The autopsy door opens just as Jimmy Palmer drops the sponge back into the sink. "Did you forget something, Doctor Mallard?" He grabs the towel and dries his hands. Still no answer. Frowning, Jimmy turns around.

"Doctor, did you not—Ziva!"

Surprised, Jimmy stares at Ziva who stopped only a few steps into the autopsy room. She has barely been down here since the team saved her in Somalia.

"Good evening."

"Hi, Ziva", Palmer returns stupidly. "I was just cleaning up."

"Yeah, I can tell."

The awkward silence is making Palmer uneasy. He had already turned off the lights. He enjoys cleaning in the dim light that falls into the autopsy room through the glass door. It has something magical to it.

"What… what can I do for you?" He walks up to her to get a better look at her, but she avoids eye contact. That's not like her. But, ever since she's back, there are a lot of things about her that are so different from the Ziva Palmer had known.

For a moment nothing happens, then Ziva suddenly shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be here. This was a bad idea."

She turns to leave. "Ziva, wait!"

Retrospectively it had been a stupid idea to grab Ziva by the arm, but Palmer doesn't know what else to do. And neither does Ziva when she grabs his wrist, spins around and slams Jimmy into the autopsy table.

It takes Ziva a few moments longer than usual to realize her reflexes had taken over. She takes a step backwards. Jimmy gets back up and straightens his glasses. "Sorry, that was my fault. I shouldn't have grabbed you, that was… well… I should have…" Ziva raises her hand and ends his rambling. "That was a pure reflex on my part", she returns. He nods. "They are sharper than ever since you have returned."

It is not a question. Ziva frowns. "How would you know that?" "It is only natural that you try to protect yourself after what you went through."

For what feels like an eternity neither of them says a word. Giving Ziva the space she needs, Jimmy turns around and puts the towel back. "Sooo… what can I do for you?"

"I need your help."

These words not only surprise Jimmy, but Ziva as well. Until she said them, she hadn't really known why she came down here. Jimmy doesn't know what to say. Ziva and he have always been friendly, friends, even, but he wouldn't have expected her to come to him for help. Wouldn't Gibbs or Tony be the more obvious choice?

Jimmy realizes that he hasn't said anything in way too long. Ziva is now looking at him. There is something in her eyes that he can't put his finger on. He clears his throat. "Help with what?"

Mindlessly, Ziva wanders to the autopsy table next to Jimmy and leans against it. She can barely look at Palmer when she returns: "My memories have been funky ever since I came back from Somalia."

"… Do you mean fuzzy?"

Ziva waves her hand in a "yes, exactly"-motion. "Fuzzy how?", Jimmy inquires and pulls out a chair. He slowly sits down while Ziva tries to find the words to answer his question.

"There are some things that I remember as sharply as if they had happened just a moment ago. And others… are just … gone."

"How do you know they're gone?"

The Israeli takes a deep breath. Jimmy gets the feeling that this is the reason she wanted to leave. Whatever she is about to say touches her to the core. So Jimmy gives her the space to sort out her thoughts.

"I look at myself in the mirror… and I expect myself to look the same as before, but I don't." Jimmy isn't sure what she means, but he doesn't interrupt. "There are scars and wounds covering my body and some of them… some of them are alien to me. I don't remember how they got there. That never used to happen." She looks up. For the first time, she really looks at Jimmy. "I need you to look at some of my scars. Analyze them. Tell me what weapon most likely caused them. I need you to help me remember."

Palmer is taken aback. "Ziva… there is a reason you don't remember. Your mind is trying to protect you."

"That is unacceptable", Ziva says. "I need to know what happened to me, Jimmy. I need to remember it. All of it."

There is an edge in her voice that makes Jimmy sit up a little straighter. "I am not sure that is a good idea, Ziva. If you-"

"I am not asking for your opinion! I am asking for your help", she snaps. Closing her eyes, she continues: "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell."

"It's alright." Jimmy looks at his friend. He has never seen Ziva in this state before. It is almost frightening to see this strong woman breaking apart like this. Living through something as traumatic as she has would break anyone, but losing themselves like Ziva is… that can destroy a person. "I can help you", Jimmy finally offers. "But it will be painful. It might cause you to relive what happened to you."

