For all the cars his insurance tagged as totaled, this was the first one that Tony had been in when it happened.
Of course, that hadn't occurred to him at the time.
The accident didn't happen in slow motion, like it did in the movies. No sooner had Tony seen the headlights heading toward Ziva and involuntarily shouted her name, than in a huge jolt, the offending headlights were gone, a horn was blaring, his vision was dark and blurry, and he tasted the sickening ferrous tang of blood.
"Ziva! Ziva!" Tony tried to shout, but quickly realized that if he couldn't hear himself over the blaring horn, then she wouldn't, either.
With his left hand, Tony fumbled for the cell phone he knew was in his jacket pocket, and after what seemed like an eternity, he found it. It took all his concentration to pull the phone where he could see it, activate the screen, and hit Gibbs' phone number in his call history list. With the fantastic background noise, he knew he wouldn't be able to hear the boss, and he doubted he could get the phone to his ear at the moment.
A swell of intense dizziness hit Tony, so he reached for Ziva's hand, but the window of his vision was closing, strangled by encroaching blackness, and as Tony slipped into unconsciousness, he tried to tell himself to find Ziva's fingers and hang on.
As Tony blacked out, the heavy fog that had immobilized Ziva lifted, but all she could focus on was the pair of black boots walking toward her, steps that seemed perfectly timed but strangely silent. Recognition came when a face appeared in the window, and the first thing she heard was a cold, abhorrent voice: "I told you to walk away, Ziva."
Bodnar.
Her response was immediate and automatic.
Gun. Aim. Fire. Fire. Fire.
In the dark, she sensed the vehicle's glass shattering, but all she could hear was the horn blaring.
Panic suddenly rose, and Ziva began to scramble for Tony, realizing she hasn't heard or seen him. But before she found him, she slumped limply into her seat, unconscious just as quickly as she'd risen to shoot at their enemy.
Suddenly, finally, eventually, sirens and flashing lights roused Tony and Ziva to a state of forgetful semi-consciousness. Time had no meaning yet, though both began to feel some combination of relief and hope at the sight of each other moving and breathing.
The paramedics worked quickly, and two C-collars, two careful extractions, two backboards, a lot of straps, and two stretchers later, Tony and Ziva were packaged into an ambulance. Tony managed to register the paramedic's radio call to the hospital - "Two patients, involved in a hit and run. Direct impact to the passenger side, unknown speeds on impact. First patient is a 35-year-old female, restrained passenger…" - amidst the beeping monitor and sharp plastic fumes from the oxygen mask that had been slipped over his nose and mouth.
With the restraints and c-collar, he realized he couldn't turn to check for Ziva, but at least he had a better chance of being heard.
"Ziva?" he croaked, straining against the restraints.
"Sir, stay still," said a man in uniform who was wielding a sharp, shiny needle in Tony's field of vision.
"Where is she? She was in the car with me. Is she ok?" Tony asked, doing his best to cooperate despite the rising sense of panic over his partner.
"She's right next to you. She's got an oxygen mask, same as you, trying to talk but it's hard to hear through those," the guy said.
"Then take the masks off for a minute and let us talk!" Tony shouted, losing his battle with the panic.
The paramedic scowled, then said, "Just a minute, then they go right back on and don't come off until a doctor says so."
Tony felt the plastic move from his face to where he guessed the c-collar was around his neck.
"Ziva! Are you there? Are you ok? What's hurt?" Tony rushed.
"Yes, Tony, I am fine, but Bodnar was there, he took the diamonds and told me I should have walked away! I shot at the car but I don't think I got anything but the glass. We have to get him! We have to go, Tony, he was there, he planned this!" Ziva said as loudly as she could, voice still strained and gravelly.
"Shit, Ziva, when did that happen? You weren't moving, and I called Gibbs, then I blacked out!" Tony answered.
"No, you weren't moving! All I could hear was a car horn and I saw his feet and -"
"Enough, guys, just calm down. You can deal with everything that happened after you get checked out," Tony's medic said, replacing the oxygen mask that made Tony grimace.
Graciously, the trip to the hospital was quick, and the paramedics had filled the time with simple commands for each patient to assess their status.
Somewhere in the shuffle of unloading and transferring, Tony caught a glimpse of Ziva in his peripheral vision, and though she was in a similar state of immobility, the simple sight of her familiar form, and even her white-knuckled hand gripping her bright orange backboard, was reassuring enough for the time being.
Which was a good thing, because Tony absolutely wasn't ready for the intensity of the medical exam of which he was suddenly the subject.
Name? Birth date? What happened? What hurts? Can you move this? Can you move that?
It soon became hard to distinguish what was directed at him from what was staff talking to each other.
