DISCLAIMER: NCIS isn't mine.

A single shot goes off and makes her blood turn to ice.

She turns just in time to see Tony fall to the floor. Horror and fury fill her veins, and she releases a yell of rage before striking out at the nearest soldier. More come, and still more, and she fights them all, a tornado of skill and power. Part of her brain is focused on the battle—Kick the gun away, punch him in the face, duck under his swing—but another is numb with terror.

Oh, God, please not Tony. Not Tony; it can't be, please...

Two of the guards catch her and wrestle her arms behind her back. She struggles, only becoming still when a gun barrel lines up with her face. For a split second she faces cold metal death, and then a pain in the back of her skull drags her into darkness.

Tony...

That was only one of many brushes with death they have both experienced. Ziva deals with death—has seen it, felt it, heard it—she knows and is not afraid. In fact, it doesn't bother her at all.

But this is different. This time she almost lost him because she did something stupid. They were told the guards had live ammunition, and yet she still swung out of fear for her own safety. They attacked, and had the guns been real, Tony would have died.

It happened nearly a year ago, but Ziva finds herself thinking of it surprisingly often. If her experience with Saleem has taught her anything, it's that there is no guarantee of tomorrow. She knew before, of course—Mossad drilled that into you rather quickly—but it was the first time she realized there was no promise you could ever make things right again. Sometimes even worse than the physical pain was the thought that she would never see the team again. Never tell Tony she was sorry; never ask Gibbs to forgive her or tell him he meant enough to her that she'd shot her own brother.

But there is a tomorrow now, and another, and maybe even more. And she won't make the same mistake twice.

Of that, Ziva is certain.

"You were right." Ziva leans on Tony's desk, watching him fiddle with a pen.

"Of course I was." Tony looks up, pauses and frowns. "Wait, about what again?"

Ziva has to smile a little. "Last year. After we tried to steal the fake Domino...when you yelled at me in the elevator. I made a foolish choice and you could have been killed. I'm sorry."

"Eh, that's way over." Tony waves his hand dismissively, but Ziva grabs his wrist, standing up and turning to face him.

"No. It isn't. It's one thing for me to endanger myself, but you..." She shakes her head. "There is no excuse for putting someone else in harm's way."

Tony eyes her before gently extracting his wrist from her fingers. "What brought this up?"

Ziva's heart rate rises; she has been lying awake for weeks on end trying to convince herself to do this. It's now or never; this is the most nerve she'll ever have.

"I attacked that guard because I thought you were dead. I was...terrified that I would lose you, and I couldn't live with that. I suppose I had a subconscious 'death wish', as you call it here. And then in the desert with Saleem...I thought I was going to die. And I was sorry that things ended the way they did with us. I wanted to tell you goodbye, but I couldn't get that chance. When you rescued me, things changed. I realized that there's a chance one of us won't make it back someday, and I..." She pauses, trying to find words. "I wanted to tell you that you mean very much to me, and I am always here for you."

Tony stares at her, his green eyes almost seeming brighter than usual. "I appreciate that. And I say the same to you," he replies softly.

They both smile, and Ziva leans down to gently kiss Tony on the cheek. After she pulls back, their gazes lock and Ziva finds it hard to move away. But when she goes back to her desk, she's smiling.