My first multi-chapter fic since being back, it feels good. I've worked on this one since before leaving for the Army so it's been going for a while. I do hope you enjoy as always.

Hundan

She looks a lot older than I remember, she looks different. I can still tell this is the same Ziva David I met seven years ago, she still has that edgy assassin blood in her even beneath the softer surface she had grown here in America. I still remember as though it was yesterday when I had her pinned to the ground beneath me and I had my knife at her throat, my other hand pulling at the belt at her waist.

She hadn't realized before I had her on the ground my true thoughts of what I wanted to do to her, what I have always wanted to do to her. She's always on my mind. I hadn't been graced with what I wanted that day in the past, she had overpowered me, she was stronger than she looked. She left me with the scar on the left side of my face from her blade, I left mine on her left waist with my own blade.

Surely she hasn't forgotten me, and that day. I left my mark and it must surely remind her. I thought that my dreams would never be fulfilled with what I want from her when she left Israel, but then I found out she was in America, that she was now an American. She had left her life in Mossad behind, she was getting soft. I know she's not as strong as she used to be, just in the way she runs, I can tell as I watch her.

I have watched her for weeks now, planning my move. I know she works for some navy agency, NCIS, and I've made my plan. I've always been one to get pleasure out of the mental pain I put someone through, it was one of my specialties as a top Mossad interrogator before I went rouge. I love not being under control by her father. I want to make her suffer, she has left me scarred somewhere I cannot hide, she left me embarrassed because she was able to outdo me.

Not this time. She will not overpower me this time. I will make her suffer, make her weak. I will twist her mind and make her scarred. She will be terrified of what I want to do to her. I have waited seven years for this day and I cannot wait to have her in my hands. So I can let my caged desires escape. I became attached to her and I will not let go until I make her mine, I will hurt her as I take pleasure in her body, and then, then I will cut her throat. So she was last mine and no one else may have her beauty.

The Sunday morning breeze was cool as it fanned against her skin. Her heart rate was up as her feet pounded upon the pavement. Sunday morning just after dawn was Ziva's favourite time to run, even on her weekend off she wouldn't miss the freedom the feeling gave her. She had always been a runner. When she was younger running was for enjoyment, social development with other kids. Running around the grass fields at school with her friends as they played games and enjoyed the youthful freedom they had.

As a teenager it had still held that feeling. But as soon as she started in the Israeli Army running was not so much a social or fun thing. The running she did there was for fitness, for cardio. That was where she learnt how far her body could truly be pushed, to its extreme limits. She had been pushed so hard that a few times her body couldn't keep up with the push. The second time it happened she had received a fractured collarbone and many scraps. Falling unconscious in the blistering Israeli heat right into the harsh gravel surface below her feet wasn't the nicest thing to experience.

And she had got familiar to that push for a long time, receiving it from Mossad after the Army. In the profession choice she had taken, running was to build her strength. She was a soldier who needed to be built to the optimum level. And she had been. When she moved to America in her position as liaison she continued these runs. To keep herself at that high level of excellence. For a while that was the reason for her running but as she changed, she became moulded into this new Ziva in her time at NCIS, her running had slowly changed.

Running still kept her fitness up, kept her healthy, but she found much more enjoyment in it now. It wasn't just a task to her anymore, she didn't push herself until her body couldn't take it, she went at a comfortable speed. She found it as a time when she had that freedom like when she was a child in the playground. Running was a way she found stress relief, tension relief. It calmed her. She enjoyed it again.

She was about halfway through her run when her cell phone began chirping at her hip. She slowed down her steps and stretched against a building as she answered.

"David"

"Dead Petty Officer, Kennedy Street" was the reply she got from her boss. He didn't sound happy, he must have been doing something important this weekend which had been interrupted by this case. She looked at her watch, almost eight in the morning. She was about two miles away from her apartment.

"I'll be there as soon as I can" she stated and then the line went dead. She turned around and picked up the pace. Getting home as quick as she could.

