Fic: Defensive Wounds {Chapter 2}

[rebecca-in-blue.livejournal.com]

Title: Defensive Wounds
Author: rebecca_in_blue 
Written for: swithers 
Prompt: Something/Someone returns from Ziva's past to haunt her. How do the team help her through? Pairing isn't neccesary but Ziva/Gibbs if one is to exist.
Genre: Gen.
Pairings: None, but lots of team love, if that counts.
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: ~12,000
Summary: When the team discovers that a suspect on a case has a history with Ziva, she's forced to confront a few things she's buried. A massive hurt/comfort Ziva-centric teamfic.

{Full header info here. This story will be posted in increments due to length.}

( Chapter 1: The Suspect )

Chapter 2
Breaking Point

He catches up with Ziva outside, on the blanket-sized lawn of scrubby grass. She's standing just beyond the door, her back stiff as she looks over the cracked pavement in the driveway. Gibbs is relieved when he sees her there. In the back of his mind, he worried for a moment that she would run. He steps outside after her and closes the door behind him.

It's a beautiful spring day, and the sun shines warmly on them. Ziva turns her face away from Gibbs as he approaches her. He can hear her breathing hard, even though she's standing perfectly still. He gives her a moment to catch her breath before he asks. He doesn't want to - and he knows that she sure as hell doesn't want to tell him - but he has to know.

"Who is he, Ziva?" He keeps his voice low, even though there's no one else outside to overhear them. He told the guys to stay in the house. They had both tried to follow Ziva outside, when they saw her leaving and the expression on her face, and despite the circumstances, Gibbs was proud of them for it. Few things made him prouder than seeing how much his kids cared about each other. And nothing gave him more hope, right now, that Ziva would get through this okay. Even though he didn't know exactly what this was yet.

"His name is Tamir." Ziva's voice is low, like his, but steady and clear. She kicks at the grass once as she adds, "I did not mean to walk out like that. I was not expecting to see him."

"Where do you know him from?"

Ziva tilts her head slightly to one side, as if considering the best way to word her answer. "From Somalia," she says slowly, almost delicately. "He was one of Saleem's men."

Oh, God is his first coherent thought, before his brain goes into denial mode. Because it would be too horrible for Ziva to come face-to-face with one of her tormentors like this. It would be too impossible for Gibbs and the guys to treat him like any other suspect, knowing who he was and what he had done. So he tries to find a way to keep it from being true.

"You're sure?" he asks softly, keeping any suspicion out of his voice. The last thing that Ziva needs now is to think that he doesn't trust her.

Ziva nods, but she still doesn't look at him. "Very sure," she answers immediately. Gibbs studies the one side of her face visible to him. There's a tight, forced calm in her expression and in her voice. "His name is Tamir. He was one of Saleem's men."

The vice around Gibbs's chest tightens. Now she's talking in circles, and she probably doesn't even realize it. He knows that she doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to say anymore, but he has to understand how...

"We killed every man in that camp, Ziva."

"I know, but Tamir was not there when - when you arrived. He... left. Sometime before." The falters in her voice are slight, but they're enough to tell Gibbs how hard she's fighing to keep it under control, how it is for her to say this. Gibbs was in Somalia, he saw the state Ziva was in there, and obviously there were no good men in that camp. But he can tell from Ziva's voice that this one, this Tamir - he was one of the really bad ones.

That's when he notices that Ziva has one hand on her gun. She hasn't pulled it out of the holster at her waist, but she has a death grip on that handle, like she can barely restrain herself from pulling it out and firing. Gibbs's gut starts to churn. This is going to be harder than he thought - for him, for Ziva, for all of them. He remembers again what Mike told him on the beach that day.

He and Mike spent most of their time drinking and fishing, when he ran off to Mexico after the ship explosion that nearly killed him. The days run together in his memory - all of them except that day when Mike snagged a fish so big and strong that it snapped his fishing line clean in two. "Aw, hell," Mike shrugged, and without missing a beat, he cut a new length of string and rethreaded his pole.

"It doesn't mean it's weak string," he said to Gibbs as he cast back into the ocean. "But everything's got its breaking point, Probie."

