It's not over yet, please stop panicking! Here's the next chapter. Enjoy tormenting yourself over what the last two lines mean. Hope you tell me your theories!
Six Months later…
Tony was sitting at his desk spinning around aimlessly in his chair. Today was another uneventful day of monotonous paper work. The last week had been a blur of action and arrests, now with the storm over a gentle breeze had taken its place. Tony hated gentle breezes; they usually involved paper work, seminars, paper work and paper work.
He threw a paper ball at McGee's head, childish and immature maybe- but that didn't stop it being fun. NO response, Tony pouted. He usually got some response of one form or the other. Perhaps a witty remark, sarcasm or even the last resort – finding something to throw back…
Tony turned back to his computer and frowned trying to make sense of the mass of type in front of him. He shut his eyes and wished for it to go away. He opened one eye slightly and noticed it was all still there and shut his eyes quickly again.
Tony grumbled and began typing knowing that if this wasn't finished soon Gibbs would take his family jewels, turn them into costume jewellery and give them to the Director as a present. He shuddered and began to write as quickly as possible.
Just at that minute Gibbs walked, no stormed into the Bull pen after spending an hour with a niave secrity guard. He slammed his body down into his chair and began typing into his computer. His face resembling the aftermath of an volcano eruption. Tony quickly tried to look as diligent as possible. He had never been a kiss ass, his don't care exterior was now being corroded by the want of a compliment or a look. Something, anything that would say he was proud of him.
Gibbs phone rang…
Tony and McGee looked up…
A pause…
The unmistakable sound of crying…
The sound of the Director crying…
Phone returned to cradle…
An uneasy silence…
The sound of the fax machine beeping was enough to bring Tony back to the world of the living…
Gibbs marched to the machine and whipped out a series of pieces of paper that were coming out of the printer quickly reading them. Angry draining from his eyes as each new sheet appeared. The anger was replaced by nothing… His face remained empty.
"Boss?" Tony asked.
"She's gone." Gibbs whispered.
He turned to face them, and a tear trickled down his face, emotion, pure emotion was appearing on his face. For the first time ever in memory Gunnery Sergeant, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was crying real hot tears.
Tony's legs disappeared and he felt the carpet come up and smother him, but he didn't care. He just remained at the floors level and stared into that place you go when you can't hear people's words or their actions. The place which some of us call space…
"Ziva is dead…" said Tony finally.
He sniffed slightly.
"How?"
"She hung herself…" came a Gibbs reply. This was met by an abyss of silence,
"She went back to her childhood home and hung herself in the garden from a tree. A couple of children discovered her body six months ago…" Gibbs finished.
"SIX MONTHS!" Tony screamed turning around to face Gibbs.
"WHY HAVEN'T WE HEARD ANYTHING"
"What does it matter to you DiNozzo I thought you didn't care about her? You drove her away; broke her heart and now you act all sorry? Well I'm sorry it's too late! There was no identity on the body and she removed the skin of her fingers so she couldn't be finger printed. The local police don't have access to all of Mossad employee's data so her DNA wasn't noticed to be in the system. Mossad thinks she is still in this country. AND the bastard of her father probably doesn't give a crap to say his daughter is missing."
He paused for an angered breath
"he only reason I know about this is that the director and I have for the past month been calling in every favour we have to try and find her. Jenny has now discovered that she has been ashes for six months."
"AND TONY YOU DROVE THAT GIRL TO SUICIDE HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL?" Gibbs snapped viscously
Tony stopped and just glared at him, though he knew in his heart that was true.
"It might not be her, though" said McGee pensively.
Gibbs threw a photograph across the Bull pen; it missed and fluttered to the floor. McGee picked it up and turned it over. He swayed on the spot.
It was her…
It had to be her…
The hair and the porcelain face…
Thick dark hair…
She had never wanted to be found…
Never…
Ever…
Noticed…
She…
Had…
Wanted…
To…
Disappear…