Hello, everyone! I am sorry for the delay. My life became so hectic this past semester at school along with working for one the biggest media company in the country. I hope this chapter makes up for a bit…at least, I hope so. Some exciting news to share, four days ago I had the beyond unbelievable experience of meeting Cote de Pablo at her movie premiere for The 33. It was the best night of my life and I got to meet fellow Cote's Army members who I have been honored to be close to for the past few years. Cote is the sweetest person in the world, no doubt about it and anyone who says otherwise is lacking neurons and should be slapped. If you haven't yet tonight, make sure this weekend you go out to your local theater and support her by seeing The 33. She will move you to tears. If you are not in the U.S. and have to wait to see the premiere, prepare yourselves for a touching, inspiring movie with our girl. There are big plans in store for her future, I am sure of it.

My thoughts and prayers to anyone reading in France or who has family or friends in Paris.

Till next time, enjoy!

xoxo Ash

-x-

Drip. Drip. Drop.

The clanking of metal hitting against the dusty, cement wall echoed in the tiny barrier she was in. Her fingers gripped tightly against the silver, cold metal, struggling to unfree her own wrists from the excruciating pain against her fragile bones. She couldn't see the handcuffs, her head bagged in a tight, sack barely allowing enough air to breathe and she wiggled to swing herself from the tied, upside down position they currently had her in.

Unsure of whether she was tied from the pipes of the ceiling of the camp, she pushed against the cement walls with her scaled, bloody feet. Her wrists hit the wall violently as she bounced off, hoping to break the handcuffs from the impact. A piercing pain arising in her head to match the slow liquid running down from her cheek, through the sack and onto the floor,

Drip. Drip.

She repeated the act of pushing herself off the wall, slamming her wrists into the wall and groaning at the aching that was taking over her whole body.

112 days.

That's how long she had been here.

The only way to keep count was by the marks on her legs, created by sharp stones that Saleem's men would throw at her when she did not do as they say. The marks matched the ones along her thighs, his men taking what they always needed and forceful in ways she would never speak about. Well… it was not like she would get a chance to. She would die here.

Rumbles from the opening of the door frightened her, immediately halting her plan for escapement out of the position she was in. Her ears zeroed in on the voice of Saleem, ordering his men to cut her down from the pipes. As quickly as possible, they followed his orders and her body dropped to the cold ground, hard. Her ribs snapping in the process and the sack was ripped from her head. Saleem walked over slowly to her, fetal position on the ground and shaking, black and blue from head to toe.

"You thought that they would come for you?" He questioned, tapping the sharp blade of his knife against his palm in a testing manner. Chuckling, he continued to speak. "Such a pretty fool, you are." He bent down, grabbing her by the tangled knot in her hair and lifted her head up, powerfully. "It is too bad you will not cooperate…" His sigh was hot against her skin, the last bit of energy in her body trying to get away from him and the knife that was now prodding at the skin of her neck.

"You would have made a beautiful wife…" The knife skidded across her bruised skin, her scream disturbing the peace of the night.

-x-

Ziva awoke in a scream, violently thrashing up into a sitting position. Her body was soaked with sweat, shaking in agony from the world that corrupted her soul behind closed eyes. Heavy breathing ensued, her lungs quenching to find air and relief while the stinging of her tears burned her cheeks as they rolled down her skin, slowly.

"Tony," She gulped, turning in the darkness and reaching out next to her. Her heart dropped when all she found was wet sheet, newly stained from her sweat and the occurrences of the past few months replayed in her mind.

He was not here.

He would never be again.

And God, all she wanted right now was his large, warm arms wrapping around her. She swore she could hear his soothing whispers in her ear from previous times when her nightmares arose after they would fight and he had been sleeping on the couch in the living room. He would hear her thrashing around and screams, running to her side to help her no matter what their problems had been previously. Even after the worsts of fights, which occurred rarely, he was always there with his arms wrapped tightly around her, the promise that she would be okay.

She didn't know why the nightmares of Somalia stayed away when he was lying next to her and why they found their way to her in the midst of the night whenever he was far. But, the fear in her heart took over when she realized that this would be a repeating offense because Tony was no longer in her life to be her protector.

That's what stung more than the tears down her cheek, the feeling of Saleem's knife pressing against her skin… the fact that her hero, her love was no longer next to her to fight the demons that would come their way.

"Ima?" A small voice came from the doorway of the darkness. Ziva moved around, wiping her tears away to look at the toddler who stood pajama clad and walked towards the foot of her bed.

She sniffed, giggling at the light up pillow pet that lay in the arms of her son. "Come here, my love." She held out her arms, helping him onto the bed.

"I hawd (heard) you screamin'." Ty said, his palm coming to rest on his mother's cheek as his eyes focused on her in the moonlight, investigating what state of mind his mother was in.

"I am so sorry to wake you," She kissed his temple, hugging him tightly and admiring the warmth he brought to her in this terrifying moment.

"Why are you cryin'?" He asked, moving his palm in a petting motion on her cheek as he had felt her do to him and seen her do to his sister many times.

"Ima had a bad dream, that is all. I am alright." She kissed him again, raking his hair back through her fingertips.

"Were there monsters?" Ty shifted in her lap, turning off the light of his pillow pet.

Ziva chuckled, his persistence giving her relief. "You could call them that, yes?"

"I can take down da monsters for you, Mommy. I watch Scooby do it!" He laughed, bringing his palm down from her cheek and cuddling his head into her breast.

Her arms wrapped around him tighter, her heart skipping a beat as she struggled at how much alike Ty was to Tony. "Thank you, my love. I know you will protect me, yes?" Her lips pressed against his head, rocking his body back in forth in a calming motion not only for him, but herself.

"Yes." He agreed as he yawned, closing his eyes.

"Would you like to stay here or do you want me to take you back to your bed?" She whispered into his hair. His answer was a mere mumble, his head nodding in the process and she figured the nod was to her first question. So, she lay back into bed, taking him with her and moving him to be situated on his father's side of the bed. If she needed the DiNozzo genes, this was as close as she would get and he would be her little protector, mirroring her once large, Italian protector.

His snores came a few minutes later, his arms wrapped around his pillow pet still and his face buried into his father's pillows. She laughed silently, tears still pricking at her eyes because out of all the characteristics he had like his father, the one thing he got from her was the sailor snoring. Closing her eyes, she listened to the monitor to hear Isabella's breathing still labored out through the night, her nightmares luckily not waking up her other protector.

And when she felt safe enough again, Ziva drift off into a peaceful sleep knowing that through it all, she would have her two lovebugs.

"