Lucy had spent weeks building her cover, earning the gang's trust. She was close—so damn close—but she still hadn't met the boss, and without that, she couldn't bring them down.
She hadn't seen Maria in two weeks. That alone was strange. They weren't exactly best friends, but Maria had been a constant presence in the gang, always handling business, always sharp. And then—nothing.
Something was wrong.
One evening, at one of their usual hangouts, Lucy casually asked one of the guys, "Hey, you seen Maria around?"
The guy snorted. "Wait, you don't know?"
Lucy frowned. "Know what?"
"That bitch is a snitch," he said, lowering his voice slightly. "Turns out some government agency sent her in to take us down."
Lucy felt her stomach drop, but she forced her expression to stay neutral. "Bullshit," she scoffed. "Maria? She's just a street kid."
"Yeah, that's what we all thought. Turns out, not so much," he muttered. "Dunno the whole story myself, but they've been keeping her locked up. I gotta guard the door sometimes."
Lucy swallowed hard. Locked up? That meant Maria was still alive—for now.
The guy watched her carefully. "Wanna take it out on her too?" He smirked, pulling a small key from his pocket. "You had to work with her, so you deserve a shot. She's tied to a chair, looking a hell of a lot less tough than usual."
Lucy hesitated for only half a second before forcing a cold laugh. "Damn. I knew something was off about her," she said, shaking her head. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind getting a few hits in. Where is she?"
The guy grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction. "Come on, I'll show you."
As Lucy followed him, her mind raced. Maria got made. She's alive. But if I don't act fast, she won't be for long.
She needed a plan. And she needed it now.
As Lucy stepped into the dimly lit room, she had to fight to keep her expression neutral. The stench of blood and sweat hung in the air, making her stomach churn, but she forced herself to appear unaffected.
Maria sat slumped in the chair, her head hanging low. Her usually wild curls were matted with sweat and blood, strands sticking to her bruised face. She didn't move, not even a twitch, as if she had lost consciousness.
Dark stains covered her torn clothes, and the dried blood on the ground confirmed what Lucy already feared—they had beaten the hell out of her.
"Yo, leave us alone for a minute," Lucy said, turning to the guy who had led her here.
He gave her a nod, smirking as if expecting a show, then walked out, shutting the door behind him.
The moment the door clicked shut, Ziva's head slowly lifted. Through a swollen, purple-black face, her sharp eyes locked onto Lucy's.
"Roxy," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Come closer."
Lucy hesitated for half a second before stepping forward, crouching down to Ziva's level.
When she was close enough, Ziva spoke again, her words barely audible. "Officer Chen," she rasped. "When you go see your supervisor in that diner again, tell him to put Ziva David into the system. Follow it with number 42—they will be contacted then. I have enough evidence to tear this organization down—with your help."
Lucy froze. "What?" she whispered, stunned.
Ziva winced but kept her focus. "Can I trust you with this?" she asked, her pain barely masking the steel in her voice.
Lucy swallowed hard. "Yes, you can. But—"
"No buts," Ziva cut her off. "We don't have time. Rafael should be here any minute. Play along. Don't make it obvious you care." She took a shallow breath. "I can hold out for a few more days."
Lucy's mind raced. She knew. She knew I was undercover and still kept playing along.
Ziva's voice pulled her back. "As soon as the door opens, you will yell something at me and hit me. You need to sell it. If you hesitate, they'll know something's off."
Lucy recoiled slightly. "I—I can't just—"
"Yes, you can," Ziva said firmly, her eyes burning despite the bruises. "You have to."
Footsteps echoed outside the door.
Lucy barely had time to register the approaching figures before she forced herself into action.
"I can't believe you're a damn snitch!" she spat, her voice laced with anger. "I trusted you, idiot!"
The door swung open just as Lucy's hand connected with Ziva's face in a sharp slap.
Ziva's head snapped to the side, but she barely flinched.
A slow chuckle came from behind Lucy.
"Easy, Roxy," a deep voice drawled.
She turned to see Rafael, the gang leader, standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Two men flanked him, their stares unreadable.
"We need our guest conscious," Rafael continued, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "At least for some time."
Lucy took a quick step back. "Sir," she acknowledged, keeping her tone submissive.
