A/N: Oneshot written in October 2008. I can't remember why I wrote this one. Maybe there was a reason. Maybe not...ah, I just checked. It was an NFA Hangman prize. The request was for a story in which Tim and Ziva don't hate each other. So...that's what I wrote. I don't think it's my best, but I suppose it works.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. I'm not making money off my writing. Heck, I can't even get my dissertation approved...no, I'm not bitter.

I Don't Hate You
by Enthusiastic Fish

As if he had been trained to his entire life, Tim aimed carefully at the man holding a gun on Gibbs and Tony. He wasn't sure where Ziva was, but this guy wasn't playing around. He wasn't talking big when he said he was going to kill them. From his hidden point of view, behind a convenient copse of trees, Tim had a clear shot. He would have to get him in the head or somewhere equally fatal. There couldn't be time for him to shoot because he had nothing left to lose. There could only be...

...Tim aimed again, raising his gun, seeing in his mind, not the man but an image from his human biology textbook. He could see the veins and arteries, where they were located, the vital organs. There were kill shots, places where all it took was one bullet and the target was dead. There were other places that would kill eventually...but those weren't good enough this time. Tim had to get him in the head or in the heart...and he wasn't sure he could hit either one. Swallowing down the bile, he pushed away the fear that still accompanied him when he fired his weapon. He had too much time to think about it. Usually, when he fired, it was on impulse because he was being fired upon. This time...no. This time. This time, the man didn't know he was there. He didn't know someone was getting ready to kill him. All he knew was that he was going to kill the two NCIS agents who had tracked him down.

A third time, Tim aimed and this time, he didn't hesitate. Two shots, no hesitation. Two shots to the head...and he didn't miss. The man dropped to the ground with no reaction. He was dead instantly. Even Gibbs and Tony seemed surprised by how quickly the moment of danger had passed. They both looked around and saw Ziva come running out of the trees. Tim himself was still standing under cover, not wanting to go out there. He wasn't supposed to be here after all. Gibbs had ordered him to stay at his desk and try to find more leads. This one wasn't supposed to be anything important.

He watched as they began to thank Ziva and then pulled back further into the shadows when she shook her head and pointed toward him. They all pulled out their weapons and approached. Tim was frozen in place. He wanted to run away, but he knew that when they took the body in and analyzed the bullets, they'd match the striations to his gun.

Then, the trees parted and Tony, Ziva and Gibbs were all staring at him.

"McGee?" It was a disbelieving question.

Tim realized that his gun was still more or less pointed in the direction of the clearing. He dropped it to his side.

"What are you doing here, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Did I or did I not tell you to track down new leads?"

Tim nodded. He wasn't sure why he couldn't seem to actually form any words.

"Did you find a new lead that led you here?"

Tim shook his head. Ziva was scrutinizing him and he met her cool gaze. For a moment, he seemed to see something more in there, something like understanding, but then, the moment passed and she was detached once more.

"Then, why are you here, shooting suspects?"

Tim winced at Tony's description of what he had done. He swallowed, tried to speak, failed, coughed and tried again.

"I knew...he was going to be here."

"And you came alone?"

"You were all here already," Tim said. He spoke slowly, trying to make the words mean more than they did. "I tried to call."

"Speaking of calling, where did he toss our phones?" Tony asked. "Did you find them, Ziva?"

Ziva nodded and produced them. Tony took his back eagerly, Gibbs without paying attention to it at all. His attention was all on Tim.

"So...you decided to kill him?" Gibbs continued.

Tim nodded. "He...he never held himself back before. He didn't seem to care about anything other than...killing as many as he could. I didn't think he would do anything other than shoot you two if I showed myself. So...I decided to kill him."

Gibbs stared at Tim for a long time and the tension in the air was such that Tony didn't try to say anything. Ziva may as well have been made of stone for all the emotion she projected. There had just been that one moment. Finally, Gibbs nodded.

"Okay. We'll have to report it. Tony, call Ducky. You and I will wait here. Ziva, you and McGee get back to NCIS. You'll have to wait there, McGee, until we've made our report."

