Author's Note-I was up late, listening to sad music, reading angst-y fanfics and got inspired. It may be a little OCC, sorry if it is. I would say enjoy but it's not really appropriate.
She took the glass from his hand.
"That will not help." The look he gives her, the still guilt stricken eyes, the grief, pain, overwhelming sadness, would ordinarily break her. Not tonight. Tonight she would fight her own pain and cushion his fall into unthinkable grief; from which there would not be a quick nor easy recovery.
"Please. Let me drink. Let me forget." She takes his now empty hand and squeezes it with her uninjured hand before pouring the amber liquid down his kitchen sink.
"You will not forget this Tony. No matter how much you drink. This will stay with you."
"It's my fault."
"No." She insisted firmly. "It is not your fault."
"You were there Zi. You saw it. I cleared an unclear room." She lifted his chin until they were eyelevel.
"Tony, listen to me. No matter how it went down, none of this is your fault. Do you hear me?"
"I don't know how you can be around me."
"For fuck's sake Tony!" She shouted, pushing herself off of her place leaning on his counter and pacing his small kitchen. "You do not get to do this!"
"Why not? My partner is dead and it's my fucking fault!"
"No!" She almost sobbed. "No, it is not." All the anger had dropped out of her voice.
"Please just go." Hurt fought for dominance in her eyes.
"No." She was calm despite the tears now pouring down her bruised cheeks. "I will not leave you like this."
"I don't deserve it. Look at you!" She looked away, she couldn't meet his eye. "You've got a broken nose and two black eyes to boot. Not to mention the hairline fracture in your wrist and the countless bruises. Gibbs is in the hospital and Tim's in the morgue. How can you want to be around me?"
"Because you saved our lives Tony!"
"I endangered them!" Anger coated his voice.
"No!" She screamed. "You did not shoot Gibbs or fight me or kill Tim!"
"I'm responsible though!"
"But you are not." She reached a hand to touch his cheek but he pushed it away before it made contact. "I do not blame you."
"You're the only fucking one!" Tony roared as his fist connected with the dry wall between them. "I fucking killed him! I might as well of pulled the trigger myself! I killed my partner! I put Gibbs in the hospital!"
"And you saved my life! Does that not mean anything to you?" He didn't hear her. "Tony stop it please!" She screamed, sobbing and hyperventilating. He knew somewhere in him that he was triggering terrible memories but right now, he was too busy making holes in his kitchen wall. "Please!" Blood was cascading from his knuckles just as tears from his eyes.
"Just go Ziva. Please. Just go." But she stood her ground and shook her head. "Go! Get out!" He roared just centimetres from her face. He took her by the arms and shoved her out of the kitchen, through his hall and out of the front door. "Just fucking go!" He slammed the door, leaving Ziva to collapse against it, bring her knees to her chest and cry. Only partly about their exchange. How could he blame himself? They both cleared the room. No one saw him. Not until they'd holstered their weapons. Until it was too late. It took only a few seconds. McGee was the first to un-holster his weapon. He managed to get a shot that hit his shoulder, not far in enough to stop him though. Another shot was fired and Tim went down. Gibbs ran shooting from the back of his agents to disarm the attacker but a bullet to the chest, another to the gut soon stopped him. Ziva fought him hand on hand after he shot the gun out of her hands and she fought hard. She'd woken up several hours later in a very white hospital room. Tony sat in the chair beside her. A bullet had scraped the side of his head and another had embedded itself in his side, it hadn't hit anything major. Much unlike the one he'd put in their attacker's head. She only had to look at him to know something was very wrong. That's when he told her. He told her that Timothy McGee had been taken back to NCIS by Ducky and Palmer, both shedding a tear as they hoisted him onto a gurney. He told her that Gibbs was still in surgery, one bullet embedded in his aorta and another in his spleen, his chances weren't good. He told her she had a fractured wrist, a broken nose and was battered and bruised but was the only one that wasn't sporting a bullet wound. He told her that she was being discharged at the end of the day and that he'd already been. That's when he had told her, that life as they knew it, was over.