When she arrived at the scene she finally realized why Kennedy Street meant something to her. When Gibbs had said it over the phone she hadn't put too much thought into it but as she was driving there she knew it had something on the street that triggered her memory. And she now knew what that was. This street is the very one that held her favourite bookstore. She came here at least once a fortnight, more if she could.

As she approached the scene there were a few local police squad cars surrounding the scene, their lights flickering red and blue. This must have been a relatively fresh scene for the lights to still be going and the local LEO's to still be here. She pulled her mini over and holstered her weapon as she stepped out into the street. Heading for the crime scene tape that surrounded the bookstore. Her favourite bookstore.

Her heart rate picked up slightly as she realized the crime had happened in a place she found comfort in. Flashing her badge at the young uniformed officer on the perimeter, he took a good look at her badge before letting her through. The heat of the morning was starting to grow and the sun was prickling at her back as she walked up the front steps into the store.

She stood there for a moment, taking in the foreign feeling of the store in front of her. Her team wasn't meant to be here, cameras flickering, notes been taken, evidence been bagged. This was meant to be empty, with a few strangers searching the shelves for a book that would let them escape. There wasn't meant to be chatter filling the air, it was meant to be quiet with the only sound being the hum of the air conditioning. This wasn't right, it felt strange. She had this feeling twisting in her gut. Something was wrong other than the murder itself.

She walked into the store, joining her team. Ducky was bent down by the body of their victim. The woman was late twenties, dark brown hair, olive skin, brown eyes. There was something about this victim that bugged her. Just the way she looked was so familiar. Palmer was right at Ducky's side, the trusty medical examiners assistant. Gibbs was standing at the foot of the victim, towering over the scene in front of him. Taking each piece of the doctor's assumptions and filing them into the case file in his mind.

She could see McGee talking to Sheryl. Sheryl was the lady who owned the bookstore. She was absolutely lovely and Ziva hated for something terrible to be left in the woman's store for her to witness. Tony, he was taking the photos but he had the camera paused in his hands, staring down at the woman that lay cold on the floor in familiarity.

She took a few steps closer to the body, so she could see it in more detail. Eyes turned to her and lips shared a greeting of 'hello'. She returned the greeting but hadn't paid much more attention. She was too busy focused on the crime in front of her.

The woman lay on her side on the floor, naked, and bare for all eyes to see. She had her wrists bound with tape, her ankles left unbound. Her throat had been slit, deep. Blood pooled underneath her, staining the hardwood floor and her long curly hair. This had once been a radiant woman, and now she lay here, cold skin and beaten to a painful death. She did not deserve this fate. Something still twisted in Ziva's gut and she didn't know what it was. Then she had seen it, something that called out to her.

There was a cut that ran along the victim's waist, the same spot and same length as one she knew well. She wasn't jumping to any conclusions yet but it did bug her.

"Ducky, that cut down her side, was it fatal?" she voiced. Ducky moved his glove covered hands to the victim's side, examining it.

"No, it was not fatal, not deep enough to penetrate any of the victim's organs. Maybe an accident from our killer" Ducky announced.

"Maybe she fought back and he took his knife to her skin to try stop her" Ziva replied. She felt her boss' eyes on her then, he knew she was thinking something, she knew something more than she was telling. She avoided his gaze and looked back down at Ducky.

"She was killed by the cut to her throat?" Ziva asked. Ducky nodded.

"Yes, a very deep cut. The killer knew what they were doing, it not only killed her but the cut was done in a specific way it left her unable to cry out" he stated. She knew how to do that, silence your kill as you cut their throat. She had learnt that at Mossad. Ziva looked back down at the naked body.

"Was she raped?" Ziva asked.

"I believe she was but I will not be able to confirm that until I get her back to autopsy" he said and she nodded softly. Something about this whole case was getting to her. Where the victim was killed, how she was killed, what she looked like. That cut on her left side. She was trying to understand if this meant anything but she really wasn't sure. She felt her boss' hand clasp around her shoulder.