Ziva nods: "I know. And I am willing to do that if that means I can remember what happened."

Jimmy gets up. Ziva looks at him. "I need you to promise me something before we start." He simply nods. He would promise her anything if that meant she would find peace. "You can't tell anyone about this. Not Gibbs, not Abby, and not Ducky." "That goes without saying."

Ziva nods. "And Jimmy… this might not only be unsettling to me."

"Don't worry about me", Jimmy returns with the slightest smile on his face. "I am used to the most gruesome details and stories." Though never about a friend, Jimmy thinks but doesn't say it. Ziva has enough to worry about already. "I am ready when you are."

Without a word Ziva pushes herself up on the autopsy table to sit down. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she unbuttons her blouse and drops it onto the cold steel table. For a moment Jimmy just stares at her, then he turns around and walks over to the switches. "I have to turn on a light."

When he turns back around a part of him wishes he hadn't. He hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't that. Ziva's upper body is covered in scars of various shapes and sizes. Barely an inch of her skin is free from wounds or hematomas. If she were lying on the table, she might has well have been a dead sailor. Hell, most of them don't have that many injuries.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?", Ziva says without looking at Jimmy. She lightly traces a few of the scars on her left side. The hair on Jimmy's neck stand up as he reluctantly steps closer. "We take a lot about our bodies for granted without even realizing that it can be taken away within seconds."

"You must be in so much pain", Jimmy says before he can stop himself. He can't tear his eyes from a wound that spans over her entire upper arm. The gush must have been deep enough to hit the bone.

"The pain medications are helping", Ziva returns. "How do you want to do this?"

Only now Jimmy manages to look up. Ziva's eyes are empty, but Jimmy feels her anxiety. Again, he has to clear his throat. "Begin with the oldest one you remember. I will then see which other wounds must have been… inflicted around the same time. Maybe that will make it easier for you to remember."

He pulls two gloves from the box and steps in front of Ziva. Only now he realizes that she might not even have seen all of her injuries or needs a visual to remember. "Do you want a mirror?"

She shakes her head: "I have spent hours in front of them. I have memorized everything."

Of course. She looks into Jimmy's eyes and points at a small scar on her temple. "That's the first one." It is faded to the point that Jimmy probably wouldn't have noticed it without Ziva pointing it out. "Exactly four month ago, when I tried to fight my way into Saleem's camp. They knocked me out with a single punch."

Jimmy leans in and takes a closer look. The skin must have been hit with something sharp, a ring, maybe, or a brass knuckle. "You're lucky nothing was broken", he observes. "Lucky is not the word I would use", Ziva returns with a raised eyebrow. "But I guess you are right, that might have been uncomfortable."

Deadly is the world Palmer would have used, but he doesn't correct her.

"I must have been unconscious for a few hours, because when I woke up I was tied to a chair by my wrists and ankles."

She extends her arms for Jimmy to see. Some of the lines and rope burns are old, but others are still fresh. "They didn't untie you a lot, did they?"

Ziva chuckles. The noise is so sudden and disturbing that Jimmy looks up. There is honest delight in Ziva's expression. A coping mechanism, no doubt. "They would have been stupid to do so."

Jimmy nods and looks for the more faded bruises on her upper body. In the crook of her arms he finds the tiniest hint of scars that could only be caused by needles. Dozens of them, by the looks of it. "What about those?"

"Good eye", Ziva returns quickly. "Truth serum. Didn't do much except for making me sweat."

"It is very much disputed if there is something like a working truth serum out there. Most so called "truth serums" only make you more open to suggestion and leaning questions. Interestingly enough, India is one of the only countries that allows these serums in their courtrooms. Even when-" Palmer is barely able to stop himself. He looks up from her arm and into Ziva's eyes. "What I mean to say is that contrary to public belief, you would still be able to lie, even when you are given a truth serum."

There is a sad look in Ziva's eyes as she replies: "I know, Jimmy."

"Yes, of course."

"Didn't stop Saleem from trying. He upped the dosage every day. The last few days of that particular venture are a blurr."

"I should think so", Palmer says. "In the end it is nothing more and nothing less than a drug. What about this scar?" He points at what must've been the result of a small incision just above her left wrist.

