An Enduring Friendship
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Rating: T
Summary: Ziva woke up in a dirty room in Somalia; to torture and suffering she had never known before. She believes she will die there, alone, but a vision of a friend helps her to cope. Jibbs, Tiva and Jenny/Ziva friendship.
A.N.: I put this in the Jenny-Jethro listing because that is where I'm most comfortable writing, so there will be more of that than any other relationship in this story.
A.N.2: I haven't seen anything past season 5 and I don't intend to, but I heard from my boyfriend's sister that Ziva was captured and tortured, and this story took form. Severe JD denial was a contributor too… lol. It may not sound much like what happened to Ziva in the episode, but my excuse is that it's very AU. This is for Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, who hoped something else would come along to get her hooked, well I finally wrote something and I hope this fits the bill, lol!
A sharp pain in the abdomen woke Ziva from her fitful sleep, her senses coming alive and she gradually became aware she was freezing. She could feel cold, hard ground beneath her that sapped away any heat she may have generated, leaving her permanently chilled. Her head and abdomen throbbed and she realised she must have just been kicked awake, but by who? She opened her eyes slowly and looked around, but the only source of light was coming in from a window, which spilled all of its twilight onto her, leaving the rest of the room in complete darkness. She was out in the open and vulnerable, the light prevented her eyes from seeing past the rectangle of light she was laying in. She had no idea where the walls were, if there was a door near her or even if she was alone.
She tried to get up, but her hands wouldn't pull apart and she flopped uselessly. Confused about what was happening and annoyed that her mind seemed to be so slow for some reason, she attempted to pull her hands apart, but couldn't and after a moment of focus, she realised why. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back with what felt like rope, but it was too unyielding to be so. She felt a momentary lift in her spirits when she realised it wasn't rope that bound her, it was metal, her wrists were just so raw and bloodied from rubbing, that the dried flecks gave the cuffs a rough feel, which in turn made her skin even worse. She grimaced as the dried blood opened the cuts on her skin, but she was undaunted.
She could pick her way out of handcuffs, all she needed was something to use as a pick. Where was she, though? Ziva tried to remember what mission she was on, but couldn't. This didn't seem like a situation Gibbs or Tony would let her get in to, they would have come for her, wouldn't they? So why were they nowhere to be seen? Had they forgotten her? Didn't they know where to find her? The room was unfamiliar, though there was something about it, something niggling at the back of her mind, like she was missing an obvious fact. What was happening to her, and most importantly, why was it happening?
She heard a scuffling near her and froze, raising her head in an attempt to scan the darkness around her for the source of the noise, only to see a foot step into the light. She looked up at the figure that the foot belonged to but a fist connect with her cheek, forcing her head to impact the floor as her weak muscles, which were unprepared for the assault, gave way. A sudden kick to the abdomen forced the air from her lungs, winding her and making little black spots appear in her vision, not that she could see much. Dazed from the hard jolts and lack of oxygen she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to become as still as possible in the hopes that whoever was hurting her would leave, but her ragged gasps as she tried to draw air in to her lungs just seemed to encourage her attackers.
Her questions reverberated in her mind, but the attack effectively stopped her mind from working in a logical way, all she could focus on was the pain. Another fist hit her face, once again sending her head into the floor, followed quickly by someone stamping on her leg. She cried out in agony as the bone fractured and she curled up as far as she could, pulling her legs up to her chest in an attempt to protect them. They shouted something to her in Arabic, and although she could understand them, she couldn't really hear them. The blows to her head made concentrating on anything an impossible task, but one thing did filter in. They were interrogating her; she was being tortured for information, rather amateurishly. Another blow to the head rendered her unconscious.
When Ziva felt herself regaining consciousness a second time, she regulated her breathing to make it seem like she was still unconscious. This time she would try to regain her faculties before letting her captors know she was awake. Her whole body was throbbing in pain, her face had swollen up from the repeated punches and her leg felt like it was on fire where it was fractured. The thing that concerned her most though was the fact her abdomen felt awful, it was tender and if she moved it caused her considerable pain, but it was hard too. She must have internal bleeding, not bad enough to kill her over the next few hours, but enough to kill her if she didn't go to a hospital soon. She doubted her captors would do anything for her health except make it worse, though, so she had to escape somehow.
