Who knew the week before school goes back could be so busy? I really wish I didn't have to think about it until the morning it starts but apparently thats not an option.

Hopefully this chapter starts to explain things. I'm working towards wrapping things up so everything should start making sense in the next few chapters... I hope. Feel free to let me know if i'm failing miserably, OR if im not :)

Disclaimer: Hmm, how long until my birthday? Maybe I will get the rights to NCIS? until then, no such luck :/

She didn't pay much attention as he led her to his car, nor could she concentrate as he drove her to his apartment. She was too busy trying to sort out what was going on in her own head. She had told him too much already and yet something was telling her she could trust him with the rest.

He had always been the one she had to be careful around. She had never had trouble hiding her feelings, at least not until she had come to NCIS. She had adjusted to keeping things hidden around McGee, Abby, and even Gibbs over the past years but for some reason Tony always knew what was going on. She told herself it was because he was her partner, they had to know each other, but she had never had the problem with any of her Mossad partners and many of them had known her since she was a little girl. She had been getting better at keeping things to herself, learning to cover them up with teasing and jokes when she was around him, but she knew he still got glimpses of what was in her head.

Their recent case had been particularly hard. It brought back memories she didn't want to remember, memories that made it that much harder to stop the emotions coming through on her face.

Her first kill, the one that had that plagued her dreams for so many years. That still continued to pop up in her nightmares whenever she let her guard down and thought about that night. Since they began working this case two weeks ago this seemed to be every day.

Seeping,

Spreading,

Staining.

She watched, mesmerised, as the dark pool stretched out over the cold floor.

Couldn't take her eyes away.

It slinked around the cold, lifeless fingers and soaked into the grey material of his shirt

She remembered the way she had watched the life in the eyes of her childhood friend disappear. Her own doing.

She remembered the exact orders she had gotten from her father early in the morning, could still hear them in her head. "He has betrayed my trust, and this agency. Ziva, this is your turn, show me you can protect your country; end his deception."

And she had.

A line of the dark liquid trailed from between his now blue lips.

Her eyes followed its path as it ran down his cheek and dripped into the puddle, now threatening to reach her where she sat, staring at what lay in front of her.

Death.

Their case had been so similar, the young man had been silenced; a single bullet to the back of his head. He had never even seen it coming.

But it was not just the way he was killed that was reminiscent of her own kill, it was something else. Something about the young man had brought back the feelings she had experienced that night, the same night she realised that having these feelings only got in the way, they portrayed weakness. That was the night she had locked them away, she was not weak. She would give nobody reason to think otherwise.

It was his eyes, only once had she ever seen eyes that dark. In the eyes of the person she had grown up with, the one she had shared childhood secrets with and 'married' under the big tree in her backyard. When they were too old for that, he had been the one she trained with, the only one who had ever come close to matching her skill and grace in battle. And then, he had been the one whose life she took. The one whose eyes, even in death, reminded her of who she was. A killer.

She wanted to scream, she couldn't find the voice.

She wanted to cry, she couldn't find the tears.

What she really wanted, was to kill.

And she had.

After that first mission, after her feelings had been locked away for safe keeping, the killing had become easier. She had stopped questioning her father's motives and just followed orders, she did what she was told and she killed when she was told.

Until NCIS. Until him.

Okay guys, here's a little poem i wrote in your honour:

There once was a girl who would write,
She'd write though the day and the night.
Sometimes she'd write without shoes,
So please dearest readers press 'review'
;)