"Hey, grab the razor, the monitor pads aren't sticking through all this chest hair."
"Stethoscope! Who's got one?"
"Breathe as deeply as you can."
"You're going to feel a stick, Tony, just starting an IV and getting some blood."
"Did you get those xrays ordered? And where are we in line for CT?"
"That mask can come off, he just needs a cannula, four liters, for now."
"Do you have any medical problems? Take any medications?"
Tony started to formulate a joke about having had the plague, but the next comment caught his attention.
"Second in line for CT, the other trauma has a shoulder and maybe chest injury so she's going in first."
"Ziva? Do you mean Ziva? In the car with me?" Tony asked as soon as another face came into his field of vision.
Suddenly, amid the chaos, there was a direct and even quiet conversation.
"Yes, they're talking about her. Is she your girlfriend?" asked a young, bespectacled, and scrub-clad lady with curly black hair.
"She's my partner at work, but she's - she's my family. Please, please tell me what you can," Tony pleaded.
"Sure, honey, I'll keep you updated," she said. "I'm your nurse, so I'll stick with you until after your CT scan so at least you'll have a familiar face. She's awake and talking to us, doing just fine, but the CT scan is pretty standard after this bad an accident."
Tony relaxed until he heard someone say, "Hey, who's got trauma shears?"
At the same time, he heard a familiar ex-Mossad ninja voice shouting, "No! Stop cutting my clothes! I have to work once we're done with all this nonsense! I can't go to work in a hospital gown!"
Before he could even get past the reflexive chuckle, Tony was paralyzed by the feeling of cool air on his legs and the snip-snip-snip of scissors cutting through his beloved gray trousers. The chatter around him picked up again, and Tony focused as best he could.
He tolerated the rolling from side to side, obeyed the order to straighten out the arm where he apparently had IV fluids infusing, and even silently gritted his teeth through the rectal exam to check for bleeding, but he drew the line when they started talking about the catheter.
"No! No, please, I will do anything you say, but no catheter. Please!" he begged loudly.
There was a quick discussion, and fortunately, whoever was in charge decided in his favor.
Soon after came a hospital gown, which made Tony realize he'd been exposed in all his naked glory to everybody around him, and then a layer of blankets that felt like they were straight from the dryer. Tony was grateful for this, too, as the memory of the damp, cool street from the accident came back to him.
Almost as suddenly as the hubbub around him had started, it faded down to the curly haired nurse and someone else helping her.
"Tony, Ziva's in CT scan right now, so we're going to sit tight until she's finished. I'm going to clean up a couple of these cuts, but if any of it bugs you, let me know. And if you're hurting or nauseated or anything, let me know before it gets bad so we can get ahead of it," she said.
"Thanks. I'm okay, I can take it. Well, anything but the catheter," Tony said.
The nurse laughed and said, "I don't blame you!"
As she started working on cleaning up his wounds, a thought occurred to Tony.
"Any way I can see Ziva soon? Or at least get out of this headlock?" Tony asked.
"Well, the headlock and the backboard have to hang around until after your CT gets cleared, but I'll see what we can swing with Ziva," she winked at him.
And sure enough, in passing in the hallway as Ziva's team rolled her out of the CT scanner room and Tony's steered him in, they parked the stretchers, tilted each of their backboards, and Tony finally got to see Ziva's beloved face.
She was bruised and obviously a little groggy, dried blood caked on her forehead and matted in her hair, but her eyes were sparkling and she smiled at him.
Little did Tony know that Ziva's view was about as grim - she stifled a gasp when she saw an already blossoming black eye, swollen and split lip, and an oozing cut on his chin.
"You okay, sweet cheeks?" Tony asked, inhibitions lowered by relief at seeing her.
"I've had worse from training exercises. Are you okay Tony?" Ziva said, straining toward him despite her restraints.
"I'm fine. I got out of the catheter so we're all good," although as he said it, he winced with the lowering of the backboard back to the stretcher.
"We have to go but we'll let you guys catch up once we're done," Tony's nurse said.
In the dim light and white noise of the CT machine's whirring, Tony's mind drifted as he tried to remember the accident. Ziva had been worried, stressed, and stretched to hide it after their whirlwind trip to Berlin. But after sharing a bed for a nap in their hotel, martinis, and an unexpectedly genuine moment of intimacy while dancing, Tony had discarded his usual front of flirty indifference and adopted cautious honesty. It got fuzzy after that - they were holding hands, her warm and strong hand, and something about a diamond on her finger, and a feeling of hope that was chased away by the terror of oncoming headlights -
"Ziva!" He shouted involuntarily again, jerking against the belt on the CT table and the c-collar.