Who were they though? She racked her brain for the answer and a wave of nausea crashed over her when she found it. She was no longer with NCIS; she had stayed in Israel and had been sent to infiltrate a terrorist camp in Somalia. That was where she was, and she had no back up. Tony and Gibbs wouldn't be coming to her rescue because they were not involved in her mission, and the things that had been said between them the last time she had seen them meant they would not care for her anyway. She was alone, completely alone, and Mossad would not come to her rescue either.
Her father had sent her here knowing she would in all probability be caught, and he hadn't provided any protection, back up or contingency plans for her. If she was lost, she was lost and he wouldn't do a thing about it. A strange way to behave, for a father who has just gotten his daughter back from the four year mission he had sent her on. He should have welcomed her, apologised for the terrible things he had made her do and then sent her home until she was ready to continue work, but no, not Director Eli David. He sent her on a suicide mission instead.
Ari had told her that their father was a heartless, cruel, self serving monster, who would kill his own flesh and blood to solidify his position of power, but she hadn't believed him, and even when her father had ordered her to kill Ari, she had rationalised it away. Now she couldn't ignore his actions. Jenny's death had opened Ziva's eyes to the reality that the things in her life she had thought were permanent, things that she would never lose, could all be taken away from her and there was nothing she could do about it. After losing so much, her priorities had begun to reorder themselves. There were people she wanted to protect, friends she needed to care for and a man she needed to love.
Ziva opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings, the daylight showing her more than she had seen previously. The room was approximately eight foot by ten foot and there was only one window and one door. The door had a grille in it that her captors would presumably use to look in at her, and there was no furniture at all. She felt her heart sink as she saw nothing in the room that could be used to pick her way out of her cuffs and then she tensed, hearing heavy breathing. The grille slid shut and Ziva felt a moment of panic, they had been watching her look around, they knew she had no hope of escape.
She instinctively curled up into a ball as the door swung open and two men entered, closing the door behind them. One of them prodded her with a foot and she swung her uninjured leg out, catching his knee and sending him sprawling on the ground. The other man began to beat her, shouting at her in Arabic, swearing at her and calling her awful names, but she didn't let it get to her. She had to survive this, she would escape and she would kill them all for the pain they were inflicting on her. After several more blows to the head she lost consciousness once more.
The men looked at the woman unconscious on the floor in disgust and not a little frustration. They had been trying to crack her for over a week, but she never uttered a word, only screamed occasionally when they did something exceptionally painful like when they had stamped on her leg and broken her nose. They were getting nowhere with her and quite frankly they now thought she cost more effort to interrogate than the value of any information she had. Arden and Kevil, the torturers were getting tired and their fists were hurting.
"Let's put her with the others. Maybe being cared for will help to loosen her tongue ready for next time." Kevil, said, bending down and grabbing one of her legs. Arden agreed and grabbed the other leg and together they dragged her from the room and down the corridor to the women's room. They kept the women together in this place, for when some of them became pregnant; the other women would take care of them so they need not be bothered. They looked through the grille and watched the women that were still able to stand ready themselves to attack them once they entered.
"Stand back and we will feed you today." Arden shouted though. The women reluctantly sat back down, the promise of food hitting them where it hurt in their half starved state. They unlocked the door and carefully dragged the unconscious woman in, dumping her in the centre of the room and kicking her once more before leaving.
Ziva climbed toward consciousness, the soft stroke of fingers in her hair bringing her back to the land of the living. The sensation was nice, soothing and in complete contrast to the brutal assault she had suffered the last few times she had been awake. She didn't want to wake up fully, but she did want to know who was being so kind to her. Had she been rescued already? She hoped that was it, the last thing she wanted to see when she opened her eyes was one of her captors, the thought of one of them stroking her hair just made her skin crawl.
Ziva took a deep breath in an attempt to gather her strength, but the action just irritated her ribs and she curled in pain, a hiss escaping her lips and making the hand still for a moment. She opened her eyes and looked around, thoroughly shocked at the sight that met her eyes. She was in a different room, and this room was filled with women of various ages. They were predominantly Arabic women, except for the hand that stroked her hair, and every single one of them looked abused and underfed. A few held babies or had bumps and she shivered, thinking of how those children came to be. Ziva reached up and snatched the hand that was still stroking her hair soothingly, and she followed the hand up to the woman's face. Her eyes grew wide and she stared for a few moments at the friend she had lost just over a year ago. She didn't look very well, she was covered in bruises but she was irrationally pleased to note she wasn't pregnant.
"Jenny?" she whispered, disbelief tingeing her voice. The woman smiled and nodded, her eyes misting.
"Ziva."