She was aware of the sound of rain enveloping her as she lay there. Normally, such a sound would have been pleasant to her ears, but when one factored in the throbbing headache, the harsh chill, and the fact that she was soaking wet, it only served to agitate her pain.

Ziva sat up slowly, a dizzying sensation overtaking her senses. She wasn't sure why she was in the backseat with a blanket wrapped around her or why rain was spewing in through a hole in her windshield. She blinked, placing a palm to her throbbing head as she tried to recall what had happened before she blacked out. When she removed her hand, it was wet. It wasn't wet with water, though; it was wet with a red, sticky substance.

"I am bleeding," she whispered to no one in particular.

A bolt of lightening lit up the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder which made her heart skip a beat. Ziva trembled as she pulled the blanket tighter. In her stomach, the contents of her dinner churned.

Her dinner! She'd had dinner that night with Tim. They had gone to a small steakhouse. He had done most of the talking. She had barely touched her meal. Then…then they had left in her car. She had been upset; Tim had noticed. Had she dropped him off before the accident? She shook her head. No, because if she had, the accident would have occurred in a more urban area. So if he had been here…where was he now?

"Timothy?" she croaked, her hand still resting on her stomach. "Timothy?"

There was no answer.

"Timothy!" she yelled with all of her strength. She looked around frantically for any sign of him. There was glass on the front passenger seat. The glass had blood on it. Was he hurt? Had he been thrown from the car?

Without another thought, Ziva pushed out of the car and stepped into the rain. Mud and water sloshed at her feet and soiled the blanket which she still held around her body. She walked all the way around the car, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

There was no sign of Tim. She wasn't sure if she should consider that a good thing or a bad thing.

Ziva's stomach rumbled again, but this time she felt it rise up through her throat. She fell to her knees and threw up on the ground. The rain dripped along the skin of her face, trickling into her eyes and blinding her vision. Another bout of vomit spewed from her mouth and she pressed her hands into the mud and dirt to keep her torso up.

The dizziness prevailed again and she lost her balance, falling face first to the ground. Only the blanket protected her body from the storm as she lay there.

Tim, seeing that his cell phone was now useless, sprinted his way back to the car. His lungs begged for oxygen, but Tim wasn't going to rest until he'd returned to the wrecked vehicle. It wasn't so much because he wanted to get out of the rain, though that was part of it; mostly, he wanted to get back because Ziva was hurt and he was the only one who could help her. They had no means of communication, no help…nothing except each other.

"Ziva?" he asked as he carefully traipsed down to where the car now sat. The door was open and he was sure he had left it closed. A peek inside showed the car to be empty. "Ziva! If you can, answer me!"

The woman heard him and pushed herself up uneasily. "Tim," she called out weakly. "I am over here."

He followed her voice to the other side of the car and saw Ziva lying in the mud with what looked like fresh vomit covering the ground beside her. "Ziva! What are you doing?"

"Where did you go?" she asked. "I woke up…and you weren't here. I thought you…you were hurt, so I came to look."

"Did you throw up?"

"A bit. Where did you go?" she repeated.

"I wanted to get a signal on my phone to call for help."

"And?"

"I got the signal, but my phone died on me," he said, hanging his head in shame. He felt that he had let her down.

If Ziva blamed Tim for their predicament, she didn't say so. All she said was, "Tim...it is cold."

Tim slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her up. Ziva wasn't a heavy woman, nor was Tim a weak man; he was, however, a very tired man at this point and he struggled as he carried her back to the car. Ziva remained almost motionless, her head resting against him. Her only movements were her breathing and her harsh shivering.

"We need to warm you up," Tim said as he replaced her in the back seat. The car hadn't run out of gas yet, so they still had heat for the time being.

"And you," she said between chattering teeth.

"Don't worry about me. Now we need to get you out of those wet clothes."

"Trying to undress me, Timothy," she said in an attempt to lighten the situation. She didn't feel much like laughing at the moment, though.

"The clothes are soaked," he said as he pulled off every bit of her clothing, all the way down to her socks. He placed them on the front seat and turned back to Ziva, now naked save for the dirty blanket. Tim wished she hadn't gotten it wet, but it could still serve its purpose.

"And now you," she told him.

"Ziva, this isn't the time."

"No," she said in frustration, "I did not mean that! You get out of those wet clothes. If we press ourselves together and wrap the blanket around us, our body heat will keep us warm."

Tim blushed. Why hadn't he thought of that?

After adding his clothing to the pile on the front seat, Tim lay down in the back seat. It was a tight fit as he was very tall, but he twisted and contorted his body to fit. Then, he pulled Ziva down atop him. She spread the blanket out and tried to wrap it around both of them. She then rested her head against his bare chest. Her hair was wet and cold, but he didn't complain.

"You know what?" he said softly after the couple had settled themselves down.

"What?" she asked, her voice just as soft.

"This is the first time we've both been naked and pressed together...and I haven't really wanted to have sex."

Ziva offered a laugh, though it sounded almost like a sob. "At this moment, I could not agree more."