Title: Resolution

Rating: K+

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: This is a collaboration with my daughter Erin, who is a Tiva fan. She is also (in my unbiased opinion, lol) a great writer. This story is set several months after my fic "I'm Not Sorry" and the Gabby parts continue that storyline.

A/N2: In the last chapter I indicated that Tony doesn't know Spanish, but I found out that isn't true. Still, I hope you'll play along with me. :) Just for this story.

Ziva walked through the house, keeping her eye on every shadow. She could hear music playing in the back room and assumed that Mariluz was there. Not wanting to disturb her to ask her permission, Ziva went into her bedroom to look for her phone. She checked the floor, the dresser, even under the bed in case it had slid underneath, but could not find it. And she needed to talk to Tony as soon as possible. Maybe Mariluz had picked it up, not knowing it was hers, and set it somewhere. Ziva knocked on the door to the back room and opened the door slowly.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Ms. Guererra, but have you seen—" Ziva paused in surprise. Mariluz was not there. A Bible was open on a chair across the room and an IPod attached to speakers was playing soft worship music. There was no sign of a struggle.

Ziva spun around and aimed her gun at the hallway. She saw no one. She stood there for a moment, listening, trying to hear anything above the pounding of blood in her ears. There would be time for chastising herself for failing in the field of duty later. Think, she told herself. Focus on what to do now. There were no windows or other doors out of the room. So if someone had come in and taken Mariluz, they must have first taken her out of that room and through the rest of the house. But surely she would have heard that! Maybe they were still in the house. But she could not follow protocol and call for back up; she would have to do it herself. Then she started searching room to room. She checked the hall closet, then Mariluz's room, although she had just been in there, and went into Martín's room. There was no one there, but she had to check the closet too.

When she opened it, her eyes widened with surprise. Martín had made it into a chapel of sorts and, according to what Ziva knew about the two branches of Christianity, nothing in this room was associated with Protestantism. A crucifix hung against the back wall; the rest of the wall space consisted of pictures of saints. Mary had her own small shrine in the corner. Beside it was a candle, and matches. And on the table in front of it…Ziva crept closer and picked up the short string of beads with a crucifix at the end. They were identical to the beads that she and McGee had found at the crime scene. What were they doing here, if they were in fact the rest of the rosary? Ziva picked them up; drops of dried blood were clearly visible.

She had, of course, heard the footsteps behind her and turned as a thick, muscular hand reached out for her. She kicked his hand away and against the doorframe and then aimed her gun at him. In the dim light of the room, she could see that she was surrounded by at least five men. Where had they all come from? And how could she be so stupid? Now she was trapped, with only a closet behind her and no means of escape. They would probably kill her. But not without a fight. She shot the first man in the face easily; as he fell, she aimed her gun at the others. Then she saw a flash of long black hair and a smaller form; Mariluz. She hesitated, not wanting to fire at her. Simultaneously, her gun hand was grabbed and twisted and she was kicked in the stomach, stealing her breath. The gun dropped to the ground. She kicked back and felt her foot make contact with someone's face. She struggled to free her hand, but suddenly they were all on her, knocking her to the floor. She tried to get up, tried to grab the gun, but someone's foot was on her hand, cracking the bone, it felt like. Hopefully they would just shoot her and get it over with. Then she saw her. Mariluz was standing there in front of her.

"I'm sorry," Ziva said to her. Then Mariluz's face changed. It was horrific. It twisted and contorted with hatred and malice. She hissed something obscene in Spanish that Ziva would not have translated. Ziva stared at her, unable to believe her eyes. This could not be the same woman who had been crying for love of her country an hour before.

"Matala," she said to the men around her. A knee pressed into her back, constricting her chest, and then something was pulled tight around her neck, something sharp. Her vision started to dim. She heard voices talking in Spanish, but couldn't understand. Her lungs gasped for air, but the more she struggled, the more the cord cut into her neck. She could feel blood dripping down. Her head felt like it was being squeezed and she was starting to lose consciousness. Then the pressure loosened a little and she gulped in what air she could. A cloth was placed over her mouth and nose, with a smell that made her feel dizzy.

"No," she heard a voice say. "Hazla sufrir, como Cristo cuando su pueblo le mataron." Then the cloth was removed and the cord pulled tight again. She fought to free her hands, but couldn't; whoever was holding her was too strong. Then she could feel nothing and knew that she was about to die. Her body went limp. Her eyes could see nothing but dim shapes. Her hands were released, but she couldn't use them. She was being thrown and heard rather than felt the back of her head hit the wall. She heard rustling and saw bright orange in front of her. The closet was on fire. She could only hope that she would die before the fire got close to her. She was still trying to breathe, but got nothing but smoke. She heard new voices, some that she knew. McGee! Was he here? Was she hallucinating? Then more voices; she seemed to be moving. Death? But, no, there was air; she could hear herself gasping. The smoke was gone and now feeling was starting to come back. Hands were moving her; something was around her neck and she still couldn't see. She was being carried and could feel every step. Then light, then it disappeared again. She felt something over her face and felt cold gas rushing into her mouth. The chloroform again? She tried to lift her hand and found that she could; she reached up and touched her face and felt a plastic mask. It was an oxygen mask and she was in an ambulance. Her vision was clear. Lights shone in her eyes; her neck stung where the gauze under the plastic C-collar was pressing on the wound and the back of her head was starting to hurt like all hell.

