Disclaimer: As usual the characters aren't mine.

Summary: Ziva admits her feelings for Tony but is it too late, has she done too much damage.

Damn them plot bunnies they keep making me write. This is my first go at a Tony/Ziva kind of thing so it may not be any good. There is a little of Gibb/Tony father/son but not much. Hope ya'll like it.

The Willing Sacrifice

Part one of two

Blood

His blood.

Staining her hands, her clothes.

It would never wash out, the sight never leaving her mind. The smell, the look of love and pain in his eyes, even as she hurt him more. Each deliberate cut to his body, each deliberate act of pain and he still looked at her with those eyes, eyes she would never in her life forget. Eyes which had drawn her to him the first time they met.

She tried to look at it as another mission, another assassination, anything other than what it was. But she couldn't, she had gotten to know him, gotten comfortable with him, and he with her. She hated that she had lost her objectivity, and started to care, hated it because she knew that she couldn't do this…but she had to. They would force her; she couldn't stop them, no matter what.

As she looked in to his brilliant green eyes she tried to ignore the love, trying only to see the pain, if she saw the love it would break her, stop her from doing what was needed, he was the sacrifice and he knew it. He had to die to save everyone else but…but she didn't want it that way, didn't want to see the guilt in his eyes, he was not the one who had done wrong, it was her, all her. She had betrayed them, lied to them. Now he was going to pay for her mistake, by her hands or theirs.

Which was kinder, hers or theirs. If it were theirs she wouldn't have seen him one last time, if it were hers he would be killed by the person he loved. Her vision blurred a little and a tear escaped her dark eyes. She tried to move back as he placed a shaking but comforting hand on her cheek, wiping the tear ever so softly away, she couldn't hurt him anymore…just couldn't. Couldn't watch as the light and life left his eyes, couldn't watch as his chest stilled. She was sorry, oh so sorry.

He didn't flinch as she took out her knife, didn't even fear what was to come, she hated that he wouldn't fight back. She knew that he knew, he knew that if she didn't then hers and his teams' life would be forfeit, he wouldn't be the cause of their death, and would be the sacrifice. She balanced the knife in her hands, like she had with his letter opener.

He looked longingly at her, at the image before him. That, is what he would remember, that is what he would have wanted his last image to be, of her being her, nothing less and nothing more. As long as he had this image in his mind, he could forget the hurt, forget the pain, forget the anguished look in her eyes each time she hurt him, each time she brought him closer to death. A death that he did not fear, a death he knew had been coming for a long time.

He tried to comfort her as the tears fell from her eyes, tried to take the guilt away from her expression, from her mind. But, he knew he would never be able to when she completed the act.

"T-t-this…isn't…y-y-your…fault…Ziva." He rasped weakly, his breaths shallow; his voice was barely heard, even in the silence of the room.

The room…if it could be called that. More like a dungeon, hidden in the back of nowhere. No one would find them, except if they knew where and what to look for. There was no one to save him from her, no one to save her from doing what she didn't want to do. No one.

His words shattered her already torn heart, torn between her loyalty to her past and her loyalty to her present and what could have been her future. This was why she had desensitised her self to feeling; this is why she tried not to care about the people in her life. Life was fragile, she knew it, she'd seen it before.

Her objectivity had remained until the last few hours; she had spent a long time hurting him, killing him ever so slowly. Now, when it came down to the final blow, the final act she hesitated, she couldn't do it anymore, her resolve wavered. The light in his eyes was weak now, it flickered, it was almost the end. They both knew it.

He saw her hesitation, her fear and knew he needed to talk her into completing the act that would end his own life. But the life of her and everything he knew was more important than him. He could die happy if it were to save all he knew, all he cared about. As long as they were safe, it was okay. He could accept it.

"I…can't." she whispered as she drew closer and whispered into his ear. Her silent tears falling gently on to his face.

"You…have…to." He coughed a little and blood trickled out the side of his mouth, his face scrunched in pain, his breaths getting sharper and shallower. But he would not yelp or grunt or scream, he just took anything she would give and had already given.

"But-" she took his cooling hand, the room cooling to below freezing now that it was dark, their breaths causing mist in the air. The only heat coming from her, he was cold, so cold he almost didn't feel the physical pain she had already caused. But the emotional was beyond anything he could have imagined, he hated that his life would case the death of his world, but his death would destroy hers. But there was no other option to take, no way out of it.

"Ziva…" he struggled, his brow furrowing in pain as he tried to get to his words out. "You…have to…finish…it." his grip tightened on her hand holding the knife. Willing her with his eyes to finish it. "to…to." His eyes slipped closed from exhaustion, from the pain she had caused and it killed her. His grip loosened on her hand and she moved it away, hoping that someone would come and save them, stop her from this.

"Tony?...no…please…" the tears coming faster knowing he was giving himself up completely. As his eyes opened she saw all his love for her, everything. He hadn't lied to her when he told her he cared, never lied with the things that mattered. Never. Not like she had. She had denied her feelings for him, denied everything, and pushed him away knowing that if she gave into the feelings then she wouldn't be able to handle his death.

"to…to…save them…save…you…" he continued from where he left off. His voice still weak, she only heard because she was right by his head, stroking his hair like a lover. She owed it him to tell the truth. Tell him how she felt. Maybe if she admitted it they would let them go, let her stop.

Brushing off a stray hair off his clammy forehead she moves the knife ready to strike, ready to finish the job, the mission. Time and sound stopped, her breath hitching as she spoke the last words he would ever hear from her.

"Tony…I'm sorry…I…I…love you." With the words said she struck his stomach with the knife, his eyes widened in pain and his eyes started to close slowly, the light flickering out, the green dulling to black, she rested her head on his stilling chest and she sobbed, she had killed the person she loved because she had no other choice.

She hated it, she ran from the room, going anywhere, as long as it was away from him, away from what she had done. Being numb to, sight and sound, she didn't hear the distant sirens, didn't see Gibbs coming towards her. Not, until he grasped her arms, pinning her to the spot with his questioning gaze. Then she heard the words.

"Ziva, what happened, where is he?" his voice concerned and angry at the same time.

"I…didn't have a choice…I...had to…I'm sorry…" and she collapsed to her knees, she couldn't take what she had done, what she had done to the others. Gibbs wrapped his arms around her and asked her over and over again but she couldn't answer, all she saw was his eyes.

leaving her with McGee, Gibbs rushed to the room at the end of the grimy corridor, he needed to prove his gut wrong, needed it to be wrong this time. Each step driving more fear and loss within him, causing his heart to constrict in fear.

Cautiously stepping over the threshold of the door, the first thing he was hit with was the smell, blood, Tony's blood. And the sight hit him. Tony clothes in tatters, cuts some deep, some shallow across his body. The most prominent was the stab wound to his stomach; he rushed to place his jacket to the wound, not wanting to believe that Tony was dead. Not until he gave his permission. Not ever. Gently touching Tony's icy cold neck, he longed to find a pulse, even a weak one. Anything.

Please.

He started compressions and rescue breaths, then checked again.

A second passed. Nothing.

Two seconds passed. Still nothing. Don't give up.

Three seconds passed. Nothing. Gibbs pressed harder. Come on Tony.

Four seconds passed. Nothing. Just cold skin. Tony, please.

There, there it was, weak but there, the help rushed in as he shouted. They had Tony, but for how long…

TBC

I know the end is evil but stick with it, So that's it for this part, hope you all liked it. There is just one other chapter.