September 8th, 2009
She opens her eyes, and finds herself back on a dirt floor. She looks around the room, and finds Saleem, waiting for her. He smiles upon seeing her wake. He approaches her, kneeling by her side. He touches her face. She flinches.
"Now, now. Don't be so rude. I won't give you any details, I'll just let you wonder, for the rest of your life, however long it may be."
"Where is my baby?"
"Where do you think?"
"I..."
"In the ground, somewhere. I didn't see any sense in burying it, but the midwife insisted. She said she would consider it part of her payment. It's a shame too, you know."
"Why is that?"
"It was a boy. I would have enjoyed taking him from you. If you didn't die out here, one day, I could have sent him, to hunt you down. He would hunt you down and..."
"Stop, just stop."
"Why? So you can grieve? We don't have time for that. We had a deal."
"Had."
"You want out, now?"
"Just kill me. I am done. I am not going to tell you anything else."
"That is just too bad. I am not going to let you out of this. Not that easily."
Tony stares at her in complete disbelief. He shakes his head. He wipes the tears from her face. He draws her into a hug. For once she doesn't pull away. She doesn't even go limp. She hugs him back. After a few moments he lets her go.
"You didn't wake up for a week?"
"No," she shakes her head, wiping away the tears.
"I..."
"I barely remember. It's so fuzzy. I..."
"I know," he answers.
She leans back in her seat.
Three days later he finds himself in the airport. His phone rings. He puts it to his ear.
"Hello?" he answers.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you," he responds.
"You are supposed to be here," she reminds him.
"I am taking some vacation time," he tells her.
"Vacation time? For what?"
"I have some things that I need to take care of."
"When will you be back?"
"In two weeks."
"Two weeks? What is going on? You never take time off. Did someone die?"
"No, Ziva, no one died."
"Then why are you taking two weeks off?"
"Because I need some time off."
"I understand that."
"Then why are you so frustrated?"
"Because I don't understand why you didn't tell me."
"I didn't want you to know."
"Why didn't you want me to know?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Are you ever going to tell me?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Soon."
"Why are you keeping secrets from me?"
"Why do you care?"
"You know my secrets."
"And you will know mine, when the time is right," he counters.
"When will that be, exactly?"
"I don't know," he shrugs.
"Tony..."
He hears his flight being called, "I've got to go," he tells her.
"But.."
He hands up the phone, instead of arguing with her. He grabs his bag, and boards the airplane.
Nearly a day later he finds himself at his destination. He walks into the disheveled building, and is greeted by a friendly face, the first he had seen, since leaving American soil. The tall, skinny, tween stares up at him. Her dark eyes look at him questioningly. Finally she speaks.
"Can I help you?" she asks him in English, to his surprise.
"I am looking for a woman named, Elise."
She smiles, "She's in there," she replies, pointing to the open door, behind her.
"Thank you," he smiles back. He walks past her, into the room. He finds a tall, red head, standing in the corner of the room. He walks past all of the cots, on his way to her. When he reaches her, he stops. He takes a moment, to formulate his thoughts, before speaking.
He clears his throat, and she turns around. She looks at him.
"Can I help you?" she furrows her brow.
"Are you Elise?"
"Yes."
"I have some questions for you."
"Questions? What agency are you with?"
"Agency? What are you talking about?"
"I am assuming you are here to question me about my involvement with terrorists. As you can see, there are no terrorists here. I am no longer working for them. This is an orphanage, in a war torn country. I am just trying to help, although in my defense, I was just trying to help before, too."
"I'm with NCIS."
"Do you have a name?"
"I'm special agent Anthony DiNozzo. You can call me Tony."
"Ok, Tony, what kind of questions do you have for me?"
"I am not here on business," he clarifies.
"You're not? Then why are you here?"
"I'm here for personal reasons."
"Personal reasons? What personal reasons?"
"A colleague of mine."
"A favor?"
"Sort of. I think that you have met her."
"Her? Your co-worker is a woman? Do you know how many women I have met?"
"I think that you would remember her."