I see a few more chapters in the future before wrapping it up. Enjoy! And, as always, please review.

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Floating. The sensation was alarming yet soothing. Voices floated. Her thoughts drifted. Hell, even her body felt lighter than air.

A familiar voice rasped somewhere in the distance. "When is she going to wake up, Doc?"

An unfamiliar voice quietly replied with strained patience. "As I've already explained before, Ms. David's body underwent a lot of trauma in the past several days. She is dealing with internal damage, a gunshot wound to the arm, and a concussion. She also had to be revived twice. After her surgery, we kept her in a drug-induced coma while she was in critical condition to allow her body to begin repairing some of the worst damage. Now that she is stable and off of the pentobarbital, it is up to Ms. David when she wakes.

Gibbs took a sip of the tepid liquid from the small Styrofoam cup, his third already of the morning. His mounting frustration was out of concern for his daughter, and the doctor did not deserve his wrath. So he simply nodded and said, "Ok." The doctor turned and left.

Another familiar voice drifted through, close. Ziva swore she felt it reverberate in her heart. "Boss. What if she doesn't…?"

"She will DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped. He took his final sip and leveled a glare at his senior field agent. "I didn't give her permission." And with that he turned. "I need more coffee."

A heavy sigh floated over her. Then her hand lifted. She couldn't tell if it was of her own accord or not until she felt warmth fill her palm. "Ziva, Ziva, Ziva. Please wake up. I got your letter and I forgive you. Please, just come back to me."

Tony rested his forehead on their entwined hands. "I thought I knew what scared was when we found you, Ziva." His own thoughts drifted back to four days ago when they arrived at the safehouse in Leipzig.

They sped down the dirt road that led to the safehouse, coming across the abandoned SUV. As they stopped less than twenty yards from the front of the house, the four men found the front porch charred, the windows shot out, and a body lying among the debris. They exited their vehicle, guns drawn. Gibbs automatically took point, signaling for Tony and McGee to enter the front, while he and Malachi circled around back.

Knowing that Ziva was not expecting them and unsure if any other explosives were rigged, they entered cautiously, clearing each room. Toward the back of the house, they met up with Malachi, and discovered two more bodies. However, the one person they were desperately searching for was still missing, and none of the bodies were Mishnev. Tony turned to Malachi, "Where's Gibbs?"

"He split off. Headed into the woods. Ordered me to help clear the house, make sure you were alright."

Tony leveled a hard glare at the Israeli. "And you listened? Standard operating procedure – you never leave your partner."

Malachi challenged. "Military training – always follow your superior's orders. Agent Gibbs has point. He issued an order. I followed."

"You may not like them, but you follow them," replayed from years before. Tony turned away from the other two men, mumbling, "Damn Mossad train…" A distant gunshot from outside had all of the agents spinning and aiming their weapons. They proceeded out the back door, noticing the droplets of blood and the footprints leading into the treeline. Following the partially hidden trail, they proceeded with hurried caution. "Boss?!" Tony called out. No answer. He called again, a little more sharply, "Boss?!" The three agents rounded a corner of the trail, weapons still raised, when they came to a dead stop.

Mishnev laid in the middle of the trail, unfocused eyes staring blankly up at the treetops, a growing pool of dark red blood blending with the dark brown mud and leaves he rested on. Tony couldn't help the relief that flicked through him at the sight of the deceased. Then he took in the sight at the edge of the trail – Gibbs bent over a prone figure, applying first aid and mumbling demands mixed with coaxes.

"Ziva!" Tony sprinted the remaining distance, dropping to his knees on her other side. "Ziva?"

"She's alive DiNozzo," Gibbs reassured, as McGee and Malachi approached. They continued to scan the area, unsure if there were any more assailants.

"We need to get her to a hospital. Now."

"Already called Ramstein. Chopper is on the way with a medic, about twenty minutes out." Gibbs assessed Ziva with clouded worry. Tony began lifting the hem of her shirt, searching for her earlier wounds. "What are you doing, DiNozzo?" Gibbs questioned.

