The hot air flooded her small room. The rock walls did nothing to keep the heat out. Ziva brushed her sweaty and uncontrollable curls away off her face. She hated this place. What she really wanted to do or needed to do rather, was go for a run or hit the gym. But those were not happening in the centre of this proverbial hell hole. Twisting her her hair up off her neck, she pulled on a pair of loose IDF issue cargo pants, a sports bra, a tank top and a long sleeved button down shirt. She walked into the kitchen and made a cup of tea, letting it sit and steep for longer than it probably should have wanting the bitter liquid to be as strong as possible. It was quiet. They were on the outskirts of Raqqa, the house was as close to dilapidated as possible with still being usable. Sipping the bitter liquid she frowned The silence. She knew that the three men had left for prayer. It was easier for a woman to stay back in this society. They had been up all night pouring over the intel files. They had plans - two nights - before there was a mass execution of more Kurdish fighters. They had been in Syria for almost three weeks now. She was so ready to go go home and kiss her husband and hold her children.
She chewed on the bread they bought from the market along with the fatty goat cheese. It was one of their most calorie rich meals of the day. The silence was almost overwhelming until her trained ear picked up on the slightest sound. A breath. It was heavy, deep. She spun around, her eye catching the smallest movement. Her hand flew to her hip, her knife always concealed at her belt. But it wouldn't help. The sound of multiple footsteps surrounded her. They weren't going to kill her, no. They needed her. She fought hard, her knife slicing through layers of clothing and into hard flesh. The bullet ripped through her senses before her flesh. A dirty rag stuffed in her mouth, a bag thrown over her head. She was dragged across the floor, her flesh tearing as it hit rocks and she was pulled over.
Tony knew it was going to be a bad day. By 10 am he had already gotten a phonecall from the school that Daniela had been placed in "in school suspension" for her disrespectful actions in class. He picked her up after school, and against his best laid plans, met with the team and went to her basketball game. Jacob played with his lego with McGee as the team warmed up.
"Any news?" He asked Gibbs who shrugged.
"Chatter. We have a few people on it now. Vance's gone to Israel, and it ain't just to talk security." The older man said, his eyes narrowing as he watched the teams warm up. Daniela was off. Her hair was pulled back in a harsh braid, her movements stiff. He watched as her eyes darted around, throwing her shoulders back. She tossed her basketball in the rolling bin and walked over to the benches. Sitting down she retied her shoes and stared silently at the coach. At the sound of the whistle, Daniela popped up and headed out to her position. Gibbs stiffened, watching her drive to the basket with a reckless abandon. "She's gonna get hurt." He grumbled watching her tumble to the floor.
"Or hurt someone." Jenny added in weakly.
The dark cloud that hung over Daniela seemed to get heavier each day, the circles under her eyes darker. The little girl walked with a permanent slouch, the weight of the world on her slim shoulders.
With the ball in her hands, she dribbled it up the court and went in for a lay up. The girl in front of her put her arms up to block and Daniela came down. Hard. Tony jumped up as he spotted Daniela's head through the meyley. The referees separated the two of them, Daniela with blood running down her face. Taking the steps two by two, Tony sped down and helped his daughter off the court. She grabbed the wad of tissues and pressed them to her nose.
"Hey, Tiger." He whispered softly. "Sit down and let's take a look at your nose."
The small girl put up little resistance and lifted her head up. She winced as he poked and prodded and replaced the now sodden tissues.
"We'll take you to the hospital to get it looked at." He said softly.
Defeated, Daniela stood up and watched as Abby gathered her bags. Tony gently ushered his daughter out as McGee carried Jacob on his hip. Gibbs wrapped his arm around Jenny as they walked around the gym and helped Daniela into the car. He nodded at McGee who placed the small boy beside her in his booster seat.
"We'll meet you there." Gibbs said as McGee climbed into the front of Tony's SUV and Abby climbed into the back, her fingers replacing Dani's on the bridge of her nose.
They drove in silence, though the anger rolled off the small girl in waves. Once they approached the hospital, Abby led Daniela in and straight into the exam room. A young ER doctor appeared. She poked gently and prodded as Tony paced around the room. Tears welled up in Daniela's eyes as the doctor pressed a little too hard and she tugged her head back. "Ouch." She whispered. The doctor made a few notes and waved a small penlight in Daniela's eyes. She blinked furiously as her eyes watered. She tried to pull away from the light and reached for Tony who sat down beside her, cuddling her against him.
"I don't think it's broken." The doctor finally concluded. "But I'd say she has a grade 2 concussion." She scribbled a few things down on her chart and looked back at Daniela. "Are you feeling sick?"
