Ok, so this idea popped into my head. I didn't want it to, but once it was in my cranium, I couldn't get it out. I have never killed anyone in my stories, cept Ducky in All These Years, but I didn't necessarily kill him per se. I just mentioned he was dead.

So, this is a good story if you need a good cry. And it's really emotional, probably the most emotional story I've ever written.

Anyways, read, review, and tell me what you think.

"Strumming my pain with his fingers…killing me softly with his song." –Killing Me Softly, The Fugees

He had noticed everything.

The frequent out-of-the-building lunch breaks, the strange phone calls in the middle of the day, the more than required risk taking, and lately she had been breaking Rule 3.

And then there were the times, after a hard case when they sat lazily around the bullpen, relaxing, sometimes eating, talking. He noticed the smile on her face and the glisten of her eyes as she looked around the bullpen, her eyes lingering on every being in her presence.

Not that there was anything wrong with enjoying your friend's presence. It was just…different from what he was used to. And add that to her already strange and secretive behavior and he had one suspicious ninja on his hands.

But Tony Dinozzo just couldn't add it up. Nothing made sense. He had spent so many nights trying to put the pieces together, but he just couldn't. Some would call it an obsession; some would just see it as caring for a friend. Either way, it had taken up most of him time and was constantly trying to find the answer.

This went on for a few weeks. He never approached her about it; only leaving subtle hints that he knew something was up. But she had acted perfectly normal around him, aside from the more than usual laughter at his jokes and the last few canceled movie nights.

Then, the coughing fits started. They didn't come too often, but when they did, they were bad. She would sit at her desk or in the car and just cough for a good minute or two. And then she would just brush it off like she didn't just sound like she was coughing up her guts.

"Are you alright?" he would ask, concerned.

"I am fine." she would say casually, catching her breath. "I think I may just be catching a fly."

"Bug." he would correct.

"A fly is a bug, yes?" she would protest, changing the subject.

"Yea but…" and he would give in, rambling on about something and never touching on the subject of her earlier cough attack.

And then, he finally had enough.

Now he knew what she felt like when he was sneaking around with Jeanne. But this wasn't a boyfriend. It just didn't make any sense. And if anything, Ziva would probably tease him about not having seen anyone for a while.

She had just rounded the front of the bullpen, coming behind her desk. She took off her jacket and placed it on the back of her chair. Another coughing fit began, smaller than the others but just as painful to listen to.

All this was after having left the building for over an hour, having simply told Tony to 'cover for her', not giving any details as to where she was going or when she was coming back.

Tony's narrow, concerned eyes were on her since the elevator opened, while McGee had just looked up at her when she began coughing. Gibbs looked over at her worryingly as she got up and headed for the bathroom, her cough growing worse.

Tony watched her close the door. He waited anxiously for a few seconds. Soon, he couldn't resist. He had had enough of this. He jumped off his seat and bolted for the door, causing Tim to shoot a questioning look in Gibbs' way as the silver fox's own eyes followed Tony.

He stopped at the door, hearing a muffled voice behind the surface; Ziva's muffled voice, talking to someone that was not physically there.

"Yes, alright." he heard her cough. "Thank you."

He burst open the door, startling her as she quickly hung up her phone and stashed it in her pocket. She looked at him with casual questioning eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked straightforwardly, his voice not rising and his expression staying cold on her face.

Her eyebrows furrowed on him in confusion. "Excuse me?" she asked slowly.

"Ziva…" he shook his head warningly but she just scoffed. Turning around to face the mirror, she ran her fingers through her curls. He could see her jaw tense as her eyes tried to stay on her own reflection and not wander over to his.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stood there, perfectly still, motionless. Until finally, her eyes slipped and met his hard stare. She let go, exhaling deeply, and turned around.

As he stared deeply into her eyes he could see the growing pain and hurt. They were not Ziva's usual eyes. He couldn't remember a time he had seen her eyes, her face, so full of distress. They seemed to be calling for help. Even in Somalia her eyes weren't like this. They were just broken then, easily fixable by a few days of therapy and bullpen banter.

But the apathy in her eyes was contagious and he soon found himself catching a glimpse of the misery that filled her chocolate browns.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, almost a whisper, his demeanor changing from a jealous husband to that of a concerned lover.

She shook her head, breathing slowly as she turned back around. But instead of looking at her reflection, her eyes went to the smooth counter.

"Ziva, what's going on." he asked softly, reaching his hand out to her shoulder but she pulled inward, turning her head to the side.

He pulled back his hand, now a little frustrated. "Just tell me what it is."

She stayed quiet. He wanted so much to just run out of there and forget about this and wait for her to eventually open up, but her eyes…they were too much for him to bear. He knew this was something much larger and deeper than he had thought.

With her fists held tight at her side she contemplated telling him, but she couldn't, she promised herself she wouldn't. They would find out soon anyway.

