"I'm falling even more in love with you. Letting go of all I've held onto."- Hanging By A Moment, Lifehouse

Tony had a problem, a growing problem.

Ever since kissing Ziva, sleeping with Ziva, marrying Ziva, he had fallen more and more in love with her.

He was falling faster and faster for a dying woman.

He was burying himself deeper in misery every time he looked across the bullpen, her hair fluffier and more alive as her days became scarce. Or how she would flicker a smile in his direction every time his own grin needed a companion. Her soft kisses in the morning and her gentle massages in the shower. Her eyes that still managed to sparkle in her darkening eye sockets.

He was continuing to love every little detail about her.

And it was breaking his heart.

(Suspects House)

"Officer White, you don't have to do this!" Tony urged the nervous man.

They weren't expected to be welcomed by gunshots, three, through the roof of his condo. Rushing in, they found Officer White greeting them with a revolver. Their guns already drawn, Tony and Ziva stood face to face with the unstable man, suspected for murdering a fellow Officer and with his homicidal actions, probably guilty.

Ziva took a breath; her mark was steady. Her heart, however, was racing. "We just want to talk Michael." she eased him with his first name.

"No, no, no, no. I know what you do with guys like me, you're gunna put me in jail." His voice rose an octave as he spoke, gun now pointed directly at Ziva, who inhaled deeply.

Tony shot a nervous glance towards her, his heart felt like it was in his throat, and his lunch was doing summersaults in his stomach. He had never felt this sick when he was in a situation like this. Danger was his middle name; exhilaration, his first. But now, he had too much to lose, and more time to be spent.

"Michael, we just wanna talk." Tony tried to steady his voice.

The gun was now aimed at him. "You, shut up!" he shouted, pulling down the hammer.

A shot rang out.

"Gah!" Michael winced in pain, falling down, his hand a bloody mess.

Ziva's gun smoked, her face was beautifully stoic. Tony slowly turned his head towards her. She looked at him, but showed no emotion.

Michael still lay on the ground, right hand around his half gone left. "Holy fuck!" he cursed, "My fucking hand." He rocked on his back, eyes and teeth close tight in pain.

Tony holstered his gun, coming towards the man, grabbing a random pillow case that had been left on the couch and wrapping it around his wound. "That bitch shot my hand off."

Ziva walked over to him slowly, taking her phone out and pressing the small two. When she was directly over him, her face still drained of emotion, but his full of pain and anger, she spoke.

"You'll live."

She could have killed him; a shot to the head, to the heart, but she didn't.

And by doing so, she had given him the greatest gift of all.

Life.

(A Few Days Later)

Dawn had broken upon Washington DC and Tony had still not fallen asleep.

Instead, he had spent most of the night holding Ziva tightly in his arms, afraid that if he let go, she would disappear.

She had coughed all night, and moaned and groaned, twisting and turning.

He had tried his best to comfort her, and most of the time, his love had kept her still for a while. But not even the strongest bond of love and compassion can cure cancer, no matter how hard we want it to.

They each had a limited amount of clothes on underneath the comforter that lay on Ziva's bed. She lay on her side, Tony spooning her, his legs intertwined with hers and his body creating a shield around her back.

The skin directly under her eye sockets was starting to turn a soft purple. She was tired most of the time, but her painkillers and natural strength were helping her make it through the day better than most would expect.

He kissed her neck. "Bad day?"

He felt her nod against his shoulder and pressed his nose back against her hair, taking in her warm scent. "I'll be right back." he rose slowly, bound for the kitchen.

She lay tiredly and motionless on the bed. Unable to move; her bones felt weak and her fingers trembled. And even with all her will power, her eyes would not open. She felt like crap, to say the least. It was days like this that reminded her that she could never, would never, go like this; pathetically, weak, and in pain.

Tony was back in record time. Half a dozen or so pills in hand. He turned her around gently and lifted her head up, she groaned tiredly. His throat felt dry, she was in pain, and so was he. After a few minutes that seemed like an hour, the pills had been swallowed and Ziva was lying back down on her side, in the comfort of her husband.

His frown turned into a small smile as she made an effort to snuggle deeper into his embrace. He met her halfway and pulled her closer. "Talk." She let out hoarsely, the words leaving a bitter dryness in her mouth.

He smiled, and began talking.

He talked about everything, he could think of. He spoke about two dozen or so movies, their plot lines becoming a blur in the entanglement of actors and actresses. He spoke about work, about his old cases in Baltimore. He spoke about his childhood (although did not mention his mother's death) and his high school friends. He spoke about TV shows, vacations, embarrassing first dates, anything to keep their minds off of everything else.

Six hours. Tony Dinozzo had spoken for six hours straight. That has to be a record in some country. Ziva has drifted in and out of sleep throughout his conversation with himself. And yet, she had loved it. His voice was warm and comforting, like a putting on an old winter sweater.

Tony had soon found himself asleep, holding Ziva like a childhood teddy bear. When a steady knock on the door had woke him up from his slumber. He glanced at the clock, 6:00 it read; dinner time.

It was Abby, followed a few minutes by McGee, Ducky, and Gibbs. They had brought whatever they had decided to make or was in their fridge. As they got the table ready, Tony tiptoed into the bedroom, now fully clothed.

"Love," he hesitated. "Everyone's hear." he informed her, but she had already heard their voices.

She took a deep breath; he walked over to her side of the bed. "You don't have to if you-"

Her groan interrupted him. "I will." she said meekly.

He slowly helped her out of bed. Refusing to be carried in front of everyone, she used his shoulder as a support and made it to the kitchen, stifling a smile before she sat on the couch. The food had been moved to the coffee table in front of the couch and they all sat Indian style around the table. They asked nothing about how she was feeling, they knew already. Abby gave her as much as a hug as she could and there was some soft shoulder pats from the other men.

They talked for a while; a few stories earning a smile from the tired Ziva. She was able to open her eyes for most of the meal and watch as they all kept a strong smile.

With her head resting on his lap, Tony did not want to get up and disturb her. They saw themselves out, promising they'd be back tomorrow.

Tony brushed a hand through Ziva's hair. She was fast asleep, her eyes heavy with tiredness and her bones sore. She was still losing weight and was wearing baggy clothes to hide it, but it went noticed among the team, and especially Tony. Her face was drained and her hair was dry; her limbs were weak and her lips were now in a frown.

But Tony still found her to be absolutely beautiful.

"I love you." he whispered into her cheek as he leaned down to kiss her.

This wasn't her first bad day, and it certainly wouldn't be her last and Tony was going to make sure he was there for every single one.

And all the days in between.

Review, favorite line and such please.

Sorry if that was a short and kind of rushed chapter but I needed to get it out before I went to sleep or else I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. I'll check my mistakes in the AM so sorry for any grammatical/spelling errors.