Femme_fic challenge
Title: Spoils of War
Author: Kris "The Antiwesley" Herzog
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: WWII/Nazi stuff.
Fandom: NCIS
Characters: Ziva David
Recipient: squeelated (aka thekatebeyond)
Prompt: Secrets, lies, and things Ziva learned from her mother
Spoilers: none really
Summary: Ziva in a pre-NCIS adventure, hunts down a Nazi scientist and discovers a truth about herself.
Author's Notes: Gah. I normally do a lot better, but this is an idea that's been stuck in my mind for some time. It took a while to make it all sound reasonable, yet fit within the idea itself.
Though I'm not as happy with it as I should be. :(
Ziva sat in the darkness of the forest, waiting for her target to arrive.
Adjusting herself, she thought back along the chain of events that brought
her to England, perched in a tree, watching a squat warehouse in the middle
of nowhere.
The lead came into Mossad a few months back. An elder Nazi scientist, well into
his 90's had rented space in an English countryside for storage.
The agents had dug deep, tracking the countless pieces of paperwork that had
let him stay hidden for so long. Alerting British intelligence, Mossad had
come to an agreement to let one of their own take the old man down.
He had experimented on many prisoners in the camps, mainly working with
their brains, leading him to be Hitler's right hand man for a then secret
project that the Allies considered failed.
So Ziva had been assigned to the task, to assure that the task would be
completed with minimal damage. And, her handler had stressed, that he would be
alive to pay for his crimes.
So she sat in that tree branch, waiting for the limo that carried the old man
to arrive.
Soon enough, the car did pull up, and a door opened both in the warehouse and
the car. The old man climbed out slowly with a tall, statuesque blonde assisting
him. They slowly walked into the warehouse and the limo pulled away, and the door
to the warehouse closed behind them.
Ziva waited for some time, remembering that her mother had always held the thought
that patience was a virtue, taking that advice to heart, always making sure that
every piece was in play, ready to act, and ready to follow their orders no matter what.
-----
After waiting a few minutes for some form of notification that her backup was
in place, she climbed down carefully and started inching towards the warehouse's
back door. She motioned for the backup to circle around to watch the back door.
Peering in carefully through a window, she saw the blonde standing over the old
man's body, apparently deceased, blood dripping from his opened mouth.
The blonde appeared to be wearing what Ziva considered to be a 'kinky' outfit,
laughing. Ziva could hear the rub of the leather as the woman bent down to
fish the old man's wallet from his pocket. Putting it in a small purse, she pulled
out a phone.
Pressing a few buttons and pausing, she heard the woman comment,
"Yes. The job is done."
Ziva frowned. This woman, whomever she was, had taken her mark. Incensed, she
kicked open the door and levelled her gun at the woman.
The woman dropped the phone, causing it to fly apart.
"Vas ist?" the woman spoke in surprise. Ziva looked at her.
"Stand still." Ziva ordered. By this time, her backup had heard the noise and
rushed in from the front. They levelled their guns on the woman.
"The place is cleared, Agent." Ziva grew worried. The woman and the old man
were in here in alone. Seeing that the suspect was covered, she leant down
and check to see if the old man was still alive, feeling for a pulse, and finding
none. She then moved to search the suspect, bringing her focus back on the young
lady.
The blonde smiled as Ziva ran her hands up and down her torso, as if she was enjoying
it. "You haff such nice hands, my dear." the woman purred.
Ziva just frowned. She found nothing. The room was empty, save for a pile of equipment,
a couple of chairs and a table. The equipment was still warm, but there was no obvious
power source.
"This man had hired me to help him examine that equipment over there." The woman pointed
towards the table. "He started to walk towards it, and suddenly collapsed."
Ziva noted how the woman did not seem too concerned over the man's death.
She nodded to the agent. "Take her into custody for now." The other agent quickly
handcuffed the blonde and moved towards the front door, where a British tactical
unit had quickly swarmed into place.
Ziva looked around, unsure of what the equipment was. She was sure, however, that
something happened to the old man. She leant down, looking for some clue that could
give her an idea of what had happened.
