AU. In 3 Parts. Sonata-Allegro form. Tony and Ziva. Immediately after Tony leaves Ziva on the tarmac in Israel, things take a turn for the worst causing Ziva to risk her own safety to be by his side.

And just like that, the ground began to shake, the earth moved under his shoes and spun from its axis. Or so it felt like. Along with a damning headache associated with a painful whiplash, he is waiting between worlds.

I'm asking Him for one more chance. One more moment to be with her. I want more. I NEED more.


I wake up on the cement, check my pulse. I'm alive. Then thrown back into darkness. Is this real or am I fantasizing?


"Anyone there?" His inhalation is drenched with doubt and dread. A grad student could write his thesis on the human condition and Tony would be one of his subjects, it was that absorbing.

What happened?

He tilts his head side to side hearing a few pops and clicks. Tapping on the metal roof, one hundred feet up, indicates a heavy rain storm. He wants to get a good view of the area, scan it, and access it, but the only light is of the moon streaming in through a high window.

The right hand moves around on the floor, trying to get a good hold so he can balance himself to get up. One try, two tries, but his head hurts too much to try a third time. "Where am I?" He whispers to himself. Knowing he's alone for tonight.


The window fills with light and it gets brighter and brighter. Scalding hot light accompanied with unintelligible conversation. The only word he can distinguish out of the cloud of words is "Awake, awake."

"He's awake!" "Anthony."

His right hand no longer feels of hard, cold, cement, but now of cotton sheets. It was not dark and the room now had warm inviting light not from the lone illumination from a rainy night.

He's groggy, only letting his eyes open to diminutive slits. He rubs his head to find a needle hooked to tubes, taped to the vein in his hand. "What the-"

Someone by his bed side rubs a hand over his hair, it feels nice. "Where am I?"

He can see it's a hospital but all he remembers is saying goodbye and stepping on a plane… everything is fuzzy and his recall is less than horrible.

A doctor and two nurses appear from the doorway, "Anthony, glad to see you up. Finally."

A nurse came to click a few buttons on a machine he was hooked up to, "You're wife is here."

"What?" His mind was spinning circles. Wife? Who? How? His mouth is suddenly dry. The nurse hands him a glass of water from one of those plastic pitchers. He then notices that both the nurse and the doctor had a German accent. "Where-," he wants to make a move, stretch, look around, something.

The doctor pulls out his pen and pricks both of his feet. "Ow! What was that for?"

The doctor says with absolute solemnity, "You were in a crash, Anthony."

"When?"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Um, two?"

"Good. Now repeat after me?"

"1, 2, 3, 6, 89, 567,3"

"1, uh, 2,3, 6?, 89…something, 3?"

"Good enough." The doctor looks down to his pad, writes something, and then has a minute conversation with the two nurses. He adjusts his glasses, scanning the man on the bed. "Do you know how long you've been asleep?"

"No," he grunts, putting his head back on the soft pillow. "That's why I asked."

The doctor tells him to follow his finger in different directions, then to pull on his hands. After checking his eyes with a small white flashlight to check pupil dilation, Tony knows something bad really has happened. He just doesn't know what.

"You said I was in a crash. With my car? Or.." He's remembering the plane after someone hurt his heart.

Tony takes a sip of the cool water then notices the sign mounted on the wall, he can see it from the window to the hallway. It's in German, French, and English. He sees the doctor, middle-aged, metal framed glasses, and dark brown eyes. He is reminded of her when he looks at them. "I…I was in a plane crash?"

"Yes."

"Yesterday… I was going back to D.C." The doctor is waiting for more. So he continues, "I'm somewhere in Europe. Germany?"

"Very close. Linz, Austria. I believe is how you say our country in America." Tony's mouth opens wide just like his eyes. "You have been here in this suite since the incident. "

"Hospital?"

"Krankenhaus der Barmherzigen Schwestern. I believe your wife has been here since then as well."

He has so many questions but this one voice breaks him through all of the confusion, the doctor summons someone from across the room. And out of the view of the nurses, she is here. With him. "Ziva?"

Her eyes are watery, a sad smile graces her features. "Tony. I should have never let you get on that plane."

"Oh my God." He mumbles to himself. "How long?"