Ziva shrugs: "No idea. He also rationed my water and food, making those days particularly challenging." Again, not exactly the words Palmer would have used, but this is not his story. So he focusses on the small incision. "Did Mossad give you a tracker, by any chance?"

"What are you implying?"

"What? Nothing!", Jimmy is quick to say. "I was just wondering because that is a spot where one could expect a tracker."

"Do you really think I would've spend three month in that hell if I'd had a tracker?"

Jimmy takes a step back. "No, of course not. Sorry." He looks back at the scar. "Doesn't mean Saleem didn't expect you to have one. Maybe they were making sure."

"Maybe. But honestly, that's not one of the scars I'm worried about."

"Of course. Please, continue."

He watches as Ziva turns to the side, revealing her shoulders and back. Palmer inhales sharply as he takes in the picture that presents itself to him.

"You need a moment?"

Palmer tears his eyes from the small, circular bruises that cover her entire back and shakes his head. "Sorry."

"Sleep deprivation can be a powerful tool", Ziva explains. "Nothing better than a piece of wood pierced with nails to ensure that your victim barely closes an eye."

It is the conversing way in which Ziva tells him about these horrors that makes Jimmy shudder.

"That was around the time Saleem changed his approach to cruder measures." She points at the lower part of her neck, which still shows the shadow of what Jimmy can only call pure and absolute brutality. Saleem had beaten her black and blue. "In the following weeks they beat me daily. My left eye was swollen shut, some of my teeth were moments away from breaking or falling out and the pain… let's just say I would have killed for some pain killers."

She chuckles again, but this time she sees Jimmy's horrified expression. She clears her throat and gestures towards the front of her body. "Most wounds were inflicted around that time. Doesn't really matter which came first. But there are two that I… I can't quite remember how they got there."

Ziva turns back around and trails her finger down her abdomen until they reach a rather bulging scar just left of her navel. Palmer pulls the chair towards him and sits down. From this angle it is easier for him to evaluate the scar. "About six weeks old, I assume. May I?" He raises his hand in question. By way of an answer Ziva grabs his hand and guides it to the scar. He is hesitant to apply any real pressure to it, so he simply traces it at first.

"It's ok, Jimmy, I won't break." The comforting waves give way to a sickening feeling in Palmer's stomach when he realizes that the likely reason Ziva said that is because she has already tried.

Still careful, the young man evaluates the wound, taking care to not accidentally apply pressure to some of the healing hematomas. "I'd say knife, but that doesn't feel right. It seems to have been ripped."

Ziva shudders. Immediately, Palmer takes his hands off her stomach and looks at her. A flash of fear and pain on her face leaves no doubt that something has just crossed her mind. "It was a knife", she presses out. "But they didn't leave it at that."

Looking back at the scar, Jimmy realizes what she is talking about. "They opened it up again."

"And again, and again", Ziva whispers. "It was one of the less painful things they did, but I played it up, screamed in pain to entice them to do it again."

Jimmy is taken aback. "What? Why would you do that?"

"As long as they were busy with that, they didn't do something else that might've been much worse."

That almost causes Jimmy to throw up. Not the implications of it, or the brutality and calculation behind it, but the knowledge of the kind of choices Ziva had to make to stay alive. Although, something tells Palmer that's not the whole truth.

"And maybe I felt like opening old wounds was… poetic?" Palmer realizes that Ziva doesn't even know herself. Understandable. But…. Still. "How so?", he asks as he pushes the chair backwards.

Ziva sighs: "I knew it would take the Mossad a week, maybe two to realize something went wrong. Another week or two to mobilize their officers in the area. But when nothing changed after six weeks I realized that they weren't coming for me. My father had abandoned me… again."

"And our team?"

"After everything that had happened… I didn't expect to see any of you again."

Ziva stares at her hands. "I didn't know how he found out I had worked for NCIS. I'm still not sure. But that was all he asked me, day in and day out. Maybe he didn't know I was Mossad. Maybe he didn't care. But that way he reminded me of the team every day. Made me realize a thing or two. About NCIS, about my father. About my past. Made me consider that what Saleem and his men did to me might not have been undeserved."

Jimmy places his hand on Ziva's. "Something like that is never deserved. Do you hear me, Ziva? Never."

