A\N: Let's say that this, the next chapter and the chapter after that are a three-part, shall we? I like this (imaginary) scene a lot, so I had to do it from three points of view, and we start with Ziva, then Gibbs, then Tony. But the songs are different, so – three chapters.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own NCIS.

"I Can't Hate You Anymore" – Nick Lachey

I (ZIVA)

"So," He commented, and it was almost like an angel speaking to her, except for the cracked fear in his cracked voice, but, damn, he was there, wasn't he? But she kept her eyes closed, because she couldn't, she wouldn't, look at him, because her chest was heaving too much already, and she didn't want to sob, she wanted to hit something. "this is probably it."

She didn't want to hit something, she wanted to hit him.

She snapped her eyesight into use again, and her wide eyes turned wildly to his dirt-covered face, because he couldn't be the one giving up. His eyes were closed, and there was an unusual moistness in the corner of his eyes, and that was strange, because there was no water anywhere near them.

She slapped him.

He just raised an eyebrow and rubbed his cheek and pretended he wasn't as scared as her and a little more.

And now she was the one hiding tears, because yeah, this was it, and there were too many things still standing behind her in her path that she'd wanted to go back and fix. But there it had never been the right moment, there had never been the opportunity, and the I'll have time to do it later suddenly lost the later and she didn't have time to do it at all.

Most of all, the biggest regret she hadn't collected was right next to her, in that empty metal box they were never ever getting out of, and she was still refusing to take care of it while she could. Instead of saying all the things she sometimes indulged on imagining, on preparing even though she knew herself and knew she was too much of a coward to ever do it, she was going into hysterics and letting him take the consequences of it.

"I'm sorry." She tried not to choke out, and she wasn't sure how much she was sorry for, but it wasn't only the slap. And she hoped it was enough, because she was sure she wouldn't have time for anything else and this was the last thing she wanted to be doing with Tony.

He shook his head and offered a hand and she took it without the hesitation that would have been present any other time.

"What would Gibbs say?" He mock-scolded her gently. And she didn't want him to be gentle. Since when was she some fragile damsel in distress?

Since she burst into tears at the mention of someone she wouldn't get to see again.

Tony's hand pressed her own with a welcoming strength. "You never have to apologize to me."

"There isn't going to be a never anymore." She bit back, willing her tears to draw back with the use of some harsh reality she was in dire need of.

"There's at least going to be a next few minutes." He muttered, obviously not particularly heartened by her words.

"And how would you like those to be?" She hissed, and this was it. She had broken. Broken enough by their imminent death that the protection of her feelings was suddenly no longer important. They were a breath away from not mattering for anything or anyone.

The metal above them creaked and hissed and she knew, she just knew, that it was time. Their suspect was going to crush it, make it into an unrecognizable tiny compact piece of scrap metal that he would throw into the deep, deep ocean, never to be seen again unless a nosy diver took a forbidden look. And then, if they were lucky, other agents would investigate their deaths, and if those agents were unlucky, they'd end up in exactly the same position Tony and Ziva were now.

Ziva felt bad for wishing that, someday, someone would find out what had happened to the two of them, like every other couple that the suspect had targeted and killed for his own sick purposes, and she felt bad for wishing that one day they would mourn their lost chance just as she and Tony and Gibbs and McGee had mourned their victims', even though if it had been up to the two of them, there never would have been a chance either way.

She got rid of all her decency and all sense of pride right then. With a choked whimper, Tony's chest became her sanctuary, and he whispered words that he seemed to know instinctively would calm her down, even though she'd always been the strong one, the one who would never break down, never need comforting, in front of pretty much anyone, much less her partner.

But it was cold and he was warm and they were going to die crushed to death and she wanted to be close to him when that happened.

"I wish-" She croaked out. "I wish I had had more time."

"Time's tricky." He murmured into her hair, and their last grave shook. His hands tightened. "You don't get a lot of it, but whatever you can get, you would worship it if you could."

She looked up and forced the tears down. "The things you worship have a tendency to let you down."

There was no light, but she knew his face like the back of her hand and knowing every single detail of it was a small feat. The wisps of sunrays that sneaked through occasional holes in the metal allowed her to see the grime and the dust and the cracked lips and every scratch from their fight with the serial killer. His hair was dirty, disheveled and hid much of his forehead because it was damp, so she pushed it away, driven by whatever it was that also drove Tony to regularly have these gestures with her.

His lips were so close to her that she could see him speaking even in the almost total darkness. "Then you have to question whether those things are worth worshipping and fighting for."

His breath made her dizzy and made her forget the increasing noise outside that meant they had to be seconds away from having their bodies crushed to a bloody mess. "You are."

She didn't let him process that properly (or at all) before she kissed him, and she kissed him like she wasn't going to kiss him ever again, because she very possibly wasn't, and this, if she had any say in it, was going to be the very last thing she was going to do.

And there was loud screeching around them and the air was feeling more compact, but Ziva just squeezed her eyes harder, held Tony tighter while he turned her away from the source and secured her better, and she didn't hear it, she didn't hear it, she didn't hear it.

She didn't feel it.