The little girl tried to shrug, but she paled and swallowed hard. "I feel gross."
The doctor nodded empathetically and ran her hand gently over Daniela's head and gently fingered a bump. "Got a big goose egg there." She wrote a script and turned to Tony. "Keep checking on her. I'm going to give her some strong tylenol, but she's going to be hurting for the next few days, maybe even a week. If it's 10 days or longer come back and see me and we'll do more tests."
Standing up, Tony gently lifted Daniela into his arms and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "It will be okay." He whispered into her hair. Emotionally exhausted, he walked out of the examination room and nodded at the people around him. They were all tired.
Back in the house, Daniela was sleeping fitfully on the couch, Jacob in his room. McGee and Abby were hunched over their laptops, humming thoughtfully as they read through some of the intel reports. Gibbs and Jenny sat on the couch, going over the maps printed off in MTAC. And Tony. He was going between the intel reports, the map, and his daughter. The silence was suffocating until the loud shrill of Gibb's cell phone broke the silence.
"Four Israeli agents were kidnapped in Syria." Vance said roughly. "Three men, one woman. I've got coordinates and our people in Turkey are going to look."
Gibbs shut his phone with a loud click and turned and looked at his team. "Four Israeli agents were kidnapped. Three men and…"
"One woman." Tony finished collapsing on the couch. Daniela groaned softly, but didn't wake up. "So when are we going in?" Tony asked seriously.
"DiNozzo." Gibbs started softly, his blue eyes meeting the green ones of his senior field agent.
"That wasn't really a question, boss." Tony replied crossing his arms across his chest. "We'll let the CIA figure out where they are exactly and we'll go in."
His voice left no room for arguments.
Her body ached as she hung from the ceiling, wires binding her wrists together, chains holding her taught. She could touch the floor with the balls of her feet, but not her heels. Her shoulders ached as she hung there, her joints screaming. She wasn't exactly sure where she was. A house of some kind, probably. A small room room without windows, the stale stifling air hanging in thick heavy curtains around her. And she hung. In pain and silence. The sweat ran down her body in thin rivers, catching a newly created cut, sweat burning as it made its way down.
Are you ready to talk?
There was more than just him. She counted at least 5, judging by their voices. But there could be more.
Why are you here? What does Mossad want?
When she didn't answer, he lifted his hand, flourishing an electric cattle prod, and pressed it against her side. She jolted away, but kept her mouth closed.
Why are you here? He repeated, turning her on the chains so he could stare at her.
Her voice stayed silent.
With a callous shrug, he slowly undid her cargo pants and let them fall to the floor. He smirked and ran his hands down and between her legs before pressing the cattle prod at the apex between her thighs. She bit down on her lip and swallowed her scream as she arched away. Sweat beaded on her forehead and ran down her face. He relented after a few minutes and gave her a sick smile.
You will tell us. Eventually.
As quickly as he came, he left. He left her panting, sweat running down her body as she tried to catch her breath. She wasn't sure how long she was hanging there, but the rough wooden door flew open and her arms were unhooked. He was young, eyes framed with long lashes. He nodded at her and tossed an old blanket at her. He left in a shy silence, shutting the door behind him. It closed with a final click and the sound of the key in the lock framed it's finality. But it could have been worse. She knew it was going to be worse. Curling in a corner, she pulled the blanket around her and closed her eyes. She rubbed her wrists idly and sighed. She could beat this. She was strong. Her breathing hitched as she blinked quickly trying to stop the tears that were threatening to overflow.
It could have been minutes or hours, she couldn't tell without windows. His rough hand weaved in her thick curls and pulled her to her feet. Her head hit the side of the stone wall. Her eyes crossed momentarily and she blinked heavily.
TALK. He hissed in her ear. WHY ARE YOU HERE?
Ziva slammed her mouth shut momentarily and glared as best she could.
What is Mossad doing here? Your friends are talking.
In Mossad they teach you to withstand torture. She kept her eyes hard, her face unreadable.
We will kill your family. Your mother. Your father.
Ziva stared back at him impassively.
Your husband. His eyes looked her up and down. Children.
His voice sent shivers up her spine and she tried to swallow hard. The slightest flicker of fear appeared in her eyes.
We will kill your husband...then at his funeral we will kill the rest of your family.
Grabbing her by her hair, he dragged her up and reattached her wrists to the chains on the ceiling. The sounds of a whip cutting through the air was heard, the crack of it hitting flesh echoed through the mostly abandoned neighbourhood. A woman's scream pierced the silence as it was repeated over and over and over again...