But she wanted so badly to scream it at him, get it over with. It would all be over within a few weeks, maybe days, anyway.

His raised his voice slightly and his words became sterner. "Don't do this Ziva. Just…tell me. Maybe I can help." he said with traces of hopefulness.

She shook her head again tightening her lips together. "No, you cannot." she whispered weakly.

"Well how do I know that?" he came closer to her. He could almost smell the lavender embedded in her hair. "Just look at me." he begged, caringly and softly.

She shook her head again. She wanted him so badly to leave. She wanted so badly to be alone, right now. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to find out like this.

"Ziva." he said one last time, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She turned around quickly at his touch, rage and frustration stained her eyes. He recoiled at her expression, but stood most of his ground.

"I am dying Tony!" she shouted in anger, immediately regretting having spoken anything as she covered her mouth with her hand and grimaced in pain.

Her dam had broken.

The truth was out. He knew. It was over. Or had it just began?

His eyebrows furrowed on his forehead. So many emotions, so little expressions.

Had he heard her right? No, he couldn't have. Ziva was not dying. Was that even possible?

A heavy, uncomfortable silence lingered in the bathroom for a moment. Ziva stood there, hand still cover her mouth. But she had since ripped her eyes off of him, looking to the floor and hating herself for letting a few tears run aimlessly down her face.

He looked at her with a shocked, confused, painful expression. Still sinking in her words and their meaning, cutting his heart like a knife.

His mouth hung open, not knowing what to say. He could see by her hysterical demeanor that this was not a joke. Instead of words, he opened his arms, only slightly, but she took solace in them anyway.

Tony absently brushed her curls down as she dampened his shoulder with her tears. He stared into the mirror, watching himself like an out of body experience. It was a rare sight to see; Ziva crying, the two hugging, so close.

He pulled her out of his embrace, sooner than either of them wanted, and looked into her eyes. "W-what?" he asked, he voice breaking.

She wiped a few stray tears from her eyes and balanced herself on the edge of the counter. "I have terminal pancreatic cancer." she whispered as his face dropped.

"No." he said softly to himself in disbelief.

She nodded slowly, subtly. "They did not realize it in time." she explained slowly, calmness rushing back into her. This is how she had planned it; to quietly explain it to him, to them. She wiped another tear from her cheek.

How long? He wanted to know, but was afraid to ask, no, afraid of the answer.

She could read his eyes; she knew what he was thinking, always had. "Four months, if that much." the words felt dry as they exited her mouth.

His eyes finally wandered upwards to catch hers. They were empty. She was killing him, softly with each word. With each second that passed by, it all became too real, every second he did not see that sly grin on her face sent daggers through his heart.

Four months wasn't enough, four years wasn't enough; forty years, at least.

For what? A voice in his head scoffed. It's not like you were going to tell her anyway. Face it Dinozzo, you've been breaking Rule 8 for a looong time. You should've learnt that after Somalia. It taunted him with the truth.

And then, after another long silence, he started to add everything up. The "lunch breaks" to the doctors, the check up calls from them, the taking no moment for granted, but one thing that didn't add up was the risk taking, which was starting to get worse.

"You understand now, yes?" she questioned confidently. She watched his pain in silence. And before she knew it, he was gone, lost in thought. His body was there but Tony, Tony wasn't there. And she had done this to him.

Guilt rushed over her. She knew she was going to feel this way, the doctor had already told her all of the feelings she would experience, some of them new, some of them amplified from past emotions. But his face, his sadness, was killing her, slowly and softly.

She rubbed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "I am not pitying myself." she paused. "And neither will you." she commanded softly, her hand still lingering on his shoulder.

Squeezing his shoulder, she brought him back. "You will not have to suffer much, neither will I." she forced a smile. "I am not letting this win. I will not die pathetically." He shot her a look of confusion. She took in a deep breath. "I will die in the line of duty, quick, painlessly…strong even." she explained slowly and passionately, having thought about this for weeks. She said it so simply, like it was nothing. But it was everything.

He shook his head absently, taking in every word but the only ones that stuck were I will die.

"I have told no one yet, but now that you know…" she trailed off in her own words. "I was going to have everyone over for dinner…and tell them then." she explained softly and innocently.

She brushed his cheek lovingly and was tempted to place a kiss on his cheek, but she didn't. He was too confused and dumbfounded to notice her leave silently, like a true lioness.

Her recent words filled his head, haunting him to no end.

"I am dying Tony."

"You understand now."

"Quick and painless."

"Neither will you."

"Four months."

"I will die..."

And then, a blast from a past. Words that came back to him, stabbing him in the back like the popular girl in a high school.

"Couldn't live without you I guess."

But could he? Would he?

Sad, I know right? But it gets really sweet.

And there's a twist. So review, please, you'll make my day.