Hey guys! I'm overwhelmed by your reviews and your requests for me to continue!

Thank you Guest, Trine, victoriantealady, Bkeh, DS2010 and Debbie!

At first, I planned it as oneshot, then I thought, 'maybe a second part would be nice', to round up the story and give more insight to other characters involved with or affected by what has happened. And your reviews encouraged me to write!

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Coincidence

Awakening

The first time Ziva David woke up she attacked mindlessly everyone close to her. Screaming, punching, kicking – fighting with all she had. Her last memory was of a syringe filled with something piercing her skin and a fist flying towards her head while other hands twisted her arms. Now her arms were free.

When they finally succeeded in sedating her, two nurses and one doctor were injured. Broken nose, dislocated shoulder and a broken arm. Doctor Hanuka couldn't help being impressed of how this broken person had put up a fight. Adrenalin truly was an amazing substance. Nonetheless he ordered to restrain her until they could make her understand that she was in a hospital and there was no need for a fight anymore. Officer David herself had several broken bones including leg and wrist, fighting, especially kicking and punching wouldn't help her recovering.

Eli David was informed of his daughters awakening and he came in later that day, his security detail filling the hospital although Ziva was in an extra secured part of the building herself.

Eli entered her room and instantly fury appeared in his eyes. He turned to the doctor behind him, his voice icy. "What is the meaning of that?" He pointed at the restraints around both her arms and her good leg. Under a heavy blanket of medication Ziva fought unconsciously against the restraints, she pushed and pulled at them weakly in her drug induced sleep, tossing and turning as far as they allowed it.

The doctor swallowed. "Sir, it might look hard, I know – but when she first woke she attacked us, injured three of the staff."

"Take it off her…" Eli read his name plate "… Dr. Hanuka, or I will have you restrained in that."

He hurried to obey, removed the offending items and secured the needle of the IV with extra tape.

As soon as her limbs were free, Ziva turned to her side and curled up, her sleep calmer than before.

Eli settled down next to her in a chair and watched his daughter. The broken leg was stretched, the other one pulled up, so it protected her belly, arms in front of her face and around her head. Eli narrowed his eyes at her unconscious protective measures.

He reached for her hand hesitantly. The last time he had hold her hand? He couldn't remember. But here she was, his last child, presumed dead and yet living, given back to him like a gift from heaven. Her chest raised and fell slowly. It was hypnotizing; he did not know how long he just sat there.

Ziva's forehead had displayed a gaping half healed wound which was now covered; her cheeks however were bruised but clear of bandages. He lightly caressed the upper one with his fingers. So lightly it was, Ziva's eyes flew open immediately and her body jerked back, hands coming up. Eli pulled back his fingers slowly, signalizing harmlessness. The monitor behind her reacted to the increased and still accelerating frequency of her heart beat and filled the room with a monotonous fast beeping. Ziva backed off, away from him, her eyes shot around in the room always returning warily to his face and his hands. Finally, she seemed to recognize him and calmed down.

"Ziva." He stated calmly, "How do you feel?"

"Papa?" her voice was hoarse. "What… what happened?" She hardly felt her body, it was all numb. Painkillers, her mind whispered.

"You tell me, Zivaleh." He smiled to make it sound less like an order. "Mossad was ambushing some weapon smuggling Hamas members coming from Egypt and found you in their trunk."

Ziva swallowed and gave up trying to sit up. She was so tired. "You found me… by chance? You… weren't looking for me?"

"It was pure coincidence, yes"

The word sparked a memory. Gibbs… She had forbidden herself to think of them for so long because it hurt too much. But now…

"You weren't looking for me." This time it was an accusation, performed in a weak voice but an accusation nonetheless.

Eli lowered his eyes. "Yes. I'm sorry Ziva."

Again the memory. Rule number… which one was it?

"Why?"

oOo

"You know for how long you are here now? She stays silent. "No? Well then my dear Miss David – oh, may I call you Ziva?" He grinned. "It's five weeks now. And no one is coming for you. They left you here to rot, because you're unworthy, Zi-va. Even your own father agrees." His grin is vicious now. "You surely are a smart girl, aren't you? You must have realized no one is coming for a heroic rescue. They have forgotten about you. And you will stay here until you've told me everything. So, let's continue.

