A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciated it. Sorry to take so long getting this chapter up, but I was trying to figure out where to go with the next few chapters. I'm also trying to figure out if I want a few more hints at Tiva, or just stick more with friendship. Haven't quite worked that out yet. Anyway, on with the show, here's the next chapter. As always I appreciate any comments you all have. -Flygirl

Chapter 6

Ziva jumped nearly out of her skin at the slamming of the door. Her brief respite broken, as a burly man, maybe six-foot, stormed into the room. She barely made the effort to even look at him. The small wiry man from earlier came in a little more calmly after him. Oh great, this should be fun, Ziva thought wryly.

"Abby, what've you got?"

"I'm sorry Gibbs. I can't think of any way to track who's picking up this signal. Anyone with an iPhone could pick up the signal the chip is emitting, assuming they were in range."

"Alright, we'll just do this the old-fashioned way."

McGee gave him a confused look. "The old-fashioned way, boss?" Abby and Tony looked equally bewildered.

Gibbs scoffed a little at his team, "Yeah, McGee, counter-surveillance. DiNozzo, get Sara Harrigan's team down here, that Wilson girl could pass as Ziva." They still looked confused. "We're going to lay a trap, find out our mystery photographer." Three heads started nodding simultaneously.

"Oh, why didn't you just say so Gibbs."

"Right, boss."

"Ah, that's a good plan."

Smack! Crash! Four sets of eyes snapped up to the center monitor. Ziva was laid out on the floor of the interrogation room, chair on its side behind her, a hand gently probing her face, as a heavy-set man advanced upon her. Soon the man had Ziva back on her feet and had thrown her bodily against the back wall. Ziva's face contorted in pain when his left thumb found the bullet wound on her thigh and ground down. His lips near her ear, he whispered something inaudible to the camera.

"Uh oh," Tony said as a murderous glint entered Ziva's eyes and her face hardened, all traces of exhaustion gone in an instant. The next moment, the big man was on his knees, left hand twisted awkwardly above his head, his other hand protectively over his groin. The thin man behind the table was yelling to someone behind the observation glass. Ziva leaned down to whisper something into the big man's ear, as her tongue flicked out to lick his earlobe provocatively. She was still laughing when the door crashed open, an agent charging at her like a linebacker trying to sack the quarterback. The impact against the floor was hard and Ziva stopped resisting. Two more agents flooded into the room; one helped the now whimpering man off the floor, the other to help physically haul Ziva none-too-gently to the table. The chair was righted and Ziva forced to sit in it, each of her ankles cuffed to a leg of the chair. Her right wrist was slapped into handcuffs, the other end attached to the center of the table.

"DiNozzo, go get Harrigan's team." Gibbs looked over at his senior field agent, who was biting his bottom lip worriedly. Gibbs' voice softened somewhat, "Tony, Harrigan's team."

"Uh, yeah boss, on it."

On the screen, the thin man gave a quick flick of his head toward the door, effectively dismissing the three agents who had restrained Ziva. The other man was still groaning quietly and rubbing his wrist in the corner.

"You're just making things harder on yourself, Miss David. And I don't think Lucco here," indicating the heavier man, "appreciated that last little stunt of yours." He slid a piece of paper across the desk. "You can make this all end, just sign." He tapped the paper for emphasis.

Ziva remained silent, but her expression told her interrogator exactly where she thought he could shove his confession. "Okay, the hard way then." A nod of his head, Lucco's meaty fist connecting with the tender gunshot wound. Taken by surprise, Ziva couldn't contain the cry of pain that escaped her lips. She doubled over, taking a few calming breaths.

Finally lifting her head, she turned to Lucco chuckling, "You are just pissed that I kicked your ass a minute ago." Crack! A swift left hook slammed into the side of Ziva's already broken face. Her head lolled forward, unconscious.

Abby cried out in despair, tears welling in her eyes, "Gibbs, what is she doing? Why is she provoking them?"

Because she wants the pain. Because she feels guilty for a great many things that aren't her fault. Gibbs had been there before, especially when Shannon and Kelly had been murdered. Taking one look at Abby crying softly on McGee's shoulder, Gibbs knew a vacation was in order once they got through this shit. Ziva's interrogators had already crossed the line of physically assaulting her, a line he was legally bound not to cross. A really bad feeling clenched in his gut; he was worried how far this interrogation would go. Instead of voicing his thoughts to Abby, though, another idea formed in his mind, "Abs, you are recording this right?"

The young scientist sniffled a little before giving him a slightly skeptical look, "Of course, Gibbs. I've been recording it since they first brought Ziva to interrogation yesterday. In fact," she typed a few commands in the keyboard, "they're not even recording anymore right now in the observation room. I guess Mulroney doesn't want the evidence of what a bastard he really is."