Rafael barely glanced at her before nodding to one of his men. "Andre."
"Yes, sir?"
"Take Roxy outside," Rafael instructed, his tone casual but firm. "Be here tomorrow at ten o'clock sharp, Roxy. We have something big planned."
Lucy forced herself to nod. "Yes, sir."
With one last glance at Ziva—who gave nothing away—Lucy turned and walked out, leaving her alone with the gang.
Her heart pounded in her chest, but one thing was clear—she needed to get Ziva out. Fast.
Lucy walked into the diner, scanning the room before spotting Tim already seated in a corner booth. She slid into the seat across from him, keeping her expression neutral, just two strangers sharing a space.
Tim didn't waste time. "Tell me everything."
Lucy leaned forward slightly, her voice low. "It's worse than we thought." She quickly ran through what had happened—the gang discovering Maria was undercover, the beatings, Ziva's warning, and the cryptic message about putting 'Ziva David into the system followed by number 42.'
Tim listened intently, his jaw tightening with each detail. When Lucy finished, he exhaled sharply. "We need to move fast."
She nodded. "I know. But Ziva said to keep playing along, that she can hold out for a few more days."
Tim didn't look convinced, but he also knew they couldn't afford to blow the operation. He glanced toward the counter and then back at her. "Tomorrow morning, there'll be a newspaper waiting for you here. Inside, you'll find an envelope. You know what to do."
Lucy didn't ask questions. Instead, she simply said, "Got it."
Tim leaned back, signaling the end of the conversation. A waitress approached, and Lucy casually placed her order, blending in. They were just two regular customers, nothing more.
As Lucy stepped outside, she immediately noticed Tim lingering near his car. That wasn't part of the plan.
She walked toward him, keeping her posture relaxed. "I thought we weren't supposed to be seen together."
Tim didn't look at her directly. "I needed to make sure you got it."
Lucy lifted the folded newspaper slightly, the hidden envelope inside. "Got it." Lowering her voice, she added, "Now leave before someone notices."
Tim hesitated for a second before nodding. "Be careful, Lucy. This is getting messy."
Lucy gave a small nod. "Yeah. I know."
Without another word, Tim got into his car and drove off. Lucy turned in the opposite direction, heading back to her motel with the newspaper—and the information that could finally bring this gang down.
Today was already the move. The whole gang would be there at 10 o'clock. Lucy still had to go in as a gang member. A listening device with an earpiece was also in the envelope she received.
As she read the instructions, her heartbeat quickened. This was it—the last day she would spend undercover. She had memorized the plan before leaving the motel, knowing she couldn't risk bringing any physical notes with her.
She started her day as usual, acting as though it were just another morning in the gang. Slipping the earpiece into place, she tested the connection.
"Chen, you reading me?" Tim's voice crackled in her ear.
Lucy smirked. "Loud and clear."
"Good. Stay sharp. We're moving into position."
She grabbed her jacket, took one last deep breath, and walked out. The warehouse was waiting.
--
As she pulled up to the warehouse, she took a steadying breath before stepping out of the car. The area was buzzing with activity—trucks being loaded, men carrying crates, and Rafael standing in the middle of it all, barking orders.
Lucy approached, keeping her posture casual. "Morning, boss."
Rafael glanced at her and nodded. "Roxy, good. We've got a lot to do today. No screw-ups."
Lucy smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."
She scanned the scene subtly, looking for Maria—Ziva. She still didn't know what condition she was in after last night. But she had to trust that Ziva was holding out just as she said she would.
The second the first flashbang went off and the shouts of officers filled the warehouse, Lucy took off running. She dodged past gang members either surrendering or scrambling for cover, weaving her way toward the back rooms.
"Chen, where are you?" Tim's voice crackled in her earpiece.
"I'm getting Ziva!" she panted as she sprinted through the dimly lit corridors.
She reached the door and shoved it open. The sight before her made her stomach drop.
Maria—no, Ziva—hung from the ceiling, her arms bound tightly together above her head, the rope looped through a carabiner. Her entire weight was pulling against her shoulders, and she barely seemed conscious.
Lucy approached cautiously, her voice soft. "Ziva, hey. It's me, Lucy. I'm here to get you out."
Ziva's head lifted slightly, her bruised and bloodied face barely registering Lucy at first. She blinked a few times before rasping, "Took… you long enough."
