A/N: First fanfic! Don't be afraid to give me constructive criticism – I can take a blow, and I know there is always room to improve. And if you see any errors, please tell! I hope I can keep everyone in character. I am a huge NCIS geek, though, so I think I'll do pretty well.
Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own NCIS, its characters, or its script. Although I would love to, I can't.
*For those who voted in the poll, it was a unanimous vote (when I last checked) for Tiva and not Gabby.
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The blank concrete floor shimmered like a charcoal mirage in the dense August heat. A slender, tan adolescent with a frizz of springy dark curls gritted her teeth in frustration as she squinted at the optical illusion. How dare she be tricked in her own home? She shuffled around in the rickety chair her torso was bound to until she reached a small table lamp. With much effort, the determined captive sent it crashing into the floor.
Someone threw open the only door to the room as she scooted back to her original spot. Fear almost flashed across her eyes – almost. Angry muttering echoed through the room as a burly man strode up to the girl and slapped her roughly across the face, and roared something rapidly and somewhat unintelligible.
"Weak! Weak, spineless, useless girl!" he bellowed, spit flying. Her face remained expressionless as red welts began to form on her swollen cheek riddled with small scratches.
"Yes, I agree. You could use some toughening up, although those wouldn't be my choice of wor-,"
He hissed and grabbed a fistful of her hair, lifting her entire body – and the chair along with it – into the murky air. She tried to look away as she winced discreetly, the smallest piece of reality showing through the cracked façade that was growing more damaged by the day.
"When I saw you, I was wishing it was one of your pranks," he said soothingly in an icy calm voice, smiling. It did not reach his eyes.
"But, I know. I have known for a while. You two have been meeting in secret, no? Noah…that is such a Christian name. I have no tolerance for it, or the leech itself. He is sucking the strength out of you, my little warrior." With his free hand, he gripped her chin tightly and wrenched her head so it was facing him. She coughed in his face, and he grinned and held even tighter; against her will, a gasp shot out of her mouth.
"You are not allowed to love, do I make myself clear? I believe I already have before. I do not enjoy repeating myself, you deaf twit." His expression hardened, and he got a faraway, almost painful look in his eyes. As quickly as it had come, it disappeared. She sighed, she knew what was coming. Retreating into her mental sanctuary, she took the numerous punches and kicks that catapulted her into the cold, hard wall. For a brief second, she sighed as her cheek rested against the cool ground, but she soon regretted letting down her defenses.
Twenty seconds later, a battered and bruised body was sprawled across the floor, with pieces of shredded rope and splintered wood scattered in every corner. The door slammed shut, but still, she said nothing. She did not moan, she did not move, she did not suffer.
Ziva David shed no tears.
***
"Kate!" Tony shot up off the couch, sending a bowl of popcorn flying into the wall. Gasping, he whipped around ready to defend his coworker, only to find The Godfather still playing for probably the fourth time, since he had set it on repeat. That was where he must have heard the gunshot. Tony exhaled and rested his head in his hands.
"I couldn't save you," he murmured to himself. "My fault…" Scratching his head absentmindedly, he disentangled himself from the scratchy wool blanket, now decorated with wayward popcorn bits. The VCR blinked the time: 5:41. G'morning, Boss, Abby, Probie, Ziva. Tony attempted to pour coffee into his mug from a cereal box.
"Ha." By 6:00, he was ready for work, more or less. At least he figured out how to take a shower and get some clothes on. Deciding he would probably become a mass murderer if he drove this morning, he took the metro. As he waited to get on, he saw hundreds of faces gazing out the grimy windows flash by in an instant, each looking like they had a story to tell, but no time to do it. I definitely have one to tell, he thought to himself. But when he got on and sat down, he looked away from the window.
"I'm not ready just yet."
The metal floor gleamed like the surface of a lake in the heat; a trick of the light. Tony scuffed his shoes impatiently and got off at the next stop to walk the rest of the way. I have time; it's not that far away.
As he walked, his thoughts were having a ping-pong match. Back and forth went ideas and opinions, contradicting each other too much to make sense. It's been almost a year since Kate went…I've recovered. I know I have. So why did I start having these dreams all of a sudden?
"I sound like ," he growled. "So, Anthony, how does that make you feel?" "Pretty crappy, Doc. Are you gonna give me some pills, or what?" "Not yet, and stop reading through my patient files." "Can't help it, Doc. Too curious." "I'm beginning to wonder if you're a lost cause." "How does that make you feel?"
This quietly went on for the last ten minutes of the walk to the NCIS building.
"I think I'm in coffee withdrawal," he moaned, looking up to the heavens.
"You're not getting any of mine, DiNozzo."
"Boss?" he inquired in wonder, squinting at the sky. A quick head slap snapped him back into focus.
"You going to get to work, or am I gonna have to drag you in?"
"On it, Boss," Tony responded quickly. Once he got into the lobby and out of sight, he bit his lip and rubbed the back of his head gently.
"Ow."
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Oooh, what's that? What's what? That little green button thingy. Ohhh, the review button. What do I do? Press it, see? *click* It's not that hard. And it makes people happy!