She exchanges a look with the doctor before turning her attention back to him. "Eighteen days." She sees him gasp and grab at his chest. Honestly, he was choking on a very large pill that had to be swallowed.

This is my actuality; no longer a fearful reverie.

"Tony, you woke up a few times but fell right back to sleep. I mean, I would have, too." No doubt she would go back into slumber if she was in his position. The brain needed time to heal along with the multiple cuts to his legs and chest.

The doctor nods to both of them. "I'll give you two sometime to. Process things." Then he instructs Tony to still be awake when he returns to run some more tests. Tony wonders to himself for a brief moment about what gift basket the doctor would like after he's sent back home. This man definitely deserves it and, also, he's reminding him of a 1980's Americana film.

"I've been in a coma for over two weeks?" No way. "How did it crash?"

"The plane flew into a large flock of birds. Lost an engine. The pilot used a river for some resistance to slow it down. But, it couldn't save everyone. I guess you're just lucky."

"Lucky?" He scoffs.

"You are not dead." She sounds so sad and offended. All of a sudden he feels bad. She's right. The woman is right. He could've been like the other passengers and not wake up at all.

"Why are you here, Ziva," He had hoped to see her, but she told him herself she needed to free herself from everything in the past.

"You need me." It's all she said.

His disbelief now changes to a confused smirk, "You said you were my wife?"

"It was the only way they would allow me in. I'm sorry."

"Never say you're sorry. It's even a rule," he says it playfully. Her eyes roll. She's being serious. Be serious! "Ziva. I'm glad you're here." He takes her hand in his. "Does Gibbs know?"

He shouldn't have asked. He remembers she wanted that 'clean break' from her past to include everyone. But it did seem, at the least, that she would call Gibbs. He was the father-figure she had always needed in her helplessness.

But she gulps down her pride, "I let him know. He would be here but there's a case and.. he trusts me to look after you until you are…." Tony squeezes her hand and she moves on, "I wanted to make sure you got back to D.C. safe, then it crashed. I took the next flight from Israel to be here…with you."

He closes his eyes to just relish this moment, with her (and also the light was getting too much for him).

"Tony. I am so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"But it is! I should've gone with you."

"Why? So we'd both be in the hospital?"

Her hand pulls away from him and her arms cross over her chest.

Silence.

She walks out of the room, but not out of earshot. He is still so exhausted but up enough to hear what she says into her phone. He observes the body language; nervous, twitchy, unnerved. The watery eyes are ever so often wiped away, but she is composed.

He can hear her speak in English, so it's an American. Well, either an American, an Australian, or a person from the U.K. who doesn't speak one of her other many languages. The woman is a walking Berlitz book, let's face it. The conversation is about "a secret", "the problem", and "him." She's having a conversation about him. After careful consideration, he is almost certain she's speaking with someone from her former personal life. Maybe a man who's name begins with a G and ends with an s.

The next phone call she makes is made in Hebrew. This one is free of tears and business like. He takes this one in and over-analyzes each and every move she makes because even if he couldn't understand her, he could at least get an idea from her body language.

But he doesn't ask. Nor does she volunteer the information.


When she walks in, he smiles. She does the same.

"Welcome back."

She chuckles, not knowing what to say. What do you say to a person like him?

"I spoke with your doctor, he says that if you're up and moving by tomorrow, you could get discharged by Wednesday." He nods at the good news. "HR is handling the insurance and billing."

He shakes his head again. She's just filling time and getting rid of the vacant space made by unsaid words.

The company of this someone, next to him, meant more than words could describe in any language and in any country.


He surveys her from his peripheral. Her face is bare of makeup and wearing a black button down shirt. She's slowly walking back and forth, then she sits down in the chair by the window. Something is killing her on the inside. Something else. Something different. "Tony?"

"Yes?"

"I need to tell you something."

"I do too."

"You do?" He does. He wants to tell her again how much he loves her and what he would give up just to have the privilege to be her partner. In every sense of the word.

"I –"He closes his eyes for only a second but is pulled back to sleep.

She sighs, then solemnly smiles to the man in the bed, but before she exits to go back to her hotel, she softly whispers in his ear that she will see him in the morning. There will be a tomorrow.


"ZIVA!" Tony yells her name when he is woken up from his nightmare. Once again, he spent the night in a terror of being trapped in that warehouse during a rainstorm. Every night it was the same dream. A bead of sweat runs down his back.