After an hour of staring at the body, the equipment and the time involved, she couldn't
fathom what had happened. The coroner soon appeared, and after the pre-requisite activities,
readied the body for transport. Something still itched at the back of her neck, as if
she had missed something.
Frustrated that again, she found nothing, she followed the path of the suspect back
to the temporary headquarters for the operation. She found the woman in one of the
smaller interrogation rooms, answering the questions she needed to answer.
She was a German-born British subject, never belonging to any organizations
nor political parties. She worked for a 'exclusive' nursemaid/cleaning service
that the British Government had known about for some time. Her record was clear,
her licenses were all up-to-date, outside of her unique attire, nothing was
out of the ordinary.
"He paid extra for me to dress like this, and vith the economy the vay it is,
who was I to say no?" The blonde shifted in her seat. Ziva looked through the
one-way mirror at the interrogation in progress. "Other than zat, I know
as much as you do." Something about it still didn't seem right, but Ziva still
couldn't put her finger on it.
The liason came in an hour later and gave her the initial autopsy report.
"Nothing but old age, ma'am." Ziva frowned. "We have to let her go."
Ziva didn't like the idea, but if there was nothing to keep the woman here,
then there was nothing that could be done.
--------
Sitting in a cube-farm some years later, outside of Washington DC, Ziva was suprised
to find an envelope sitting on her desk. It bore a postmark from a South American country,
and Ziva opened the envelope, not worrying about whether or not it contained a poisonous
powder or any other means of assassination.
She was quite surprised, however, to see a picture of the young blonde from those many
years ago. She turned over the photo to read what was written on back:
"Guten tag, mein Juden! Your fine work helped me to find a new life!"
Ziva turned it back over and stared at the blonde winking, a large
smile beaming back. She then realised what had been eluding her all that
time, that nasty feeling she had when they had first took the woman into
custody. It was a feeling she didn't like.
She had been mislead, lied to... in a way that not even she could have expected.
From that moment on, she learned to expect anything to happen... even things
that she never thought would.
Author: Kris "The Antiwesley" Herzog
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: WWII/Nazi stuff.
Fandom: NCIS
Characters: Ziva David
Recipient: squeelated (aka thekatebeyond)
Prompt: Secrets, lies, and things Ziva learned from her mother
Spoilers: none really
Summary: Ziva in a pre-NCIS adventure, hunts down a Nazi scientist and discovers a truth about herself.
Author's Notes: Gah. I normally do a lot better, but this is an idea that's been stuck in my mind for some time. It took a while to make it all sound reasonable, yet fit within the idea itself.
Though I'm not as happy with it as I should be. :(
Ziva sat in the darkness of the forest, waiting for her target to arrive.
Adjusting herself, she thought back along the chain of events that brought
her to England, perched in a tree, watching a squat warehouse in the middle
of nowhere.
The lead came into Mossad a few months back. An elder Nazi scientist, well into
his 90's had rented space in an English countryside for storage.
The agents had dug deep, tracking the countless pieces of paperwork that had
let him stay hidden for so long. Alerting British intelligence, Mossad had
come to an agreement to let one of their own take the old man down.
He had experimented on many prisoners in the camps, mainly working with
their brains, leading him to be Hitler's right hand man for a then secret
project that the Allies considered failed.
So Ziva had been assigned to the task, to assure that the task would be
completed with minimal damage. And, her handler had stressed, that he would be
alive to pay for his crimes.
So she sat in that tree branch, waiting for the limo that carried the old man
to arrive.
Soon enough, the car did pull up, and a door opened both in the warehouse and
the car. The old man climbed out slowly with a tall, statuesque blonde assisting
him. They slowly walked into the warehouse and the limo pulled away, and the door
to the warehouse closed behind them.
Ziva waited for some time, remembering that her mother had always held the thought
that patience was a virtue, taking that advice to heart, always making sure that
every piece was in play, ready to act, and ready to follow their orders no matter what.
