I Am Damaged Goods

"As darkness quickly steals the light
that shined within her eyes
she slowly swallows all her fear
and soothes her mind with lies"

"Even when I found out she was an agent, I still enjoyed it." O'Neil said as he was pushed through the NCIS building towards interrogation. The man – if he could be considered that – stopped short and looked at Tony. There was something evil in his eyes; his eyes held a secret.

"Move forward." Tony said, and his voice was monotone. "Now." He feared that if he attempted to speak with any more emotion than the plain, flat, cadence of monotone, he would lose his control.

"Was she your friend?" O'Neil asked. "Was she your partner? Your lover? She'll never be the same, you know." His voice was gleeful, enraging DiNozzo. "She disserved it, that ungrateful little –"

He was cut off with a knee to the back that caused him to stumble forward. "Hey!" He shouted, causing several heads around them to turn. "There are regulations against that!"

"In this country," Tony said, shoving the man forward again. "But I'm speaking for Agent David today, and she knew several other countries quite well." He leaned in, close to the man's ear. "Push me. I beg you."

O'Neil didn't answer.

"That's what I thought." Tony said.

They continued towards interrogation, Tony hoping for the chance to knee him in the back one more time. McGee had gone down to Abby's lab to bring her with them. Coming up to the door of interrogation and finding it open, he shoved O'Neil through and Tony forced him into the chair, handcuffs still on. He leaned over the captured criminal, his eyes flashing. "I'm going to go visit my partner in the hospital now." He said coolly. "And, when I'm good and ready, I'll come back."

--

He found them in the parking lot standing by the sedan, waiting for him. Abby had her stuffed hippo tucked beneath her right arm. Her hair was in pigtails and she looked ready to take someone down.

"Tony!" She called out, dashing forward and pitching herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. He felt Bert pressed against his back.

"Ouch, Abby." He complained, and she stepped back, her eyes firey.

"Someone needs to explain, and since you're the only one who saw her…" She tapped a foot. "I've got to know what happened to our Ziva, Tony!" She exclaimed. "You don't understand – I'm stuck in my lab! For all I know…" She trailed off.

"I'll explain in the car." He promised, and she didn't argue. Abby slid into the backseat of the car, McGee riding shotgun and Tony in the driver's seat. The NCIS Agent started the car and had backed out of the parking spot before he began to speak.

"She's in bad shape." He started, nearly able to feel Abby's wince. "She wa running a fever, had several broken ribs, and her leg…" He shook a head, a shiver running down his spine. He stared out at the road he was driving on. "She didn't recognize me, not at first."

"Oh, Ziva." Abby whispered. She couldn't do this, not again, she wouldn't. She hadn't thought she'd make it through Kate … she couldn't lose another best friend.

"She'll pull through, Abby." McGee said.

"Good." Abby said, leaning her head against the car window, eyes tracking the passing buildings of D.C. Bert sat on the seat next to her.

--

When they wheeled her in, Gibbs was still attempting to process the words that Ziva had spoken to him before she went unconscious. By the time he'd entered the emergency room, keeping stride with the stretcher, he'd already called the director of NCIS, who'd placed another team temporarily on the case – until Gibbs' team felt they could leave the hospital with their full attention on investigation. She was slipping in and out of it now as he followed the stretcher through the emergency room. When she was conscious, she was watching him – panicked eyes in fear of her sudden loss of control.

O'Neil's files spoke of a brother.

A brother that had been dead for the past five years. Right before Harold O'Neil – the elder brother by two years, six months – had begun taking unfaithful navy wives captive.

The younger O'Neil – Donald – had been killed by the man with whom his wife had been having an affair with.

Gibbs didn't understand – Ziva had spoken as if Donald was alive. He was dead.

The man sighed. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Sir – Agent Gibbs…" His eyes flickered up to the nurse, attempting to grab his attention. She seemed timid when she spoke. A new nurse, he figured, perhaps an intern. "You may wait in the emergency room."

"No, I'll be staying with her." He corrected, to which the woman shook her head. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"She'll have someone prepping her for surgery very soon." The nurse said, and Gibbs read her nametag as Tracey. She still sounded timid, more so when she looked at the man's face.

"I don't think you heard me." Gibbs countered. "I wasn't asking a question."

"Sir-"

"Don't make him leave." Ziva's voice was a whisper, strained. I need a hand to hold, she thought.

"I … fine." The woman answered, seeming resigned. "Don't expect the fault to lie with me." She assured roughly, wheeling the injured young woman into an unoccupied room. Inside, there were waiting EMTs – two male and a female- to lift her into the hospital bed from the stretcher.

She saw them – the two men – and the crazed look in her eyes returned. His hesitation was only a second but it cost them all the same. In those seconds – no more than ten, no less than five – something seemed to crack within Ziva. The former Mossad officer strained against the straps holding her to the stretcher, panicking. Her straining did nothing to the straps, they remained secure, but it was her he was worried about.

He moved the stunned nurse out of his way, coming close to Ziva, entering her line of vision. With one hand, he shoved the approaching EMTs away from the stretcher.

"Look at me." He insisted, but she was seeing nothing of the real world: whatever she was seeing was in her mind.

"Salim," She breathed. "O'Neil." Her eyes were far away, lost.

"Look at me." He continued. "Now, Ziva." If she hadn't been strapped down, he wouldn't have dared to touch her cheek, but restrained, she couldn't have the response she might have. Gently, he touched her lower jaw. She jerked away.

"They're going to… can't, not again…" She seemed to see her boss for the first time. "Gibbs!" She cried out. "They're-"

"Not real, Ziver." He promised, stroking back her hair.

"But…" She said, her eyes finally coming back to his face. "They're right there. Please." The word was heart-breaking.

"They're not." He assured her, rubbing her arm with the heel of a hand. "It's in your head. They're just EMTs." Gibbs soothed.

She swallowed, blinking rapidly. He realized with a sharp pain that she was attempting not to cry. "Remove the restraints, Gibbs. Please, I beg of you." The question seemed to take something from her. The fire she always had in her eyes was replaced with a deep sort of sadness. She shuddered, forcing herself to believe that it was not Salim or O'Neil standing in the room with her.

Gibbs wasn't the one to ask permission – but the people before him were the professionals in this, and it was Ziva's health that was at stake. His eyes went to them for permission, and Tracey nodded once.

With gentle, steady hands, he undid the strap that held her torso to the stretcher. Her leg still remained attached to the wooden board, Ziva struggled to sit up. Instead of forcing her to lay back down, he came closer to her, placing his arm behind her back and supporting her as she wrapped her arms around him, broken. Her arms shook.

"I know, Ziva. I know."

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading! I hope you'll review, and I'm so glad that there are people who like this story. Opinions, comments, suggestions – all are welcome. Even people who didn't like it – just tell me what you didn't like so that I can improve!

By the way, Abby was right. Pistachios are addicting. You cannot eat just one.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter: the next one will have the team at the hospital (Tony, McGee, Abby, Ducky, and if people think it's a good idea, Palmer.)

Thanks for reading, again!