A/N This is set while Ziva was not working as a field agent.
Ziva sat with her face squinted in frustration. The usual "Grab your gear," from Gibbs sent the team into action after a dead marine. Ziva tried to tag along but Gibbs caught her before she had even stood up. So the team had left her behind again, though not without much protest. There was simply no reasoning with Gibbs, although Ziva was, by far, the best at it. She still lost when it came to Gibbs.
The agency was almost empty as people left for the night. Sure, Ziva enjoyed the sounds of silence, but after years of being on this team, she had to admit that sometimes she would miss the bickering of the team; her team. Well, you only miss it when it's not there, she reasoned.
Ziva was actually bored. She had done all the desk work for the case already, and even looked it over several times. She could find nothing else to do.
She was angry, mainly at herself, for leaving the team. Even though it was just for a short while, Gibbs wouldn't let her out on any field work. Ducky insisted that she had been through more than she let on. Which is true, Ziva thought to herself, but it was none of their business what I have gone through.
The very feeling of not being useful, the knowledge that she was being left behind due to lack of trust: that ripped her apart. Ziva rested her head on her hands with boredom as she watched the last of the workers leave.
"Still here, Ziva?" The director asked on his way out.
"I am waiting for Gibbs to return. They are still working on a case," Ziva responded in her thick accent.
"Well… goodnight then," The director said heading towards the elevator.
Her phone rang with a text from Tony:
Case closed. Gibbs got the guy already. R u still work?
She texted back a 'yes' and got a response that she should go home, they'd be back soon and it was pointless to wait around.
Following Tony's advice for once, Ziva headed for her car. The parking lot air was cold and damp from the rain that just pasted earlier that day. Ziva sighed, unlocking her car door. She hated being so out of the group. A slight sound caused Ziva to turn around quickly.
"Who is there?" Ziva called out.
No response came. Ziva's eyes scanned the darkness. There! A dark shadow skipped across a nearby car. Ziva hardened her expression, trying to find the shadow again. There was a quick thought in her mind that this was an animal.
I should call for help, she thought, her hand reaching for her phone. No, they're busy wrapping up the case. I can deal with this myself. I can take care of myself.
"Who is there?" she demanded, "Show yourself!"
There was a deep, amused chuckle, and Ziva spun around trying to find the source. Every shadow seemed ready to attack, every car (though there were few left) looked like the hiding spot of someone ready to jump out at her. Ziva's brown eyes scanned over everything. Her heart sped up as fear trickled up her spine. No, she thought to herself, fear is unacceptable. Concentrate. Stay focused. Uncertainty was one of the few things that scared her though.
"Who is there?" Ziva called again into the darkness. Her hand pulled out her gun and aimed it blindly. "Who is there?! What is it you want?"
There was a laugh again, a deep laugh. A man, Ziva thought to herself, presumably in his thirties of forties.
"Ziva," an unknown voice spoke. Ziva whirled around, her gun raised, trying to locate it, "Where is Agent Gibbs when you need him?"
There was a sound of footsteps behind her and Ziva spun to face them. Then the bushes to her left rustled and she aimed her gun towards them. There were too many sounds at once and Ziva moved towards every one of them. Then there was that laugh. That mimicking laugh echoed through the night. A sharp pain came to the back of her head. And then, there was darkness.