Tim nodded in that same slow way. Nothing seemed to matter. It was a strange dislocation he was experiencing and he didn't mind that he was being sent back with Ziva. He even missed the glance that Gibbs gave her and her nod of understanding. He just trudged back through the trees to the car.

"I will drive, McGee."

"Okay."

"No complaints?"

"No."

Ziva smiled and got in the driver's seat. Tim sat beside her, staring at his hands. She wondered if he was analyzing the GSR that was no doubt coating them. She took the long way back. She thought she understood what Tim was thinking, at least to some degree. They may be as different as night and day, but she had experienced her first kill. This wasn't technically, but it may as well have been. Halfway back to NCIS, she pulled off the road.

"What's going on?" Tim asked, pulled out of his stupor.

"We need to talk, McGee."

"About what?"

"About what you did."

"Why? Because I took your opportunity to do it yourself?" Tim asked, infusing his voice with just a little bit of sarcasm.

"I do not hate you," Ziva said, even though that wasn't what he had asked.

"Well, that's a relief." The sarcasm was heavier.

"Nor do Tony and Gibbs."

Tim finally looked at her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"So you do not make the mistake of thinking that we do or of hating yourself for what you did."

"I don't hate myself. It was something that had to be done."

"Yes. It was. I was not yet in position. It might have been too late by the time I was."

"Then, why do you think I would feel that way?"

"Because your hands are shaking. You are at the end of an adrenaline rush...and most important of all, you killed a man who was not firing at you."

"Yeah...and?"

"And you will feel guilty about that because you are much too honorable."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Tim asked.

"Whichever you would prefer."

"Okay. Can we go now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Hold up your hands, McGee."

"My hands?"

"Yes. Your hands. Hold them up."

Tim did so. They were shaking.

"You see?"

"Yeah, I see." Tim looked at them and then sighed. "It took me three tries to actually pull the trigger. I was afraid I'd miss, that I'd mess up, that...I'd make a mistake again."

"It is hard to have time, yes?"

"You'd think it'd be the other way around. It would harder when you don't have time to think, but...he had no idea I was there. No one did. He's dead...and that's how it had to be."

"It was like this for me, for my first time. It is not easy for good people to kill, even when it is necessary."

"It gets easier?" Tim asked.

"Yes...unfortunately, it does. That is when you run the risk of enjoying it. One should never enjoy killing another human being."

"I'll remember that."

Ziva smiled and nodded. Tim was calmer already, ironically because he was moving around more. He was one of those people who became slower when feeling worse. Some people became manically energetic. He was the opposite. Now, he was acting more like himself, taking in stimuli once more. Before she turned on the car, she looked at him.

"McGee, you must do one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Fire your weapon before the weekend. Do not put it off. If you put it off, it will only make you afraid."

Tim nodded and leaned back as the car began to move again. Just before they got to NCIS, he looked at Ziva.

"Ziva?"

"Yes, McGee?"

"Will you do me favor?"

"What is that?"

"Will you come with me?"

"Where?"

"To the firing range."

"If it would help."

"It would."

"Then, I shall be there."

"Thanks."

Ziva parked the car and the two of them went inside. They sat waiting until the troops returned. Gibbs dragged Tim up to Vance's office to make an official report. Then, they all worked on putting the case to bed. It would need to be flawless to prevent any problems from showing up in the reports later on.

Finally, it was time to leave. Tim gathered his stuff and got onto the elevator. Just before the doors closed, a hand was inserted between them, forcing them to open again...revealing Ziva.

Tim smiled. "I didn't see you there. I'm sorry."

"I was not there. No need for apologies."

"Okay."

They rode down in silence and then began to separate, heading to their own homes. Just before they were out of sight, Ziva stopped.

"McGee!"

"What?"

"I don't hate you!"

She heard his laughter. "That's a relief, Ziva!" Then, he paused. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes. Tomorrow."

"Thanks!"

"Good night!"

"'Night!"

Ziva got in her car, knowing that Tim had understood and knowing that she would indeed see him tomorrow...and that she would see them all tomorrow...because of Tim's actions.

No, she did not hate Tim. She valued him...and maybe she could say that to him...tomorrow.

FINIS!