First off, thank you for everyone for defending my story in the reviews- it was really sweet!
So, this will probably end up being four chapters. I want to apologize if not everything is inaccurate, especially the medical scenes. If you do notice inaccuracies, please nicely let me know what could change so it's correct.
If Tony DiNozzo didn't know any better, he'd have sworn that the weather on the way from Washington D.C. to Tel Aviv had somehow been stuck in a time freeze or something similar, because it was almost exactly the same as it had been a month after leaving Ziva behind in Israel: cold, damp and overcast as he left the States, gradually turning to bright, dry and (presumably) hot as he neared the Middle East. It was if the weather was doing its best to contradict his currently dark mood.
Unconsciously, his fingers worked their way into the pocket in the inner lining of his suit, searching until they closed upon the object resting within. Tony pulled out the golden Star of David and held it before his eyes, watching the bright sunlight from the open window reflect off its brilliant surface. He remembered the last time he had seen the very same necklace resting in the gap where Ziva's sharp collarbones met, gleaming, always gleaming, against her olive-colored skin.
The recollection smashed open the emotional dam he had built to keep back the memories and feelings of Ziva's unexpected and horrifying call. His head dropped into his hands and a soft groan was unwittingly uttered as he recalled Ziva's strained voice, the note of agony evident even in the few words she managed, and the shock from those very words.
No…time…been…shot…
Even before her last sigh he had been at McGee's desk, having the tech-savvy agent trace the call. McGee had found her cell in Beersheba, where they had quickly found out that she was in surgery at the Soroka Mecical Center. Within two hours of the trace, he was on a flight to Tel Aviv. Beyond that, he had heard nothing on Ziva's condition.
"Sir, are you okay?" The concerned voice of the flight attendant broke through his scrambled revere, and he quickly wiped a hand across his face to regain his composure.
"Yeah." His voice came out weak and hoarse. Quickly he cleared his throat. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good." He tried a small smile, which he was sure came out more like a grimace, but if the flight attendant noticed, she thankfully didn't press him further.
"Just let me know if you need anything, sir," she said, still looking concerned. As she went further down the aisle, Tony leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes, vainly attempting to get some sleep. An unbidden tear slowly worked its way down his face.
Hang on Ziva. Don't lose me.
…..
From Tel Aviv he had little over an hour-long ride to Beersheba, Ziva's childhood home. On the way there, his phone buzzed and he picked it up to see that Adam Eshel, Ziva's Mossad contact/one-time lover had texted him. The message was brief.
Out of surgery. Stable for now. Rm 113.
The relief Tony felt was so profound it was like a blow to the chest. Whatever happened, however things ended up, Ziva was alive, and that was all that truly mattered to him at that point. He quickly tapped out a reply- Thank you. Will be there soon. Keep me posted- then looked out the window, silently urging his driver to go faster.
…..
Sixty-one minutes later, Tony arrived at the intensive care unit of Soroka Medical Center. After flashing his badge and ID to the attendant at the front desk, he was led to Ziva's room, where two armed officers barred the doorway. Again, Tony brought out his ID and badge, but this time it took longer for him to get through- the officers took what felt like forever checking his credentials; Tony was glad for their thoroughness, but he was ready to scream with frustration, worry and fear. Luckily, the guards cleared his ID and finally, finally, let him through the door. Tony managed two steps before stopping dead in this tracks, feeling, for the second time, as if something had struck him in the chest.
The scene before him looked so wrong.
Ziva was nearly lost in the mess of tubes, wires, tape and blankets that surrounded and went into her body. She didn't even look human anymore with the breathing tube running into her mouth, three different IV lines in her arms and a mass of electrodes attached to the upper part of her chest. Her skin was pale her hair was a mess, and her face had grown sunken and haggard.
When did she get so small?! Tony thought, sagging against the doorframe. He couldn't remember her being that way- she had always seemed so strong, so fast, so powerful that her smaller stature was easily missed by him. But now she looked so petite and fragile that he thought that if he breathed too hard she might shatter into a million fragmented pieces. On unsteady feet he made his way over to the bed, but even then he couldn't bring himself to touch her. It was if Ziva might disintegrate the instant his fingers came in contact with her skin.
Footsteps echoed behind him and Tony turned, his hand automatically sliding to where his gun should have been (and wasn't, of course). He knew that the officers posted outside her room were there to protect Ziva, but his own protective nature for his partner remained instinctive. Adam Eshel stood at the door, his arms crossed defensively over his chest, his face completely devoid of any emotion until his eyes fell on Ziva. Then the slightest hint of sorrow entered his brown orbs.
"The bullet hit her fifth rib. Shattered her rib, ricocheted up into her left ventricle along with several bone fragments, and eventually exited out of her back. The damage was extensive; it took the duration of your plane ride here to…" Adam stopped when Tony held up his hand.
"Please…not…not now. What… what's going to happen to her?" Tony murmured. The question seemed to shake Adam's composure, and he quickly ran a hand over his face.
