Tony nodded curtly at Ziva and she kicked down the door with a swift kick. Grasping their guns, they both moved in. Tony jogged through the rooms at the front of the abandoned ranch while Ziva waited by the door, gun poised. A lidded box caught her eye and she peered inside. The box was filled to the brim with guns, knives and other weapons. She reached a hand tentatively in and pulled out a handful of hand grenades. She whistled softly with admiration. They were handmade and the detail of their construction was perfect. Tony called out that the rooms he had checked were clear and together they walked towards the unchecked rooms at the back of the ranch.
One room was left and, after Tony gave the signal, Ziva kicked down the second door of the day. They rushed into the room; guns raised and swivelled round in a circle to check all angles. In the corner, there was door, half concealed by a cupboard. Ziva turned the handle and the door opened with ease. She darted in and dropped her gun in surprise. Hearing the clattering of Ziva's gun on the bare wooden floorboards, Tony gave a cry of alarm and Ziva stooped, still stunned, to pick it up.
Tony joined her in the room and grimaced at the sight. It reminded him of Ziva when they rescued her in Somalia, but ten times worse. This victim had burns on her face and her eyes were swollen so that she could barely see. She was chained by all hands and feet to the four corners of the room, her body suspended by the tension in the chains. Her face was contorted into a snarl of pain. She had rope lashes on her trembling arms and bruises littered her legs. There were deep welts at the top of her thighs and out of one of them protruded a screwdriver. A small table was situated menacingly in the corner and was covered with instruments of torture; knives, whips, hammers, tweezers, tasers, cord and sex toys. The girl strung up in such a fashion was unconscious but her heaving chest showed that she was very much alive.
Ziva let out a whimper or dismay and Tony pulled his eyes of the scene of pain to fix on Ziva. She was crouched in the corner, her eyes wildly roaming the spectacle, her mouth forming words but no sound was emitted. Tony crouched down beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder to soothe her shivering body.
'Ziva,' he whispered. 'It's okay. You're safe.'
She turned to him, her face ashen. 'But she's not,' her voice hoarsely replied.
Tony frowned and glanced over his shoulder to the comatose figure behind him. His eyes flickered questioningly into Ziva's and she lowered them to gaze at the floor. 'Ziva,' he prompted.
Her eyes met his and her eyelids trembled and threatened to close. Tears squeezed themselves out, despite her attempts to quench her sorrow.
A groan came from behind them and Tony swung around. The inert form was slowly springing into action. She twisted her battered head to see who was in the room and she let out a short gasp when she saw the two friendly intruders. The cloudy world swam into clear view and a sneer widened the scorched edges of her mouth.
'I am waking from a nightmare to stare straight into the beast's mouth,' she mocked. Tony looked between the derisive eyes of the current torture victim and the pleading eyes of the ex torture victim. He pitied the former but loved the latter and so he took an involuntary step towards his partner.
Ziva spoke next, breaking the intolerable, heavy silence. 'I thought you were dead.' Her voice cracked.
Another smile stretched across the scarred face. 'So did I.'
The words were figurative and Tony frowned but Ziva nodded, fully understanding.
'You should have died. Saved us all the hassle.' Ziva voice had calmed and she was speaking with authority but he steely reserve was easily matched and surpassed by the coolness of the replying voice that seemed so unnatural coming from the charred remains of a body. It was like a corpse was taunting Ziva.
'You would have preferred it that way, would you not?' Her accent was similar to Ziva's but there were marked differences. Ziva's was lighter and less defined; it had morphed into a more American sounding nasal drawl. 'This is a quaint reunion but maybe your friend would like to untie me?' At this tired remark that was thrown in his direction, Tony leapt to her aid and unchained her, cutting through the chains with immense difficulty.
'These chains are thicker than usual,' he grunted, sweating profusely from the exertion.
'Yes,' the captive acknowledged. 'I kept breaking through the standard sized ones so they invested in stronger ones.' Tony stared at the visible muscles bulging beneath the blistered skin laced with deep slits. For any other woman the large muscles would have looked hench and brutish but on her they retained a feminine intrigue and inspired awe in Tony.
His efforts finally broke through the thick chains and she fell to the ground with a moan of pain. Tony gasped as he realised his mistake in not readying himself to catch her and held out his hands to help her up, but she ignored the gesture and sprang lightly to her feet with the agility of a maimed cat.
The newly freed prisoner stood up and squared up to Ziva, preparing her aching muscles for a physically taxing fight. She was already emotionally drained but she had started off with so much spark that even when it had all gone she still had some character and energy. A lopsided grin had appeared and was mocking Ziva who held up her end of the taciturn confrontation with an amused grin which concealed her apprehension.
'It's been a while,' her opponent remarked sociably. Ziva nodded.
'Ten years,' she added.
'Ten years since we met. How long since you thought of me?' Her voice was faintly aggressive but to all outward appearances it was merely teasing.
'I hate you,' spat Ziva, forgetting to contain her distaste.
The girl chuckled and placed a hand on Ziva's shoulder. 'There's a thin line between love and hate, Ziva.' The emphasis she put on love sent a shiver down both Ziva and Tony's spine. 'We crossed back and forth a lot. It does not concern me if I am resting on the hate.' There was a short pause before she continued, 'at the moment.'
'Always,' Ziva corrected. 'I will never love you.'
'Again,' the girl added. Ziva scowled petulantly. 'Last time I saw you, you were naked and so was I.'