She woke up feeling so utterly hopeless.

oOo

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The next time Ziva woke she was confused. Memory came back quickly and this time she was alone so she concentrated on her surrounding rather than a visitor. Numerous machines were around her, some working, some shut off. The room was white and impersonal, the smell antiseptic and she hated it already. Sighting she shifted her weight. A sharp pain sparked through her ribs and leg. She hissed and reached for the sheets to lift it and looked at her left leg. It was covered from foot to knee in a plaster cast. Ziva cursed quietly. She knew what that meant. No walking, bed rest or wheelchair for half an eternity. She couldn't decide what was more despicable. Drawing her eyes from the leg, she looked down at the rest of her body. It seemed to be more bandage than skin. She shuddered.

Soon a female doctor came and checked her over and had a look on some of the machines as well. The whole time she talked quietly to her, explaining what she was doing. She was competent, friendly and not pitying her but Ziva felt highly uncomfortable when she stood too close and soon had enough of her probing and pressing in her skin, bandage or casts. The doctor seemed to notice her unease and left after short time.

A few minutes later a nurse brought a tray with food and a load of pills for her to swallow. Ziva did it reluctantly under her vigilant watch. The food was some soup with a small piece of soft bread and a fruit salad. It wasn't much but after plain rice and sometimes bread it could as well be a lavish feast. Despite the nurse's warning ('Please eat slowly') the only thing that slowed her down was her broken wrist.

After she finished her stomach hurt but she was still hungry. To distract herself, she continued to inspect the room. Next to her on the bedside table laid a mobile phone and a written message.

If you want to contact some friends

Ziva picked it up and was halfway dealing Tony's number before she stopped. No, she had accused him of cold blooded murder, she had hurt him, had not explained anything, she had withheld information about Michael, forced Gibbs to choose between them…

The phone revealed it was the 24th of August that means she had not contacted them for months. Of course, it had been impossible she knew that, but they didn't. What if they had moved on and did not want to deal with her again? But no, Gibbs would understand, wouldn't he?

Ziva gathered all her courage and dialed Gibbs' number.

Duud… duud… duud… duud… it was answered at the fourth ring.

Gibbs. The gruff voice was still the same.

"Gibbs… it is Ziva…"

Silence… Ziva!?

She bit her lip. "Yes."

You're alive? You survived the Damocles?

She blinked. "I did – yes. How do you know about that?"

We had not heard from you too long. We started our own investigation.

They had looked for her. Even after… She felt even guiltier.

What happened, Ziva? Now he sounded worried.

Ziva took a deep breath. "I… we got off the ship before it sank. Then… I was captured in Somalia by… the man I was to kill. Later, another terror cell… claimed me. On their way back, Mossad ambushed them and found me." Her heartbeat raced after the short recall.

Are you hurt?

"I am fine," she deflected.

Ziva.

She bit her lips again. "Some broken bones and bruises. Perhaps an infection."

Where are you?

"Tel Aviv. In some hospital."

Find it out which on, then tell me. We are coming.

Indefinable emotions rose in her. Guilt, happiness and a whole lot more. Still, she did not want to be a burden. "Gibbs, you do not need to…"

Don't you argue with me! We'll be there tomorrow.

"Thanks" she whispered.

Take care.

oOo

She is outnumbered and shoved to the ground, the weight of multiple men suffocating her. They press her head to the uneven dirt floor and small stones scratch her cheek. The sit on her arms and legs, on her back and a choked scream comes out of her throat as hot stabbing pain pulsates from her ribs.

She woke wide eyed.

oOo

It revealed much of Ziva's physical condition that she did not notice Malachi coming inside. Exhaustion, stress and injuries of the last months finally took their toll.

Malachi waited almost one hour before he decided to come back later. Her voice stopped him before he could open the door. "Malachi." It sounded husky and surprised.

He spun around. "Ziva. How are you?"

