Okay...I do not know why I do things like this to myself, or anyone else for that matter, but voices in my head tell me to jot things down. So I do.
Some warnings before you read: It's a tad dark. It's a tiny tad graphic (nothing too terrible). It's more than a tad sad.
But also kind of strangely sweet.
I dunno. Just ignore the twitching and read it anyway. ; )
I disclaim!
It was too much.
Darkness surrounded them now, a hazy deep blue of a godforsaken alley. Black shadows flanked them. Cats mewled and fought and in the distance, and it now only added to the chaos enveloping his mind.
Tony DiNozzo sat in the filth that was this alley. His legs were spread and in between them a limp body was being supported in his arms.
His hand pressed firm against her throat.
Blood seeped, so deeply red it looked black, from between his pale fingers.
It ran slowly down his arm, dripped hot from his elbow.
Ziva David was dying.
A body already lay frozen in death behind them.
Tony bit his lip, ground his teeth together, chewed on the inside of his mouth, did anything to forget the fresh memory of the man who had cut a thin, red line across his partner's throat only moments before.
He wanted to spit curses into the alleyway. He even wanted to curse God.
The woman in his arms gripped his navy blue work pants in weakened fistfuls, her head supported by one of his hands while the other pressed, hard, desperate, against the stubborn gush of blood.
Her throat convulsed, and the awful wet gulping of her attempts to breathe sent chills down his spine.
It was just too much….
He barely acknowledged the other agents around him. Barrett and her team all dialing their cells, yelling into the speakers….."Agent down, need an ambulance…ASAP…"….
Even as he recognized the sound of Gibbs' car racing towards the alley, Tony knew help would not arrive in time.
She was fading, right in his arms.
And there was nothing he could do but hold her while she left.
More convulsions, a cough sending what only seemed to be a swath of even thicker, darker blood from her mouth had him near vomiting.
It was just too overwhelming, like complete sensory overload, and his attempts to remain calm finally broke.
Anger rushed through him, a red akin to the color of that terrible, disturbing blood filled his vision and, even though his rational mind knew it would not help, he found himself projecting that anger to her.
The blond that had been serving as his nighttime playmate shot him a sympathetic glance as she spoke hurriedly to Gibbs about what had just transpired.
He could only glare in return. A part of him hoped she would burst into flames.
It was her goddamn case, her goddamn serial killer, her goddamn fault that his partner, his friend, his….
Ziva's grip on his legs went slack, and Tony knew at any moment the slowing, weakening thrum of her pulse beneath his palm would stop.
Despite the torment he knew it would bring him from that night on, he forced himself to look down at her.
He could not bring himself to speak.
But God, there were so many things he wanted to say.
The wailing of sirens filled his ears.
Voices attempted to get his attention.
The cats continued to fight in the distance.
But in this moment, this finality of Ziva David, it was just them.
Tony, and the partner, friend, woman, that he absolutely wholly loved, and still could not find his voice to tell her.
Dark eyes stared at him, a question her suffocating, drowning throat could not relay.
His head lowered and he swore everything and everyone went silent.
He ignored the shiver-inducing honey-copper metallic taste of blood as he kissed her. He also ignored the salt of the tears that ran of their own accord down his face and onto his lips.
And he most definitely ignored the presence of the CIA agent that appeared, wide-eyed, next to them.
CI-Ray was two seconds too late anyway.
She was gone.
The noise started again, flooding his ears, the questions and demands, the arguing, the siren and the sounds of medical equipment being prepped.
Hands dove toward him, some pushing him away, others pulling her forward.
Tony knew they were all too late.
He walked away even as the medics began their attempts to resuscitate.
The god-awful sound of a flat line would fill his ears and complete the chorus of his nightmares for years to come.
Be advised: This is in no way some kind of prediction and GOOD GOD I hope nothing like this EVER happens on NCIS (I mean, Kate was enough. No More death please!).
I LOVE Ziva. It hurt my little fanatic heart to write this, but like I said, the voices...
Please review and don't throw imaginary tomatoes at me! *ducks*