Lucy quickly moved to untie her but struggled with the knots. "Damn it," she muttered. "I can't do this alone."
Suddenly, the door burst open. Ziva shrieked, twisting instinctively in her restraints, eyes wide with panic.
"Ziva! It's okay!" Lucy rushed to her side, placing a steadying hand on her. "It's just Tim. We're here to help."
Tim stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he took in Ziva's condition. Without hesitation, he moved to the rope, slicing through it with his knife. As soon as the tension released, Ziva's body slumped, but Lucy caught her shoulders, easing her down.
Ziva inhaled sharply, wincing in pain. "I can walk," she muttered, pushing against the floor to stand.
The moment she tried, her legs buckled. Tim caught her before she could hit the ground.
"I got you," he said firmly. "I'll carry you, alright?"
Ziva hesitated for just a second, uncertainty flickering in her exhausted gaze.
Lucy placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "You can trust him."
Ziva exhaled, then gave a small nod.
Without another word, Tim lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the dark room, past the chaos of the raid, and into the waiting ambulance outside.
As Tim carried Ziva out of the warehouse, the flashing lights of police cars and ambulances illuminated the night. The chaos of the raid still echoed in the background—officers shouting, gang members being cuffed, and evidence being secured—but all Lucy cared about was getting Ziva to safety.
At the ambulance, Bailey was already waiting alongside a male paramedic. As Tim carefully moved to lay Ziva down on the gurney, the man stepped forward to take over.
"I got her," he said, reaching for Ziva.
"No," Lucy cut in firmly. "Bailey will do it."
The male paramedic hesitated. "But—" He stopped mid-sentence when he really looked at Ziva. Her swollen face, the bruises peeking from under torn sleeves, the tension in her entire body. She was still holding herself together, but barely. Even in her weakened state, she was wound tight—ready to fight, ready to run. He understood. She would trust a female more.
He gave a small nod and stepped back. "Alright. Bailey, she's yours."
Tim carefully laid Ziva down onto the gurney, trying to be as gentle as possible. As Bailey started assessing her injuries, Lucy noticed something for the first time.
Ziva looked small.
For all her toughness, all the strength she had shown in the past weeks, she was still just a kid. And for the first time, she looked like one—vulnerable, hurt, and utterly exhausted.
Lucy's chest tightened. I have to be there for her.
"Can I ride with you?" she asked Bailey.
Bailey glanced at her, then at Ziva, who was staring at the ceiling, silent but tense. Without hesitation, Bailey nodded.
Lucy climbed into the ambulance, sitting beside Ziva as they shut the doors. The sirens wailed, and they sped off into the night, heading toward the hospital.
The ambulance rumbled down the dark streets, the flashing lights casting fleeting shadows on the buildings as they passed. Inside, the atmosphere was tense but focused. Bailey worked methodically, checking vitals, administering fluids, and bandaging the cuts and bruises that marred Ziva's pale skin.
Ziva barely moved, her body slumped on the gurney, but her eyes were open, following the movement of Bailey's hands. Her expression was a mix of pain, exhaustion, and a fierce determination to hold it all together. She didn't speak at first, but Lucy could feel the weight of her silence, the tension in the air as if Ziva was fighting against something inside her—something that was pushing her to be strong when everything in her body screamed to give in.
Lucy watched her closely, her own heart heavy. She didn't know what had happened to Ziva—what kind of hell she'd gone through before she was found—but she knew one thing: Ziva was more than just a scared kid. She was someone who had been forced to grow up too fast.
Ziva finally broke the silence, her voice low, strained. "I… I didn't think I would make it out."
Lucy's heart sank. The words came out in a quiet, almost hesitant whisper, like a secret she hadn't meant to say aloud.
"You made it," Lucy said softly, trying to reassure her, though she wasn't sure if she was reassuring Ziva or herself. "You're safe now."
Ziva's eyes flickered over to Lucy, and for the first time, there was a small, almost imperceptible crack in her tough exterior—a brief flash of vulnerability.
"Safe?" Ziva repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "For how long?"
Lucy didn't have an answer for that. She didn't know. But she couldn't lie to Ziva, not now.
Instead, she reached out and gently squeezed Ziva's hand. "For as long as it takes. We'll get through this."
