Haven't updated anything in FOREVER, I know. After school ends (May 25th), I promise to be back in full swing. New stories, more updates, summer, all that jazz. This one came out because I'm emotionally overloaded at the moment. Meh. Enjoy. :)
Spoilers for: Truth or Consequences. Judgment Day. Twilight.
Disclaimer: All I own at the moment is a pair of pointe shoes and some seriously blistered feet. Just so ya know, dancers are masochists.
Tree branches swayed in the sunlight, casting shadows upon the fresh floor of the earth. The smell of honeysuckle permeated her nostrils. She blinked open her eyes, squinting against the bright, flexible, moving fingertips reaching up to rub her face.
She was confused. She was distraught.
She was free.
A crisp voice echoed throughout the overgrown meadow. It was high in pitch, definitely a female. Something about it was comforting in the slightest. This voice reverberated innocence into her very core, making her a little more alert instantly.
Yet, everything was still a tad fuzzy. Like looking through the steam after a very hot bubble bath. One with rose smelling soap and clean water.
A young woman stood, just a few feet from her.
This girl had hair like the mane of a horse. Thick, dark. Honey colored eyes, plump pink lips. She was dressed in a pastel blue sun dress that was cut rather conservatively, her pretty feet adorned in strap sandals that sunk into the plush grass.
Ziva could not recall where she knew this young girl from.
She somehow sensed she knew her, though.
"Why did you never tell him you loved him?"
The question caught her off guard, but she immediately understood the person they were speaking of. A hollow feeling assaulted her empty stomach.
"Love is something that I have never understood myself. How could I claim the feeling for someone else?"
Her lips felt dry all of a sudden. The girl scrunched up her nose and her eyes narrowed ever so much. Slowly, she began shaking her head at Ziva.
"Love is something few ever truly grasp the concept of. You feel it. You give it. You will never hold it in the palm of your hand."
"The question was not meant to be answe-
"You did not need to ask for one," the girl cut Ziva off, walking away, towards the distant tree line. The sun began to grow dimmer.
Ziva felt that sense of weakness grow stronger. Suddenly, she wanted the girl to come back. The words were on the tip of her tongue. She just could not move, as if weighed down by the darkening sky.
The air grew colder in almost a millisecond and she shivered, grasping at her arms in order to create some warmth. It was almost black now. The sky had no stars. She could no longer see her surroundings or the girl.
A scream sounded throughout the empty air.
In her head, rang a voice. The voice of the girl she felt as if she knew.
"Ziva, that day, before I went to shop, I told you I loved you. I meant it. I need you to know that it didn't hurt. When the bomb went off, I didn't feel a thing. It was as if I was floating in a pool of cool water. Or lounging upon fresh grass...It was perfect..."
Her fingers slipped from the ledge she held to. Darkness consumed her.
Her heart pounded in her chest, ready to combust within itself.
Shaking hands clutched the edges of the chair in which she sat in. Her eyes were shut as tight as physically possible, afraid to find what sights awaited them.
A smooth chuckle sounded through the air. In the background, the busy city of Paris bustled, alive and moving at an unseeable pace.
Sharp nails scraped at her wrists as lithe fingers pried her hands from the chair. Her eyes opened slowly, guardedly. Emerald green eyes met her chocolate brown with a firm knowingness. One which one the red head who owned them could ever possess.
"You are scared out of your mind, aren't you? I don't blame you...I was too."
Her bright eyes grew dark and serious. Recalling and not wanting to.
"Jenny? What is happening to me? You are...oh...no."
The red head's eyes grew wide and the strangest look graced her face. She promptly burst into fiendish laughter.
"Ziva, you'll know when you're dead," she snuck between giggles.
The air smelt of fresh bread they served just a few shops down. The small café they sat at was busy, and yet no one bothered them. Ziva opened her mouth to question more, but Jenny stopped her.
"Do you remember when I told you that I didn't want Jethro to miss me? After I was gone?"
The Israeli recalled it well, but didn't understand. That was in Cairo, when Jenny spoke of leaving him with a letter and nothing else. Not of...
"Ziva, that applied to both situations."
There was a brief pause as a woman with a three year old walked right through Jenny's body.
"Ziva, what I didn't know then, is that Jethro will miss me. Regardless of if I tell him not to. Regardless of if he hated me when I was shot. Hell, the boy who served me coffee in the morning missed me," Her tone was wry.
"People walk into our lives and leaves fingerprints on our hearts, our minds, our souls. They never fade. And Ziva?"
Jenny smiled. A real one. One Ziva had not seen from her friend even months before her death. One Ziva only saw when Jenny and Gibbs were speaking privately.
"Even if you don't think so, Tony misses you. Don't give up. For him."
Jenny stood from her seat and disappeared into the crowd.
"Director? Jenny? Jenny?"
Ziva's breath was taken away as she once again fell into raw darkness.
The rooftop was lit only by a large moon.
The air conditioner unit by the edge was the only sound.
Everything was warmer than before.
"So, you're Ziva, right?"
This woman she had never seen in her life.
Medium brown hair fell to her petite shoulders. Hazel eyes probed Ziva in every way possible. The black windbreaker and jeans she wore seemed normal and average.
The large bullet hole in the center of her forehead, stark against her pale skin, was surely not. The woman shook her head, almost in disbelief, and smirked at the distraught woman. Ziva felt fear chase its way through her veins. She wished to run. To sleep.
"I'm Kate, incase you didn't know."
Information was given, and she processed it. She did not understand, still. She never understood.
"The way I see it, Ziva, you have two options."
Crickets suddenly began chirping to her right, startling Ziva.
"You can either accept the fact your life is worth living, which would help me out immensely. Or, and I say this because or translates to 'what I wish you wouldn't do'. Or, you could go jump of that ledge over there. It's that simple."
For the first time in her life, Ziva mind could not think.
Her lungs ran out of breath.
Her eyes grew wet and stung annoyingly.
Kate frowned. Something in the other woman's eyes made Ziva pause and reconsider.
"Ziva...life can be taken away. Faster than you could ever imagine, and I know you of all people, could try."
Seconds ticked by, and Ziva felt her face become warm. Her hands began to ache strangely. The cement ledge in the distance became larger to her mist covered vision. The air reeked oddly.
"Ziva, you have to fight. For the man we both love, you have to fight."
The woman faded, almost like a broken tape-
- and hands grasped her arms roughly, pinning her this way and that. Everything was black and dead.
For a moment, she regretted not running to the ledge.
A scream almost left her small, skeletal-like body, when the darkness was lifted. Brightness made her squint and her eyes sting. Her face was hot and swollen with bruises. Bloody fingers ached were the rope was too tight. Stuffy air surrounded her and stench and urine permeated her nostrils.
His face was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
Those green eyes that stared through her soul. Those lips. That smile, even in the situation. She lost her breath once again, and she almost began to cry it felt so good.
But she did nothing, because shock is funny like that.
The audience is quiet. Waiting the big finish, the happily ever after.
Tony and she were never good at conventional shit.
"How was your summer?"
She guesses she could settle for this alone. The crowd roars.