"Do you think we'll get a bucket?"

Ziva looked up from where she was finally starting to feel a little give in the ropes binding her left wrist – although it was possibly only an illusion due to the lubrication provided by either the sweat or blood dripping down her palm – and turned to Tony, whose chair had been moved alongside hers in what seemed to be preparation for making another video. "What are you talking about?"

"I have to pee. Is there anything in the Geneva Convention about bathroom privileges?"

"Tony, we're dealing with terrorists. I do not think they are terribly concerned about…" she trailed off, not wanting to think about the rules she'd broken in Morocco not so long ago. Justifiably broken, but… "Just hold it as long as you can so we don't have to deal with the smell." She went back to working her wrist against the rope, the sting becoming more apparent with each motion. Blood. Definitely blood. Sighing, she stopped for a moment. "I would not mind a bathroom break, though."

A few thunks later, he had managed to move his chair close enough to lean lightly against her. "Do you think they have a contingency plan for our bladders? Is that something kidnappers think about? What about beverages? And snacks?"

"It's only been a few hours since breakfast."

"Yeah, and lunchtime is a few hours after breakfast. I would love a sandwich right about now. Maybe a cheesesteak, with those special chips they make right at the deli…mmmm."

More annoyed than she would normally be in regard to Tony's stomach, she questioned, "I thought you needed to use the bathroom?"

"I'm trying to think about something else and food was the first thing I thought of." She felt his breath on her cheek as he allowed more of his weight to rest against her shoulder. "It doesn't work as well as talking about baseball."

"That does not work half the time."

"Well, maybe you should be less arousing, with the hips and the hair and the bedroom eyes."

Stopping herself short of asking how he wanted her to change, she realized how ridiculous their conversation was becoming. "We are hostages tied to chairs!" She worked against the ropes harder than ever as she tried to lean away from him.

He finally took the hint and sat up. "And I still have to pee."

"You should have said something earlier, Agent DiNozzo." Ziva caught a disturbing glance of the hallway behind the door before Safad dropped the sheet upon entering. He called for one of at least two men working with him in Arabic before switching back to English. "I can't have you squirming when we speak to NCIS. Take him to the bathroom," he commanded the nameless man who had appeared in the doorway, giving Ziva another glance of what she now knew to be the foyer.

Tony obviously had not seen, or perhaps had just not recognized what was outside their sheet-covered room. "I get to use the toilet and everything? Gee, Mr. Kidnapper, you're really a swell guy!"

Safad smiled at the sarcasm and raised a familiar weapon to Ziva's head as his associate untied Tony. He tapped his ear as Tony was blindfolded. "Keep in contact. If he tries anything, she dies. Is this your weapon or his?"

Ziva recognized her own, but said, "We both carry SIGs. You would have to check the serial numbers."

"I suppose you would be sure if I used your backup, but I really prefer the semi-auto to the revolver."

The gun remained pressed against her temple long after Tony had left the room. "I am tied up, Safad. You can relax."

"Ahh, but I am relaxed." He dragged the barrel across her forehead, causing her to flinch as he came close to her wound. Stopping when it was positioned between her eyes, he said, "This is so tempting. I could kill you now and save myself the trouble of ever dealing with Moussad. Perhaps it is a good idea, even. Imagine how eager your superiors will be to trade for your lover's life when they see you killed in front of them – over a video link, to be sure, but…killing Ziva David. I suppose from your point of view it would be akin to the feeling I suspect you had on killing Dmitri Tushkevich."

"I doubt it." The satisfaction she felt over that accomplishment was not the kind associated with a smile, so it wasn't difficult to keep her features fixed in a scowl. "Your plan has always been to kill me, hasn't it?"

"It doesn't hurt to explore one's options, but, ultimately, yes. We both know that Moussad will never negotiate and you deserve to die for the crimes you have committed."

"I only know the first one," she muttered. "What if NCIS refuses to trade Sahrawi for Tony? What then?"

Safad shrugged. "You get to die together, I suppose. Him first. You will have to suffer, I'm afraid. That is all in the future, though. For the moment, you can take advantage of my benevolence and use the bathroom as soon as Agent DiNozzo has been resecured."

Ziva got another view of the foyer, confirming what she had already been certain of, when Tony was guided back into the room. Safad began loosening her bonds after he had been tied up again, complaining, "Your goon barely let me wash my hands! Don't you people believe in personal hygiene?"

"I will have to make sure that Officer David has a chance to do so, considering how she has torn up her wrist," Safad replied as he fixed the blindfold over her eyes. He gripped the back of her neck while pressing the muzzle of her gun into her head. "Move."

The black and white marble that passed under her feet as he pushed her ahead forced her to think not about the danger, but the potential to communicate their position to NCIS. She hadn't given Safad any reason to believe she had recognized their prison, being careful not to acknowledge that she knew they were in the bathroom until he told her. Reaching out with deliberately blind hands, she asked, "Are you going to stay and watch?"

"Don't flatter yourself. If I trusted you not to turn the fixtures into explosives, I would save myself the sight."

After she had washed her hands, she was met unexpectedly with a gauze bandage around her wrist. Safad only grunted when she softly thanked him in spite of herself. He was almost gentle when he led her back and retied her to the chair. Was he feeling bad about what he was planning? Or was he simply trying to throw her off guard? Once she had assured Tony that she was all right, she refocused her attention on what she was planning to say when they contacted NCIS. It was likely happening soon, as Tony had already been gagged again.