This one is short so I decided to upload it early

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. F is for Finicky .

Ziva towers over top of him for a moment, smiling at the way his mouth draws open and how he has just a dab of drool hanging against the openings of his mouth. He looks peaceful, happy, and not at all drained like she is certain she has been doing to him. It's not fair to push him away, but she just can't seem to find the words that will let him know what is going through her head. She knees his hand, watches as he grunts for a moment, and slowly draws his eyes to gaze up at her. She finds that this Tony, the sleepy Tony is her favorite.

"What's the matter?" He slurs, running a hand over his face as he works his facial muscles into operation. A quick glance at the clock tells him it's only 0500 and the clothes she is wearing - her running gear - tells him she is heading out for a run which worries him because it's been a week since she came back all sweaty.

"You told McGee." She crosses her arms, her face working into the interrogative expression she only uses while questioning suspects. He sits up abruptly, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible because there is no way she knows, right?

"What makes you say that?" He poker faces, brow arching ever so slightly in hopes to sell his act. It doesn't work, she sees right through him, she always does.

"He was acting different yesterday after you two went back to headquarters." Her gaze narrows and he knows he's been caught, no sense in lying now he might as well fess up.

"Okay, it accidentally came up." Tony sighs, running a hand through his blonde tufts and purposely avoiding her chocolate gaze.

She sighs then, uncrosses her arms and leans in as close to his face as she can get without touching their lips together before whispering: "I do not mind, just let me know when you are going to tell someone." She swipes down as if to close the gap only to jerk back just as quickly with a chuckle. "You have to brush your teeth before I kiss you." Her hand connects with his cheek in a playful smack before she starts heading towards the door. "I will be back in an hour."

He waits until the door clicks shut before pulling the comforter back and rising to his feet. He heads to the closet, takes his clothes of the hangers that she no doubt hung up while getting ready for her "run". Tony is quick in tossing on his clothes and running the tooth brush over his teeth, he doesn't bother with combing back his hair too much time has already been lost.

The drive to the warehouse only takes thirty minutes, his heart is thudding in his ears because if she isn't here then he's not exactly sure what he will do. He just knows this is where she has to go on the days she doesn't sweat, the place with yellow crime scene tape covering off a glass-less window. The path to the room where her life nearly ended is foreign and his tennis shoes crunch underneath concrete, dust, dirt, and whatever other substance has accumulated over the years.

He finds her; eyes closed, curls hanging loosely, and her hands trailing the points of where bullets sliced through her tender flesh until resting in the air pointing directing at the blood splatter.

"I was suppose to wait for backup, but I just took off...it was an impulse." Her eyes fall open, hand stilled raised, and eyes looking directly at the splatter. "I followed him through the halls...I was so close. He ran in here, I followed slowly. My gun was raised, it was full." She pulls her arms together to cling herself into a one person embrace, like a self conscious teenage girl. "He missed and hit the window, did I freeze? He hit me once, twice...three times and I did not feel a thing. McGee's gun hit him last, he fell and he died but it does not feel like closure...I cannot figure out why I did not pull the trigger." Her voice spikes through the last couple of sentences and when he looks closely he can see tears forming in the ducts.

"Why the hell did I not pull the trigger!" It's not a question and her voice thunders throughout the warehouse, echoing like a million bullets. "He was not a kid, he was not someone knew, why did I hesitate?"

"Because you were in pain." His voice is level and she suddenly turns with an expression that reads surprise. Had she not been speaking to him? "He was behind the boxes, Ziva." Tony stands up beside her, hands gripping her waist. "Then he shot, missed and hit the window. You turned to see where it had been fired from, you had no cover. So he shot you here," His fingers brush along her leg sending a tremble through her spine. "Then here," He taps her shoulder. "And here." His hands rest against her abdomen. "And do you know what you did, Ziva? Do you what you did while blood was pouring out of you? You pressed the trigger and it shot him. You shot your gun and ended his life so that he couldn't take anyone else from this world." He takes her hands in his, pressing his lips to her knuckles as she stares at him wide eyed.

"No, no I did not it was McGee." She shakes her head and makes a motion to pull back but he clings to her, pulls her into his warm embrace. His fingers trail down her spine as he nods.

"Yeah, you did. I read his report." He presses a kiss to the side of her head before pulling back, a firm grip on her forearms as he locks his greens with her chocolates. "You shot him, Ziva and you lived."

"That is not what I remember." She frowns, looking down at their shoes. "I remember McGee shooting because I was the ground bleeding, watching the world flicker by, watching the fireworks through Tali's hair, and seeing you and remembering that I have to tell you..." Her gaze flickers up to meet his and he is pretty certain his heart has just skipped a beat.

"What did you have to tell me, Ziva?" His voice quivers even as he tries to maintain a neutral expression, he already knows what she is about to say and he prays she says it.

"That...that.." She looks up at him and he can feel her shaking underneath him, struggling to find the words that have been harbored for almost ten years. He brushes a strand of hair out of her face, coaxing her to continue because he knows she can do it even if it scares her. "That I love you." It is but a whisper, a whisper against the ring of traffic down below. A whisper in the wind, but it reaches his ears and he doesn't ever remember a time in his life when he was this happy.

"I love you too." He might have wanted to be the first one to say it, but it suddenly doesn't matter as he leans in to press his lips to her soft ones.