Tony felt the tears sting at his eyes; they blurred his vision, and as he blinked reflexively he could feel them run down his cheeks. He didn't care who the hell saw him cry right now; not the nurses, not the doctors, not even Gibbs. It didn't matter anymore; nothing mattered anymore. After all the countless times he himself had cheated death and gotten away worse for the wear, he'd take them all back at that very instant if it were possible.

Why her? Why couldn't it have been me? It should have been me, goddamn it!

In that moment, he wished he could go back and change everything. He wished he had been quicker at entering the warehouse to cover her back- always have your partner's six, you stupid, arrogant bastard; he wished he could have switched places with Ziva at the very moment it happened so that he would have been the one to get the bullet in the shoulder, not her. He wished with every ounce and fibre in his being that he was the one lying in the hospital bed right now, not her. Why after all of the damn times that he had intentionally hung around Ziva just to annoy her had he chosen to walk out of the room at that moment?

Son of a bitch. Goddamn idiot. Fucking brainless…

Running out of names to call himself, he forced himself to look at her. To look at her face- that beautiful face he had so long admired for its beauty and strength. Her tanned skin was now a pale ashen; her beautiful brown eyes staring into space, devoid of any of the warmth or playfulness that had filled them when she teased him right back; her soft, pink lips, which he had long known for certain to be the softest, most tender ones he'd ever seen in his life. Even though he'd never felt the warmth of her lips on his, he had no doubt that they were worth a hundred- no, a thousand- of those of every other woman he'd ever kissed.

Now he would never get the chance to find out.

Gently, he took her hand in his- still embracing the warmth she seemed to exude. He laid his head slowly next onto her shoulder, quietly sobbing as his tears trickled down onto her top. So many times he had felt her own shoulder resting comfortably against his- except this time there was no support he could lend her. No arm to wrap around her shoulder and draw her closer to himself. No shoulder he could offer her to remind her that she was just as human as the rest of them. Despite what her father and Mossad had tried to turn her into- their own personal tool and cold blooded assassin- she was just as much a feeling, caring human as they all were.

Tony knew for certain that Ziva was by no means as heartless as her father wanted her to believe. He knew first hand that she had a heart- a very big one. She had shown it in Tel Aviv when she had him at gunpoint on the ground and could very easily have ended his life right there. She had shown it again when they got back to NCIS and she had told him that she knew he always had her six. And he had heard it; he had heard it often enough when she lay against him on so many evenings. The soft, gentle beats that contrasted so often of the racing her heart normally did in the line of duty.

And the soft beats that so often sent his own heart racing when she subconsciously curled up next to him…

How he wanted to hear them again. How he longed to be able to put his head close to her chest and hear her heart beat through her shirt. The heart that had held out against torture in Somalia. The heart that had allowed her to survive all the dangers she had seen in her life.

The heart he had come to care for so much…

You should have been here, you stupid son of a…

He couldn't even finish his line of thought. It brought forth far too many painful branch-offs. He could blame himself till the end of time- it wouldn't change anything or help anyone.

Except it would have helped Ziva…

How the hell could he start thinking of those possibilities now? Would've, could've, should've… that was all bullshit. He didn't. I chose to make a goddamn joke and then just walk out. And then when she was in trouble, I chose to accept the word of a man who said she was fine just because he was wearing a white doctor's coat. Stupid idiot! I knew something was wrong and I didn't do a damn thing!

Then again, it was a perfectly logical thing to act as he did. Anyone else probably would have done the exact same thing. It wouldn't really have made a difference how he acted.

Except Ziva would still be alive…

And now, because of his fucking stupidity and short-sightedness, Ziva was dead. His naivety was the reason his partner- his best friend- was dead. As those realizations passed through his head, his mind flashed back; the first time he'd seen her; the first time she smiled at him; the first time she'd threatened him with a paperclip. Every single memory he'd always remembered so fondly; the memories they'd shared together; the memories they may have shared in the future. Someday they might even…

Oh, Ziva…

Tony gripped her hand tighter as he lifted his head towards her ear. His next words were spoken at a tone so low that he himself could barely hear them.

"Ziva… I'm so sorry… I- I should have been here. It's my fault… my fault that this happened. I should never… have left you alone. It's my fault… all my fault. I… I- I…"

He looked down, unable to look at her as the next words passed from his lips.

"I killed you… I killed the woman I love…"

He forced himself to look back up at her. "Yeah… it's true. What I said back in Somalia- about me being unable to live without you- it was entirely true. I thought… I thought it wasn't anything at first… I thought it was just a case of me being me and you being a woman but…" he shook his head in sorrow, "that's just not the case… I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were unlike any other woman I knew. I didn't know why at the time- but now I do… you are without question the strongest, most amazing woman I've ever know- will ever know. I'm just sorry I never got to tell you… how I really feel about you…"

He blinked away a fresh batch of tears and quietly cleared his throat. Slowly, he leaned in closer until his lips right next to her ear, and whispered, in a voice inaudible to anyone else:

"I love you, Ziva."

The tears cut through his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Slowly, he laid his down onto her shoulder and started sobbing uncontrollably. He no longer cared who the hell saw him- he no longer cared if he was even alive or dead. In his mind, he was already dead; as dead as the woman he loved- and had killed.

He was so engulfed in his grief- so filled with angst and self-loathing- that he didn't feel the slight tightening on his hand. And the pounding in his head from his crying was so loud that he almost missed the low, virtually muted voice that came from just to his right:

"I love you too, Tony…"

A/N: Hmmm… is this good enough for a review? Compliment! Criticize! I don't care! Just do it!