Chapter 20 - Traveling

Somewhere in the desert, Somalia

Gibbs POV

Ziva. She was clinging to Tony. She was alive. She was there. She and Tony were walking this way. They finally got to me and I reached out and hugged her. Her whole body flinched in my arms. I pulled back quickly and smoothly, returning her to Tony and noticed that she didn't flinch nearly as much when he took her in his arms as she did with me. She wasn't comfortable anywhere other than his arms. That told me that she had been through something very terrible while she was here, but she trusted him, which was important.

I turned without another word to any of them, holding a stern expression, and led them out of that horrible camp, which now seemed more terrible, realizing what Ziva might've been through. It was all I could do not to show emotions about this situation; Ziva was like a daughter to me and to know what they possibly did to her hurt terribly. The Jeep was waiting outside of the camp and I sat in the front, with a small nod to Tony as I left them. "Take a moment," I said quietly and sat down in the driver's seat, McGee sitting in the passenger seat next to me.

"What do you know, Gibbs?" McGee asked, glancing back at the two nervously.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. They were now sitting on the back of the truck and sitting closer than they ever would even before this horror had happened. I shook my head. "You're right," I said to him and thought back to his words.

"Those two are in deep," McGee said quietly.

"Let's go home," I replied softly, ignoring McGee's comment entirely.

McGee had no idea how right he was and that's all I could think. I could see the hurt in Ziva's eyes and imagine what she had been through and yet she was clinging to Tony as though her life depended on it now. She was trusting him and that was an important step and I only hoped Tony could see that she was trusting him fully.

Ziva POV

We were outside of the camp, finally. That was incomprehensible to me. I was free, at last, though hindered by the weakness I was feeling from months of malnourishment and abuse. Gibbs sat in the front of the Jeep and McGee followed him. Tony pulled me toward the back gently and handed me some water. I tried to open the bottle as I sat down and joined him, sitting a little closer to him than I otherwise would have done, needing to feel the safety of his presence as well as remember that this was reality now and I was safe.

I struggled for a moment with the lid of the water bottle. It was a simple task and I couldn't make my hand grasp the lid had enough to twist it open. A tear escaped my eyes from the effort and frustration; but, I kept trying until I felt Tony's hand around mine on the water bottle. I looked up slowly and another tear slipped from my eyes against my will. I relinquished my fight and gave Tony the water, feeling reluctant to admit defeat from a simple thing such as this and yet grateful that he wasn't saying a word about it. He opened it with ease and handed it back to me and I took a grateful sip of it without saying anything, knowing that words would only confuse me more.

"Are you injured?" he asked me carefully, his eyes being more careful than his words. I knew the truth serum was still in effect right then as he thought about his words carefully and watched me with care and concern.

I nodded to him and noted the fear in his voice. I sighed and told him what I could, without totally losing all control on my emotions. "My shoulder hurts a little and there's a cut on my back," I whispered to him.

I glanced down. I had to be honest with him. I had to tell him. It was better than telling Gibbs. I had to tell someone. I sighed a little. "And… well…, he… it still… it hurts," I said, fear finding its way into my voice and a shudder running through my whole body.

I was panicking a little at the thoughts of it, but I couldn't lie to Tony, though I couldn't say what needed to be said either. Tony backed a little away from me, looking at me, but knowing what I was saying. My chest tightened as the thoughts and memories stormed my mind. I wasn't breathing. I was having difficulty. I was having a panic-attack.

"Saleem's dead, he can't hurt you anymore," Tony whispered quietly. "Come on, Ziva, breathe."

Saleem was dead. I had watched him die. Tony was right. He couldn't hurt me anymore. Tony certainly wasn't going to hurt me. Neither were Gibbs or McGee. I could trust those around me now. I was out of the camp. They had saved me. I reminded myself of just how much I could trust Tony; he had come halfway across the world and gotten me out of there.

The tightness in my chest slowly loosened and I closed my eyes, tears slipping through them with ease. I blinked a couple times and moved closer to Tony. I didn't know what to say to him or how to react to him. His arm opened and offered me a place by his side, a little bit of comfort, but he didn't move to take me in his arms, getting the message I was telling him and respecting the panicking I had just gone through with only thoughts I had rather than words exchanged.

