Author's Note: Set at the end and immediately following "Kill Ari: Part Two." It's a Tiva fanfic. Thanks to fireandfury for first of all, introducing me to NCIS, for encouraging me to write this, and for beta reading it. Go check out her stories if you get the chance! :)

Disclaimer: I definitely don't own NCIS.

Shattered Blood

Ari pointed his gun at Special Agent Gibbs. For the first time since she was a child, Ziva froze. She knew what she had to do. Her gun was already in her hand. All she had to do was aim and pull the trigger. So very simple considering the consequences.

Did she save her brother, who had just confessed to murder, who had confessed to going rogue, but who was still her brother nonetheless? Or did she save Special Agent Gibbs, to whom she made a promise?

She cursed her Israeli sense of honor and fidelity as she pulled the trigger.

The gunshot still echoed in the basement long after Special Agent Gibbs had left her alone with Ari, after she'd sang him a Hebrew lullaby, after she'd prayed to God, asked Him why in hell her Jewish heritage had to have instilled in her such a deep sense of honor.

But she knew even while she shouted up at Him that it had nothing to do with honor or lack of honor on her part. She would have made the same choice regardless.

It was her conniving half-brother's fault. She glared down at his limp body. What happened to the boy she knew? What happened to her Ari, the Ari she would have given her life for, the Ari for whom she would have shot herself to keep from shooting him? What had gone wrong?

She kicked the chair out from under her and stormed up to the stairwell. The stairwell from which she'd shot him. She only let the thought give her pause for a moment, though, and then she barrelled straight out the door. She wasn't going to stay in that room with Ari any longer, let thoughts of him going rogue eat her alive. She couldn't. She wouldn't. She had work to do.

The NCIS office was void of those whom Ziva had come to know over the past few days. Good thing, too- she didn't want to run into anyone who knew her. She hated pity.

Though, she did admit that she could go for a bit of banter with DiNozzo. It would distract her from her thoughts, more than the simple task of retrieving her backpack could.

Anyways, it didn't matter. He wasn't there, and she was just there to retrieve her things and catch a plane back to Tel Aviv.

As she ventured back out towards the darkness outside, she inhaled deeply. She was comfortable in the dark. The dark was her haven. Ziva paused just outside of the front doors to the NCIS headquarters, closed her eyes, and let the peace from the dead of night wash over her and all her thoughts.

Then, footsteps on pavement. Somewhat heavy breathing. Her moment of tranquility was gone. She opened her eyes to see Anthony DiNozzo walking towards her, just a couple of meters away.

"Ah, Miss David, ever the observant one you are. Did I interrupt something?" Anthony Dinozzo waved his hand in grandiose at the night sky.

Despite herself, Ziva smirked right back. "Tony, isn't it about the right time for you to be driving the dimbo of the night back to your house?"

"'Bimbo.' It's 'bimbo,' but nice try." Tony winked. "You're avoiding the question. You seemed awfully… pensive… when I stumbled upon you."

Ziva clapped. "What a good detective you are, Tony. Would you like a gold sticker, or would you prefer a pat on the back?"

Tony grinned. "Well, Miss David, you have posed a tough question, but from a lady like you…" He trailed off, waggling his eyebrows. "... I must decline the pat on the back, but know what a tempting offer it was."

A short silence stretched between them. Ziva shook herself out of her stupor and looked up at Tony. "As much fun as this was, I really must be going. I've got a plane to catch." But the humor was out of her voice.

Tony moved to let her past, nodding, and Ziva rushed off into the night.

"Ziva, wait."

She kicked herself for how abruptly she stopped and turned around. Tony was staring back at her, his usual smirk wiped away, his face drawn into a tight line. He crossed the distance between them in two short strides.

He was too close. Ziva was far too aware of his breath on her nose, the intensity of his gaze.

But then, just like that, the sizzle in the air popped and Tony stepped back. His smirk returned, but only halfway. Forced.

"Just thought you could use some advice. From a master."

Ziva tried to return his pretense of lightheartedness, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms. "And that might be, Oh Master?" She hoped she was a better actress than he was.

"You are a good agent, Miss David. But a great agent- like me" - a waggle of the eyebrows - "a great agent would never stop in the middle of a darkened street after such an eventful night and close their eyes. A great agent will always be moving, ever vigilant, always working, constantly busy. You don't have the luxury of giving your mind the chance to catch up. Just barrel ahead. I have mastered that art. Just ask Boss." Tony winked. Again. "If you ever find yourself struggling with that, just look to me as an example." A grin.

And with that, he strode away, past her, in the same direction from which he'd come in the first place.

Ziva shook her head. Anthony DiNozzo really was impossible. Not to mention a terrible actor. But she was grateful for having met him, goofball though he was. Somehow she knew she'd see the very special agent again. Call it a gut feeling.