Ziva's trip to Israel wasn't going as well as she had hoped. Her dad, sitting at his desk, kept repeating:

"You will do it. Do not disrespect your father. You must do it! I demand it."

"I shall not", she answered. "I will not. Not even over my dead body!" The irony of this last sentence didn't escape her and she found herself half-smiling at his sick plan.

"Oh, you will", her dad answered, with a sly and enigmatic look which perplexed her and made her feel very uncomfortable.

Her flight would take her away from all this soon, and her father would have no power over her once back in the US. She would keep on living the free and exciting life she enjoyed so much. She would return to her loved ones, or rather to her friends and her loved one.

McGee had agreed to pick her up at the airport and was waving at her from the door of his car in the pick-up area in front of the terminal.

"I drive", she said with assurance.

"Oh no, Ziva, not my car!" McGee pleaded but resistance was futile. He could already see the nice glossy black paintwork on the door going to waste.

"Give me the keys, McGee", was the menacing answer.

The trip back home was short, but not so sweet for McGee. The car, however, managed to arrive in one piece and without any scratch, for which he let out a sigh of relief. As soon as they arrived at Ziva's flat, McGee's mobile started ringing:

"McGee, marine's body near Quantico, get back here stat."

"Yes Boss. Shall I bring Ziva?"

"What do you think McGee? "

"Yes, boss."

Ziva felt so happy on her way back to the office she couldn't stop grinning, much to a deconcerted McGee's amazement. NCIS felt like home, the team was her family, and she hoped she wouldn't have to go back to her father any time soon. She also knew deep in her heart that she would soon see Tony again and her heart pounded with excitement at the thought. Somehow, she was slightly annoyed with herself at the idea that she loved Tony. She wasn't quite sure why she was so infatuated with him and she knew there were an awful lot of other girls out there who wouldn't hesitate to pounce on him. But the heart wants what it wants...

Gibbs was already waiting for them outside.

"Welcome back, Ziva. McGee, where's DiNozzo?

I don't know, boss, I tried to call him but he didn't answer.

Well, try again and let's go, he'll join us there."

Tony was unable to answer. The pain in his legs was absolutely unbearable and he could hardly breathe.

The men who had kidnapped him up knew what they were doing. They knew how to pick you up in a busy street without anybody noticing. They also knew how to make you die a slow death, and Tony was not particularly hopeful about his situation.

There were no windows in the room, it was pitchblack and Tony suspected that the room was soundproofed - that is, other than the door as he could hear somebody on the other side of the wood panelled door. He was hoping that the team would soon realize something was wrong and would try to find him. He could feel his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket at regular intervals and those little buzzing intervals gave him the glimmer of hope he needed.

The men had shackled him to the wall and blown up both his knee caps with a 32 calibre. They knew that the shackles were too far up for him to sit and that, without his legs, he wouldn't be able to stand, slowly stifling as his raised arm prevented his chest from expending much or bleeding to death, whichever came first. He could feel the blood slowly oozing down what was left of his legs, and temporarily lost consciousness. He woke up again when his phone started vibrating again.

Tony wished he could just grab the phone in his pocket. This simple everyday task he had carried out carelessly so many times before was now so crucial and so beyond reach he couldn't help but welling up, wondering which of his dejected former girlfriends would subject him to this torture. He quickly realised that crying didn't help with his breathing and resolved to stop before quickly fainting again. The harrowing pain woke him up soon enough and Tony pulled himself together again. He knew he hadn't been abandoned as he could hear murmurs through the door, but his jailers were unlikely to come back until they had what they wanted, at which point he reckoned they would probably leave him to die.

Given his injuries, the pre-existing damage to his lungs and the fact that he was hanging by his arms, had probably dislocated his shoulders, was slowly bleeding to death and could hardly breathe, he counted he had only a few hours left to live. He would need to do something, and quickly, before losing consciousness for good. He briefly thought that Ducky would be proud of him for learning from him but lost that thought as soon as he realized he would probably be the next body on Ducky's table. He remembered that the guards hadn't actually relieved him of his gun, and contemplated the thought of putting an end to all this, if only he could get to it: the pain, the loneliness, the persistent sadness and seriousness that had overtaken him since Jeanne had left, all this was too much for him. He had grown, and he wasn't sure he liked that feeling.

Then Tony remembered he actually had so much to live for, so many little pleasures in life, like that time when he glued the Elf Lord to his keyboard. He thought about these few Hebrew words he had learnt to impress Ziva and decided to think about something else, as he still wasn't quite sure why he had even tried to do that. He had felt so silly doing so. Trying to impress girls was no longer his thing. Going after random chicks was no longer his thing. Jeanne had given him a taste for the real thing and, although he now remembered her as a good scene within the film of his life, he felt he was ready to move on but just hadn't found the one that would fill that void in him and make him whole again.

Suddenly, the pain flew back to his head and he started to see bright lights hovering in front of him. He remembered that time when he was convicted of murder and remembered the anger that overtook him on that occasion. The same overwhelming feeling was now rushing back in full force and so was the pain. The men had come back and were hitting him again. He started shouting and tried to respond to the blows but the shackles and his immobile though excruciating legs prevented him from fighting back. Tony realized they may have broken his jaw, but he didn't really care anymore. The pain in his legs was overwhelming and the rest of his body was numb in comparison. The men exchanged a few words before leaving the room. He didn't think much about it until he realised they didn't speak English. And somehow, this language didn't seem so unfamiliar but he couldn't put his finger on it. To be honest, he could hardly think anymore. He would soon pass out, he needed to have a plan, and it ought to be a quick one.