I made the final move into his side and his arm slowly came around me. When his arm touched my back I winced and he pulled his arm off me immediately. I shook my head and looked at him and he replaced his arm, more carefully and a little more slowly. I nodded to him. "It's just my back," I whispered, being honest with him, knowing that was best right now.

"Let's go home," he whispered to me and pulled me off the Jeep and led me toward the middle row. "Get some rest as we drive."

I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to sleep for fear it was all just a dream. But, I couldn't sleep because every time I closed my eyes I could see those horrible memories again. It was too much for me to take in. How was I supposed to come to terms with all of this? My love for Tony? My gratitude over him rescuing me? The pain of what was done to me? The fear I now had of everything? I shook my head. I couldn't do it. I couldn't make sense of it. Not yet.

We arrived at a small hotel sometime later. "I'll go check us out while you get our stuff," McGee said to Tony.

"Yea, sure," he said, sounding exhausted. He had learned a lot today. "Ziva, I have some clean clothes for you."

I nodded to him and he led me into the room. I watched him as he pulled out some of my clothes. Shirt. Pants. Socks. Sneakers. Underwear and bra. I flinched when I saw them, but his back was turned to me so he didn't see it. I was sitting on the bed comfortably. He went to the sink and got a washcloth.

"Thought you might want to clean up a bit," he said quietly and put the washcloth gently into my hand, looking at me with pain in his eyes as he realized how much I was hurting right then.

He turned around and walked a little ways to the door and I flinched again.

"Tony? I don't… don't… I...," I said to him quietly, unsure of how to say what I needed to say. I was too confused. I wanted him away from me but at the same time I didn't.

"I'll be right here if you need me," he said to me and pointed toward the corner and then faced it.

He laced his fingers and swayed a little, deliberately looking only at the corner. I snorted at the sight of him standing there, like a child on punishment.

"Something funny, David?" he asked.

"You look like a small child on a time-in, DiNozzo," I said to him with a smirk lingering on my face.

"It's called a time-out," he corrected me and laughed along with me. "I feel like one, too."

There was a ghost of a smile lingering on my face as I stared at him a moment longer. Then, I turned away from him and the majority of the room and looked down at the clothes on the bed. I pulled my pants off and picked up the washcloth. I felt dirty all of a sudden. I washed my legs slowly and carefully. There was no damage there. I slowly washed the initials on my hip and frowned at them, silently cursing them for the mark they were forever leaving there. I pulled on the clean underwear and pants.

I removed my old shirt and struggled for a moment with the bra. Before trying again, I washed off my stomach and chest and face and arms. Then I went back to it. I struggled for another moment and then tears started escaping me. I kept bumping the cut on my back which was sitting right underneath the clasp of the bra, which felt to be torn a little at that very place, making it difficult for me to unclasp it.

I glanced back at Tony. He was still facing the corner. I needed help. I couldn't get this bra off and get the other on. I couldn't do it by myself without hurting myself and without stumbling with the small clasp on it. Tears escaped me and panic clenched my chest. My heart raced and my mind buzzed with fearful thoughts.

I couldn't ask Tony for help. He was a guy and I couldn't let a guy see me like this. I couldn't let him see what those monsters had done to me. I couldn't hurt him with what had been done to me. But, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that at least it wasn't Gibbs or McGee that was here with me. I could ask Tony for help. He had proven that today. He had come to me and rescued me. It was his idea and he made sure I was out of there alive and as whole as could be. I took in a breath, deciding what to do.

"Tony?" I whispered, afraid. "I need… I need help…."

I heard him move, but had quickly faced the wall again. There was no reaction to the deep gash on my back. I heard the water in the sink and knew that he was rinsing out the cloth that I was using to clean myself with. Then his hand touched my shoulder. I flinched and he pulled his hand away from me.

I closed my eyes with a sigh. I was flinching an awful lot. I was too jumpy for my own good. I slowly shook my head, knowing he was watching me for some sign. "It's fine," I whispered toward the wall, knowing he would hear me.

He slowly placed his hand back on my shoulder and I suppressed the flinch. He felt it and I knew he felt it. But, he didn't move his hand away this time. He gripped my shoulder a little more firmly and I could feel his hand shaking with emotions and fear of hurting me. He was going slowly and carefully and that was a very good thing.

"I'm just going to clean this a little," he whispered to me, his breath hitting my neck under my hair, sending a soft shiver into my spine and causing me to relax a little.

