BLACK ORCHID (9/13), GIBBS/ZIVA (NC-17)

[zabby]

Title: Black Orchid
Author: Victoria (starshines)
Fandom:NCIS
Genre: Het
Pairing:Gibbs/Ziva
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Last Man Standing, this actually occurs post LMS
Summary: Someone's out for Ziva. Will Gibbs be able to find out who before its too late to save Ziva?
Warnings: Reference to rape and torture, steamy love scene
Disclaimer: NCIS, all characters belong to the big D.B. Though I might wish otherwise...
Feedback: Yes, please! Love constructive criticism, just be nice. It's my first.
Special thanks and love to Bree for the beta!

Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Epilogue


Chapter 8


The soft whimpers and quiet cries coming from his bedroom did not cause panic in Gibbs. Hearing them the first time, he had entered the room in concern, only to find her lying in bed, the sheet a tangled mess surrounding her, her mind racing in disturbing dreams. He knew that she would have to go through this part, the mind catching up to the body, struggling to remember what had happened to her.

No, what caused Special Agent Gibbs to charge up the stairs, while he was in the middle of checking the locks and windows for a fifth time, was the sound of distress and then a heart-stopping scream. Dread flooded his chest as he panicked that he had left her unprotected, that the bastard who had hurt her the first time had returned to finish the hell he had created.

Bursting into the room, his Sig drawn and ready to gun down whoever was threatening her, he proceeded to clear the room. He checked behind the dresser, in the bathroom, even under the bed. After he found nothing to indicate an intruder or any other threat to her, he turned back to the FBI agents who had come charging in after him and told them that the room was clear. “It must have been a nightmare. You can go back to you positions.”

Nodding in understanding, they holstered their weapons and turned. When the room emptied, he quietly walked back to the bedroom door and shut it after them. Turning around to take care of the woman in his bed, he put his gun back in the holster.

Approaching the bed cautiously, he called out, “Ziva?” She sat on the bed frozen, having not moved a muscle when he and the other men had entered the room. Clutching the sheet to her chest, she stared out into nothing, her eyes glazed in fear. Sitting down slowly, he made a place for himself on the bed, facing her. Taking a hand, he brushed the hair from her face.

“Ziva? It’s me. It’s Gibbs.” He continued to stroke her hair, seeking to calm her like before. The longer he brushed his hand through the black cloud framing her, the more her eyes started to refocus on her current moment, and not on the memory that haunted her still. “Sweetheart, can you come back to me now?”

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Blinking quickly, she came out of her nightmare to see her protector sitting next to her. She thought of him as her protector, the protector of all of them. The one who stood now between safety and menace she did not understand. “Gibbs,” she said quietly. “I am sorry. I had a dream, a night dream you call them. I dreamt about him, the one who did this to me. I still cannot see his face, but I remembered more of what he did to me.”

“Nightmare, Ziva. What you had is called a nightmare. You don’t need to talk about it if it’s too much for you right now. There’ll be time for that later.”

At his defining of her dream, her body suddenly was racked with violent shivers, the memories of her torture working their way out of her skin. As her body shook uncontrollably, she felt his arms wrap around her again, steadying her trembling. She clung to him as she fought to calm herself.

As the shaking lessened, Ziva lifted her head. Looking into his eyes, she said, “I am better now. Thank you.” But when she felt him begin to move away, she clung onto him again.

“Please. I know you do not want to, but please stay. I cannot be alone right now. I need you, Gibbs. Please.”

“Ziva, I…” he stammered, unsure if he could give her the comfort she needed. She needed someone neutral, someone who wouldn’t try to kiss her again. His basic primal need to protect her had developed to include an unexpected desire for her. His timing couldn’t be worse. So, he would protect her, even from himself, as long as he could.

“Please, Gibbs. Just tonight. Every time I am alone, I feel his presence. It only seems to go away when you are around. Please, Gibbs.”

At the fear and desperation in her eyes, he felt his resolve crumble. He could only hope that he could get through the night. It's only for one night. I can handle one night. Ziva needs me. Nodding his head, he stood and waited while she quickly scrambled over to give him room. Though he had every intention of staying on top of the sheets, he was thwarted when she threw open the covers to let him in.

Taking a deep breath, he ignored the warning in his gut and slipped in under his worn cotton sheets. Laying flat, hands at his sides, he concentrated on his breathing. In and out. In and out. But when she shifted over, he couldn’t resist putting his arm around her as she settled into his side, her head on his shoulder.

