Shadows. She could only see blurred shadows. Weaving in and out of the sunlight. Unclear and fuzzy, like she was seeing something through opaque glass.

She slowly opened her eyes, shying away from the pain that caused. The shadows began to solidify. Leaves. Why would she be seeing leaves? She must be lying down somewhere outside. Pushing herself to her feet, she swayed slightly, but began to make out the trees and gentle hills of grass that surrounded her. Looking around her, she saw the leaves swaying in the breeze; her dancing shadows.

Overwhelmed by a sudden, stabbing pain, she put her hand to her forehead, but instantly pulled in away when she felt a sudden dampness. Looking at her hand, she gasped. It was covered in blood. Reaching up again, she pulled down her orange cap, no longer orange but red and soaked in blood. Looking down at the clothes she was wearing, she was confused. She was wearing her running clothes yet didn't remember dressing for her morning ritual.

Moving her hands over her body, the fallen woman looked for more injuries. Was it just her head, or something much worse? Her body aching in unknown injuries, she felt cuts and scrapes, bruises and breaks. Several of her ribs were broken, and reaching down, she felt a deep cut in her leg. Afraid of bleeding out, she ripped her leg of her running pants, pulling tight a makeshift tourniquet around her leg and across her gushing wound.

Struggling to stand up, she wavered to her feet and tried to look around again. Confused, her mind befuddled, she sought to make some sense of surroundings. Had she fallen? Tripped and hit her head? As she continued to look around her, she saw no evidence of a fall, of something to trip on. And in any case, she could not have received these injuries from a fall.

What was going on?

Reaching for her ever-present cell, she realized she didn't have it. Taking a deep breath, pulling in her reserves, she began take steps towards a break in the trees. Ahead of her, she began to recognize the path she took every morning on her run.

As she started moving, she heard what sounded like a group of women. Stretching out her hand towards the them, Ziva called out. "Help! Someone help me," she cried, falling to the ground, slipping into unconsciousness.


iRemoving his gaze from the scope, he lowered his gun and let gravity drag the tip to the ground. Ziva was perfect, reacting so flawlessly to how he had left her.

Sighing in ecstasy, a slight smile on his face, he began to put his weapon away. He was not ready to use it on her; just not yet. Oh, he'd made sure that he would get to have another opportunity to use it. He'd left just enough evidence behind to keep them on his trail. When they caught up with him, he'd use the gun. Not just on her, but on the other as well. He may even get the chance to use his rifle on the whole team. Maybe even his other toys.

But only when he decided the game was up. She would come back to him then.

Giggling in anticipation, he clamped his hand over his mouth. Best not to give away the game too soon. He picked up his things, glanced around to make sure he left only what he intended behind, and headed off towards the direction of his vehicle.

As he made his way through the woods, he reminisced. Ziva once had teased her partner about being a screamer, in front of him and a few other NCIS agents. She'd questioned the other about the fact that her neighbors had complained about the amount of noise emanating from her place.

Though she said it to to her partner, he'd known it was really for him. It was her way of acknowledging him. Of acknowledging his rights to her.

He had known she was meant for him from the moment she walked through the doors of that crime scene. And she was a screamer all right. Boy, had he made her scream. A pity the drugs he'd had to use in order to subdue her would cause amnesia as a side effect. He knew she would have enjoyed those memories, just as much as he was. Oh, well. Hopefully, it will come back to her. If not, there was always next time.

And there would be a next time.

Another time to make her scream./i