I don't own.
Well, I thought the last chapter would be short, but it wasn't! Which makes me happy. Which doesn't happen much, I'm not a very happy person.
I have a question. Is anyone actually reading this story, besides you, Aisha. Because I know your reading this, I'm probably watching you read it right now, since most likely I'm on the couch and you're on the computer. But to other people, if anyone is actually reading this; do any of you have anything you want to happen? Seriously, because I'm out of idea's. None left. Last chapter was just tying up some lose end I had hanging off. I have no more of those, and I need them.
So, if anyone is reading this, comment.
Also, this chapter will just be some back stories.
Three months ago
Ziva stood quietly, staring into the mirror.
All her bruises were gone, her cuts were healed. But it was the look in her eyes that scared her.
The glint that said she was still sane, still strong, still Ziva, wasn't there. In its place, the fear of a small animal, caught in a hunters trap.
But she wasn't trapped anymore! She insisted to herself. She was free, and that CafPow drinking terrorist was dead. Dead, dead, dead, not coming back. He couldn't hurt her, not ever again.
Others could.
She had been hurt before. She had been hurt by other people before. But never like that. She had never been hurt so much, for so long, that she prayed that they would just kill her and get it over with. She had never managed to give up hope, so completely.
She shook herself. Today was her day off; she wasn't going to waste it staring in a mirror obsessing over what she saw or didn't see in her eyes. See was going out for lunch with Abby, who had been very concerned with Ziva lately, and seemed to out of her way to get Ziva out and about.
A knock on the door alerted Ziva to Abby's arrival. She went to answer it.
As soon as the door was open, Abby hugged Ziva.
"Ziva!" she said excitedly.
"Hello, Abby." Ziva said, smiling.
"Where do you want to go to lunch?" Abby asked, as she did every time they had lunch together.
"Where ever you wish is fine." Ziva responded, as she always did lately.
Abby frowned at her, but said nothing.
Line.
"That was a fun day, Abby. Thank you." Ziva said, a true smile on her face.
Abby smiled widely. "I'm happy to hear that, Ziva. We've all been pretty worried about you, lately. We just want you to be happy." She said as she walked down the street next to Ziva.
Ziva noticed the concerned glint in her eyes. "I am fine, Abby. Yes, it was a hard, what happened, but it is over. I am back at NCIS, I no longer work for Mossad, and I have you taking me to lunch." She smiled softly at Abby.
Abby smiled back, most of her concern gone for the moment.
Suddenly, a shout rang out, and Ziva noticed a man running towards them.
Ziva stopped the man, grabbing him.
"Hey, lady, let me go," he snarled.
"Hey! That man just stole a womans purse!" the person who had shouted before shouted again, and Ziva could see the man jogging up towards them.
"Lemme go, lady." The man insisted.
Abby grabbed the purse hanging from his arm. "Because this is yours?"
The man squirmed free from Ziva's hold, kneeing her in the stomach.
Ziva felt the pain. She also felt the anger, rising up inside her, like kettle boiling water, the spout blocked by something. And as the water boiled into steam, her anger changed also, twisting into something wild, something ancient and more powerful than herself, something that had to be let out or it would kill her...
And as she let it out, suddenly and powerfully, the pain ceased, it seemed, and she saw it go out of her, and fly through the air, towards the man who was getting ready to run, because all this had happened in less than a second. And the pain that used to be hers flew towards him, hitting him exactly where he had hit her, and it settled in, and he doubled over in pain.
Abby looked at her, wide eyed. She handed the purse to the woman who the man had taken it from, as she had joined them.
Ziva looked down at the man, watching him groan in pain. Then she looked up at the other man.
Her eyes met his, and she knew he understood. She had done this, and he knew how.
"My name is Ziva." She said, sticking her hand towards him.
He smiled. "Hello, Ziva, my name is Flash."
Line.
Two and a half months ago
Adelinde had an anger problem.
That was what they told her, anyway. She didn't, she knew, but they wanted to label her that way. They only had certain stamps, and they wanted her to be one, so they could stamp her forehead and ship her off the corresponding treatment.
They didn't want to listen to her when she said she didn't actually want to hurt that person, but she couldn't stop the, the... shield that came out of her, pushing its way out through her skin to throw that idiot Bobby against the wall so hard he got an concussion.
That was why she left, she told herself. Because she was causing people more trouble than they needed.
The real reason, she knew, was that she needed to get away. Her life was pathetic. She cared about the few people who still cared about her, the orphan, but they just didn't understand her. She was old enough now, to live on her own. She hadn't paid much attention at school, didn't really have an education, even if she was smart, so she couldn't really get a job.
