This is set in the warehouse scene in Masquerade, which I loved.

NOTE - This was not intended to change the scene in Masquerade! I thought the scene was perfect, and I refused to alter it. I wanted this to merely elaborate on the emotion in it that couldn't be portrayed visually, and to explore the scene a little deeper. Words can do things images can't.
I wrote this, and it's not a script, or a play by play of the scene, so I'd appreciate not being told that my effort in this doesn't count because this isn't really 'fiction'.

Disclaimer - Not mine.

"You never talk about it."

The deep voice comes from behind her, sending a tiny shiver up her spine.
It's merely a statement, and he's not asking. He would never ask. Nevertheless, she can hear the unspoken question in his words.

Turning to face him, he looks down at her with an incomprehensible look on his face.
She's thankful there's no pity. That is something she would not have appreciated. Such a pointless emotion, something she could never understand.
But it's not. It never is, with him.

She responds in the only way she knows how.

"What is there to talk about?"

Defer, deflect, and never give anything away.

A question for a question. One he is unable to answer. That doesn't stop his eyes from their hold on hers, even when she tries to break eye contact. It doesn't quell the silent encouragement; a message she is struggling to ignore.
She is without words. Looking up at him, everything she had been told – hide your emotion, it can be used against you – was beginning to lose its meaning. The moment feels to last forever before either of them speak again.

"Come on, Ziva."

It's quiet. Just barely above a low whisper. Three words that almost break her resolve. Three words that almost have her in tears. Three words that almost have her clinging to him, because she can't breathe, not with these memories burned in her head, and he's more and more like her oxygen every day.

But she won't. And she doesn't.

"What Saleem did was bad enough; becoming like him would be worse."

It's blunt; the vague words, thick with emotion, are all he's going to receive. He knows her well enough to know that.

A final look passes between them, and then it's gone – the moment of vulnerability – and he's left standing to soak in her words, while she moves away, and continues, business as usual.

Thoughts?

Georgina.