"She was stabbed in Metz. She said she needed medical attention the last time we spoke. For Ziva to admit that, it has to be ba…" Tony momentarily halted his search as his head snapped forward violently. He couldn't recall a more vicious head slap.

"If you ever hold something like that out on me again, DiNozzo, your head will roll next time. You got me?" Gibbs finished with his finger just inches from his senior field agent's face.

Tony considered if the tables had been turned, how he would have felt not knowing the truth, and realized, Gibbs was right. "Sorry, Boss." He continued his search, lifting the hem until her vest was revealed. "Thank God," he mumbled, unzipping her coat and using his knife to cut open the front of her shirt. The men noticed the bullets embedded in the vest, and exchanged knowing glances. Had Ziva not been wearing the protective gear, they would have found her dead.

With the vest unvelcroed and the front flap at least lifted over her head, Tony gently raised her undershirt, finding the two wounds open and bleeding. But, what caused both men to gasp and swear aloud were the angry, deep purple bruises already painting her midsection from the most recent assault.

A dangerous threat escaped the depths of Tony's dark side. "It's a good thing that bastard is dead."

Gibbs gently probed her abdomen. "Couple broken ribs. Probably some internal bleeding." He bowed his head, "Dammit, Ziva."

A soft groan escaped Ziva's lips as her head rolled ever so slightly. "Ziva? Come on Sweetcheeks. Wake up." Tony chanced a glance at Gibbs. He was met with a knowing look. "I love you, Ziva. Stay with me. Please." Tony's brow furrowed as he finished his plea. He reached for the side of her head that had been revealed by her slight movement. "Boss? She has a head injury, too." Tony raised his hand, showing the blood that covered his fingers. Glancing around, he spotted a rock smeared with a small amount of blood about a foot away. "When is that chopper supposed to be here?" he asked, unable to hide the urgency he felt.

"We need to get her to the field. You two," Gibbs looked directly at McGee and Malachi, "back to the house. Find something we can use as a gurney. Watch your six."

After thirteen agonizing minutes, the chopper landed. They loaded Ziva. Then, everyone else but Malachi boarded. "I need to stay and take care of this," he shouted above the roar of the rotors. "I will drive the car back to Ramstein. Just let them know that I'm coming." Gibbs replied with a simple nod and indicated to the pilot that they were ready.

Tony lifted his head. "Then, on that chopper…"

"Clear!" Ziva's body convulsed violently. The medic resumed chest compressions as the portable AED whined, racing to charge again. Gibbs held two fingers on her wrist, willing a throbbing to challenge the pressure he was applying. "Clear!"

"…I realized a whole new level of scared." He brought her hand to his lips. "I lost you, Ziva. For real. You were gone. And my heart… Mine stopped, too." He brushed his lips over her knuckles. "And now you're still scaring me. Come on, Zi. Come back to me."

The sound of someone clearing their throat startled Tony, and he turned quickly. Malachi stood at the door. "I just finished a debriefing with Agent Gibbs and the directors, and I wanted to come and say goodbye to Ziva before I returned to Israel."

Tony was reluctant to release Ziva's hand and leave the room, but he knew he owed Malachi this. He kissed her forehead, and turned for the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, passing the other agent.

Malachi nodded and proceeded to Ziva's bedside, taking up residence where Tony sat just moments before. He picked up the hand that was still warm from Tony's touch. Then, "The Rhinmakov's are safe and grateful to you, Ziva. They send their thanks."

After another long pause, he continued. "Remember when we finished our Mossad training, we were sent on our first undercover mission together? I tried to remain unaffected by you. We were trained to not allow such emotions to interfere with the mission. But, I couldn't help what I felt. You on the other hand, you were able to always remain focused, always get the job done. I admired that about you, and eventually came to understand and embrace the reasons behind our ruthless training."