He slowly moved the hair off my back and then gently took the clasp of the bra and unhooked it, peeling it away from the cut on my back and off of me. It felt sticky and dirty and I was relieved to have it gone from my skin.

Both of his hands touched my shoulders again before he made any other move. He waited there a moment and then he slowly and carefully slid the old and dirty bra down my arms. Then, one hand returned slowly to my shoulder, tracing the muscles in my arms.

I nearly shuddered, but reminded myself who I was trusting now. It was Tony. I didn't flinch this time. I realized quickly that I needed his touch now and that was all that mattered and it kept me knowing that I was safe. His hands were unique on my skin and I could recognize them anywhere and that was what kept me feeling safe in this moment that would've looked intimate to an outsider.

The warm washcloth touched my back gently, where there was no cut, washing slowly and carefully around the dirty skin that was there, cleaning the dirt and grime and memories away. He started high on my back, near my neck and shoulders and worked his way low, toward the base of my back. Then he worked his way closer and closer to the deep gash that sat diagonally down the center of my back.

"I think it's infected," he whispered as he started to clean it a little. I winced, but he didn't pull his hands away from me. He only gripped my shoulder a little tighter in a comforting fashion. The more he washed the more his hand shook and I knew it was emotions that caused his reactions; he was suppressing whatever hurt he was feeling from this gash.

"I know it is," I said to him in response as he slowly patted at it, cleaning it without hurting me.

"How did you get it?" he asked quietly, almost afraid of hearing the answer.

"Whip," I said just as quietly, shuddering a little at the memory of the pain it had caused.

His hand touched my waist without the washcloth in it. He was done he squeezed my side a little before his hand moved away from me again, though his other hand remained on my shoulder.

He handed me the bra and I put my arms through it and put it on my shoulders. He reached for the clasp and his fingers brushed my ribs close to the breasts, which caused another flinch, to which he froze, but didn't move his hand. He kept it in place as he spoke quietly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered into my ear and I took a deep breath as I felt him clasp the bra gently behind my back.

I turned around to thank him, but his eyes caught something and I followed his gaze. He was staring at the initials on my left hip and now I was too. I took a deep breath and then he looked up at me again, placing his hands on my shoulders and waiting for my eyes to return to his. I looked into his eyes and saw a massive amount of pain there as he understood the meaning of the SU, the brand that Saleem had put there long ago.

"I'm different, Tony, than when you left me in Israel," I whispered to him, hoping I wouldn't get a negative reaction to what I was saying. "I have some scars and some marks that will heal or fade over time. But that," I indicated the initials on my hip, pointing at it, but still holding his gaze, "that won't ever go away. It's there forever."

Tony's hand went from my shoulder, sliding slowly down my arm, while he stared into my eyes, watching my reactions and reading the words my eyes said. His hand found my wrist and then slipped to my waist. He paused there for a moment and then lowered his hand to my left hip, allowing it to rest there for a moment. His thumb gently rubbed the letters on my hip.

His eyes were filled with pain and looked to be filled with tears also. He was staring into my eyes, still reading everything he could there. I was doing the same to him. He was hoping that my trust continued to hold with him and he was thankful for this moment and this knowledge right away. He was also hurt by it. He was hurt by the pain I was going through.

"I should have never left you there," he whispered to me. "I should have insisted that you come home. I know it wasn't because you didn't trust me. I know it was your father's doing. I should've never let him hurt you like this. But, Ziva… I don't care about scars or whatever. You're safe and you're alive and you're coming home. That's what matters."

Tears were in my eyes, my heart was filled with joy at his words. He didn't care that I was a little different, a little scared; he simply cared that I was alive and safe. I looked down and purposely placed my hand over his, resting it there for a short moment. Then, I laced our fingers together as we both held the brand on my hip.

I was still looking down at our hands and was amazed at the strength that I felt by his powerful words and amazed by the power his touch was giving me in this moment. His other hand found mine and laced the fingers together there and when I looked up he was looking straight in my eyes. I was overwhelmed with emotions of many kinds.

He really didn't care that I was marked. He didn't care that I had a deep gash on my back. He really just wanted me home and whole again, but he wasn't going to push the second of them. I leaned into him and pressed my face into his chest, letting my eyes fill with tears and not bothering to fight them off. His hand left my right hand and I felt his arm go around me carefully. I didn't flinch this time at all.