Though she lay against him perfectly still, he knew she was still awake. Her body was tense with the remnants of fear from her nightmare. She started playing with the buttons on his shirt before she said anything.

“Gibbs, he did not actually rape me. I know what Ducky saw, and I know what he told you,” she said, stopping him before he could interrupt her with contradictions. “Yes, he hurt me…there. But he only beat me; he did not actually…penetrate me. I need you to know that. I need you to know that he did not rape me in that manner.”

While she spoke as if in confession, she had unbuttoned his top two buttons. Now, as she continued, her hand began to play with the third. “He tortured me, yes. He had objects, I do not remember what, but he had objects that he beat me everywhere with, in the beginning. Some places with greater viciousness than others.” She did not elaborate, knowing he would understand what she meant.

“But once at I had lost my drive to fight, he ceased to punish me in that way. That is why I am look like I had been raped. The injuries had begun to heal over this last week, when he left me in the park.”

“Ziva, you don’t need to say anything. I am here to comfort you, not for you to feel that you have to explain yourself. If you need to talk, I am here for that too. But do not blame yourself for what that bastard did to you.”

He was having a difficulty making sense to himself. The emotions coursing through him were at odds with each other. On one hand, he felt a burning rage to find the man – the animal – who had sought to break her. On the other, he was burning with something else entirely, as her hand had slipped beneath his shirt to caress the chest beneath.

“Ziva…I.” His breath caught in his throat at the feel of her hand against him. Everywhere she touched, he burned.

“Gibbs, I am not explaining what happened because I feel guilty or because I blame myself. I am explaining what happened to my body because I need you.” She raised herself onto her elbow, her head in her hand, cheek resting against the palm.

“I need you to understand that he did not enter me because I need you. I want you. I want you to erase his touch from me. I need your touch. I need it to heal me. I want you, Jethro. I always have.”

Her eyes were wide pools of desire and pain, a combination his body was having a hard time fighting against. Half of him wanted to protect her and erase the pain that had left behind great slashes of pain in her eyes. The other half of him was responding to the desire burning its way through her eyes.

As she leaned in, her mouth a whisper’s breath away from his, she begged softly “Please, Jethro,” before closing the final distance of their lips.

He tried to keep his eyes open as a final resistance. Gibbs did not want to hurt her again, did not want to use or mistreat her. He wanted to care for her, to behave as a gentleman, honorably. He was discovering that he wanted her to be safe and well above all things.

But he was finding that any distance he was trying to put up between them, any barrier he erected to protect her, to keep her out, was not as secure as he thought. In fact, he was quickly discovering that she was burrowing a place in his heart, and he was afraid he might never get her out again. May in fact not want to.

As her lips moved over his, coaxing a response from his body, he felt whatever resistance and good intentions he may have had crumble beneath her heat. With a silent sigh of relief, he gave in and shut his eyes, returning her kiss.

“Ziva,” he moaned as she deepened the kiss.

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Desperation had driven her to seduce Gibbs, to erase the touch of the other from her lips and body. But when her lips came in contact with his and she felt him given in to her, other feelings started to invade her body: lust, need, heat, and above all a gentleness for the man below her.

The hand inside his shirt began to explore and caress, much as his lips were now exploring her lips, his tongue caressing and playing with her own. Underneath her touch, she felt the crispness of the small bit of silvery hair on his chest. Running her fingers through it, she moved lower, feeling the hardened muscles, the heated skin, scarred in places. As she moved down, she unbuttoned more of his shirt.

Coming to one of his nipples, she twisted it lightly, feeling him pull her harder against him, though she could feel how he fought with himself to remain gentle. Flicking the taut nub, she felt his hands move under the t-shirt she wore, scorching her skin where he touched.

Breaking the contact of their lips, Gibbs move lower, licking and nibbling along her jaw line. Needing better access to her, he shifted, rolling her onto her back. Pushing his hands up, he bared the skin he had seen only briefly, lifting her shirt gently over her head.

“You are so beautiful, Ziva. My Ziva,” he groaned. Returning to her face, he kissed her again. But it wasn’t enough. “I need to feel you against me,” he urged. Biting her lip in anticipation, she finished unbuttoning the last few buttons. As she began to push the shirt off of his shoulders, she stopped mid-way through, unable to extend any further.

