Chapter 2

Tony was still sitting on the floor when Gibbs arrived fifteen minutes later, scratching at his bloody hands. The blood was drying now, staining him with the sticky reminder. The door creaked open, and he looked up to Gibbs, whose face betrayed no outright emotion. "You okay?" He asked, assessing the room. The bloodstain where she had laid on the couch was a deep maroon, only a few shades darker than the light brown couch.

"I'm fine." Tony said stonily. He looked at his hands for what seemed like the first time, examining them sadly. "Why did she do it?'

"Why are you sure that she did?" Gibbs questioned, gently sitting down next to Tony. He didn't say anything, merely pointed to the bloody scalpel. Gibbs got up and walked over, snapping on a glove to pull it out from under the couch. He set it on the coffee table and walked around the rest of the apartment

"It was one cut, directly into the femoral artery. There's no sign of a struggle." He calmly stood up, walking into the kitchen. "I need to wash my hands." A mug of tea sat on the counter next to the sink, only half drunk. "It's like she just…decided. In the middle of making dinner, she just…I mean, what makes her think it's okay just to give up? Just stop life?" He asked. He scrubbed his hands, the motions intensifying as he worked to scratch off what had dried on. When he finally got it all off, his hands were raw, and the pure, cool water felt good. He poured her forgotten tea down the drain and rinsed the cup, putting it back away in her cupboards.

"I think…" Gibbs started, talking slowly to make sure he said the right thing. "I think we need to wait for Ziva to tell us herself."

The pot of noodles that Tony had taken off earlier stared him down, and he poured them down the drain, flipping on the disposal. The loud, harsh whirring surprised him, and he quickly shut it off. "And if she can't?"

"She will. She's strong."

Tony laughed humorlessly, one low guffaw. He rinsed the pot too, drying it and then throwing the towel on the counter. "See, I thought she was," he said, his tone colored with anger and sadness. "And then this happens…"

"You finished?" Gibbs interrupted sternly. He had never seen Tony like this; the man was angry but hurt at the same time, and it manifested in a sulky surliness unmatched by any attitude of his that Gibbs had seen. "Because she's in the hospital. And she could probably use us right about now."

"Yeah, I'm done." He said quickly, folding the towel and throwing it over the rack. "Let's go."

Tony and Gibbs walked into the lobby of the hospital to the anguished faces of their friends. Abby leaned against McGee, tears in her eyes. He rested his head back against the cold plaster behind him, staring listlessly at the opposite wall, and didn't notice when Gibbs and Tony came in. Ducky was sitting beside them, the newspaper in his hands not holding his attention. He stood up, his face grave, and walked over to them. His voice was quiet. "She's in critical condition, Jethro. The only thing they would tell me is that she lost a lot of blood." McGee and Abby stood up and joined the cluster, and Abby gasped when she noticed Tony's bloody shirt underneath his jacket.

"What on earth happened?" McGee asked.

Tony zipped his jacket up to cover the stains and cleared his throat. "I went to Ziva's house and the door was unlocked. When I went inside, she was lying on the couch. She had cut her femoral artery, and was unconscious by the time I got to her."

"Tony…" Ducky frowned. "You said that she cut herself. You don't mean…"

"That's exactly what I mean." Tony said. His eyes stormed with hurt and anger.

McGee's face was white. "Did she leave a note?" He asked quietly, holding Abby tightly in his arms. For once, she was speechless. Her eyes were innocent and void of emotion, as if she had to reevaluate everything she had ever known.

"No. No note." Gibbs said. "Listen. She's alive."

"Quite right, Jethro. I'll see what else I can learn from the doctors." Ducky walked away slowly, his age showing as he struggled to hide the anguish that had spread across his face.

"I need to call the director." Gibbs pulled out his cell phone, already walking away, but Tony stopped him.

"I'll do that boss. You stay with Abby." He stalked away, zipping his jacket up to his throat. He pulled out his cell phone, sticky with spots of dried blood, and dialed quickly. .

As the others watched Tony leave, his depressed mood pervaded the room. Gibbs took Abby in his arms, leading her back to the chairs. "How are you doing, Abs?" She snuggled into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of sawdust. McGee sat down on her other side, slouching miserably.

"Why would she do that, Gibbs?" She sighed, fiddling with the leather cuff around her wrist. "It just doesn't make sense to me. Did something happen?"

"I can't answer that, Abs." His sharp eyes found Ducky, walking back from the nurses' desk.

"No news yet, Jethro." His English accent was more clipped than usual, betraying the emotion unfurling inside him. "But no news tends to be good news."

"I'll believe it when I see it Duck." Gibbs responded as Ducky sat down next to him. They didn't say anything else, but just waited for news. From the doctors, from Tony, from Ziva herself…all they wanted was answers.