Chapter 1

Rivkin's Betrayal

Tony went to Ziva's apartment to check on her and Rivkin was there. They have a fight and this is how it unfolds as the fight ends.

Characters: Tony and Ziva

Tony's POV

Bang.

The shot rang out through the apartment just as the door slammed open. My heart was pounding fast in my chest proving that I was still alive and he was dead, proving that somehow, I had won a small war against Mossad. His words ran through my head again in that moment.

"If she chooses to stay, she chooses to die," he had said as he clung tightly to my neck, choking all air out of me.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and my body went limp from the effort I had exerted in the struggle. I was crashing from the adrenaline rush I had just experienced. My head was pounding. My heart was racing. And I still had to face Ziva.

"Tony?" her voice called, sounding concerned as her eyes scanned the scene, trying to determine what happened. "Michael?"

She went to his body. Her hands on his chest. I hadn't checked him yet. I groaned. Physical pain was not my friend. I had only gone in to check on her. Her fingers brushed over his neck, where a pulse should be. I turned my head. There was a piece of me that just didn't want to know how she might react to this. Revenge would be her first and only thought, and I would be her target. That was a frightening idea.

"What happened?" she whispered, sounding in shock.

I coughed. The air seemed heavy and hard to take in. I groaned again. He attacked me. Was she going to believe me? Probably not.

"Fight," I whispered and coughed again.

Her eyes narrowed as she first heard the words, but then concern laced her face. She came over to me and kneeled on the floor. Her delicate fingers ghosted gently and carefully over my neck where Rivkin's hands had squeezed. I saw a tear in her eye before she composed herself and stood up.

"You shot him," she accused. "He is dead and you are alive. How is that possible?"

That was a good damn good question. How in the world did it work out that I was alive and a trained Mossad assassin was dead? I shrugged against the floor and let out a heavy sigh. Next thing I knew, her arm was extended to me in a polite gesture, offering to help me up. I took her hand, probably as confused as she was.

Ziva pulled me to my feet, and I held the gun out for her to take from me, handle first. She held up one finger and grabbed a bag and a glove, understanding the gesture. She took the gun and bagged it, without saying a word. She sealed the bag and collected the shell casing in the same manner, before returning to me. She slowly raised her eyes to meet mine. She was showing me her sadness and pain.

"You risked your job, your life. You always do, why?" she asked, her voice so quiet, scared and vulnerable that she sounded as though she might break.

"For you," I replied simply, finding it painful to talk again.

"You need to be checked," she whispered.

I shook my head at her. I didn't want to go to the hospital. I just wanted to change the pain in her eyes, the look of betrayal and confusion that lingered in her eyes, despite the care she was taking at that moment.

"What did he say, Tony? What did he say to you?" she asked me, searching for answers about the fight and why it had compelled me to pull a gun out and use it against him.

"If you choose to stay, you choose to die," I said.

Her eyes went wide with fear before her expression fell. Her hands went to my chest, as tears filled her eyes. It was a look of betrayal. Michael had betrayed her. Her head fell to my chest, too, as the tears began silently falling from her eyes. Slowly, cautiously, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close and letting her emotions catch up with everything that she was learning. My heart hurt for her.

"Ducky will check you out," she whispered into my chest, and then pushed herself off of me, tears still in her eyes and a new fear there. "We need to tell Gibbs. For the record, I am angry with you."

But, she didn't sound or look angry. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. I didn't want her angry with me, but angry was better than hate. I sighed and pulled her back to my chest. She wrapped her arms around me and held on tight. She was wrong. She wasn't angry with me, she was afraid for me.

"You could have died," she said, wiping her eyes again. "Come on, we need to go."

It was not a minute too soon that we left the apartment, either. As soon as we were out the front door of the building, the window of her apartment was blown out in a fantastic explosion. Her eyes found mine, the fear still present and the truth of Michael's repeated words settling into her fully.

"Thank you," she whispered to me and pulled out her phone to call Gibbs to the scene.

As soon as the others arrived, there was chaos and confusion. Ziva and I were both side-lined, sitting on the back of the NCIS van. Her head rested on my shoulder while nobody was around to watch. She was shaking with her emotions. My arm was around her rubbing her opposite shoulder.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, she lifted her head and brushed her hair out of her face, looking at me, intending to share her thoughts. I hadn't asked for her thoughts. I had known that I really didn't want to hear them.

"He was too smart, Tony," she said quietly. "Michael was. Now I have to go back to Israel. My father... he will find a way of keeping me there. He will threaten me, or the team. Tony, I do not want to go. I do not want to stay there. But, I cannot risk him hurting any of you. I have to deal with this in whatever way he throws at me."

It was the truth and she was as afraid of saying it as I was of hearing it. I didn't know what to say, but managed to come up with something. "We're always going to be here, Ziva. This is your home now, too. Whenever you can get back to us, we'll still be here, ready to fight for you and beside you."

And her head rested on my shoulder again. She was choosing to trust my words and the physical comfort I could offer her was there. Her acceptance of that comfort showed me that things were different than they were this morning. She trusted me, because I saved her. But neither of us were going to say it.