Fortunately, nobody heard, and he placated himself with what were either memories or fantasies of their night in Paris a few years ago, until he was hoisted from the scanner back to his stretcher, and his nurse was asking for help to get him off the backboard.
Somebody put a vice grip on his ears, somebody else grabbed one of his arms, and he felt hands flitting near his side where he assumed a handle on the board was.
"You're going to feel like you're falling, but I promise you're not," the nurse said to Tony.
He nodded stiffly in acknowledgement, but before he could answer verbally, he heard -
"One, two, three, roll!"
He was suddenly on his side, head supported by the vice grip and collar, then he dropped a couple inches from the board to the bed when the backboard was yanked out from behind him, and after "Three, two, one, down!" he was lying on what was comparably a very comfortable and soft mattress.
His relief was compounded by the head of his bed being raised a few degrees, and then augmented by the sight of Ziva, in a similar position, coming into view.
"Tony, your eye!" Ziva exclaimed.
Tony raised his now-freed hand to feel the puffy ache around his eye.
"I'm okay, Ziva. Really. What's with your shoulder?" he asked.
"Not dislocated or broken. It will be fine," Ziva answered. "Where is Gibbs? We have to get somebody looking for Bodnar's getaway vehicle!"
"Here, Ziver. What happened? You guys okay?" Gibbs said quietly from the foot of Tony's bed, quickly glancing around their isolated, curtained-off corner of the busy ER.
Between both of their accounts of the accident and afterward, combined with Gibbs' audio after Tony had called, they put together a timeline, and Gibbs stepped back out to start McGee working on Bodnar's trail.
Tony took advantage of Gibbs' exit to inch to the edge of his bed and finally take Ziva's hand in his again. She was cool and a little shaky, probably from her pain and refusal of medication, but she was real and solid and safe.
"I'm sorry that this happened, but we'll get him, Ziva. We will. I'm glad you're okay," Tony said, turning his head against the collar so he could look at her.
Ziva's tremor increased slightly before she squeezed his hand back and answered, "It isn't your fault, Tony. I was scared, too."
They heard people approaching outside of their curtains, and let their hands slip apart, but not before Gibbs caught a glimpse.
Hospital staff and law enforcement rotated through, asking questions to generate reports and histories, until finally they were released from their collars but warned that they might be held for observation.
"Observation my ass," Tony muttered, stretching and moving his neck.
"Mine, too," Gibbs agreed.
Ziva, apparently, had a good point while the staff had been cutting off their clothes.
Gibbs stepped out to make a few more calls, the first of which was to Abby so she could bring any clothes she could find in the trunk of Tony's totaled car sitting in the evidence garage.
While he was gone, Tony fought both the increasing general muscle aches from the wreck, as well as the thought that Ziva was in a bed next to him, mostly naked. He sat up on the edge of the bed, and she mirrored his position, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She was dwarfed by the hospital gown, and with the heavy blanket covering her up, Tony's gaze drifted to her bare calves and sexy feet.
He must've had a telling look on his face, because Ziva asked, "Like what you see, Tony?"
"You have lovely legs, Ziva. I don't get to see them very often," Tony said, meeting her gaze.
She flushed slightly, crossed her dangling legs at the ankles, and smiled.
"I wish our time in Berlin had gone differently," Ziva said.
"Like Paris?" Tony asked in all honesty.
"Like Paris," Ziva agreed.
Memories of their well-kept secret night together in Paris flooded both of them.
"We don't have to be in a foreign country, you know," Tony said quietly, playing into the rising hope she'd kindled while fighting the arousal from his memories.
He was taken entirely off guard when Ziva stroked the back of his calf with her big toe, and barely heard it when she said, "I suppose not, but it feels safer that way."
"Safe?" Tony asked.
"Yes, safe," Ziva said. "We can walk away from a night together without leaving each other. We recovered well enough from Paris."
"Did you recover? Because I know I didn't," Tony said.
She hesitated just long enough before saying, "Yes, of course I recovered," that Tony knew she wasn't being entirely truthful.
"Just because we successfully kept it to ourselves doesn't mean everything went on like it never happened," Tony said.
"We can still work together without any problems," Ziva said, shrugging.
"That's not all there is to it, and you know it," Tony said quietly, moving to sit next to her on her stretcher.
Ziva didn't answer, but simply watched him move closer, then stared at her hands in her lap.
"I can't look at you quite the same way, to be honest, now that I know what it feels like to -"
"Tony!" Ziva whispered harshly, "Gibbs could come back and hear you!"
"All I was going to say is that I know what it feels like to sleep in each other's arms, all night, no undercover mission, no mics and cameras. Just us," Tony said softly, taking one of her hands in his.
Ziva still avoided looking at him, and Tony felt a few hot teardrops fall onto their clasped hands.