Good thing she didn't really have morals.
She smiled, and laughed as she walked down the dark street. A young woman, all alone, walking down this street at night would normally be in danger. But nothing could touch her; nothing could even get close unless she allowed it. She allowed herself a quick smirk, spotting a parked car.
She walked quickly towards it, pulling the shield tight around herself. Her second skin.
Peering through the car window, she saw it was locked. No problem.
She reached out with her shield, pushing it into the lock, and turning.
Click. She thought, as the lock popped open. She got in quickly, using her shield again as the starter key, revving the car up and driving away.
She didn't understand her power. It scared her when she thought about it.
Hence the not thinking about it. It simply became something she did, like breathing.
But now she was thinking about it. She was also thinking about where she would sleep tonight.
No money for a motel room, no one she knew, or even used to know, lived in this town. Where ever this town was, which she couldn't actually remember at this moment.
She shook her head and pulled over to the side of the road. She pressed her forehead against the top of the steering wheel, and listened to the silence.
Until the silence was broken by a sharp tap on the window.
"Crap." She muttered. Police.
She looked up, a smile on her face, hoping to hell they didn't ask to see ID or anything, since she didn't have any and this was a stolen car.
But as she rolled down her window, she realized it wasn't a police officer, unless he had decided to ditch his uniform and wear a Rolling Stones shirt and jeans.
"Um, hi?" she said.
"Hey. You okay?" he asked.
She nodded, her head tilted to the side questioningly. "Are you?"
"Not really. I've been walking down this highway for a while. Can you give me a ride?" he said. "I promise I won't kill you are anything." He held up two fingers, scouts honour.
She raised an eyebrow, but popped the lock on the passenger door.
He got in quickly. "Thank you. Where are you heading?" he asked.
Adelinde paused, staring out the windshield. "Where ever you are, man." She said, revving the car up, realizing a second late she was using her shield to do so.
The man looked down at it, shimmering in the darkness.
She looked at him, her mouth opening to make an excuse, or kick him out of the car.
But he simply rested his hands on his knees, palms up, and watched as the bright light grew from them.
Adelinde gaped at him.
He smiled at her. "My name is Flash, by the way."
Line.
One Year Ago
"I don't see why you have to do this, Sarah." Adusia said quietly.
"I'm not Sarah." Sarah/The Bomb said.
"Yes, you are. And I don't see why you have to do this." Adusia insisted.
Sarah/The Bomb frowned. "Because they pay me to do this. Would you like to have to money?" she asked. "You could make a killing, you know." She giggled at the small joke she had made. "Killing, you get it?"
Adusia rubbed her eyes in annoyance. "Yes, I get it. I'm going to the hospital. Be careful." She said.
Adusia loved the hospital. She liked to collect there.
That's what Sarah called it. Collecting. Collecting the death from people, pulling it out of them like a worm, slithering up her arm and turning it black, making its way all through her body, settling in her eyes until it faded.
It was not a pleasant thing to do, bring people back to life. It hurt, and made her feel sick and, for lack of a better word, gross. It felt like tar.
Now, taking the life out of someone was so much more wonderful. Taking that was like her skin became a vacuum, pulling a beautiful, delicious light out and taking in inside herself. That made her feel like she was the sun, bright and warm and wonderful.
But that involved taking lives, killing people. She did, sometimes. She had killed so many more than anyone dying of old age should have ever killed, and she was not even into her twenties!
It made her mad sometimes, that she cared. She wished she could just stop caring.
But she couldn't, as hard as she tried. So, she killed who she had to, to protect her sister and herself, and she spent days at hospitals in the ICU, waiting for people to die so she could sneak in and pull the death out of them, the cause too.
And when the terminal care people got checked out by doctors, and the amazed doctors said they were cured, were going to be fine, and they could go home, she watched their amazed faces with a kind of sullen joy. Happy she could help, well aching to get rid of the blackness inside her that coated her insides, the tar.
And sometimes, sometimes she would sneak up into cancer care unit, and into some poor terminal person's room, and put her hand on their forehead. Sometimes, if they were still conscience, they would ask her who she was.
"I'm here to help you. I'll make the pain stop." She would whisper, and she would pull out the wonderful golden light. And it would get rid of the tar.
Kay, unless I get idea's for what should happen next in the current timeline, I'm just gonna keep doing background stories.
And also, sorry if the timeline of the NCIS is off a little. I don't really know how long it was in between Ziva getting back and her being in NCIS and all that. So...