Chapter Rating: T
Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse

It wasn't long before the guards were called inside for a change of shift, and Tony was being shuffled inside one of the dilapidated buildings with the others. He pulled the hat he was wearing lower over his face, in case anyone noticed that he wasn't the other guard, but thankfully nobody spared him a second glance or made any conversation with him.

The structure was less rundown on the inside, with high roof beams keeping it upright and a concrete floor. Light was scarce from the lack of windows and the air held an old, musty smell. Tony jumped when he realized a man was talking to him in another language, obviously Hebrew.

By the man's uniform, he could tell that whoever he was he was higher in rank than the guards. He grunted a string of unintelligible words at Tony before shoving him over to the right and towards a large, padlocked door. The man pulled a large metal ring filled with hundreds of keys from his pocket and inserted one into the lock. And finally, the door creaked open and Tony was thrown roughly inside, the door locked behind him. He took a second to take in his surroundings, and realized there were many sets of eyes upon him.

It was a cell.

Women sat on the ground cross-legged and lounged on bunk beds with thin mattresses. Their clothes were tattered and stained, their bones protruding from their skin. There were probably around twenty crammed into the room, of varying ages. A woman who looked to be around forty, with cropped black hair and beady eyes watched him from the corner. But most hauntingly, seven girls who couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen huddled together in a small group, clutching each other's wrists.

The room was silent, and the women eyed him warily. Tony's mouth opened and closed a few seconds before he was able to form words.

"Do any of you speak English?" he asked calmly, attempting not to scare any of them. Apparently that failed, as many of the women recoiled from his words and edged further towards the back of the dingy room. Tony didn't blame them. He was a man, someone who they had been trained to fear.

"I do," said a voice from the back of the room. After searching for a few seconds, Tony was met with the sight of a woman who looked to be around thirty years old. Her hair was dark and straight, though obviously knotted, her cheekbones high and her eyes small, dark and probing. A deep purple bruise ran around the left side of her throat, and if Tony looked hard enough, he was sure he'd find finger marks. "I am Monique. Who are you?"

"My name is Anthony DiNozzo. But you can call me Tony," he replied.

"We are not friends," she snapped in return. Tony blinked. "What do you want?" Monique questioned defensively.

"I want to help."

The woman's eyes narrowed further.

"Ha," she let out a humourless laugh. "That is what they said, is it not? 'Come with us, we will take care of you. We will keep you safe from the war. We only want to help."

Tony had no response to her.

"So what is it you really want then, huh?" she questioned, her voice quavering with anger. "Take your pick. What is your age preference? Do you like them young, innocent?" She grabbed the arm of a small girl nearby who squeaked slightly at the contact.

"Monique."

The hiss came from the back of the room, and Tony couldn't identify where it came from at first. Monique swayed slightly on the spot before letting the little girl go shakily. It was only afterwards that Tony was able to put a face to the voice.

Tony blinked when he realized that the woman who had spoken had been the one he'd seen outside. She leaned against the wall at the back of the room, her eyes narrowed and observing him through dark lashes. On closer inspection, the curls he had seen tumble over her shoulders were matted and messy, and that caramel tan was littered with bruises and old scars. But although she was dirty and way-too-thin, Tony could tell that the woman was stunning.

"What, Ziva?" said Monique.

"Get a hold of yourself," said the woman calmly, her eyes not leaving Tony. Monique quietened and slid down the brick wall and onto the ground, her eyes shining with tears.

Now Ziva spoke directly to Tony.

"You are not one of them," she said. It was a statement, not a question. She still eyed him distrustfully, warily. Tony nodded.

"Look, I'm not a guard. I'm-"

Tony was cut off by the door of the cell being slammed open and another guard standing in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room greedily, hungrily, and landed on a girl with waist-length hair who couldn't have been older than sixteen, curled in on herself in the corner. Her eyes widened with fear as he stormed over to her and grabbed her roughly by the forearm before yanking her out the door with him and slamming it behind him.

The girl didn't make a peep until the door was shut, and that was when he heard her scream. Tears burned at Tony's eyes and his heart plummeted and at that moment, it was the first time that he questioned if he could do this. If he could face this horror and know what was going on but have to sit idly by and do nothing about it for risk of blowing his cover. The other women looked solemn. But what scared him was how used to this they were now.

