So I am very well aware that Ziva's Star of David necklace is becoming somewhat of an icon of the inevitable rescue, but no seriously, it's a good basis! My first thought after I saw "Aliyah" was 'Wow...I need to write a fanfiction containing that necklace!' So I sat down, and this is what happened.

Let me start out by saying that I haven't been watching NCIS very long (only the past year and a half) so this is definitely not going to be the best fanfic you've ever read, but with the help of my wonderful best friend and beta reader, Lacey (Born0fVengence), I think I can pull it off.

Here's the first chapter, which is really a prologue...please read, and review! I need all the help I can get!

PS- This chapter is unbetaed...

Disclaimer: NCIS not mine. Darn.

Star of David

By doodlegirll

***

Shoonk.

The old, rusty latch slid away, and the door creaked open. Loud, heavy footsteps echoed through the empty room as the man crossed over to stand in front of the bound figure. He dropped his cigarette, and smothered it with his boot before a hand reached out and grasped the thin gold chain around the figure's neck. Tugging it, the chain snapped, and he held the tiny Star of David in his hand. He studied it for a moment, before his hand lashed back out and he grabbed a handful of dirty brown hair. He hauled the head of the victim back, awakening her and eliciting an involuntary gasp of pain.

To those that knew her, Ziva David was almost unrecognizable. After only days on the Hamas ship, bruises dotted her swollen face and covered the rest of her body. Her left eye was almost swollen shut, and dried blood seeped from a cut on her forehead. Rarely one to show signs of weakness – she had, after all, been trained against all forms of emotion – Ziva's eyes pricked with tears as she stared up into the face of Mohab Amir, leader of the rogue Mossad agents, and her own personal tormentor.

Amir's cold brown eyes stared down at her battered face mercilessly.

"Tell me everything you know," he hissed. "About NCIS."

Ziva swallowed, and stared up at him, faced him bravely, defiance building in her tired eyes.

"The coffee sucks." She rasped, her throat dry from lack of hydration and disuse. "The vending machines have nothing good."

Amir tightened his grip on her hair.

"I think, Ms. David, it would be in your best interest – and in the interest of your American friends – that you tell me what I want to know."

Ziva laughed, lightly. "I will tell you nothing."

Amir slapped her across the face.

"Stubborn bitch!" He said in Hebrew. "We will find a way to get you to talk." He looked at the small charm still clenched in his other hand. He smiled, slowly. "And I think I know a way." Stuffing the necklace into his pocket, he walked from the room, leaving Ziva alone.

He slammed the door closed and bolted it shut once more. Turning to his comrade, he smiled.

"Get me a video camera, and get in touch with our sources in America." He fished the necklace out again. "We need to know who to send a little package to at NCIS."