Bailey glanced over, hearing the exchange. She gave Lucy a quick nod, indicating that she understood. The next few moments were spent in focused silence, as the ambulance sped toward the hospital. Ziva's condition needed immediate attention, and every second counted.
As they neared the hospital, the bright lights of the emergency entrance grew closer. Lucy felt a lump in her throat, a knot of anxiety that hadn't loosened since she'd first set foot in the gang's hideout. But now, there was a sense of relief—slight, but undeniable. They were almost there.
"Hang on, Ziva," Bailey murmured as they pulled up to the hospital, swiftly stopping in front of the emergency doors. "We're almost there."
Ziva didn't respond, her face pale as she closed her eyes. But Lucy stayed close, her hand never leaving Ziva's, offering whatever comfort she could.
The doors opened, and the emergency team was already waiting, ready to take over. Bailey and Lucy stepped aside as the paramedics moved in, efficiently transferring Ziva onto a hospital bed.
Lucy stood there for a moment, watching as they wheeled Ziva into the ER. She knew this was just the beginning, that the hardest part was still ahead. But as Ziva disappeared behind the swinging doors, Lucy finally allowed herself to exhale.
They had made it.
As Ziva was in surgery, Lucy and Bailey sat quietly in the sterile waiting area, their faces tense with concern. The soft hum of the hospital's fluorescent lights filled the silence, but neither woman could shake the knot of worry in their stomachs. Every passing minute felt like an eternity.
Bailey looked over at Lucy, her expression softening. "How's she holding up?" she asked, voice low.
Lucy glanced over at her, her jaw clenched. "She's tough, but I don't think anyone can handle what she's been through. She's so damn strong, but…" Lucy trailed off, unable to finish. There were no words for how broken Ziva seemed after everything.
Before Bailey could respond, the door to the waiting room opened, and Tim walked in. He looked worn but determined, his eyes scanning the room until they locked onto Lucy.
"I just spoke with the agency," he said, his voice calm despite the weight of what he was about to say. "They weren't part of the raid, but someone will be in contact with Ziva's father soon. They're bringing him here."
Lucy nodded, her mind processing everything. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease about Eli's involvement. The man had never seemed to show Ziva the kind of care she deserved. She couldn't imagine what would happen when he arrived.
Hours later, the weight of silence hung heavy in the room. Bailey had left for her shift change, and only Tim and Lucy remained. The clock ticked away in the background, the moments stretching longer with each passing second.
Finally, a doctor entered the waiting area, her face tight with the gravity of the situation. She looked to Tim and Lucy and nodded curtly.
"She's in stable condition now," the doctor said. "Ziva's been moved to a private room. You're welcome to go in and speak with her. But be quick, please. We're keeping an eye on her condition."
"Thanks," Lucy said, standing up. She looked over at Tim, who gave a single nod, his expression unreadable.
They made their way to Ziva's room, but as they entered, they didn't come as officers—only as people who cared about her. Ziva was sitting up in bed, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, but there was something else in her gaze—something guarded, like she had already built walls around herself again.
The first thing Ziva said when she saw them was, "When can I leave?" Her voice was faint but laced with determination.
"Not for a while," Lucy answered softly, trying to sound reassuring, though she knew the road ahead for Ziva was far from easy.
Before Lucy could say anything else, the door opened, and a man in an expensive suit stepped into the room. The change in Ziva's posture was immediate—her back straightened, her eyes hardening. It was as if she instinctively went into some sort of defensive mode.
The man was flanked by two large bodyguards. He stepped in with an air of authority, the kind of man who didn't need to speak loudly to command respect.
"Thank you for getting my daughter out of there, officers," the man said, his tone cold and dismissive. "But you can leave now."
Ziva's father, Eli.
One of the bodyguards set a large bag down at the foot of Ziva's bed.
"Ziva," Eli said, his voice firm. "Get changed. We're leaving."
Tim immediately stood, positioning himself between Ziva and her father. "Actually, it's Sergeant," Tim said, his voice unwavering. "And your daughter can't leave right now. She just came out of surgery."
Eli looked at Tim with an expression of barely contained annoyance. "Sergeant, we have our own doctors. They are far better than anything you can offer here. We will take care of her from here on out."