"What happened?" she tried to ask the EMT. It came out garbled and croaky and it felt like knives were being run down her throat.

"What is your name, ma'am?" he asked her.

"Officer David, NCIS," she managed to say. "What happened in there? Did she—she didn't—"

"It's better if you don't talk, ma'am. Open your mouth please." Ziva did what she was asked. "I don't see any burns in her mouth," he said to the other EMT. "She's alert and oriented. Pulse ox is 97%. Can we take her off the O2?"

"Yeah, go ahead," the other said. "Watch her pressures and keep an eye on the bleeding. I'll go get the other one." The mask was removed from her face. She was starting to feel something close to normal, although terribly weak and her head was still killing her. The EMT told her to lay flat and not to move; they would be transporting her to a local hospital to check for spinal injuries. No one would tell her anything. A few minutes later, one of the men helped another person in, then shut the door and she felt the ambulance start to move. Ziva moved her head as much as she could to see who it was over the C-collar; it was a young woman that she had never seen before. Her head and wrists were bandaged.

"Are you with NCIS?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Ziva replied hoarsely. "Officer David."

"I'm Salome Coen," the girl said. "You must be the one that Agent DiNozzo told me about last night. It was me that you heard tapping on the window. Are you—ok?" Then she shook her head and looked down. "Stupid question, I guess. I saw what they tried to do to you."

"I—think I will be fine," Ziva said. "You saw? You were there?"

"Yes," she said. "I—I knew Martín. I got a text message on my phone last night after the agent took me home from him that told me to come to his house. I honestly thought he was still alive. Seems ridiculous now. And when I got here, they—they grabbed me and took me to the basement and tied me up and—the woman—I guess it was Martín's sister, Agent DiNozzo just told me last night that he even had a sister."

"Had you never met her?"

"No. He never mentioned it. I don't think—how could they be related? I mean, you saw her!" Salome went silent and stared out the window. "Could we talk about this later, Officer David? I know your throat must hurt." Something in the way she said Ziva's name was familiar.

"Salome Coen?" she asked, for clarification, and the girl nodded. "Are you Jewish?"

"Well, depends on your definition, I guess. I'm a Messianic Jew. I joined the Catholic Church when I was in college. Martín and I went to the same church, in fact; that's where I knew him from. It's a long story; one that I'm always willing to tell, but you probably don't want to hear it right now. And you must be Jewish; you have an Israeli accent."

"As do you; just a hint though. How long did you live there?"

"About five years, until I was seventeen. Then we came back because my father thought it was getting too dangerous. Are you a native?"

"I was in Mossad," Ziva said. "And transferred to NCIS as a liaison of sorts. Also a long story." She paused and thought for a moment. "I thought that Martín had converted to Protestantism."

"That's what he apparently told everyone," Salome said. "I guess his sister found out he wasn't serious about it."

"What did she do?" Salome averted her eyes and bit her lip.

"In the basement, she—said things. About him and me. Called us 'debaucherers with the whore of Babylon'. Said we only deserved to die for betraying Christ. And since I was also a Jew, I was doubly guilty. When she burned up all of Martín's things, she was going to throw me in too." Her voice began to shake and quiet tears rolled down her face. "She told me what she had done to Martín—and what she was going to do to you. I saw her when she—" Salome brought her hand to her neck. Cold horror rushed over Ziva as she realized what Salome was saying, that Mariluz had been the one trying to strangle her. Salome saw her reaction. "You had no idea."

"No," Ziva said, quietly. "The thought never entered my mind." Idiot, she said to herself. You never should have gotten so involved. You should have seen something like this coming.

The rest of the drive was quiet. Her mind ran in circles. She wanted to talk to Tony and get a clear picture of what was going on; who Mariluz had been working with, how they had found out in time. She couldn't put all the pieces together in her head. Salome stared out the window the whole time, trying to hide the tears that continued to flow.

When they arrived at the hospital, Salome suddenly gave her a look of desperation.

"Would you—," she said hesitantly. "Would you maybe let me know what happened? I mean, when this is all over and you find out yourself."

"Considering that you were assaulted as well and are a witness," Ziva said, "believe me, we will be contacting you."

"I gave Agent DiNozzo my phone number," she said. "I hope you feel better." The EMT opened the doors and helped Salome down and led her into the ER.

Ziva was taken immediately to X-ray her spine and hand. Her hand was fractured, but her spine was not, so they took the C-collar off , bandaged her neck and told her to keep her hand still until the ER doctor could see her. He was occupied with another trauma so, since she was stable, she would have to wait for some time. She wanted to know if Tony or McGee was there, but no one would give her any information.

"They're not patients," she finally said, after a nurse tech recited the HIPAA laws to her. "At least I don't think so. I work with them." The tech told her he would check the waiting room. Ziva sighed. He'd better be here, she thought. Gibbs, at least, would be here.

