Red, thin liquid dripped down her head as it hit the hard, dirty concrete beneath her. The coolness of the ground eased the pain thumping at the front of her cranium and she closed her eyes, waiting for the sound of whips to end. She could feel the marks on her back become deeper and the blood begin to pool at her side. The man that stood behind her finally exiting her body leaving her to feel numb and broken. The head of the men, gripped her chin and slapped her cheek with his other hand while he praised her for being "a good little whore" for his men. She heard him tell the others to leave before grabbing her neck. He asked if she would do the same for him, his fingers pressing roughly into the side of her neck. She contemplated how to fight back and her tongue swirled around her dry mouth, collecting all the saliva she could quickly produce before spitting in his face. There wasn't much saliva there after being starved and thirsty from being held captive here in the desert for what seemed like an eternity, but there was enough to make him mad and she knew she would pay the consequences.
He slapped her across the face before punching her directly in the eye and she screamed out in agony. Her left eye refused to open after this, the swelling and bruising taking over quickly. His hands went down to unbuckle his pants and she tried to move away from him, but her hands were tied to tight to the pole above her that she couldn't go anywhere far. Rough, large hands threw her body onto the ground, her ribs hitting the ground and she heard a crack. The searing pain that overtook her made her sees stars, her hearing coming and going and she finally screamed when he entered her, dry. He held her down as he proceeded to rape her, again. She tried to squirm away, but he threw her head into the ground and she cried out. There was no way she would ever win this war. She would die here and no one would ever know, but her father. Maybe that was for the better. It is not like anyone ever cared that much for her anyways. She was and would always be the heartless assassin that never had a future, or someone to love. Her mind drifted, numb to the world as her forehead moved up and down on the concrete. There was a pool of blood around her body and she knew that this might be the end because he would take his time with her as a punishment.
Soon enough to her advantage, the door to her cell kept jingling. The metal kept hitting other pieces of metal as one of his men tried to get in and were yelling for his help. She recalled one of the men yelling that there were intruders in their camp and she thrashed away from the man on top of her. Luckily enough, the cell door kept jingling as she thrashed and the man quickly removed himself from inside of her, putting himself away before leaving to go help his men. She lay there on the cold ground, head throbbing and hearing going in and out.
Ziva's eyes flashed open, sweat beads running down her face along with a steam of black makeup. Her heart raced and she looked around, realizing she was in a hotel room in Lucca. Her legs had kicked the covers off in the wake of her nightmare so, little goose bumps had developed on her flesh.
It had been twelve hours since she had arrived in Lucca, the Puccini would be starting in another twelve. Her heart hurt. He had not shown like she thought he would or perhaps McGee could not even convince him to come. But, hell. Should she really be surprised? He hated her the first time Adam happened, he probably only hated her more for the second, the last time.
Her stomach grumbled and she realized she had not eaten anything since she was in Tel Aviv. But, she was too lazy and depressed to even think of moving. Not to mention, she did not get any sleep while she was at this hotel so, she settled her head back down on the feathered pillow and closed her eyes.
Drifting back into where she didn't want to be, she heard the jingling of her cell door once more. If there were intruders, this would definitely be the end. The jingling continued on and Ziva's body instinctively reached under the hotel pillow and grabbed the barrel of the gun.
Her body shot out of bed when realization set in that the jingling was coming from the hotel door, not her head. She flipped the gun around, breathing heavily and aiming at the figure who turned the corner.
"Christ," The figure blurted out, "The fucking card wouldn't open the door."
Ziva stared at him and began to shake, tears flowing down her face once again. She dropped the gun, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She kept repeating the phrase over and over and she dashed over to the figure. Her head buried into the figure's chest, her hands gripping the base of their shirt, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
The figure stood still, hands at their side and not moving as Ziva continuously apologized, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. They're back, Tony. They're back!" She screamed out, clutching his shirt even tighter and trying to get as close to him as she possibly could.
"Who's back?" Tony questioned, looking around the hotel room and noticed the covers on the ground and the pillows spread out all over the bed.
"Saleem and his men, Tony!" She wailed, trying to wrap herself around him.
And in that second, Anthony Dinozzo's heart shattered into a million pieces. One of his arms wrapped around her waist while the other came across her shoulders and to her heard. He slowly stroked his fingers through her hair, snuggling her into his chest before whispering, "How long have the nightmares been back?"
"Since you left Israel." Her voice was muffled through his shirt.
He pulled her head back to look at her face and noticed she had bags under her eyes. Her small bit of eye makeup was smudged down her face from crying and her curly hair was all over the place. Tony sighed, "You haven't slept at all, I can tell. Come on," He pointed his hand towards the bed and let go of her. She walked towards the bed and waited as he fixed the comforter and blankets back to where they belonged. "Get in," he cooed and helped tuck her side in.
"I do not-" Ziva began, but Tony interrupted her.
"My bladder is telling me to hurry, I promise I'll be right back." He smirked before disappearing into the hotel bathroom.
Moments later, he came back out and found his bag that he had dropped onto the hotel floor. Opening it up, he took out a sweatshirt and sweat pants that he quickly changed into. He zipped up his bag, yawning in the process and walked over to the side of the bed. Throwing back the covers, he stared at the women on the other side. The brown pools that he loved to stare into were wide, nervousness reflecting off of them. Tony slowly climbed into the bed, facing her.
"If we go to sleep, we will miss the show?" Her voice came out in a low whisper.
"No. Puccini doesn't start for another 10 hours." He smiled, noticing her expression not changing. "Get over here," he moved closer to her and she unsurely moved towards him, stifling when his arm draped over her hip. "It's just me…" Tony whispered, rubbing small circles on her back, "go to sleep. I'm right here. You're safe"
To that, she closed her eyes and laid her head in the crook of his neck and half on his chest. Her breath fanned on his neck and he smiled, kissing her temple.
"You have always kept them away, Tony." Ziva stated matter of factly to him and within a few minutes, he felt her breath steady out indicating she was finally asleep. Tony looked around the hotel room and his eyes flashed upon a vase with the dozen red roses he had bought for her days earlier. He laughed to himself as he noticed their half dead, half smushed state and he wondered how the hell she managed to get them here to Italy. He realized in this moment how much the roses had symbolized the women in his arms. Yeah, they had been bruised, smushed and torn through their whole life, but they were still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. He would spend the rest of his life making sure he watered and cared for that rose, even though a few thorns had plucked him along the years. She was his and always would be the ripe, glistening rose that meant more to him than anything and he would make sure his she wouldn't get torn apart anymore.