A/N: IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ ThiS! I was iffy about this fic. I'm sort of worried about how it will be received. It was just a plot bunny that would not go away, no matter how I tried. I want to just warn you right off the bat, this story contains rape. If this subject bothers you in any way, please do not read! It's sort of a disturbing subject, I do not know how I will be able to bring myself to write "the scene" because it took me a while just to get the courage to write the word. Yeah. So, I'm not sure how this is going to turn out, but please don't read if you don't think you want to. This is my first M story, and I almost made a new account and posted this on there. But I really don't want to wait two days. So here it goes. Oh, and, just so we are clear, this is NOT a Zibbs story. Period. I find it to be completely unnerving, because she said Gibbs is like a father to her. No matter how you think this is going to turn out, it will NOT be with Romance between Ziva and Gibbs. No offense to Zibbs fans, but I am steering clear of that ship for a good long time.

Disclaimer: nope. I was supposed to get an email when my evil plan was through and I owned NCIS... no new messages. Wait. Someone commented on my status... But nope. Not mine. For now.

She lay in her bed, sleeping peacefully. The rain had always been like a calming lullaby for her. She had not experienced many rainstorms in Israel, but she had found that she always slept soundly on those nights. Of course, D.C. was different. In D.C., it rained often. Those nights were always the best for her.

This was one of those nights.

She went to sleep thinking everything was fine. She thought everything was normal. Just another stormy night, right?

Wrong.

But she did not know that. And so she slept, deeply, oblivious to the danger around her.

They say ignorance is bliss. Whoever "they" are, they're right.

...

Sanding his boat had a sort of therapeutic effect on him. It always had. Whenever he had troubles, he would just come down here and sand them away.

That's what he did tonight, as the rain poured down outside.

There had been a tough case. A child had been murdered by his drunk father. Gibbs could not fathom the reasons one could have for killing their own child, drunk or not. So many people had children, and so many wasted it. They had no idea how truly fortunate they were.

And so there he was, in his safe haven, building a boat and sipping bourbon from his mason jar.

Unaware that his life was about to take a turn for the worse.

...

What was that smell? She knew that smell. It was disgustingly, sickly sweet. She wanted to stop breathing it in, but she needed air...

And so she fell back to sleep. This was a different sleep, though. It was dark, black, never ending... She had no control over this sleep.

She felt herself slipping farther and farther into the dark abyss, until it swallowed her up completely.

And she was floating.

...

The first thing Ziva noticed was that she was no longer in her own bed. This surface was hard, uncomfortable. And the air around her was definitely more humid than the air in her apartment.

She was not at home.

Opening her eyes, she took a look around. The room was not very large. It looked to be about 8 by 10 feet. A heavy door was on one of the shorter walls, and she lay on a table in the middle of the room. The table and the walls were both a very depressing shade of gray. There was a small, barred window up high on the wall across from the wall with the door. The only light in the room came from a lightbulb directly above her.

And she remembered the smell. The sweet smell that meant only one thing.

Chloroform. She had been drugged.

Struggling to stay calm, she sat up and got off the bed, assessing her situation just like she had been trained. She tested the window first, but the table was bolted into the ground and the window was too high to read anyway, not to mention the heavy looking bars. Then she tried the door. She kicked, punched, and tried to ram it down. No use. It was too big, too heavy, and too locked.

Sighing in defeat, she sat down in the far corner. She would just have to wait until her captors came back.

...

A knock on his door startled him out of his thoughts. He heard the shattering of glass as the mason jar holding his bourbon he had knocked down shattered.

"Shoot," he murmured. Sighing, he walked up the stairs. Who did he know who would knock on his door? It was always unlocked.

It was a trick question, really. Almost everyone he knew knew that they could just walk in.

There was something suspicious in this single action. It's not like he'd ordered pizza.

Hand on his Sig, he opened the door slowly.

No one.

Stupid kids. Probably out ding-dong-ditching again. Something still didn't seem quite right, though. His famous gut was screaming at him that something was terribly wrong.

He really should have listened to it. Because the second he turned around to go back inside, he felt something collide with the back of his head.

And then there was nothing but blackness.

A/N: Dun dun dun dunnnnn. Please review if you read this! No flames, though, please. So how was the first chapter? It's short, I know. But it's only the first chapter. It's sort of like the first waffle of the batch. Always turns out bad:)

Alli