“I am sorry, Jethro. I cannot lift it any higher.”

Quickly, he drew his shirt up and threw it across the room. Returning to his discovery of her body, he said, “Don’t worry. Let me. Let me lead. Let me worship you. You are so beautiful. You’re taking my breath away.”

“Do not, Jethro. I know how I look. I have seen the marks on my body. Tell me anything, but do not lie to me.” She turned her head in shame, afraid he would turn from her in disgust if he preceded any further.

Taking her face in his hand, he turned her to face him again. “You are beautiful, Ziva. The marks, the marks are temporary. They are not you. There are many things I wish to do to you now, but I will never lie to you. I respect and admire you too much.”

She wanted to argue with him, to tell him that he need not treat her as a child. But she saw the truth in his eyes. To him, she was not scarred and broken. She was marked. But as he had said, only temporarily. The wounds would heal, and with his help, so would her soul.

“Make love to me, Jethro. Erase his touch from me and replace it with yours. I need to feel your hands on me. I need to feel you inside me.”

He needed no more encouragement than that. Using his body, he would worship her, make love to her until the doubts and pain left her eyes and only desire for him would be left behind.

Her face still in his hold, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. As he sliced his mouth across, he deepened the kiss, tracing his tongue over the plumpness of her lips. When she slowly opened her mouth, Gibbs took advantage of the change and invaded the hot space.

Encouraging her to join him, he played along inside, teasing her tongue with his own. When she joined in the play, he taunted her to deepen their contact. As their tongues battled for dominance, he released his hold on her face to explore the soft skin he exposed.

He rested his hand on the hollow of her shoulder, rubbing her collarbone with his thumb. Though his body was screaming at him to go faster, to indulge himself in the passion of her, Gibbs knew that he had to go slow, to introduce her body to pleasure again. He did not want her to fear him, to fear her body. Instead, he wanted to reignite her fire.

Breaking off again, he found he needed to gasp for air a little. Though her participation was minimal at the moment, his body was raging in spite of that. She was driving him mad, and all she had done was kiss him.

He waited for her to open her eyes, to show him her trust before he went on. Whatever it took, he would make sure that she was comfortable and still willing. If not, he would pull away, regardless of how much it would kill him. So, he waited.

And he didn’t wait in vain.

As she waited for him to continue lower, Ziva became inpatient when his movements stopped. Normally, she would have been more aggressive. But the past two weeks had left more scars than she realized. Instead of being an active player in bed, she was finding she could only do the barest of interactions.

The more attention Gibbs paid to her body, however, the more her body heated of its own will to match his. His tongue, his lips, even his teeth were inciting her body to respond. And when he stopped, she waited.

Her body began to ache for his, needing his touch, craving the heat he was building inside of her. Eyelids fluttering open, she looked to see why he stopped, and instead found a fiery gaze waiting for her. The passion burning in his eyes caused her to gasp and arch against him. She needed him.

Before she had needed him to heal her. Now, she simply needed him. Just him. Her body and soul cried out and were met by his own cries. But instead of moving, he waited. Waited for her to move. Waited for her passion to rise up again. Daring her to rediscover herself and her desires.

Begging with her eyes and body, she whispered, “Please.” But still, he did not move.

“Touch me, Ziva,” he demanded. Desperately, he desired her. He needed a willing partner, some to be lightening in his hands, to scorch his body and claim it as her own, as he would to do to hers. With Ziva’s pain, he knew he needed to build that fire slowly; a deep burning rather than a raging wild fire. At least the first time.

Following his request, his demand, Ziva reached out tentatively, gently tracing the muscles of his shoulder and chest with the barest whisper of caresses. He tamped down a moan that threatened to escape, afraid of scaring her away from her exploration. Slowly, the touch intensified as she trailed down his side to the muscles of his abdomen. Her fingers made contact with his stomach causing those muscles to clench in anticipation.

She was killing him, slowly. His body demanded that he take her, but his heart knew better. Closing his eyes against the strain holding back was causing, he concentrated on his breathing, seeking to calm his frenzied body.

Using both hands, she explored the contours and lines, seeking out the places the moonlight cast shadows upon. Though the skin was smooth and heated silk to her touch, she could feel the rough marks peppered throughout; scars of his past. As she felt the power in his body, the heat inside of her rose, her need building past whatever pain and fear she still harbored.

