Hey guys, thanks for your reviews on the last chapter. You are the best! Thanks to Wren for betaing this as well. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

"Tony, this isn't right, this can't be." Abby typed furiously on her keyboard.

"What's not right Abbs?" Tony set a Caf-Pow in front of her, his eyes briefly shifting to the picture of Gibbs on her desk before he looked back at her computer.

"The bullets. It makes no sense." The guns that McGee brought me from the bad guys both shoot 9mm. This is a .357."

"One of ours, yeah." Tony didn't see the problem. "Both Ziva and I shot at the men. The bullets should be ours."

"Yeah, the bullets in them maybe, but this is the bullet from Ziva's arm. The one that McGee brought from the hospital."

Tony's eyes opened wide as he understood Abby's words. "I shot her?"

"Or there was a third shooter." Abby was looking at Tony. She saw him nod and his face pale. "We can test your gun, but it was just an accident Tony. It's probably not even your bullet."

"Ziva's hurt Abby." Tony slipped his service weapon out of its holster and handed it to the scientist. "Test it."

Sighing, Abby stepped over to the firing slot and unlocked the safety, unloading a round into the water. She opened the tank and fished out the bullet. As she walked over to the microscope she talked to Tony. "It probably won't match Tony. I wouldn't worry. Ziva is okay right?" She looked at him suspiciously, suddenly wondering if he was downplaying the Israeli's injury.

"Other than the hole in her arm, yeah, she's just great." Tony snapped, the stress of the afternoon finally getting to him. He exhaled, "I'm sorry Abby."

"It's okay Tony." The forensic scientist gave him a bone crushing hug before turning to the scope. "They're probably not even a match." She looked through the scope and rotated the bullet, looking for any matching striations. "Oh…"

"Good oh or bad oh?" Tony questioned, squinting up at the computer screen where her results were projected.

"Bad oh…very bad oh." Abby turned to face him. "The bullets came from the same gun."

Tony felt his heart plummet. "I shot her!"

Abby bit her lip and nodded her head. "It was…"

"I guess I should be glad that you are a bad shot." An accented voice came from the doorway of the lab, causing both of the occupants to spin around.

"Ziva…" Tony breathed. He looked her over: she was leaning against the doorway with her good shoulder, her injured arm still incased in the sling. "Ziva I'm so sorry." He cautiously walked over to her.

She shook her head. "It was a firefight Tony. It is not your fault." She graced him with a small smile. "I have been hit by friendly fire before." She pushed off of the doorjamb and walked into the lab, looking up at the matching bullets. "It would be nice if we could get such exact matches like this during murder investigations."

"Oh I'm so glad you're okay!" Abby squealed, wrapping her arms around the injured Israeli.

Ziva bit back the groan that threatened to escape her lips as Abby's shoulder jarred her arm. She raised her good hand and patted Abby's back awkwardly. "Thank you Abby."

Tony saw the pained expression on Ziva's face and cleared his throat. "Abs, I think you might be hurting her…"

Abby quickly let go and stepped back. "Sorry! I'm sorry! Are you okay?" Abby frantically looked her over.

"Abby. Abby!" Ziva shouted to get the other woman's attention. "I am fine. I came down to drop off some evidence from the scene." She held out an envelope containing the prints that McGee had lifted from the warehouse.

The goth took the envelope and then placed hands on Ziva's and Tony's backs, gently pushing them towards the door. "Tony, take her home now. Make sure she's comfortable. Ziva…ah ah." She raised a finger as Ziva's mouth opened in protest. "Take it easy, I do not want to see either of you here tomorrow. Got it?"

Tony nodded. "Yes boss."

"Good boy." Abby patted his head. "Ziva?" She questioned expectantly.

"Abby, I do not see…" The Mossad liaison began to argue before Abby's glare cut her off. "Okay."

"This is ridiculous Tony. I am fine." Ziva protested as Tony opened the car door for her, ushering her into the vehicle.

Tony shut her door and got into the driver's seat. "You took a .357 to the shoulder and a 9mm to the hip. And before you say something, yes I know you've had worse, but this one is my fault. So I'd appreciate if you did one of two things. Either let me take care of you, or be pissed at me for shooting you."

"You do not want me pissed at you Tony." Ziva looked out the window as they drove towards her Springfield apartment.

"I know I don't, but I deserve it." Tony stated firmly, his grip tightening on the wheel, his knuckles going white.

If Ziva's left arm had not been restricted by the sling, she would have placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Tony, it was an accident. I do not blame you."

"Well, I blame me Ziva. I put a bullet in your arm. I could have killed you." Tony felt the guilt of his actions weighing heavily in his chest. He looked over at her while they were stopped at a red light. "I hurt you Ziva."

Ziva saw the guilt on his face. "I do not blame you Tony. What can I do to make you feel better?"

"Just let me keep an eye on you." Tony said as he started driving again.

Ziva thought about Tony's words as they finished the drive to her apartment.

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