-----
After waiting a few minutes for some form of notification that her backup was
in place, she climbed down carefully and started inching towards the warehouse's
back door. She motioned for the backup to circle around to watch the back door.
Peering in carefully through a window, she saw the blonde standing over the old
man's body, apparently deceased, blood dripping from his opened mouth.
The blonde appeared to be wearing what Ziva considered to be a 'kinky' outfit,
laughing. Ziva could hear the rub of the leather as the woman bent down to
fish the old man's wallet from his pocket. Putting it in a small purse, she pulled
out a phone.
Pressing a few buttons and pausing, she heard the woman comment,
"Yes. The job is done."
Ziva frowned. This woman, whomever she was, had taken her mark. Incensed, she
kicked open the door and levelled her gun at the woman.
The woman dropped the phone, causing it to fly apart.
"Vas ist?" the woman spoke in surprise. Ziva looked at her.
"Stand still." Ziva ordered. By this time, her backup had heard the noise and
rushed in from the front. They levelled their guns on the woman.
"The place is cleared, Agent." Ziva grew worried. The woman and the old man
were in here in alone. Seeing that the suspect was covered, she leant down
and check to see if the old man was still alive, feeling for a pulse, and finding
none. She then moved to search the suspect, bringing her focus back on the young
lady.
The blonde smiled as Ziva ran her hands up and down her torso, as if she was enjoying
it. "You haff such nice hands, my dear." the woman purred.
Ziva just frowned. She found nothing. The room was empty, save for a pile of equipment,
a couple of chairs and a table. The equipment was still warm, but there was no obvious
power source.
"This man had hired me to help him examine that equipment over there." The woman pointed
towards the table. "He started to walk towards it, and suddenly collapsed."
Ziva noted how the woman did not seem too concerned over the man's death.
She nodded to the agent. "Take her into custody for now." The other agent quickly
handcuffed the blonde and moved towards the front door, where a British tactical
unit had quickly swarmed into place.
Ziva looked around, unsure of what the equipment was. She was sure, however, that
something happened to the old man. She leant down, looking for some clue that could
give her an idea of what had happened.
After an hour of staring at the body, the equipment and the time involved, she couldn't
fathom what had happened. The coroner soon appeared, and after the pre-requisite activities,
readied the body for transport. Something still itched at the back of her neck, as if
she had missed something.
Frustrated that again, she found nothing, she followed the path of the suspect back
to the temporary headquarters for the operation. She found the woman in one of the
smaller interrogation rooms, answering the questions she needed to answer.
She was a German-born British subject, never belonging to any organizations
nor political parties. She worked for a 'exclusive' nursemaid/cleaning service
that the British Government had known about for some time. Her record was clear,
her licenses were all up-to-date, outside of her unique attire, nothing was
out of the ordinary.
"He paid extra for me to dress like this, and vith the economy the vay it is,
who was I to say no?" The blonde shifted in her seat. Ziva looked through the
one-way mirror at the interrogation in progress. "Other than zat, I know
as much as you do." Something about it still didn't seem right, but Ziva still
couldn't put her finger on it.
The liason came in an hour later and gave her the initial autopsy report.
"Nothing but old age, ma'am." Ziva frowned. "We have to let her go."
Ziva didn't like the idea, but if there was nothing to keep the woman here,
then there was nothing that could be done.
--------
Sitting in a cube-farm some years later, outside of Washington DC, Ziva was suprised
to find an envelope sitting on her desk. It bore a postmark from a South American country,
and Ziva opened the envelope, not worrying about whether or not it contained a poisonous
powder or any other means of assassination.
She was quite surprised, however, to see a picture of the young blonde from those many
years ago. She turned over the photo to read what was written on back:
"Guten tag, mein Juden! Your fine work helped me to find a new life!"
Ziva turned it back over and stared at the blonde winking, a large
smile beaming back. She then realised what had been eluding her all that
time, that nasty feeling she had when they had first took the woman into
custody. It was a feeling she didn't like.
She had been mislead, lied to... in a way that not even she could have expected.
From that moment on, she learned to expect anything to happen... even things
that she never thought would.