She needed to feel this man, every inch of him. The remaining barrier was its own kind of torture to her. Grasping the waistband of his pants, she unbuttoned and slipped the fabric down as far as she could, catching and dragging his boxers along the way. When the pants made it to his thighs, she stopped. Again, she did not have the ability to go beyond that point.

So, she moved her hands up, feeling the hard curves of ass, feeling them bunch under her tender searching. Letting her nails gently scrape his skin, she moved to his hips, pushing him until he laid on his back. She wanted to search and explore him now, wanting him to burn for her.

Once he was on his back, he wiggled around until he could kick his pants and boxers off. He wanted nothing between them. Soon, he would remove the boxers she wore. As she sat up to continue her discovery, Ziva tossed her flowing hair behind her, causing Gibbs to gasp.

The moonlight turned her skin to a glowing pearl, her hair to sparkle with the silver beams. “You are a goddess, Ziva.” He reached out a hand to grasp a breast, using his thumb to caress the bud there. The sight of her there in the moonlight, a flush burning her cheeks with her passion, made his heart freeze and then melt.

Every other woman he had been with since Shannon had been a poor substitute for the love he lost. He had in fact chosen them because of that lack. Now, here was a woman that had no equal, the opposite of his first love. Shannon had been the light. And now here Ziva, here was the dark. A woman of passion and love his body cried out for.

Before his mind and heart could work out this new twist in his life, he went blank and utterly still. Ziva had decided to push her exploration past the planes of his torso and down to the vee of his hips. As she turned her eyes and hands to this lower portion of his body, his cock grabbed her attention.

Reaching down, he tugged at the waistband, wanting the boxers off. She leaned back, stretching her legs in front of her so that he could pull them off. He pulled them down slowly, skimming his hands down the softness of her legs, avoiding the sensitive injuries and bruises. His touch melted her core, moisture pooling in her center. As he threw the boxers aside, she sat up, resuming her exploration.

With a tentative touch, she felt the along the ridges of his groin, fascinated by him. While he was definitely not the first lover she had ever had, he was one of the largest. Scooting down so that she was sitting on his thighs, she let her fingers drag along either side of him. Grabbing him in one first, she felt the heat of him. But before she could lower her head to taste him, he sat up, grabbing her face between his hands.

“No, Ziva. Not this first time. This first time is for you, for your pleasure. Nothing else. My satisfaction will be making sure you reach yours.” He kissed her deeply, wrapping his arms around her naked back. She opened her mouth under his, her body liquefying underneath him.

He spread his fingers through her hair, careful of the injuries there. For the moment, all he wanted to do was luxuriate in the feel of her hair in his hands, her mouth opening to his, her tongue dancing a tango with his own. He kissed her until her bones melted, until she was overrun by a river of lava through her veins. And even then, he continued to kiss her.

When her moans started rising to groans, he finally moved his hands lower, to cup the curves of her chest. Her breasts were perfect; small but weighty. He could perfectly fill each hand with her. As he nibbled and licked along her jaw again, he rubbed and teased both nipples between his fingers.

She threw her head back as he played along her body. Leaning back, she put her hands down on the bed next to his legs, her hair falling behind her. As his hands moved down to grip her waist, her breath started becoming shallow, her chest heaving in the moonlight.

His hands spanned the width of her waist, his fingers splaying out. Stretched out in front of him like a pagan offering to the Goddess of the Moon, her body begged for him to touch, to taste, to feel. Picking her up, he twisted around, laying her out on the bed. As he leaned over her, she reached out a hand to caress his face.

He lowered down, kissing her again. Lifting up, he asked, “Are you sure? If you’re not ready, I’ll stop. I’ll pull away.”

Her eyes fluttered open, a pool of liquid illuminated by silver beams. “No, do not stop, Jethro. I need you, and I want you. Can you not see that I am aching for you, burning up at your touch? Sure? I have always been sure, and never more so than now.”

Drowning in her eyes, he saw no more pain, no more fear. Now, all he could see was her desire, for him. Returning to her lips, he continued to kiss her as he let one hand slowly turn until his palm was at her waist, fingers touching the top of her mound. As he played along the edges of her heat, he moved his mouth lower, seeking her breasts. He latched onto one, sucking her into his mouth, as he slipped a finger inside of her.

She arched her back at the dual sensations crying out. “Jeth!”

