Chapter 1
The apartment building's lobby was quiet, save for a few people milling around. Tony held the door for a delivery boy in his late twenties with his head down, counting his tips for the night. A young couple sat on the bench against the wall, holding hands and waiting for someone or something unknown. He smiled politely at them as he stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor and impatiently consulting his watch.
"Ziva?" Tony's voice echoed in the hallway as he knocked on her apartment door. "I know you're in there, Ziva, I can hear the TV." He drumrolled on the door with his knuckles, waiting for a few more annoying seconds before he stopped. "Come on. We're going to be late. We were going to the movie tonight, remember?" A kitchen timer dinged twice, then three times, then four… "Are you going to get that Ziva?" After no response, Tony tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it was unlocked, and the deadbolt was too. "I'm coming in." He said, stepping over the threshold and shutting the heavy door behind him. He walked into the kitchen, shutting off the beeping timer and taking a pot of boiling spaghetti noodles off the burner. When she still didn't appear, he grew suspicious and turned off the stove. "Ziva?" he asked quietly. He pulled his Glock 19 from its holster under his jacket and held it at his side cautiously as he traipsed through the quiet apartment.
Suddenly, as he stepped into the living room where the TV was still blaring, he saw her. He cursed, running to the couch. Blood stained the cushions underneath her leg, and the wide gaping wound on her inside thigh was still spurting blood with every slowing heartbeat. Her skin had already lost its glow and seemed ghastly pale against her black tank top. He threw the his gun on the ground next to him and quickly dialed 911, setting the phone down on the floor next to him as he tried to stem the flowing blood. "Federal agent down." He shouted, pressing hard against her skin and sleek muscle. He could feel the skin gaping beneath his hand, and he dry-heaved. "This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS. I repeat, agent down. Colway Commons on Carpathia Road, we're in apartment 4C."
"Sir, are they responsive?"
"No, she's unconscious, slow pulse, shallow breathing. Bleeding from a wound on her inner thigh…God, I think it hit the artery." His hands were covered in her blood, a slick red coating that only grew darker as he tried to stop it.
"Get a tourniquet on it, if you can." The voice said. "There's an ambulance in the area, it's on its way to you now. Just stay calm, sir."
"Hurry. She's lost a lot of blood."
"Is there anyone else with you?"
"No, I just showed up and…God…Just get here."
"The medics should be arriving on scene now. Just hang in there." Tony heard steps bounding up the staircase and a pair of young, uniformed paramedics burst through the still-unlocked door hauling a portable stretcher and supply bags.
"You said it hit an artery?" The blond one asked Tony, who nodded in response.
"I've got pressure, but I couldn't get a tourniquet on."
"Good. You did the right thing." He looked up at the other medic, who handed him a tourniquet. "I'll get this on. Eddie, take over for him."
"You got it." His latex gloves laid bandages over Tony's hands. "On my say so." The medic commanded. "One…two…three…Let go." Tony sprang back, stumbling over the side table before righting his balance and stepping back.
"Is she going to be okay?" He asked, taking in the full scene. The apartment was, as usual, impeccably neat. There were no signs of struggle, but knowing Ziva, if she had been attacked she would have fought like hell. Suddenly, he saw a small scalpel on the floor, the bloody silver blade peeking out from underneath the couch. Realization dawned, and he took another step back. "No." He said quietly. "She wouldn't…"
The blond medic looked up at Tony's stricken face. "What did you say?"
He stuttered, not fully comprehending the nascent idea forming in his mind in his mind. "I think she tried to kill herself."
"Boss?" Tony asked huskily. The medics had taken Ziva away; he could hear the sirens growing weaker in the distance. His still-bloody hand clutched the cell phone to his ear as he began to grasp the gravity of the situation. His eyes flickered around the small living room, and he noticed the tv was still on, showing some Spanish game show. The contestants smiled raptly at the host and laughed on cue as Tony swallowed a brief wave of nausea.
"DiNozzo? What's going on?" Gibbs' voice was tired, and Tony could hear the rasp of sanding in the background. He was in his basement again, making some other wooden creation. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. It's Ziva." Gibbs didn't say anything, and Tony continued as he found the remote, shutting off the program. "Boss, she…she…"
"Tony." Gibbs interrupted brusquely. "Is she alive?"
"She's on her way to the hospital. I found her, in her living room. Gibbs, she tried to commit suicide." He heard Gibbs' footsteps and a door slamming over the line. Tony slid down against the wall, sitting with his head on his knees.
"What hospital?" Gibbs asked, his voice sharp and commanding, yet impassive.
"I…I didn't ask. Bethesda is closest, I think." He felt horrible, and guilt grew in his stomach.
"I'll check. You're still in her apartment?"
Tony nodded silently before he realized he was still on the phone. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I'm here." From his vantage on the floor, he could plainly see the knife, glinting dully in the soft lamplight.
"I'll come to you. Just stay put." A slight pause, and Gibbs spoke again. "I'll let everyone know."
"Boss?" Over the line, Tony could hear the roar of an engine, and a slight squeal of tires. He closed his eyes, knowing that Gibbs was on the way.
"Yes?"
"Don't tell them. That she…you know. Just wait, until we can tell them in person."
For the first time during the conversation, Gibbs sounded…old. "Will do, DiNozzo. I'm on my way. See you in ten." The line clicked, and he was gone.
Tony responded automatically, speaking to the dead air. "See you in ten."