Disclaimer: Eh.
So, this is alot Ziva. Not sure if it's in character. And I worryt hat it's confusing.
Anyway, tell me.
Review!
Her body was battered, her mind much the same. Still, she wouldn't give in. She'd never give in. She could remember the last time she'd felt cool water trickle down her throat. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, her stomach ached for food. These men knew what they wanted, and they knew how to get it. Death couldn't come soon enough...
--
"You will go to Somalia. You will finish Michael's job. You will do what you are told."
--
She took ragged breaths, her head lolled forward uselessly, her hands lay prone in her lap, unable to move. She was fighting a battle with consciousness. And losing. She didn't know how many times her eyes flickered open and shut, how many times she jolted herself back into awareness.
--
"If I go I will never get back." Statement.
"Are you saying you are going to disobey a direct order?"Question.
"I never said that." Statement.
--
She didn't even notice her captors anymore. They'd come, do what they had to do, and leave. The pain didn't even register. Which made her pretty much useless.
--
"Then pack your bags."
"I am not weak."
Pause. "I did not say you were."
Another pause. "You did not have to."
--
She was out of it, but she still knew what was happening now. Her captors hadn't bothered her now in days. They were letting her heal.
So they could hurt her all over again.
--
"They will capture us all. This is purely a suicide mission."
"Negativity, Ziva, you know I do not approve of it."
Scoff. "I do not wish to seek your approval, director."
--
Death, life. Death, life. It was becoming hard to differentiate between the two.
--
"Understand, child, this is not a suicide mission."
"What is it then? Character building?"
"No. It is all part of the plan."
--
The door was shut. Always shut. She began to wonder when the company of her captors had actually become a comfort. She began to wonder when she started to prefer torture over isolation. She just wanted the door open.
--
"Plan? What plan?" Confusion.
A hand on her shoulder. A gesture of comfort that was so alienated she felt sick. "Hush child. Complete the mission. We will talk upon your return."
"You really think I will return?"
"I know you will."
Liar.
--
Her eyes flickered. Her hands shook. Her heart soldiered on.
--
"A kiss for your father."
And she kissed him only because they both knew it was fake.
--
The door finally opened.
"Ready to talk yet?"
She smiled.
"Scuito, where the hell is Gibbs?"
"I have no idea, director."
"I don't either. That's why I'm asking."
"Last I heard he was at the hospital."
"We need to find him. I have reason to believe he is in serious trouble."
"How do you know that?" Whoops. Slip of the tongue. "I mean, why would you think that?"
Stop. Size up the competition.
"What do you know, Scuito?"
"What do you know, director?"
--
Trust.
It's a bitch.
A/N: Thoughts? Confused? Review with your fave lines!