It wasn't meant to go so wrong. The suspect, a serial arsonist, was making a last-minute pick up from his normal supply shop then onto his next location. It was all set up of course, a sure-fire way to catching the killer in the act. The fire department was on standby, the local law enforcement and NCIS agents.

So, between each smoke fueled breath, Ziva wondered how it went so wrong. More importantly, how had she ended up in a house ablaze and all alone.

The walls of the small bungalow were an agonizing ball of flame that danced upwards and smothered the ceiling, the heat unbearable as it surrounded her. Ziva knew she had mere minuets – no, mere seconds to act and get herself out.

Sprinting to the front door, she held no luck when she found it locked. On the other side of the door, she could hear banging and shouting.

"Tony!" she cried out once realising who it was. There was a clatter and more shouting as she realised someone was dragging him away from the flamed-filled house. Good, she thought momentarily; her team were away from danger.

Dropping to the floor, Ziv felt annoyed at herself for not acting accordingly sooner. Glancing up, the ceiling was nothing more than a heaving cloud of black soot. Coughing, she began to crawl back through the bungalow. Her only other chance was the back door.

Crawling, she could see the door in site, but the smoke was becoming overbearing and Ziva was soon coughing more than crawling. She stopped, her arms sluggish and breaking heavy, her vision started to sway in and out of focus, the crackling of the fire around her slowly merging together until all she could hear from a high-pitched sound.

She almost didn't realise the door swing open, or the figure that sprinted towards her. She did feel a force lift her lifeless body, throw her unquestionably over their shoulder and sprint out into the daylight.

The last thing she remembered before truly falling unconscious, was being placed down on the grass outside, the sun blinding her until a figure hovered over, shouting words that sounded like muttering, the words ultimately not mattering in her mind, and she fell into darkness.

The soft sound of beeping was the first thing she heard upon waking up. The second was Tony ungracefully yelling for a doctor; it made her wish to be unconscious again.

"How long was I out for?"

"Long enough for DiNozzo to contemplate contacting a lawyer to see if he can get your car." She hadn't realised Gibbs was in the room but turning her aching head ever so and he was there in her line of sight, reading a newspaper.

"It is a nice car," she croaked.

"You're lucky to be alive," Tony commented. "If you'd been there any longer -"

"She's a tough one DiNozzo. Little hot air was never gonna take her," Gibbs mused as he flicked the page.

"Exactly Tony," Ziva managed, before a coughing fit erupted from her. Tony quickly helped her sit up right before handing her a glass of water.

"Save your voice Ziva. Need you well and back."

"Of course, Gibbs." She smirked. "I'll save it for the hot fireman that rescued me from the flames." Both men grinned uncontrollably and chuckled. "What?" she insisted.

"McGee," Tony stated but just kept chuckling.

"What about him? Oh my was he hurt too?"

"No Ziva," Gibbs put his paper down. "McGee is your hot fireman. He got you out.

There was a silence in the room.

"McGee… McGee carried me?"

"I know."

"Since when could he lift that much?" She felt bad in suggesting it, but her friend's skill set was in technology, far from being in wight lifting.

"I swear, if I find out he has secret Palmer abs, I am going to riot," Tony said.

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you think. I hope to update the next chapter soon.