She traces her trembling fingers down his face. "You are sweet, Jimmy. But there are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"It doesn't matter what you have done. What pain you think you have caused. No one deserves what you went through. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy." Jimmy can barely keep his voice from trembling. Seeing his friend doubting herself in such a way hurts him worse than a blow to the stomach could have. Tony had told him that Ziva had said to Gibbs that she didn't intend to live through whatever Saleem did to her. But seeing her entertaining that thought himself is worse than anything Jimmy could have imagined.

Ziva takes a deep breath and directs her focus back to the wounds. Jimmy knows that her heart rate is nowhere near where it should be. Neither is his. But if she is willing to continue, so is he.

"They would dump water on me to wake me up. Sometimes it was boiling hot, sometimes ice cold. Sometimes it wasn't water at all." She holds her arm into the light. "That was one of the days I didn't know what it was. Any ideas?"

Jimmy inspects the wound closely. It looks like a chemical burn. It must have burned itself through the upper layer of her skin. It must have hurt like hell.

"I'm not sure", he replies. "I can swab it and send it up to Abby, if you want me to." Ziva shakes her head: "No need pulling her into this mess as well. She has a hard enough time already."

Ziva might think herself past redemption, a killer deserving of nothing less than the worst anyone can offer, but moments like these remind Jimmy that couldn't be further from the truth. Anyone can be worthy of redemption. And from what he can tell, Ziva is well on her way there.

"Any idea what might cause this?" She points at a round hematoma. Its edges are clean, as if it had been stamped onto her skin.

"Something round and sturdy", Palmer estimates. "Some kind of pipe, maybe? The bottom of a mug? It's too small for a ring, but it could be…"

Before he can stop her, Ziva has put her fingers onto the wound and pressed down. Her eyes are closed and her face distorted in obvious pain.

"Stop that!" Jimmy grabs her hand and pulls it away from her stomach. She breathes heavily.

"Not a mug. A bottle." She opens her eyes. "Sometimes the easiest way is the most painful one", she says by way of explanation. "He rammed it into my stomach when he didn't like what I had to say."

She frees her hand from Jimmy's grip, but doesn't say anything else about it.

"Any… non-physical scars from that time that you want to talk about?" The question is out before Jimmy can stop himself.

Ziva is taken aback by the question. It hits the exact spot she never dared to go to. She nods: "The physical impact only accounts for a small part of what torture boils down to. Way more important are the psychological aspects of it. The mind can create horrors far worse than anything that could ever happen to someone. So when Saleem realized that brute force wasn't going to get him anything, he deployed more… intimate measures."

Ziva expects Jimmy to gasp, to be shocked, angry, anything. But when she looks at him, he doesn't express any of those emotions. There is only a deep understanding. Coming to him was the right decision.

"Did he rape you?", even asking this question aloud, Jimmy doesn't judge. He doesn't even seem uncomfortable even though Ziva knows better. No one would be content asking this question. Especially not a friend.

She shakes her head and senses the almost undetectable relief in Jimmy. "Even he didn't go that far. But everything short of that was… fair game, as you say. The simple act of undressing someone can be worse than being beaten for weeks on end. Because they do it slow. Almost carefully. So that you have enough time to think about everything they might do. I am trained for those sort of techniques. I had experienced them before. But even I wasn't able to keep all my thoughts at bay."

She doesn't have to say it for Jimmy to know that there are probably more scars in her mind than there are on her body. A horrifying image.

Suddenly, Ziva shakes her head and sits up a little straighter. "A lot happened in that department, but I remember most of it. And I don't think I'm ready to poke at those scars yet." She turns and looks at the big scar that Jimmy had noticed as soon as she had taken off her blouse. "Leaving us with only one mystery."

Confused, Jimmy looks at the scar. "You don't remember how you got it?" Ziva shakes her head. "Unbelievable, isn't it?"

Not necessarily. The mind will do anything to protect itself from painful memories. Even when they leave scars like this. Jimmy takes a closer look at the scar. His first impression had been right. The knife must have pierced through skin and flesh until it hit the bone. It's a miracle that Ziva is still able to move her arm. The knife could have easily torn her muscle in half. Or severed her brachial artery.

"It was a sharp knife."

"Yeah, Jimmy, I guessed that much."