Needing to grab onto something, she threw a hand out to her side, clutching the sheets. With her other hand, she grabbed onto the top of his head as he licked and sucked on first one breast than the other. The finger he slipped inside of her was unbelievably gentle, caressing her with a touch that almost brought tears to her eyes.

Even approaching the edge of complete passion, he was still taking care of her, still making sure to not hurt her more than necessary. Feeling her rising passion leave dew on his hand, he slipped a second finger inside of her, testing her body’s reactions. He leaned over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. Pulling out a condom, he reached down to put it on.

Sensing her readiness, he moved over her, using his other hand to spread her legs apart. Positioning himself at her entrance, Gibbs hesitated. Looking up from the valley of her breasts, he asked one final time, knowing if he had to pull away now it would probably kill him. “Last chance, Ziva. Tell me to stop, if you need me to, tell me to stop.”

Lifting up off the bed, she latched her hand into his hair and said, “Shut up, Jethro, and take me. Now.”

Smiling at her command, he gave her a mock salute and responded “Yes, ma’am.”

Slowly, he pushed his way inside, groaning as the tight sheath surrounded him. He pushed his cock in further as she spread her legs to give him easier access. “Ziva. You’re so damn tight.”

As she loped her legs around his waist, she gasped as he pushed the rest of the way inside. She had never been filled so completely, both her body and her heart. He was using his body to heal her, to show her that she was not the sum of the experiences that had been forced upon her, that she was more than that. And she believed him. Somehow through everything, she believed what he was showing her.

“Yes, Jethro, gawd yes. If you stop now, I will kill you myself.”

He laughed out loud before he started moving. He propped his arms on either side of her arms, taking his weight off of her. Moving his hips in and out of her heat slowly, he fought his body’s instincts to drive into her harder. His body wanted harder, faster, to plunge into her center. But he wanted to move slowly, to build up to the ultimate explosion. She deserved more than being rushed to the end.

Her body was responding beyond what she had ever thought possible. It felt like every cell in her body was clamoring for his attention, for his touch. As he moved inside of her, her being seemed focused on only that area. Urging him on with her own thrusts of her hips, she felt him begin to move faster, harder.

“Yes, like that,” she cried. Reaching up, she grasped his back, sinking her nails into his muscular flesh. As her nails dug in, she heard him cry out in the pleasure she was creating. Extremely pleased that she was not the only one quickly losing control, she egged him on with her body and her voice.

“I am so close, oh gawd. Yes, Jeth. Just like that.” Her body was building and building. She could feel it reach out towards that ultimate cliff. She sought to speed up the process by urging him to drive faster, but he was being too damn considerate.

Locking eyes with his, she said “If you do not come with me soon, now, I will find a way to get you later.” Hoping he was not turned off by dirty talk, she arched up and whispered into his ear “I want you to fuck me, Jethro. Now!” she cried as she dug her nails in again.

With a final surge, he buried himself completely inside of her, crying out, “Zivaa,” as his body emptied his desire.

Arching her hips up one final time, she shattered in her climax, her soul seeming to rush out of her body to meet his. As her being returned to her body, she felt her lungs gasping for air. Gibbs lay half on top of her, still buried inside. He too was breathing heavily, looking at her in amazement. Their skin was covered with beads of sweat, pearls in the moonlight.

“That was,” he began.

“I know,” she answered.

Grabbing onto her, he rolled over so that she was laying on him now, subtly tossing the condom on the floor. Pulling up the sheets, he covered them both, not wanting her to grow too cold in the night air. Slowly, they caught their breath, arms and legs tangled together. As their bodies returned to a somewhat normal state, Gibbs started running his fingers through her black mane. And he started thinking.

After a few minutes, when their breath had become more relaxed, he said without thinking “Ziva, I think I’m falling…”

He stopped before finishing the sentence. What in the hell was I going to say? That I was falling in love with her? She doesn’t want to hear that now, not after all she’s gone through. And, am I falling in love with her? I mean, she’s Ziva. But then again, she’s Ziva.”

His mind kept flip-flopping, unable to come to decision. They had been working together for almost four years. Had his feelings always been there? But why now? Why would he start realizing how he felt now? But he knew the answer. Almost losing her caused him to realize what he had been trying to hide. He was falling in love with her, if he hadn’t already.

“Falling? Jethro, are you on the edge of the bed?” she asked concerned.

