silently. As she'd feared, Ducky shook his head.

"Nonsense Ziva. Those field hospitals are unreliable at best. Besides, infection could have set in between there and here."

"It does not even hurt anymore," Ziva said, hating how pleading her voice sounded. "I promise."

"My dear, I am a medical examiner," Ducky said gently. "I work with dead bodies with horrific injures every single day, I promise that whatever those bastards did to you will not phase me." Ziva nodded slowly, her grip on the table relaxing a little. She glanced at Gibbs out of the corner of her eye and he gently took Abby by the shoulders and guided her out of Autopsy. Once she was sure the doors had closed firmly behind them she took a deep breath and slipped her shirt over her head with considerable discomfit. As Ducky gently unwrapped the bandages that covered a full eighty percent of her torso she assumed a deadpan stare at the own feet. There were a couple of times when a scab ripped off along with the bandage, producing an awful stinging sensation, but she didn't shift her gaze once. Ducky wasn't sure whether to be more concerned with the severity of her injuries or her lack of reaction. His hands gently grazed across her back and she sucked in a sharp breath. It was odd to have such caring hands upon her after... Everything. Ducky tenderly wiped antiseptic over her wounds. Her back was a shade of mottled green and purple, thanks to the extensive bruising. Whip marks, vertical, horizontal and diagonal, criss crossed the skin like red rivers in the middle of a green and purple rainforest. Even for a doctor Ducky remained admirably level during the whole process, except for one moment. When he moved to her front and he noticed what marred the smooth skin of her stomach his face turned a sickening shade of grey. She blushed just a little and averted her eyes from his. Of all the marks he'd left on her body, only one made her truly ashamed. The 'S' he'd branded into her would certainly stay there forever, a constant reminder to what she had to endure.

Once Ducky had snapped out of his initial horror he noticed that Ziva was biting her lip so hard blood was trickling down her chin. He gently wiped it off then started to hum softly. It was an old tune, one his mother had sung to him when he was a lad, but it seemed to relax her none the less. He finished up her exam as quickly as possible and handed her her shirt with a smile.

"Well Miss David, apart from the obvious scar tissue you're going to make a full physical recovery."

"Thank you Ducky," Ziva said quietly, slipping the shirt back over her head.

"Now as your doctor I must inform you that the... Psychological repercussions of what you went through may be severe. I would suggest you start seeing a counsellor." Though Ziva shook her head vehemently, her eyes returning to her boots.

"Ducky," she said in a brittle tone, "I have been tortured before this and I have always recovered easily."

"While that may be true..." Ducky cupped her face in his kind hands. The gesture had a double intent, first to be comforting and second so he could see her eyes. He'd always found previously with Ziva that while her mouth and even her body language may say one thing, her eyes say the complete opposite. "I doubt very much you've been held prisoner in a terrorist camp for three months before." Ziva reached up and removed his hands from her face.

"I will be fine," she concluded firmly. Ducky ignored her words and focused purely on her eyes. They were screaming at him, at anybody, to help her.

"Ziva..."

"Thank you for your concern Doctor Mallard." With that rather final statement she rose and strode towards and through the autopsy doors. Ducky heaved a sigh and leant back on one of his table. He knew she could get over this, if only she'd let herself.

Hope you enjoyed! Not sure when I'll upload the next chapter, but it'll probably be soon :) Reviews make my day (not too subtle hint right there.)