The warehouse had been reduced to a pile of rubble by the explosion and, although all the bodies had been cleared, the blood stains reeked of the sacrifice made here.
Ziva winced as she stepped out of the car, the stench of blood overwhelming the atmosphere. Tony shuddered as he visualised the screams of the dying. They slammed the doors shut and slowly strode towards the carnage.
A week ago, the place had been a fiery furnace, set ablaze by a deafening explosion. Fifty lives had been claimed, all voluntarily. Mass suicide was becoming more popular yet each occasion haunted the country.
Tony stepped carefully over the mound of charred rubble and kicked at a few loose stones. An eerie hush lingered in the wreckage and unnerved the two agents. Ziva allowed her shoulder to bump against his arm, reassuring her that he was still there.
Neither of the two lone figures in the ruins wanted to be there but, as dutiful employees, they had followed orders. Their lead was tenuous at best and the visit seemed pointless. They scanned their trained eyes over the debris before sighing unanimously and resigning themselves to their task.
The sight of the two federal agents reached one other set eyes which glared out from beneath a fallen doorway. He shifted his cramped leg to free it and ran his hand lightly over his gun. His hand then moved tentatively down his leg to hover above a button taped to his leg. He bit his lip and summoned up his final reserve of strength. He raised his other arm above his head and scrambled out from his hiding place. His feet had been still for two days but they now moved quickly and silently, transporting him into the centre of the destroyed warehouse.
Ziva heard a faint shuffling and stopped. She held up a hand to quiet Tony and listened. No more sound could be heard so she continued to scour the debris. At length she heard another footstep and this time she spun round immediately. She was confronted with the image of a man standing motionless in the centre of the ruins, holding a gun in one hand and a red button in the other. Tony turned too now and she heard his sharp intake of breath as he processed the scene. They both drew their weapons and tensed, ready to run in either direction. Tony opened his mouth to shout a warning to the man, alerting him of their presence but his words were left unformed due to the screech of tyres and the cloud of dust rising above a speeding car.
The man also turned his head slightly, considering this development. The car skidded to a halt and the door was flung open. A figure stepped out, a dark shape behind a swirl of sand. She moved gracefully towards the forefront of the mist and drew her gun, pointing it at the two agents in the background of the scene, completely ignoring the explosive man in the centre. The picture was reminiscent of a spy movie, where the female lead appears in tight leather and holding a smoking gun.
Tony licked his lips despite the situation they were in, aroused by the movieness of it. Ziva prepared herself for a tirade of references on the journey back to the office; if they got back to the office, of course.
The figure strode purposefully towards the two confused agents, her hips swaying sensuously. Her gun was pointed at them but she made no move to cock it. Ziva tightened her grip on her own weapon and hoped Tony was prepared to kill this attractive, dangerous movie goddess. He was hoping the same thing.
The woman was now clearly visible and Tony gulped. The woman turned him on painfully yet he had a niggling feeling of déjà vu. She reminded him of Ziva when she first arrived in America while Ari was still alive and his grief for Kate was still raw. She had the same steely glint in her eyes, but the same shadow of suffering. Her lips were teasing him and her eyebrows were raised challengingly. He could imagine the Ziva in the exact same stance but in Israel or Palestine. Her driving was of the same standard and she obviously had a museum of concealed weapons about her person, although Tony could not fathom how she hid them beneath her tight, revealing clothing. She too was Middle Eastern and had a similar look of war embedded into her deadly features. She was the mirror image of Ziva five years ago yet Tony could not imagine ever feeling the same affection for her as he did for the current, vulnerable, calmer Ziva standing beside him. The first side of Ziva he had ever got to know was perfect for sex but he could not imagine waking up next to her every day.
Ziva had her gun raised and pointed directly at the woman's forehead but she did not pull the trigger. For some reason, she trusted this elusive person and would not kill her before she gave them a better reason to. Nobody could disagree with the death if Ziva were to shoot her here; she did have a gun trained on them and there was a man rigged with a bomb behind them; but Ziva did not want to do it. Ziva tried to ignore ache in her heart which had reawakened from seeing a doppelganger of her former self. She had done things she was not proud of but she had found solace now. She would not take that opportunity away from someone else without the best reason to.
The woman held Ziva's gaze and nodded quietly. She spun back around and holstered her gun. She strutted away from them and joined the trembling man in the centre. She reached out and plucked the gun from his hand. She ignored the trigger button in his hand and instead dropped down to the floor and ran her hand up the man's trouser leg. She tore the real trigger of his leg and retrieved her hand. Her face disappeared as she fiddled with the mechanism in the back before throwing it triumphantly to the ground. She straightened up and, flinging a quick glance over her shoulder at the two stunned agents, led the man towards her car. The engine was revved and the car vanished into the new dust cloud formed.
Tony glanced at Ziva and frowned at the pain in her eyes. Part of her old training still raged inside her and it was a daily struggle to keep her violent tendencies in check. He reached out and took her arm, leading her gently towards their own car.
Gibbs listened to the brief recount in silence, nodding at the conclusion. He had been right again, although he had not foreseen the entrance of an unknown entity. He too saw the newly kindled flame of the past in Ziva but did not mention it. He did, however, make a note to ask McGee the next day about what happened after Tony and Ziva left together.
Another chapter?