"Can I speak to you?" Tony questioned Ziva. She looked cautious but nodded and approached him. Tony noticed that she was a lot shorter than he had previously thought, the top of her head only just reaching his chin, and really slender. He looked directly at her. "I'm not a guard. You saw me break in and kill that guy." She pursed her lips and nodded once.

"I know. But just who are you then, Anthony DiNozzo?" she questioned. Tony blinked and shook off the fact that he enjoyed the way his name rolled off her accented tongue.

"I work for NCIS, it's a law enforcement agency in the US."

"You are police?" she inhaled, her eyes wide. "What are you doing? If they find out who you are they will kill you."

"I know. I'm here as part of an undercover operation. I'm gonna shut this thing down and get you all out of here," he said without a hint of doubt in his words.

He met the woman's deep chocolate eyes, and for a fraction of a second, he thought he saw a glimmer of hope. But then it was gone, replaced by a steely hardness.

"You are wasting your time," said Ziva coolly. "There is no hope for us. Go back to your home and forget."

And before he could say anything further, she had turned away from him and resumed her place on the floor against the back wall of the room. He watched as she pulled a small girl into her arms and stroked her hair comfortingly. While she lay in Ziva's lap, her eyes were trained on him. Scrutinizing, judging, worried, scared. These evil bastards had ruined these girls' lives… they would probably never be able to trust a man, or fall in love… or live past their twenties.

She nestled into Ziva's lap and closed her eyes, the tattered once-white dress the little girl wore riding up slightly as she did. And that was when he caught sight of the angry deep purple bruise on her inner thigh, in the perfect shape of fingers. Tony flinched at the sight. Ziva was now singing softly as she tied a dirty yellow ribbon in the girl's dark, wavy hair.

Yes, getting these women to trust him was going to be even harder than he had anticipated. But now he was so determined to get them out of here, that he knew he would move freaking mountains just to see them safe.

That night, Tony DiNozzo slept on a thin mattress on cold ground.

Not that he actually managed to sleep much. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of home, of McGee and Kate, and even Gibbs.

"You still there, Boss?" he asked quietly.

"Where else would I be, DiNozzo?"

At any other time, Tony would have made a sarcastic comeback. But no, where he was and what was going on around him had sobered the agent entirely.

"Can you hear that?" he whispered.

He was referring to the quiet sniffles and sobs coming from the sleeping girls in the room. Every now and then he would hear a whimper or small cry come from one of the younger girls, and an older one would hold them and whisper comforting things in their ear. Tony hated to admit it, but this whole situation was affecting him a lot more than he thought it would.

Gibbs sighed on the other end of the earpiece.

"Yeah. I can hear it."

Suddenly Tony sensed that he wasn't the only one awake anymore. Looking up, he noticed a figure sitting leaning against the back wall and staring up at the tiny lone window that the cell had. He got up quietly and approached her, sitting down beside her. Ziva didn't look away from the window.

"I miss the night," she said suddenly. When Tony didn't reply, she continued. "I have not been outside at night time for thirteen years."

She paused, still focusing on the tiny patch of night sky visible through the window. "I still remember what it smells like, what it tastes like. Dew and honeysuckle and jasmine."

"When you all get out of here, you'll see it again."

Ziva chuckled softly.

"Your optimism is touching," she said.

They were quiet for a while, when she spoke again.

"My little sister and I used to play outside at night time. Our father did not like it, but Talia enjoyed the peacefulness of it. The sounds of the night animals. She always did love animals."

"Did?" Tony asked softly, enquiring about the use of past tense. Ziva opened her mouth to answer but no sound came out. Obviously he had encroached on a subject that she was not comfortable with talking about. They sat in silence for the next few minutes, watching the moon slowly make its path across the sky.

"Do you really think you can save us, Anthony?" Now she had turned her head to look at him for the first time since this conversation had started, and the moonlight highlighted the marks on her skin. The cigarette burns on her shoulder, the finger marks on her throat, the gouges on her collarbone and the bite mark on her jawline.

"I know I can," was Tony's answer as he swallowed hard.

"You may be able to get us out of this cell," she said quietly, "But you cannot save us."

"Why not?"

Ziva met his gaze and smiled a hollow smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

"Because we are already dead."

Thanks for reading so far! I'll be updating pretty frequently over the next two weeks because I'm on school holidays, but after that it will be a lot more spaced out. :) A review would totally make my day! :3