But there she is walking back into the room, a cup of coffee in her hand and a brown paper bag in her other hand. "Tony, are you okay?"

He breathes in relief. "Sorry, I…" He smells something warm and cinnamon scented. "it's nothing"

She puts down her coffee and hands him the bag, it's still warm.

"I got you an apple muffin and a streusel." He takes it with an over joyous smile. She's pleased he likes her gift. A peace offering? Hell, he's just glad she's here, again.

"Ah, Ziva." He says, taking the muffin out of the bag. "Toda."

She raises an eyebrow at him, quite impressed. "Hm. Prego."

Suddenly that little two word exchange brings him back to the Ari days. When his partner was shot in the head by a cowardly act, thrown into hell fire, and only in the midst of rain and a pizza.

It was as if the roles had been reversed. Very odd. All of this is very odd.

After chomping down a good bit of muffin, he adjusts his pillow in the back of his head, "You were going to tell me something last night," he says. "What was it?"

Oh God. Her face gets flush, heat around her neck and upper arms. So she devoids. "Well, you fell asleep, Tony."

"Yeah, I did."

"You wanted to tell me something as well?"

"Oh I just wanted to apologize." He simply states. "I don't want this," he motions between them, "to be awkward."

"Why would this be awkward?" Maybe because it is. Tell him. Tell him. Now.

"Oh I don't know, Ziva. I said goodbye to you in the most Casablanca way. Not really expecting to see you again…"

"You did not expect to see me again?" Oh, she feels guilty again. Her stomach turns and this insinuation makes her feel dejected.

"I could only have hoped." He smiles sadly, "but you're here now." There is a hint of inflection in his voice when he speaks, "so what did you need to tell me?"

"Uh, I forgot" then taking a dramatic swig of her cup of warm coffee.

"For some reason I doubt that." For eight years working with her, by her, and because of her, he can tell when she's lying.

She bites her lip, tell him. What if he runs away? Give me a break. He is in a hospital bed. In Europe. Thousands of miles away from his D.C. apartment.

He's still waiting for her to answer him. She thinks of running away, but that wouldn't be fair to him. He was in a major accident, after all. Walking away from him now would be a chick move, no wait, that's not right. Dick move. It would be dick move.

What are you waiting for? Do it. Say it. He has to know.

"Remember, uh, before you left," she stutters.

"Yes." He moves his hands to make her continue.

"Well," she pauses, "it all happened so fast…" His facial expression shows how confused he is. He's not getting the full picture here. She sighs frustratingly, then paints it for him, "We had sex."

Now Tony's thinking back to that. Because Ziva's bringing it up now with that concerned look on her face. He's not sure how he should feel. I mean, it was great. Both of them could attest to that. "Okay…?"

She rubs her temple then walks over to his bedside, "Tony," for this explanation she has to adjust in her seat and uncross her legs, "what could happen if two people who have sex, are not careful?"

He furrows his brow. Does she think she's talking to a child? Of course I know what happens! You know, when people do it. Psh.

Oh shit. Oh shit am I…is she telling me she's-

"I'm pregnant, Tony."


Interlude

There are no yelling matches and no tearful quandaries. She thinks about how she will now never be able to leave him and all he represents. It kills her a little bit inside because she knows she is broken.

This means he has to be-

-This means I have to be

"I am here for you."

He tells me this over and over again. The worst part is that I believe him. It would be so much easier if he could tell me to run away. Because that's what I want to do. But, I am still here. Sitting by his side, being a reflection of myself from some distant part in the former life.

"I know," or so she says.

"I cannot go back to Israel."

"Why is that?" Perhaps his tone is too cheerful when he asks her, but there is no point of hiding now. I never thought I could love someone this much. I thought I would spend the rest of my life full of regrets about letting you stay there. Now there is no other option but to stay with me and our….dare to say it, Anthony!

"People want me dead." She says it too easily, this is concerning to him.

"Ziva, how are," he stutters, "but you-"

"I am fine."

"No you're not." Go figure.

"I risked a lot to come here. So, I can't just go back."

His left hand scratches at his scruff that grew during his stay, his eyes drift upwards then back to the woman, "Well, I guess that's all the more reason to stay with me."

