Ziva crouched in the front yard, digging away at the earth below her with a small shovel. She had decided to plant some flowers while Tony was at work, deciding it would make the house look a bit better. They had lived there for five months and had not done anything to the outside of the plain house.
Ziva's keen senses were still as acute as they had been half a year ago, and she was still as agile and athletic. The days of training at the gym had seen to that, and she was glad; in the beginning, she had feared she would lose her touch and be taken out by Mossad for sure.
To Ziva's relief, Mossad still had not found her and Tony. Or perhaps they had found them, but were just waiting for the most opportune moment to take action. She could not help but be worried, and always cautious. She had told Tony to be alert, just in case, but he responded by telling her not to worry so much. She knew he was just trying to look brave, and that he was just as concerned as she was, but she did wish he would tell her that instead of trying to be laid back about it.
Ziva gardened for another few hours until Tony got home. He was surprised by the garden, or by the fact that Ziva, of all people, was gardening. The two went inside to eat, and the day ended normally.
The next few days were the same way: Tony went to work, Ziva did her best to bear the torture of being a housewife, and they would spend the afternoons together when Tony got home.
Unbeknownst to them, they were being watched. Pictures were taken, conversations were heard, and they were none the wiser.
It was a few minutes until noon when Ziva got the call: Tony had been shot. She dropped the phone and ran to the car, speeding even more than usual to get there.
For what seemed like days, but was really hours, Ziva sat in the waiting room, occasionally getting up to pace. The police were talking to Tony's friend from work, a men named Gregg, while another friend of his tried to comfort Ziva to no avail. Finally, a nurse came out and called, 'Tommy DiNardo'.
Ziva shot up from her seat, Gregg and the other man close behind her, and approached the nurse.
"Who are you in relation to Mr. DiNardo?"
Ziva answered first, "I am his wife."
The other two said they were his friends.
"Mr. DiNardo took a bullet to the shoulder and another just above his elbow. There are no major complications, and he should make a full recovery in about a month." The nurse looked at Ziva, "He is sleeping right now, but you can still see him if you'd like, Mrs. DiNardo." She looked over at Gregg and the other man whose name Ziva could not remember, and said, "You have to wait."
Ziva followed the nurse down the hall and to Tony's room, while the men went back into the waiting room to be questioned by the police as witnesses.
The nurse stopped at Tony's door. "He must not sit up just yet, and no excitement."
Ziva wondered for a moment at what kind of excitement they could possibly cause, then smiled to herself and dismissed the thoughts. She opened the door and closed it quietly behind her.
Making sure to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Tony, Ziva sat down in the chair next to his bed, talking his hand in hers and stroking it with her thumb. Tears were falling down her cheeks, but she didn't make a sound.
Tony turned his head toward her when he felt her hand on his, and released himself from her soft grip to reach up and stroke her cheek. She let out a sob and reached over to embrace him. She stood by his bed, her arms around him and his arms moving slowly up and down her back. She eventually let go and Tony tried to sit up.
"Stay, Tommy." Ziva commanded, putting a hand on his chest.
"Aw, c'mon! I'm fine, Zi-lisa." He replied, almost forgetting that they could not reveal their real names, in case somebody was listening in.
"No. You need rest."
Tony made a pouty face and complied, resting on his side while Ziva sat down on the edge of his bed.
"Do you think it was them, Lisa?" Tony asked, referring to Mossad.
"I do not know. If it was, then it was a warning. They could have killed you just as easily as injured you."
"Gee, thanks for all your belief in my abilities," said Tony sarcastically.
Ziva smiled and rested a hand on his head.
Soon, Gregg and the man whose name Ziva learned was Lawrence, were allowed in the room. They talked about what the police had said in the last few hours, and Ziva made sure to listen for any indication that Mossad could be behind the shooting.
"Yeah, man, they said they found where the shooter was standin', but no prints!" explained Lawrence. He was a tall man who preferred the street-slicker look, and was considered odd to a lot of people.
"It's like ya got shot by a ghost er som'n!" That was Gregg, he spoke with a southern accent and was the opposite of Lawrence: short and clean-cut.
During the next half-hour of talking, Ziva could not be sure if Mossad shot Tony or not, though it was starting to seem like more and more of a warning from them than anything else.
"I am going to go get a drink. Do any of you want something?"
Gregg and Lawrence declined, but Tony asked for a coffee. As soon as Ziva left, the boys started talking again.
"Damn, DiNardo, how'd ya manage ta git a girl like her?"
"Yeah man, she's way out of your league."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Dude, she's hot! How does a guy like you get such a catch?"
Tony and his friends kept up their 'guy talk' while Ziva navigated the hospital hallways. She stepped out of the elevator onto the first floor, home of the cafeteria, and stopped dead in her tracks. There she stood, face to face with one of the last people she ever expected, or wanted, to see.
Who could it be? I know, but you'll just have to wait until my next post! Oooh, the suspense!
I'm holding the next chapter for ransom. The price: reviews! Haha, just kidding, but reviews will make me write faster. Sorry that this is one of my shorter chapters!
Thank you all so much for reading!