Gibbs never forgot those words. The very next day, Ziva called him from his basement in DC, telling him that she was in trouble, and he knew that it was time to go home. Mike was right. Every one of them had a breaking point, and that didn't make them weak. But Gibbs isn't sure how to tell Ziva that, without stealing Mike's fishing-line analogy.

He takes a deep breath and prays that he doesn't screw this up. He has to get her to look at him, at least. "Ziver," he says, and it works. She turns her head and finally meets his gaze. Something inside Gibbs clenches up when he sees the look in her eyes. It's like there's poison inside her, and she's holding it in, letting spread and infect her, instead of spitting it out like she should. Ziva might not want to talk about this, but she sure as hell needs to.

He hears himself ask, "Anything you want to tell me about him?"

_____


"Anything you wanna tell me about him?"

"I could not tell you anything that would help the case," Ziva replies immediately, shaking her head, shutting Gibbs out. It makes her feel guilty, because she trusts more Gibbs more than anyone, but it's the only answer that she can give. There's nothing she could tell him about Tamir that wouldn't hurt them both. She can tell by the wary concern on Gibbs's face that she's already said too much.

Gibbs sighs and glances back at the house, where Tamir is. That movement alone is enough to make Ziva uncomfortable. She hates the thought of Tamir being inside with Tony and McGee. He knows so many things that she doesn't want her team to find out. Part of her wants to pull out her gun, walk back in, and shoot him in the head before he can say one word to the guys. Another part of her wants to turn and run, to put as much distance as possible between her and Tamir. But then Gibbs looks back to her, and his eyes say as clearly as anything, Don't run.

"It's not the case I'm worried about," he says softly. She appreciates his casual tone. It's almost as if none of this is a big deal. "It might help you, Ziver. To get it out."

Ziva wants to shake her head again, but she knows that Gibbs isn't easily deterred. She moves one tiny step closer to him - and by extension, closer to the house, to Tamir. Her sore, sweaty hand unclenches from around the handle of her gun. She didn't realize that she was gripping it so hard.

Gibbs must sense her resistance dropping, and he tries to give her a way in. He asks again, gently, "Anything you wanna tell me?" 

He was kind to me. The words form in her mind, but she chokes them down before they make it to her lips. She quickly looks away from Gibbs's steady blue eyes, away to the next-door neighbor's yard, where a blackbird is pecking at the grass. It's something that she can grab onto. It makes her feel a little calmer, but she's still horrified by how close she came to saying it. Gibbs would think she was insane if she defended one of her captors. He might even send her to see the shrink again.

Besides, Tamir was not kind to her. He was simply less cruel than the others. She can't forget that. Chukat, Ziva, she tells herself. Tamir was not kind to her. But she can't bring herself to say anything bad about him, either. If she told Gibbs... no. She can't. She doesn't want pity, least of all from Gibbs. She doesn't want anyone on her team to treat her differently.

Ashamed, Ziva takes a step back from Gibbs, from the house where Tamir is, from the gentle attempts to get her to talk about this. She presses her lips together and shakes her head, her eyes on the ground because she can't meet his any longer. But she can feel him looking still at her, and she tenses, waiting for him to ask her again. Her hand goes to her throat and shakily traces the chain of her necklace.

It seems like a very long time before Gibbs says simply, "Okay." He doesn't press her.

Ziva doesn't realize that she's been holding her breath until she lets it all out in a long sigh. She doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Comments

[zivacentric.livejournal.com]

Wow. Post-Somalia. You are writing this very well and very in character. I am ridiculously emotional about Ziva, though... *whimpers for Ziva*

[rebecca-in-blue.livejournal.com]

I feel that post-Somalia stuff is a bit overdone in fanfic, so I wasn't crazy about using it for this story. But it was the only thing I could come up with to fit the prompt I was assigned, so I decided to go with it and do the best I could. So glad you like it! :)

[rebecca-in-blue.livejournal.com]

Well, thanks to LJ's new RTE, I can't edit this chapter to add links to new ones. I'll just post them here in comment form for now:

Chapter 3: The Translation (http://ncis-ficathon.livejournal.com/88272.html#cutid1)
Chapter 4: The Touchstone (http://ncis-ficathon.livejournal.com/89863.html#cutid1)