"Oh, Tony, I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Well, I do," he demands, "You wanted to stay in Israel for reparation, to punish yourself-"

"I did it to heal!"

He moans, "Right." He watches her arms fold over themselves. "Listen, you can heal surrounded by people who care about you." Before she can protest, he adds, "and don't tell me you don't deserve that much."

"I can't!"

"Well, YOU DON"T HAVE A CHOICE!" He hates that he yelled at her, but somethings never get really listened to unless a voice is raised.

Her mouth opens to say something in repute, but it closes. She knows he's right.

"You are right. I don't." She looks at him for a moment and decides to walk to his side. He's rubbing his calf at the moment, squinting at little traces of pain. "So, where do you want to go from here?"

He stops all movement, concentrating up at her. "Where do you want to go?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

"You're telling me that I've been here for over two weeks, and you haven't thought about us once?"

"I did. But I distracted myself long enough to not think about it."

"Really?" He playfully pokes her stomach. She retaliates by softly slapping the back of his head.

"I only found out three days ago!"

He just beams at her beautiful face. "It's really sinking in now, Ziva."

"What is?"

"There's life growing inside you."

"Yes, that is how pregnancy works." Is Ziva getting back to her old self? Or, she could just be putting on a show.

"Are you okay with this?"

"For once, could you not ask me how I'm doing?"

"I'll stop when you tell me the truth."

Her eyes close. "I will be okay. Eventually." His warm hands wrap in hers, she smiles, "I'll be happier in eight to nine months."

"I know I'm excited." His thumbs strokes the back of her wrist.

"You get to be a father." Her other hand moves to her navel. "I have to admit, part of me thought you wouldn't be pleased."

"Are you kidding?"

"It's just that you have a career, a life, Tony."

"But does it make me happy?"

"Well, are you happy?"

You brought up the question. Answer her. Hell, it's your own question.

"No." She's a little surprised by his answer. The man was an immaculate very special agent with outstanding investigative skills, how could he not be happy? And who could forget the playboy lifestyle he had become so accustomed to. "I've been doing the same thing for over a decade. I don't want my happiness to rely on my career."

"And you would be happy-"

"I will be happy being wherever you and the baby are." A smile tugs at her lips, and he jokes, "No pressure!"

"Thank you." Her voice is so soft, almost to a whisper. They share a gaze and he kisses her hand.

"I've always thought about what you would look like as a mother. It wasn't that difficult to imagine." He thought back to the undercover picture where she was being fitted for a prosthetic.


Two days have come to pass; his luggage (thankfully) had been returned to him and he wasn't the only one ready to go home.

Home.

His journey out of the hospital went without a hitch.

"Well, look at the bright side, Tony, at least you're walking out of here."

Through gritted teeth he adds, "Limping is not walking."


Step 1

They're at the gate of JFK. It's cold and rainy. The atmosphere is not at all chaotic, but slower than one could have imagined. At times the flight over here they would fall into silence. Tony caught her eyes on him a few times, he turns to face her, she doesn't look away.

-I don't look away from him because I could pour my heart out right now until I have no blood in my arteries, but it's as if I don't need to.

They survived. Tony doesn't remember the crash, only the nightmares. The kind doctor told him he would be slowly retrieving bits and pieces of the crashes over time. They both hope that doesn't happen.

Ziva asks him if he would be okay flying, he counters with a nervous wry laugh. With an eyebrow raise and a huff-he knows she can see right through his bruised masculinity.

"Well, Senior should be here soon. You're not gonna go running off, are you?" It wasn't a real question and even if it was, she was too jetlagged to walk away now.

"No more running. No more hiding. That I promise," She makes her grip on his hands tighter, "Plus, I don't think you're health would benefit any if I did that, yes?"

"You're all in?" In some way or form, they're taking their chances at a poker game. Throwing the dirty dice and letting whatever side fold over and play itself out. He's in.

"All in, Tony. No matter what happens."

What could happen? That we fall in way too deep? That my feet won't touch the ground one day so I'll never be able to touch the ground?

"Great." His signature DiNozzo grin once again shines on his face, "Where shall we begin?"

"I think we already have."

A/N: Part 2 coming soon. WIP. Reviews much appreciated. Thank you for Reading! ~Tikvah