Another pause as Malachi took Ziva's hand in his. "I understand your need for change. To change. And, I admire your determination. I am happy for you, Ziva. Love for Mossad agents, active or retired, is a hard feat. I've known for a long time that you loved him. Maybe longer than you did. And I've seen the love he carries for you. I wish you nothing but the best, my friend. Please, just wake up, so that you may enjoy what you so desperately deserve."

This time, Malachi turned to find Tony standing in the doorway, clearing his throat. He returned his attention to Ziva. "I believe he wants his seat back," Malachi whispered with a grin. "Kol tuv, chaverá," he offered with a final squeeze of her hand.

Tony approached the other man and held out his hand. "Thank you for your help."

Malachi nodded as he accepted his hand. "Shalom, Tony. Take good care of her." Tony nodded in return.

Ziva felt the warmth return to her palm, felt the peace return with it. She was tired and allowed her body to take over, drifting off yet again.

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"…always had my suspicions about you two. Then when Tony returned from Israel and you didn't… he was different. We knew for sure then." His voice drifted in, the nervousness she heard in it strangely reassuring. "I'm happy for you both, even if it is a little disturbing. I mean he's like the older, know-it-all-I'm-going-to-torture-you-every-second-I-can brother I never had, and you are like my other younger, rebellious sister. I'm not sure how I feel about my 'adopted siblings' getting together, but, well…"

"Enough rambling, McNervous," Tony said as he approached her bedside. He laid a hand on Tim's shoulder. "Thanks for watching over her for a couple of minutes."

McGee gave a single nod. "She should be awake by now Tony. It's been six days. What has Ducky said?"

Tony sighed, dragging a hand down the length of his face tiredly. "Gibbs said the Duckman said that it could take up to two weeks and in some extreme cases, longer, for a patient to wake from a coma who has gone through what she has."

McGee returned his attention to Ziva for a moment, leaning down close to her ear. "As long as you're happy, sis," he finished his earlier thought as he laid a feather-light kiss on her temple. Turning to Tony, he reminded him, "If you need another break, just let me know Tony. I'm going to go Skype Abby, give her an update."

"Thanks again, Tim. For everything."

She was upset to hear his voice drift away, but relieved to have Tony back. "I'm here, Sweetcheeks. Ready to wake up yet?" he whispered by her ear, waiting. Then his voice seemed to drift away like fall leaves on the current of a calm stream. "I'll be right here when you are."

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A tennis match. That's what it seemed like as she laid there. A question from the left, an answer from the right. A question, an answer, a comment. "Maybe we should transport her home, Boss. It's been seven days."

"Doctor won't release her, DiNozzo."

Tony stared at Ziva, jaw tightening, then loosening. Gibbs stared at Tony, waiting patiently for the next question. When Tony met his eyes, he didn't hesitate. "Boss? You ok with me marrying Ziva?"

"You asking my permission Tony? Rule twelve is no longer in play here."

"This has nothing to do with the rules, Gibbs. You're the only father she has left. I'm asking for your permission."

"And if I say 'no'?" Gibbs countered.

Ziva couldn't believe the direction the conversation floating above her took. She couldn't take anymore. Tony and Gibbs were having a discussion that her and Tony should be having, or at the very least include her.

Tony stared, unsure of which direction to take the exchange.

"Relax, DiNozzo. I saw the writing on the wall a long…" He stopped speaking when he noticed Tony's expression. His eyes were trained on Ziva's face, searching. "Tony? What is it?"

"I swear, I just felt her squeeze my fingers. It wasn't much, Boss, but there was pressure."

Both men stood, bent over Ziva, their heads almost touching as they stared down at her face looking for any signs of consciousness. "Ziva? Ziva? Can you hear me? Come on, Zi. We need you to wake up."

"Ziver, squeeze Tony's hand again or my hand if you can hear us." After a few seconds, blue eyes snapped up to meet green, and both agents wore relieved grins. "I'll get the doctor," Gibbs announced excitedly.