Ziva David - NCIS

Chapter 7

"Your behaviour needs to be dealt with immediately!" My father says as he paces the floor of the concrete NCIS car park floor.

"When we get back home, you can start then."

"No." He says and with that, I let my self be beaten. I keep eye contact with my father, showing no emotion.

"Do you understand what you did wrong?" He snarls.

"Yes, director David." I say formally. Then, he moves onto Tommy.

"You and T make your own way back." and with that, my father jumps in the car with the rest of my team and leaves me and Tommy alone.

"How hard did he hit you?" T tilts my chin.

"Hard enough," I say stiffly and reach for the bandage, tightly wrapping it around my arms.

"Get down," I keep my sleeves rolled up. He lays on the floor, leaving his back exposed. I kneel beside him.

"Use my hand," I briefly say. He grabs hold of my left hand as I use an antiseptic wipe to clean off the blood.

"Ow," he hisses through gritted teeth and squeezes my hand tightly.

"You'll be fine." I quietly say. Finally, his back is clean and has minimal damage. I use the last of the bandages to wrap it around his torso like a corset.

"You're all right," I smile and give him a painkiller. He swallows it and immediately is sedated. I pull his top back on and look around.

"Life sucks." I announce and look around the car park. Empty. Deserted.

"We can help you if you want," I hear a voice from behind me. I quickly pull my gun out of the holster before looking to see the person. Gibbs, McGee, DiNozzo and Ducky.

"Um thank you, he's sedated but should wake up soon." I indicate to a sleeping Tommy on the floor.

"Bring him down to autopsy where I can assess his other wounds. And yours." Ducky says.

"I'll carry him," I step over to the other side of Tommy and crouch down, carefully lifting him up.

"Isn't he heavy?"

"No, not really. he weighs about 10 stone. My father weighs a lot more." I shift weight equally to my other hand.

"And you?" Ducky implies.

"I don't check, my father has control of me. What I do, what I see even what I wear." I bite my lip.

"Let's go downstairs then," We file into the elevator. An awkward silence grows until it pings and I recognise the familiar autopsy room.

"Lay him there," Ducky points to one if the empty slabs of metal. I shift him onto the slab before stepping back.

"How long has this been going on, his torture?" Gibbs asks.

"He joined Mossad when my father dragged me back there. Within 2 weeks, he was being punished." I look at his pale arms.

"Go sit on another table." Ducky instructs and I hoist my self up onto a autopsy slab. I sit upright, my legs crossed. My eyes watch as Ducky examines his arms.

"His health, when did he last eat or drink?" Ducky asks.

"3 days ago." I look down.

"Why so long?" Ducky says.

"We don't have time, Mossad schedules are busy. We barely have enough sleep."

"How much sleep." Everyone looks at me.