Ziva shrugged her shoulders and winced in pain instantly.

"Ziva!" Malachi hurried over.

She flinched, and a hint of panic appeared in her feature before she managed to control it.

Malachi froze. His shoulders slackening, he sat down on a chair. "I… I wanted to apologize, Ziva." He looked up to her and she couldn't read his expression.

"I should never have left you go on alone… It's my fault. You were alone and then captured and I can't imagine what…" He swallowed. "And now we owe it to chance alone that you were found… I'm so sorry, Ziva."

.

Later Amit Hadar came in with a young man – almost a boy – on his heels.

"It is good to see you awake, Ziva. How are you?"

Irritation flickered in her eyes. "You all keep asking that. Don't you have another line?"

Hadar smiled. "Ziva, still full of fire."

He put his hands on the shoulders of the boy. "This is Benji Silberstein, my protégé. He was the one who found you."

The boy avoided looking at her bandages. „I am glad you are better, Officer David."

"Ziva." She answered, "and… thank you."

Hadar dropped a bag on a chair next to her bed. "Your father sends you this. Some books and clothes and I don't know what else. Have a look yourself."

oOo

She is alone. Trapped in the small room, left waiting for someone to come. Sometimes she hears them passing outside, their footsteps heavy. Every time she tenses, hoping they won't stop, hoping they won't come in. The past weeks have taught her to fear the door opening.

For them it's amusing, funny even, to hit at the door while passing and every bang makes her recoil, never knowing if they come inside. Their laughter is an indicator, but she does not trust it completely. She trusts nothing and nobody here, not even herself. She knows what her future holds: pain and humiliation and betrayal and death.

Most times she is alone, alone with herself as only company and she increasingly can't stand herself anymore. Sometimes she wonders if the maddening guilt-ridden thoughts might outrace the terrorists in terms of breaking her.

She woke up to loneliness.

oOo

The next morning Ziva was nervous to the core. Her team would come today, her former team to say the truth. Beside Gibbs, who would come? The inner team probably, so Tony and McGee. Abby? Perhaps. Ducky? Jimmy? Did they still consider her part of them? Was she still a friend? (They wouldn't fly halfway around the world if she was nothing to them, right?) They had not forgotten her, no, Gibbs said they had looked for her. Still, was their memory of her filled with friendship or did it consist of shattered trust and intentional or unintentional misunderstandings? Had they looked for her out of duty or out of concern? Gibbs had sounded worried, though. He had asked about her injuries. Although she couldn't suppress the rising warm feeling completely, Ziva balled the fist of her good hand. Even Gibbs had immediately thought of her as hurt. They would see her as a victim, a frigging helpless victim, she thought bitterly. Hell, whole Mossad must see her as one. They had saved her – no, they had found her – and now hand-picked doctors treated her and everything they diagnosed, every wound, every broken bone, everything would eventually land on her father's desk and who knew where else. And worse, they would interrogate the surviving terrorists. All they knew would increase the stack of papers about her. All that couldn't be derived from her physical injuries. How they spat at her, how they called her a dirty Jew, how they degraded her, how she cried as they intentionally broke her leg after she got hold of a gun, shot one of them, injured another and tried to escape. Mossad would learn everything, would dug into intimate details, disregarding her will. At the same time, she felt guilty for being angry at them. Would she rather be at the mercy of Al Hari? If they had not found her…

While the morning passed by, her tension increased, and the room started to feel like a prison. The nurses and doctor mostly chose to ignore her temper and went on in their routine, only offered her a ride in the wheelchair through the secured inner courtyard. Ziva accepted it grudgingly. The room and the thoughts were driving her up the wall.

The call to Gibbs yesterday had exhausted her but it was nothing compared to waiting for their arrival. Ziva sat in the bed, hands around a randomly picked book, in which she had not read one line. Seconds became minutes and minutes became hours, but the time seemed to slow down. She felt like a nervous wreck.

Finally, the door opened.

And the tense silence was shattered by their words and hugs and cries and laughs.

Her team. Her family.

Did I mention I like reviews? :)