Ziva jerked back to consciousness as the pungent odor of smelling salts hit her concussion-addled brain. Bastards, she thought bitterly, couldn't they just leave her be for five minutes.

"Welcome back, Miss David," Skinny said conversationally. "I'm assuming you still don't want to sign this confession of all your crimes?" In response, Ziva just spit some blood from her mouth onto the floor. "I'll take that as a 'no.'" A glare in his direction. "We'll try something different then, hmm. We'll start at the very beginning, with the first person whose death you are responsible for." Gently, he placed a photo within reach of her fingertips; she drew the photo towards her, running a finger delicately over the face of a smiling young girl. Her breath hitched in her throat, as she tried to reign in her emotions.

"She was waiting for you at the café; you never came. You were what? Making out with a boy behind your school theater?" An ugly sneer appeared on the man's face, "Poor Tali, dead because of her sister's mistakes."

Ziva attempted, even handcuffed as she was, to lunge across the table separating her from her interrogator. A quick punch to her kidney from Lucco stopped her attempt short. The wiry man gave her a tight smile as he reached into his briefcase to pull out a sheet of lined paper. "Let's make a list, shall we? Of all the people who have died as a result of your actions; of all your victims. Now, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and not include the assassinations you conducted that were directly commissioned by the Mossad. We'll assume most of those individuals needed killing." He laughed a bit, "It'd be a pretty long list, otherwise. It probably still will, now won't it?" He paused for a moment, Ziva had returned to staring at the picture of her younger sister Tali. "That wasn't a rhetorical question, Miss David." The man glanced at Lucco; another kidney shot.

"I'm sorry, I am having trouble concentrating with Tweedle Dumb here beating on me every few minutes." Another hit, this one to the ribs.

"I'm still waiting for an answer," the man said patiently, as if speaking to a small petulant child.

"Uh, what was the question again?" Slap! A cuff to the ear, which made her head ring.

Calmly, "Will it be a long list, of those you've killed?"

Ziva chuckled mirthlessly, "You know, I never thought you Americans had it in you, to beat a confession out of someone. I had you all pegged as gutless." An elbow to the mouth from Lucco; Ziva spit blood and a tooth onto her lap. She focused on the tooth and probed her gum line for the new gap, until another cuff to the ear got her attention back. She spit some more blood, "Aw, see, now I'm going to need dental work." Oh, shit, Gibbs thought darkly, Ziva seemed to be streaming her inner smartass. Lucco's fist to her face sent blood gushing out of her already broken nose; now it would need to be set again. Ziva looked genuinely dazed at that one, seeing as she already had a concussion. She coughed out some more blood, as she blinked rather rapidly in an attempt to regain her bearings.

When she did, she sent a smirk at Lucco, "Makes you feel like a real man, doesn't it? Hitting a woman?" She nodded her head and waggled her eyebrows, as if daring him to agree with her. Lucco's boot raking down her shin and onto her bare foot was his answer.

"Please answer the question, Miss David," the man asked in a kind voice.

She glared at him, "Or what? You'll go 'bad cop,' too? You spineless bastard." The chop of a hand against her throat left her sputtering for air. "No," she said quietly. Another hit to the kidney, this time she cried out, "Shit! I answered your damn question! No, it won't be a long list."

This time Lucco made the effort to smack the cast of her broken arm so hard onto the table as to crack the plaster upon impact. Ziva's scream of anguish filled the small room, followed by the sounds of her dry-heaving. She had nothing to vomit up except stomach acid and blood, her body shaking with the effort. Her toes even curled in pain as her body tightened in on itself as much as it could with the restraints. "Yes," she whimpered as waves of agony crashed over her. She didn't even raise her head.

Unperturbed, the man said, "Yes, what?"

Ziva flinched, in expectation of a blow that never came; Lucco wandering just behind her menacingly. "Yes, it will be a long list," she ground out between clenched teeth.

"Very good, Miss David, you're learning," he said patronizingly. He moved the piece of lined paper, along with a pen, next to her hand, while Lucco uncoiled her body and forced her to sit up in the chair. "Start on the first line, please." When she did nothing, Lucco made a show of grasping her broken arm again. She picked up the pen and slowly wrote 'Talia David' on the top line. She dropped the pen in disgust with herself.

The man riffled through his brief case, while studying the woman before him. She had finally cooperated with them. Nothing actionable of course, no one would really care that she blamed herself for the death of her sister who died at the hands of a Hamas suicide bombing. She probably knew that too and was just saving herself some pain. But it was still cooperation and eventually they'd make it back to the real matter at hand, but she needed to be broken down further before that happened. Shuffling some more papers, he found the file he wanted, "Now," he paused for dramatic effect, "snipers aren't supposed to miss are they?" He laid out a photo of a small girl, no older than ten, half of her face blown off.