Chapter 1-Mondays
Monday. Just another, boring, average, Monday full of paperwork and cold cases, Tony thought as he rode up in the elevator. As he walked into the bullpen, he noticed the time: 0743. Crap, I'm late again. "Morning, Ziva, Probie." "Morning, Tony." Ziva. He looked up as he heard her voice. Her sweet, soothing, calm voice. Wow. She looks extra hot today. Way hotter than normal. What is it? Her hair? Her clothes? Whatever it is, I like it! "Looks like another day of cold case files." "Sure does." "DiNozzo." "Boss." "What you staring at?" "Oh, nothing, Boss. Getting back to work now, Boss." After a long morning, Tony was hungry. Very hungry. "Probie. Ziva and I are gonna grab some lunch. You want something or not?" "Uh, thanks, Tony, but Abs and I are going to lunch." Tony was already at the elevator before Ziva could react. She grabbed her jacket and caught him just before the elevator arrived. They got in the elevator and Ziva pressed the button that would take them to the ground floor. The ride downstairs was silent. Tony just stared at Ziva. He couldn't stop thinking about her since he had left her in Israel last summer. It had almost been a year since he had told Saleem that if he could, he would drag her back in a heartbeat; he couldn't live without her. God, Tony, just tell her already. You know it. You know that you love her. Heck, the whole agency knows. Well, at least, Gibbs and McGee and Abby know. Vance and Ducky, not so sure. Maybe Ducky. Ok, who cares? You love her and that's all that matters. Just come right out and say it. She needs to know how you feel about her. "Tony . . . are you coming?" "Huh, um what? Yeah I'm coming. Sorry."
What is up with him today? Being late, I can understand, but spacing out, staring, and offering McGee lunch, I mean come on, this is Tony we are talking about! He has been staring at me for the past week. Not even looking at the other girls who pass by. That is not Tony. Maybe he's changed . . . for the better. Wait, what am I saying? This is Tony! He will never change . . . no matter how much I want him to. Tony and Ziva made there way back to the car, McGee and Gibbs' coffee in hand. The silence inside the midnight blue Dodge Charger had been becoming more and more awkward. "Tony . . . is something wrong? I mean, well. . . you have not been yourself lately." "Come on Zee, everything is fine." "Pull over." "Why--," "Tony," She shot him a do-it-now look. "Ok, fine. Now what is it, Ziva? We really need to be getting back now." "Tony . . . there is something I need to tell you." "Well, what you waiting for, Zee?" "Tony--," Glass shattered, and the sound of three gun shots rang out as Tony reached for his own weapon. His entire life flashed before his eyes. He soon felt something warm and sticky on his hand. Ziva. She had been hit. "Ziva, can you hear me? ZIVA!" "Tony, I . . . call . . . call Gibbs." "Hold on Ziva, the paramedics are on the way, along with Gibbs and the team. You are going to be fine. I won't let you die, Ziva." He looked at Ziva like he had for almost six years now, only with more love than ever. Her arm was red with blood, along with the seat and he was sure that Gibbs and McGee would no longer want their coffee. Tony. TONY! Oh god, please don't let me die. I never got a chance to tell him . . . that I love him. I have fallen in love with you, Tony DiNozzo . . . and you will probably never know.