Disclaimer: 11:11 people. Every. Single. Night. My wish for Michael Weatherly and the rest of the NCIS cast has yet to come true.

I am a horrible person! I am so so so sorry for waiting this long to update! I was at camp for a month and then I just wanted to get used to school again. Lame excuse, I know. I will try to post a new chapter at least once a week if not more.

Thanks for not giving up on me yet! This is your reward!

Chapter Four : Gratitude

Sometimes, you don't think. Your mind goes completely blank, and you seem to be paralyzed. The world slows down; sounds never reach your ears, words on the tip of your tongue refuse to leave, faces freeze and all mirror the same emotion. Terror.

Suddenly your mind goes into hyper-drive, but your body stays rooted to the floor. You know you need to drop. You know you have enough time to do exactly that. Drop. Onto the floor. Away from the terrorist getting ready to squeeze the trigger releasing the bullet that will end your life. You know this, but you can't do it.

At least… that's what happened to me. You? You have probably never had an experience like this. And I hope you never do. It's the most frightening thing: Being seconds away from death yet unable to move, seemingly unable to control your body.

I've heard stories about death. I watched countless movies, seen endless amounts of T.V. shows, and have read dozens of books. I even had a near death experience when I got the plague. So I of course expected a slideshow of my life to take over. Replay everything and anything I had ever done in my life. But I was stuck in the present. All I could do was stare down the barrel of the gun that will end my life.

But of course, I forgot. Americans are always overly theatric.

Ziva tackles me to the floor, just as the shooter presses down on the dreaded trigger. I land on the floor, untouched. Not even a second later Gibbs and McGee take down the terrorist, handcuffing him securely to a sturdy metal post so we could take stock of other injuries. I turn to Ziva, already thanking her profusely. I stop cold when I see her. A deep rust colored liquid stains her shirt at an alarming speed. I see now where the bullet entered her shoulder, when she got me out of harms way. A pool of blood is forming on the floor and she lets out a small moan of pain before she lies down on the cold cement.

I rush to her side, and push down on her wound automatically. Her face turns chalky white, but she doesn't make another sound. "I'm sorry Ziva! Sorry!" I say this as I try to keep more blood from joining the rest on the ground. I know I am hurting her, but she is hell bent on making it seem like nothing.

"I am fine Tony," She tells me feebly. "I have lived through worse."

Hearing this, I flinch. Worse? I think to myself. I notice her eyelids beginning to flutter, almost closing. I tap her gently on the cheek, consistently until she opens her eyes fully. "Don't go to sleep Ziva." I murmur quietly. "Stay with me here."

I turn to Gibbs who is getting down to kneel beside me. "Ambulance is on its way." He says it gruffly while staring at Ziva, concerned. As if on cue, we hear the siren blaring in the distance. I grab Ziva's hand, making her squeeze it as hard as she can so I know she's awake. The next few minutes are torture because all that I can concentrate on is her ragged breathing. As the car comes screeching to a halt, paramedics pour out and run to Ziva. They get her on a stretcher and in the ambulance in what I think must be record time. I get in the back with her without asking, not wanting to waste time arguing. Gibbs and McGee get into their car to follow us to the hospital. I can't help but notice how they stay with us even though the ambulance is going very fast because of the sirens. We get to the hospital and Ziva is carried through a set of swinging doors. When I try to follow, a nurse kindly tells me I have to sit in the waiting room. She also asks for Ziva's name and personal information. Her soft soothing voice causes my shoulders to slump, adrenaline moving out of my bloodstream. That had been keeping me standing, so I sit in a chair without complaint, suddenly needing the support.

Gibbs and McGee run into the waiting room, eyes searching. They catch sight of me and nurse, and join us quickly. The nurse answers questions we have, but knows nothing about Ziva's condition yet. Seeing the worry etched into my face, she promises to come find me when she knows something.

Hours pass and we still know nothing. Gibbs tells us to go home for the night to clean up and get some sleep. I notice he keeps glancing at my hands, which is when I notice they are caked in dry blood. Ziva's blood.

I refuse to go home but I get up to wash my hands of blood. When I come back McGee is gone, and the Boss is almost falling asleep in his chair. I tell him to go home, that I won't be going anywhere tonight. "I'll call you if anything happens." I say.

He looks at me sternly. "Anything." He says to me. "Even if it's only a cough, you call. Got it DiNozzo?"

He finally leaves and I sit back down, trying to get comfortable. It seems sitting is a lost cause, so I wonder around the hospital, stopping only at the gift store and cafeteria. When I get back to the waiting room, the nurse is waiting for me. "She's awake!" She tells me happily and brings me straight to her room. I open the door slowly; then cautiously I step inside.

Her shoulder is heavily bandaged and there seems to be tubes everywhere. Her chocolate curls lay limp and her golden skin is slightly paler than normal. But her eyes brighten when she spots me and I have to smile. I sit in the vacant chair by her bed and pull out something from the gift shop bag. In my hand I hold a delicate peach colored rose. It seems more gentle than the ones I had held before it, which matches the meaning.

Gratitude. She has saved my life today, and I will never forget that. No matter how often I tease her, or get frustrated with her, I hope she realizes I will always be in her debt.

I lay it on her bedside table. "For saving my life." I say simply. She gazes at the beautiful flower, as if in a trance. I kiss her forehead lightly then go outside in the hall, telling her I need to call Gibbs.

…

A couple weeks later, Ziva is allowed to go home. Making sure to bring the peach rose with her, she leaves the hospital. Before going to bed that night, she places the flower in the vase carefully. It was softer than the others, she decided. But just as meaningful.

…

Eventually, Ziva comes back and things go back to normal. After a few hard cases and being on each others' six the whole time, I know she will forever have my gratitude.

I hope you like it! Please review! Come on... You know you want to!

By the way, this isn't beta-ed so sorry for mistakes.