"You okay Ziver?" he asked, voice hushed.

"Yes, it just seems familiar for some reason that I cannot place" she admitted. He nodded in reply and let her shoulder go, flipping his notebook shut and heading over to McGee. As he left Ziva's eyes caught Tony's. He was quiet. He was never this quiet. Had he seen something like she had?

They had all gone down to see Ducky when he said he had found something interesting. They all stood and watched as Ducky explained his findings.

"Petty Officer Kayla Rosen's last few hours of her life were not how a nice young woman deserved" Ducky began.

"She was awake and very aware as she was raped. She had her arms bound, she could hardly fight back with the amount of force our suspect delivered to her. He had his hands clamped around her neck as he did, I believe he is a very disturbed individual, he has a lot of anger in him" he said and he moved a light towards her neck.

"You can see around the cut there is a lot of bruising, this is from where she was strangled as she was raped. Our suspect took pleasure in putting her through pain. And right as he was finishing his own pleasure he took his knife and cut her throat" Ducky said as he demonstrated the movement with his hand just above her neck. Palmer walked to the left side of the victim and pointed at the cut there.

"This cut was not done to kill the victim or harm her. The killer did this post-mortem" Palmer explained.

"I am not sure why the killer did this, a trademark of some sort maybe" Ducky then explained.

"We found DNA evidence from our killer in the victim and I have sent that up to Abby. But I have one more thing that you will find interesting" Ducky said as he walked to the victims thighs. He moved the light source and shone it on the victim's right thigh. When he lifted her leg and exposed the black art there Ziva's breath stopped.

"I believe the killer drew this on our victim in permanent marker when he was finished. I do not know what the swallow bird means, what significance our killer meant it to be but this was something he wanted to be found" Ducky said. Right there on the victim's inner thigh was a small swallow bird. Ziva felt like she was going to be sick. She sees that bird every day. She knows what the cut down the victim's side means now. She knows why the victim looks familiar. She has all the same features as she does.

It wasn't a coincidence that this woman was murdered in her favourite bookstore. It wasn't a coincidence that she had that cut down her left side, that she had that tattoo drawn on her inner right thigh. She'd learnt from Gibbs a long time ago not to believe in coincidences.

Suddenly everyone was looking at her. She hadn't realized she had reached out for the autopsy table to keep her on her feet. She could feel Tony at her side, holding her waist, keeping her from falling. Gibbs was right in front of her now, holding her head up.

"Ziver, you okay?" he repeated himself from earlier. She nodded lightly.

"I know- I know what the drawing and the cut mean…" she said, but she couldn't finish her statement. Her voice had choked up. She knew who this would be. Who their killer was. He was very, very dangerous.

"Ziver?" Gibbs asked. She still couldn't get the words to escape her mouth. It was Tony's voice next to her that rang out the answer she was trying to.

"That's Ziva's tattoo Boss" Tony began "And she has that same cut down her side too, a faded scar now but it would have once been like that. And don't you see the obvious Boss? I mean I saw it right away but you haven't mentioned it. Our victim looks just like Ziva. Dark curly hair, brown eyes, her skin, her similar face. This is personal, our killer is aiming this at Ziva" Tony stated. Ziva could hear and feel the rage boiling in his voice. He didn't like this. He knew why he had been captivated with their victim, she had looked like his partner.

"And I know who it is" Ziva croaked out. She thought she had left all of her Mossad life behind, especially him. She never thought about him anymore, about that day that had haunted her for so long. She knew she was in trouble, but she wouldn't let anyone see it. She wasn't going to give up until she found him and left his body cold on the slab of one of Ducky's tables.

This man, he was the most evil she had come across. He was sick minded, he got pleasure out of hurting a woman. He liked to make them suffer, mentally and physically. He had been one of her father's best interrogators. He would make the strongest of men and women beg at his feet. He was a monster.