He didn’t know if this was the appropriate time to make declarations. So, when he opened his mouth to tell her the truth, he chickened out. “No, Ziva. I was going to say I think I’m falling asleep.”

Raising her head off of his chest, she smiled at him. “Okay. Stay with me?”

“Of course, Ziva. There is no where else I would rather be.” At least that part was true. He could not stand to leave her side. Not now. “Sleep now, sweetheart. You are safe with me.”

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Frustrated with her equipment, Abby decided it was time for a stern lecture.

“Why are you all misbehaving? Instead of giving me the results we need to catch Ziva’s tormentor, you’re all giving me nothing. Nothing.” She turned around, giving them all a dirty look. Taking a deep breath, she spread her hands out in a placating manner. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

Turning back to her main computer, she went over the evidence she had, though it was not much: hair that had no identifying markers; partial, smudged fingerprints that gave her no points for comparison; phone recorders that gave her dead-ends. Because of the memories returning to Ziva, they now knew that it was someone within NCIS.

The person would have access in here. Maybe that’s how he was always a step ahead of her and the team. He must be listening in, maybe even watching.

Running with that idea, she hit the speaker button on her phone and then McGee’s speed dial number.

“Hey Abbs,” he said as he answered. “Did you find anything out?”

“No, nothing new. But I had an idea. What if the guy had ears or eyes in the lab? Wouldn’t that give him the information he’d need to evade us this far?”

“Abby! That’s a great idea. I should have thought of it sooner. I’ll be right done.”

“Don’t forget my Caf-Pow,” she called out before he hung up. Rolling her eyes at Tim’s comments, Abby looked back up to her computer, making a plan on how to sweep her lab for bugs. Seeing a reflection in the screen, she turned around quickly, surprised at Tim’s quick trip.

“Hey, you’re not Tim,” she complained to the man in front of her.

“No, ma’am, though I have worked with Special Agent McGee before. I’m Special Agent Raub with Cyber Crimes. Special Agent DiNozzo sent me down here to take you to Ziva.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, she asked, “If you’re here to get me, what’s the password?”

Before he left, Gibbs had insisted on picking a code word that they would use in situations like this. He had not wanted to leave her unprotected, though she had protested. So, as a compromise, if someone other than one of the team came for her, they would be given a password.

Though she suspected her lab, and possibly the Squad Room was bugged, she remembered that instead of saying it, Gibbs had written it down on a piece of paper for them all to read: home. No one had spoken it aloud, so Abby figured she was safe.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she arched an eyebrow, waiting. Hidden behind her was her stun gun, ready to take out if this marshmallow of a man had plans on kidnapping her.

“The password? Oh you mean the code word,” he said condescendingly. Calmly, he stated simply, “Home.”

Scrunching her lips, she debated going with him. She had a possible lead now and hated to leave. But if Ziva wanted to see her, Abby could put it on hold. Nodding with confidence, she grabbed her purse and headed to the elevator, not realizing she left her only means of defense.

As she passed him, he watched her with his predatory eyes, making sure to hide them when she looked at him. Following her to the elevator, a smile to match the looks in his eyes came alive for a moment. All was going according to plan, and soon he would have both where they belonged, in his own garden; his Orchid and his Rose.

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As he showered, Ziva decided to wander downstairs having taken another shower after she had spent an enjoyable hour being woken up by him. Her skin flushed as she remembered the different ways he had woken her body. When she had dressed, she could feel new, pleasurable soreness throughout her body that had nothing to do with her injuries. Grabbing the piece of glass she had taken from the hospital at the last minute, she decided to head to the kitchen, needing to find some coffee and her backpack. Finding the coffee and the filters, she started up a fresh pot of strong coffee, knowing they would both need it.

Making her way into the living room, she saw her pack laying on the couch. Walking up to it, she noticed a piece of paper lying on top. Thinking Gibbs had sneaked down while she had been bathing, she wondered what the paper said. Opening it up, she read, Behind you. Smiling, she turned around. But what she saw, rather who she saw, was not what she expected.

Suddenly, every memory made a comeback. Every bit of the torture, her captivity, even who her torturer was, came flooding back. Because, in front of her now stood Raub, her predator, her torturer, dressed in an FBI uniform.

Turning, Ziva tried to make her escape, reaching into her pocket for her piece of glass as she moved. Though he was a sloppy looking man, in both form and dress, Raub was surprisingly agile as he jumped for her. Pressing a gun to her temple, he wrenched one arm behind her. Freezing, she palmed the glass in the other hand, waiting to strike.