"Ziva?" Tony asked, placing his other hand on her cheek and thumbing away the moisture there.
"It was so simple at the time, wasn't it? I miss that night more than you know. After that, I have never been able to fall asleep well alone," Ziva said quietly.
She took a bracing deep breath and looked up.
They made eye contact, and Tony was about to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, when Abby made an unceremonious but heartfelt entrance.
"I came as fast as I could! I saw your car, Tony, and I was so worried! And Ziva!" Abby rushed forward and threw her arms around Ziva. "The side of the car looked terrible! But you don't, oh, thank goodness, you just have a couple bumps and bruises."
As Abby gushed over both of them while unpacking the bag of clothes onto Tony's stretcher, Tony squeezed Ziva's hand and then let go, instead putting his hand on the mattress behind her, as close as he could without inciting her territorial instinct. Both were grateful that, for all her prowess as a forensic scientist, Abby's overwhelming emotions could override her powers of observation.
Tony's curly-headed nurse stepped between the curtains, removed IVs, and reluctantly gave them the okay to get dressed.
"Ziva, your shoulder - do you need help?" Abby offered, finally calming down.
"Thank you, Abby, but no. It isn't that bad, and the more I move it, the sooner it will get better," Ziva said, smiling.
Abby pulled the curtain between them and exited. Tony stretched his stiff, aching back and neck, then looked at the selection of already-worn clothes Abby had pulled from his bag. He slipped on the dark slacks, relieved that they weren't wool given the absence of underwear in the clothes before him, and was fighting his way into a tangled undershirt when the curtain jingled and Ziva joined him, still in her hospital gown.
"My clothes?" she smiled softly, not hiding her appreciative glance at his abs.
He looked confused for a moment before realizing that her clothes were still on the bed next to his.
"Sure," Tony stepped aside, pulling his shirt the rest of the way on.
She brushed past him, and Tony watched as she folded some unmentionables between her shirt and pants. He expected her to push back through the curtain, but instead, she turned and wrapped her arms around him, breathing deeply of his scent and warmth.
Without hesitation, Tony enveloped her in his arms, enjoying the smell of her hair and the welcome feeling of her body against him. He kissed her hair, and intended the next for her forehead, but she lifted her face upward, so he stopped short of her lips.
"We need to talk after this is all over," Ziva said quietly, "But I'm glad you had the presence of mind to call for help, and I'm glad you're okay."
"You, too. You had me really worried there," Tony answered. "Let's not put off the conversation for too long."
In answer, Ziva lifted her mouth to his, and Tony's lips met hers in a soft, full kiss. She tasted and felt even better than he remembered, a welcome relief after abstaining for so long, and somewhere in the back of his otherwise happily occupied brain, Tony realized he was perfectly content with this sweet, slow-burning reunion.
Ziva's senses were swimming - the familiar taste, the feel of Tony's mouth lazily relearning hers, his heady scent, and the feel of his fingers absently, affectionately feeling the ends of her hair - and as much as she wanted to stay here, she had spent too long telling herself not to let it happen to give in so easily. Her internal battle began to escalate even as her senses heightened, which was fortunate in more ways than one, because she heard the squeak of an opening door she'd started to recognize as a precursor to someone coming through their curtains.
She quickly broke away, a little dizzy, hands on his chest, and said, "Someone's coming."
Tony's gaze was hazy, but he nodded understanding, quickly turning to face the back wall, raking his fingers through his hair, his back moving in what she recognized as an attempt to slow his breathing. She quickly handed him a dress shirt with buttons needing attention before she picked up her stack of clothes and casually picked through the others on the bed, telling herself to look for socks.
Their timing was perfect, because just as Tony started pulling the shirt on and Ziva found a first sock, someone came through with a sling for Ziva. She ducked back into her partitioned area to change and have the sling adjusted.
Tony zoned out as he buttoned his shirt and cuffs, swearing to himself that he wasn't going to back down from her this time.
Even though they weren't in a foreign country, they still managed to slip back into their role as professional partners, silent and nonchalantly straightening jackets and shirt tails by the time Gibbs and Vance came through the doors to the open curtains.
It all worked very well until a few days later when Ziva admitted to Tony that she'd slept with Adam when she'd returned to Israel for her father's funeral. It was an understandable event, given the circumstances, but Tony was surprised to find that instead of the kick in the balls feeling that he'd expected, he felt betrayed, and an ache settled into his gut that had nothing to do with the car wreck.
Sure, he told her that they were friends, and there was nothing to forgive, left her with a brotherly kiss on the forehead. But he still hadn't really forgiven her, and he wouldn't realize how petty his grudge was until she was on the run from a Mossad assassin, and his sole purpose was to find her, be sure she was safe, and tell her the truth.