Hi Guys, this is a quick piece that i have put together. Most of it is written and I will post a section a day. This has been written at the same time as IJ. More IJ will be coming soon I promise. I keep getting more and more ideas and they are very full and intense chapters but I thought I would post this because I had this image fall into my mind and I felt i needed to share

Disclaimer: I wish I were attached to Bellisarius Productions because this would be the first episode of Season 7


The air was thick with the smell of fire and gun powder. The heat from the flames was as bare as her skin that lay witness to its fiery fury. The whoosh that had accompanied them was licking at her nearly motionless body, sprawled across thick facets of mud and dry tufts of grass of the plains of Africa. She could not recall how long she had been here. All she could recall was the face she longed to see but he was gone, lost to a war from a recent past. Lost to…

She pondered on the fact that her last thought would be of him. If only he could see her now, so beaten, bruised and broken. She knew that if he were to see her this way, in this weakened state, that he would have left her behind. Weakness in any form was left behind. Nothing was sacred and that meant her life as well.

Amidst all the noise and the commotion she was disappearing into she heard muffled voices. The orders were being barked and the translation was lost on injured ears. All those whacks to the head obviously meant that she was no longer viable as a weapon. She was merely garbage to be left for the dogs. She could not move and could not scream for help. Her lungs ached along with the heart that was eternally scarred. All she could do was cry. She accepted that in her final moments alive on this planet, she was allowed to cry. Pains that had been etched into her soul now yelled for release as the realization that the end drew nigh. She tried to open her eyes, but only one was able to function. Through the blurriness of her tears, she could make out the compound she had been held captive in being eaten by flames and swallowed by destruction. She could hear faint screaming, a noise that she seemed happy in hearing. Maybe she knew whose scream it was. Could it possibly be her attackers? That thought brought an even broader smile to her face. She stopped smiling at the realization there was hope. She could be at peace with this. She could now slip into that eternal slumber that beckoned her inward.

Her sleep was interrupted, though. The muffled voices came nearer. They were closing in on her location and before she knew it, her body was being shaken by another hand, another person.

The panic stricken voice was not lost on her ears but she felt comfortable, relief almost to hear those deep chords. She tried opening her eyes again but failed in her attempt to see who was at her side. Her hope was rising but so was her exhaustion. She could not fathom the thought of facing them and now it would probably happen. She didn't want to see them. They had left with the plane that took off in Tel Aviv. They were dead to her, all of them. They were the casualties of war, the war that was her life.

She felt herself being moved, her arm failing to reach the face that she longed to see but couldn't bring herself to bare. She knew it would hurt too much and her vulnerability did not need a witness.

Obviously her rescuer had other ideas as they whispered into her ear.

"Ziva! Ziva, can you hear me? It's ok. We're here now."

With that voice she calmed down and her torso lay still with the last breath she exhaled into the night.

I know it is short but there is more to come I promise.