“Hello, my treasurer. It has been too long, far too long since I have taken my pleasure from your body. You have missed me. No, do not deny it.” He jerked up her arm further when she went to protest. “Now, now. Do not misbehave. I surely hope that our hours of training did not go unremembered when I freed you. I would hate to think of all that time being wasted.”

Unable to take anymore, Ziva swung around, slicing his cheek with the piece of glass she had been hording. Not even Gibbs had known of its existence. The glass did its job, as she sliced a deep line across the sickening pale of his flesh. She was not stupid to believe that she had any chance to escape. But the moment she had seen the glass, she knew she had to leave something more substantial for the team to trace. His blood, his DNA, would not be left behind for them to track him. Raub would not have the time to clean up now, not with Gibbs upstairs.

At the thought of him, she froze, the blood dripping from Raub’s face slowly to a dead stop in her horror. Gibbs is upstairs. What if he comes down here, comes down to find this madman with a gun? He will not suspect, will not be ready. Raub will surely gun him down. No matter what happened now, Ziva had to make sure that Gibbs lived. There would be nothing left if he was gone.

All this came to her in the brief moment she sliced Raub’s face and tossed the glass away. As he lunged for her, she stopped struggling, knowing she would leave him willingly.

“Do you think that will help you now? Do you think I care what those imbeciles will do with my blood? They won’t be able to find me any easier. Besides, I don’t want you anymore, my Orchid. I only came for you to make you pay. Don’t you think that I know about you and…and him! I should just shoot you both now,” he claimed with a violent whisper.

Pushing her down to the floor, uncaring about the blood spilling around them, he continued, “I want to make you pay for betraying me with him. I want you to feel pain and know that I will come for him when I am done with you. I want you to watch as I take my amusement with my new treasure, my Black Rose.”

As he spoke, Ziva felt her heart stutter in her chest. He would come for Gibbs. He would come for him and kill him. She must do something to stop this. But before she could figure out a plan, her blood froze. Abby? Oh God. Not Abby.

Her mind, dull before, now clicked into overdrive. “Don’t you hurt her, you bastard,” she cried.

Laughing now, he hauled her up, shoving her to the door. “Come with me willingly, with no fight, Orchid, and I won’t kill her. Your death will be slow and painful, but I will not kill her. Gibbs, I make no promises for. He will die for touching what is mine. But come with me, no more struggling and I’ll make sure his death is quick.” He had no intentions of fulfilling those promises, but he needed her out of this house and into his van.

Nodding her head, she admitted defeat. She knew that Raub had no intent of following through, but Ziva would do nothing to put Gibbs or Abby in any more danger.

At the thought of leaving him behind, she could feel her heart break. Somehow, during the long hours of exploring each other’s bodies, Ziva fell in love with him, her protector. Jethro was everything Raub was not. Honorable, gentle, passionate, loving. Through the years, he had come to mean so much to her, as her boss and friend. Now as her lover, she found he meant everything to her.

Her heart cried out for him as she left, not believing she would ever see him again.

------------------------------------

After he finished dressing, Gibbs made his way downstairs, deducing that was where Ziva had went to by the smell of the coffee. Smiling, he went through the hallway to the kitchen calling out to her.

“Ziva? Where is the woman who kept me awake all night?” He sought to tease her a bit because he didn’t want there to be any awkwardness between them. Not when they were still discovering so much more about each other.

Seeing that she wasn’t in there, he grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee. Taking a sip of the dark brew, he smiled at the strength of it. It appeared she knew so much about him, even how strong he liked his coffee. They were a perfect fit, the darkness of each of them, healed by the lightness of the other.

When in the hell did I become so damn sentimental? He knew when that change had happened: the moment she had become his priority, both as a friend and now as a lover. No matter what happened now, he had no intentions of giving her up.

“Ziva?” he called again, moving through the house.

His heart started racing the more he looked for her. It seemed she wasn’t anywhere. From the dining room, he went to the living room. The moment he stepped into the carpeted area, his heart stopped. There were signs of a struggle. And blood. There was blood splattered everywhere.

Dropping the cup of hot coffee, Gibbs turned and took off for the door, knowing that Ziva was no longer in his house. “Ziva,” he yelled as he burst through the front doors.

“ZIVA!!!!”