my second NCIS one-shot, though not what I had intended. this just sort of popped into my head, and i debated jottin it down, but figured eh, why not? just a quick something, took me like 20 min, max, to write out. set perhaps in the beginning of season 4 or end of season 3. love to hear what you think of it :)
She was Mossad.
That in itself should have described her in a nutshell. She did not consider herself brave, but she certainly wasn't a coward. She did not form close ties with people: relationships like that could be used against you. She did not dwell upon emotions, which only served to weaken or distort one's perceptions. She had long since perfected how to control her emotions at will, tucking them into the farthest corner of her being, rarely acknowledging them even to herself. It was better that way, easier to carry out the assignment. Orders were given, and she followed. That was how it was. And if the orders involved something that was dangerous, perhaps life-threatening, then she dealt with it. She was a soldier, a fighter, and anything that did not kill her only made her stronger. She did not need anyone to look after her; she was confident of her self and her abilities. She looked forward, never gazing back; lingering on moments passed would not bring back the lost opportunities. Any weaknesses she discovered were exercised so that they were no longer weaknesses, but strengths. She got up, dusted herself off, and moved on – that was her way.
So what was this thing that was shaking her up? What was causing her knees to buckle and her breathing to malfunction whenever she caught his gaze? Why did she feel so flustered all the time, always checking her hair, her walk, her breath, just to make sure that she looked good for no other reason than he was going to be there. What was causing this sudden crave for his attention, his affection? In to the bullpen he would stroll, and there would go her stomach - somersaulting and fluttering and prancing about! One touch would send shivers rolling through her. Flirting no longer came as natural to her; she stumbled, she tripped, her pulse would quicken and her confidence would waiver. What the hell was up with that?
Perhaps it was a disease; it was possible she could have caught something on the flight over from Israel.
Ziva David flipped through the stack of paperwork, trying to suppress all these reactions as Agent Tony DiNozzo walked into the bullpen. She failed miserably, and her mood quickly turned sour as she recognized her own defeat. Yes, this was probably just a sickness. And with a firm nod, she vowed that if the symptoms were not gone by Thursday, then she would surely speak to a doctor about prescribing some medication.