**********************************

Tony strode into the ER waiting room only a few seconds after the nurse tech had asked if there was an Agent DiNozzo or McGee there.

"I'm Agent DiNozzo," he said. "This for Officer David?" The tech nodded for him to follow and took him to Ziva's cubicle. The curtain was open, so he could see her when he was a little ways down the hall, sitting on the ER bed, arms folded, looking angry. Her face was pale and below her ears, where the bandage didn't reach, the ligature mark could be easily seen. Tony did his best to disguise his emotional reaction to this. He had gotten her into that situation. If he and McGee hadn't gotten there in time…

McGee. He just remembered. Stopping for a moment in the hallway, he called McGee and apologized (in his own way) for leaving him in the car and told him to come in. When he turned around to enter the cubicle, Ziva had noticed him and was glaring at him, arms still crossed. They both spoke at the same time.

"Are you ok?"

"Tony, what the hell is going on?" Tony smiled and chuckled bitterly. Even after a near-death experience, same old Ziva.

"Tell me!" Ziva demanded. "What happened to Mariluz? She looked—" Her expression changed, grew more disturbed. "She looked demon-possessed. And that girl, Salome, tells me that she tried to kill me."

"That's about it," Tony told her. "When we got there, she and her henchmen were about to torch the closet with you in it and were going to throw Salome in there too. Believe it or not, as of last night, Salome was my main suspect. She had this beaded thing, looked like what Ducky described as the missing piece of the rosary."

"I think I found that in Martín Guererra's closet," Ziva said.

"Yeah, we got it once we got the fire out and arrested everyone."

"Why did you show up in the first place?"

"The house was bugged all over; McGee traced it and we heard what was going on over there. It was how she kept in contact with her little group of other religious fanatics, who were hiding out so her brother wouldn't know anything, and how she found out that her brother was still Catholic. About that, the best I can figure out is that they were both dissatisfied with the religious situation in Venezuela, although in different ways. And I don't think he knew quite how crazy she was. Of course he found out—when she strangled him." Tony smiled mirthlessly.

"You mean she—she killed her brother?"

"Yeah. They had some idea of using him to negotiate with her father to get rid of the Catholics in her country. But it seems that she got a little overzealous. They were only supposed to knock him out with chloroform; he was suffocated and then strangled, with a rosary piece lodged in his neck." Ziva's hand went to her bandaged neck.

"Tony, did she—"

"Steal your necklace, wind it around an electrical cord and try to use it to kill you? Yeah. Some kind of fixation she's got with religious symbols; the usual crazy stuff. We've got it in Evidence. Once it gets cleaned up we'll get it back to you." Ziva sat back, looking shaken.

"She did all that," she said, "just because he was Catholic and she was Protestant?"

"That woman is sick," Tony told her. "That kind of thing doesn't happen every day. But yeah, it can get ugly."

"I know," she said. "I've seen ugly. But this—they were both Christians, no?"

"Yeah, well," Tony said, choosing his words carefully. "There are some that say that the Jews and the Muslims worship the same God and have the same father and the war is a family feud that's gotten—er, a little out of hand."

"I have heard that," Ziva said. "I believe it to some degree myself. But—," she stared off into space for a moment. "I never saw it, Tony. I never suspected, not for a minute. She was a different person when I talked to her. A very good liar, I suppose."

"I know," Tony said. "All sweet and everything, offering us coffee. Damn," he said, shaking his head. "How messed up do you have to be to kill your own brother, over something like that." Lost in thought, he didn't see Ziva look at him out of the corner of her eyes, then down at the floor. After a minute, he looked at her, then looked concerned. "You're bleeding, Ziva."

"Am I? Where?" She reached for her neck.

"No, it's—it's back here, your head." He grabbed a piece of gauze on the table in the corner and reached to wipe the blood off of her. "They should probably get you a bandage for that." Her hair was soft to his touch. Looking at her, feeling her hair under his fingers, provoked something in him. A feeling that had nothing to do with sex, for once. She had almost died. Tony got just a hint of what it would feel like to never be able to see her or touch her again. He wanted to grab hold of her and not let go, just so he would never have to feel that. Of course, if he hadn't been such an idiot and put her in danger, she wouldn't be there. Emotions that Tony barely knew the names of, much less how to handle, were starting to come into conflict. Ziva reached back and took the gauze from him and he withdrew his hand.

McGee came in just then. It had taken him some time to find a parking place; Tony had simply driven up to a handicapped spot near the ER entrance, parked, and gotten out, leaving McGee to find a legal parking spot.

"Hey, Ziva," he said. "How are you?"

"As good as can be expected. Thanks to you two, I take it."

"Hey!" Tony said. "How come he doesn't get the third degree?"

"Well, you already answered all my questions, Tony. Not to mention that he was the one who actually traced the bug."

"And I arrested 'em. Eight huge guys, could have been professional wrestlers."

"There were five and you had three other agents with you, Tony." Tony gave McGee the 'I'm going to hit you later' smile.

A head poked around the curtain; it was the ER doctor, there to examine her.

"I will come out when I'm done," Ziva said.

"We'll be waiting." Tony left and McGee followed.