Tim's eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward, his words cold. "Like how you took care of your daughter when you sent her into a gang?"
Lucy immediately placed a hand on Tim's arm, trying to stop him, knowing how fragile this moment was. But Tim wasn't backing down.
Lucy took a deep breath, then quietly said, "Be careful, Tim. Don't provoke him."
Eli's gaze flicked between them, his jaw tightening. "You should listen to your colleague, Sergeant. You're out of your league here."
Eli turned to Ziva, ignoring the tension in the room. "Ziva, let's go," he commanded.
Ziva hesitated for a moment, then pulled out the IV from her arm with a grimace of pain. Slowly, she stood up, her body trembling with the effort, and began making her way toward the bathroom.
Eli glanced at his bodyguard. "Get the discharge papers," he ordered. The bodyguard nodded and quickly left the room.
Ziva, grimacing in pain, was already in the bathroom by the time the bodyguard returned with the papers. When Ziva came out, she moved slowly, wincing with each step, but she nodded to her father.
Eli, with his entourage of bodyguards, turned and led the way out of the room. Ziva followed behind him, her posture stiff, her eyes lowered as she shuffled to the door.
Tim and Lucy watched them leave, standing in the doorway, powerless to stop it.
As they disappeared down the hallway, Tim turned to Lucy, his jaw tight. "This isn't over. We'll make sure she's safe, even if her father won't."
Lucy nodded, her heart heavy with concern for Ziva. She couldn't help but wonder how long Ziva would be trapped in her father's world, a world that seemed to only use her, never care for her.
"I just hope she knows we're here for her," Lucy said softly.
Tim looked at her, his eyes full of determination. "We'll make sure she knows."
Tim and Lucy left the hospital together, both feeling the weight of what had just transpired. The quiet between them was comfortable but heavy, each of them processing the situation in their own way.
"We need to clock out before anything else," Tim muttered as they walked past the front desk, where they signed out of their shifts. Neither of them had much energy left, but the need for a little comfort seemed to outweigh the exhaustion.
"Food truck, like old times?" Lucy asked, glancing over at Tim with a small, weary smile.
Tim nodded. "Sounds perfect."
The familiar scent of grilled food filled the air as they approached their favorite food truck. It was a small, unassuming place, but the food was always hot and satisfying. They ordered their usual and found a quiet bench near the back of the truck, away from the small crowd of people. As they dug into their meals, Tim stared off into the distance, his mind clearly elsewhere.
"You've been quiet," Lucy said between bites, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow.
Tim sighed, setting down his food. "I just keep thinking about Ziva," he said, his voice low. "She... she reminds me of my sister when she was a teen. But not just that. She has this look in her eyes, something so familiar. It's like seeing pieces of my mom too, but I can't quite put my finger on it."
Lucy paused, letting his words sink in. She had noticed the tension in Tim over the last few hours, the unspoken emotions swirling behind his usual calm demeanor.
"Ziva looks like your sister?" Lucy asked, intrigued.
Tim nodded slowly. "Yeah. But it's more than just that. It's like a shadow of something. But I don't know Ziva, and I sure as hell don't know Eli. I don't know why this is bugging me so much."
"Maybe it's not just a coincidence," Lucy said thoughtfully, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "You think you might be related to her? I mean, you're not exactly strangers to family mysteries, are you?" She grinned, trying to lighten the mood.
Tim smiled briefly, but there was no humor behind it. "Maybe," he murmured. "But how could I even be sure? There's no way to find out without some kind of test."
Lucy's eyes narrowed, a glimmer of realization flickering in her gaze. "Well, if you think it's possible... we've got the clothes she wore when we rescued her. We can run a DNA test."
Tim thought about it for a moment. It felt like a wild idea, but the more he considered it, the more it seemed like the only way to answer the nagging question in the back of his mind.
"I'll talk to the lab tomorrow," he said finally, his tone resigned but determined. "If there's even a chance that Ziva and I are... related, I need to know. I owe it to her, and to myself, to find out."
Lucy nodded, respecting the gravity of his decision. "Just be careful, Tim," she warned softly. "You might uncover things you aren't ready for."
"I know," he said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth that was looming over him. "But I don't know any other way."
They finished their food in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, the uncertainty of the future hanging in the air.