"About four weeks old. But… this is weird." He leans in and examines the area around the scar. "It looks like the wound has been stitched up. Was that done at the hospital?"

Ziva shakes her head: "No. I would surely remember that. Anything else?"

Jimmy tilts his head. "I would assume this was not intentional."

Ziva scoffs: "Everything they did was intentional."

"That doesn't make sense. Look at those other scars. They took care to never punch too hard, to never slice too deep. They were trying to extract information, not kill you on the spot. But this gush… Had it gotten infected, it could have killed you within a week."

That gets Ziva thinking. "There are fragments of a memory. I didn't think much of it, I thought it was a nightmare at most."

"What do you remember?"

"Saleem screaming at someone. And pressing something against my arm, probably to still the bleeding. He said something to me. Over and over again. He… assured me that I wouldn't die from it. It's… a mess, Jimmy. But I think some of his men had felt left out. Decided to have some fun with me as well."

"And pushed past the limit."

It takes Jimmy a few moments to realize that Ziva is not staring into the air because she remembers what has happened. There is something else that has been shaken lose by the fragments of the memory.

"I know you are no expert in psychological injuries…" Jimmy can tell that it is hard for Ziva to say these words out loud. "But there is something I want to ask you."

He simply nods. Ziva freezes, doubtlessly trying to push memories aside that surfaced during their conversation.

"My memories of Saleem are blurry at best. But… they are not accompanied by the kinds of feelings one would expect."

Jimmy waits patiently for Ziva to continue.

"When Gibbs shot him, I expected some kind of… reaction. But there was nothing. No relief, no anxiety, no pain or anger. I looked at him and I felt … nothing. That never happened before, Jimmy. There was always something. Pride, of a job well done. Anger about how much it had taken to finally take that monster down. Guilt, even. But not that day. Even now, thinking back, seeing Saleem on the ground, a bullet hole in his forehead, I—I'm afraid there is something broken in me."

"Ziva, I am saying this with the most compassion I can. I would be worried if there wasn't something broken in you. What he put you through would have broken anyone. But I don't think this particular thing is connected to that."

Ziva bites her lip and raises her eyebrow in an unmistakable invitation for Jimmy to continue.

"You were held hostage for over three months. Saleem was the only human connection you had. The only tether to a world that you had put behind yourself. You were at his mercy. He was the one thing standing between you and death. It is only natural that you wouldn't know how to feel. And there is no pressure to feel anything. That doesn't make you broken. That makes you human."

He could be mistaken, but for a moment it seems as if Ziva has to hold back tears. Coming down here has been one of the hardest things she had ever done. But sitting there, on the autopsy table, unknowingly holding Jimmy's hand, she is convinced that it was the right thing to do. Not a miraculous step to heal her completely. But a move in the right direction.

She sniffles and braces herself against the autopsy table, jumping back to her feet. Jimmy understands the wordless request and gets up as well. He pulls the chair back to the desk while Ziva puts on her blouse. He can't help but notice how she winces, when she pulls the fabric over her shoulders.

Her physical scars will heal in time. They might not vanish completely, but most of them will be barely noticeable. The same can't be said for the psychological wounds. But he has no doubt that she will be able to work through it.

"This was… good." It sounds more like a question, but Jimmy doesn't mind. He doesn't know how he is feeling about this encounter either. Ziva clears her throat. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

With that she turns around and walks towards the door. But there is one question that Jimmy just can't hold back. "Did you tell him what he wanted to know?"

Ziva stops dead in her tracks. But she's not upset. On the contrary. When she answers his question, her voice is soft, barely more than a whisper: "Anyone would have."

Jimmy knows that. But he also knows that Saleem never went after NCIS. He didn't even appear on their radar until the team went looking for him.

But she must have told him something. Something to keep his attention. Something to keep her alive. Ziva senses his irritation. She flashes the tiniest smile. "Let's just say Saleem would have been very surprised had he ever picked up a certain book series by Thom E. Gemcity."

Of course. Close enough to reality to keep him interested, but far enough away from the truth to keep the team safe.

"Thank you, Jimmy."

And with that, she walks out of the autopsy room.

Leaving Jimmy with the feeling, no, with the knowledge, that he should be the one thanking her.