"It is… not as good as it could be. Ziva survived the shooting and the resulting surgery, but as of now, she is unable to breathe on her own. She was put in a medically induced coma to help her manage pain and let her heal. The doctors hope that she will be able to wake up on her own within a few hours, but they do not know exactly when she will wake."
"Do they know who shot her?" Tony reached out towards Ziva, but he still could not bring himself to touch her skin.
"No, but Mossad suspects that the shooter was connected to either the Brotherhood of Doubt or someone connected to Bodnar's group. We are still looking." Adam crossed his arms once more and then nodded towards Ziva's prone body. In a softer tone, he murmured, "You should talk to her, touch her. Familiarity might help her… come back, especially the man she loves." Tony looked up, startled.
"Please." Adam rolled his eyes. "You do not get to where I am without learning to notice these things. The man she loves- truly loves- has been her partner for eight years." Adam seemed somewhat abashed by his speech, for a tinge of red showed up on his face, and he shuffled his feet for a moment. Then, after a pause of a few seconds, he reached forward to clap Tony on his shoulder.
"I will have a cot brought here. Her primary doctor's name is Dr. Hayyim and her nurse is Tikva. They both speak English- most of the staff here do. There is a cafeteria two halls down, or, if you are not up for processed cardboard, the food court on campus opens at seven. Take care of Ziva." With that, Adam was gone, pausing only to speak to one of the nurses outside.
Tony pulled an uncomfortable- looking chair over to Ziva's bedside and sank down into it with a deep sigh. He stared at the opposite wall for several long minutes, and then finally reached out and closed his hand over Ziva's. Her hand felt warm, dry and papery with a slow pulse, but it was Ziva nonetheless. He used the knuckle of his other hand to brush away an errant curl that clung defiantly to her cheek. Then he began to talk.
"Do you remember the first we met Ziva? I do. I was getting over… over Kate. And you were so… brazen. Damn, I couldn't believe how you talked to me! You know, your hair was shorter then. Darker, too. And that purple headscarf you wore- do you remember that? You know, McGee has that now- Abby gave it to him. He doesn't like it if people know about it, but I've seen it in his desk drawer. He touches it from time to time when he thinks no one is looking. I can't say I blame him" As he talked, Tony rubbed his hand over Ziva's side, where he felt a slight raised lump against her gown- the bandages used to bind her wound. Swallowing back a fresh wave of tears, Tony started a new story, this time about when he had first experienced Ziva's driving. When that story was finished, he continued, finding new stories and thoughts. He talked until his throat was raw, talked until exhaustion and jet lag drove him onto the scratchy cot where he fell into an uneasy sleep, still clutching Ziva's limp hand.
…..
The shrill beeping of a powerful alarm woke Tony. Panicked, he shot upright, one hand swinging defensively, the other frantically searching for his non-existent gun. It took him several seconds to remember where he was, the unfamiliar surroundings only adding to his confusion and frenzy. Just as he was starting to bring himself to a calmer state, a strangled gurgle joined the alarm, barely audible above the sharp beeping, and Tony looked down to see Ziva, wide awake and clearly in agony, tearing at the breathing tube in her mouth.
"Ziva, no!" he cried, rushing forward. He kept his hands off of her, knowing full well that touching her would likely exasperate the situation. Instead, he kept his body well within her line of sight, held his hands at mid-level and spoke as soothingly as he could. "Ziva, it's okay, you're okay. It's me, Tony. You're in a hospital, you're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you. I know that tube's uncomfortable, and I know you're in a lot of pain, but you can't be helped if you keep fighting."
Ziva's chest continued to rise and fall rapidly, and it was clearly evident from the look on her face that she was in an incredible amount of pain, but slowly she let her hands drop from the plastic intrusion, although they remained tightly balled into fists. Tony carefully reached out with one hand and rested it lightly on his partner's shoulder. Ziva flinched, but made no move to force his hand away, even starting to relax somewhat. Unheard in all of the commotion, two woman stepped up to Ziva's side. The taller of the pair, a dark-skinned woman with close-cut black hair wearing a white lab coat spoke in clipped and accented English. "Ziva, I am Dr. Hayyim. I understand that you are likely in a great deal of pain right now, but I am going to ask you to try and relax as much as you can so that Tikva and I can take your breathing tube out." Ziva nodded curtly and slowed her breathing. Dr. Hayyim and Tivka worked quickly, pulling the breathing tube out and replacing it with a nasal cannula. Ziva coughed and gagged a few times- each a weak, raspy sound- and then settled back onto her pillows, her eyelids dropping. The doctor gently shook Ziva's shoulder.
"Stay awake for me Ziva, just a little while longer. I need to check your wound and make sure your stitches are not torn. Can you lift your arms for me?" Ziva complied, pulling her arms over head. Dr. Hayymin started to pull up Ziva's gown and Tony quickly averted his gaze. He listened to the rustle of cloth, murmured Hebrew and then Dr. Hayyim said, "Good, your stitches are still in place. You have to be careful, however, as they can still tear if you put too much stress on them. Stay off of that side and limit your movements. For now, you are confined to the bed, and we will see if you can make short trips in a day or two." There was more rustling, then Tikva pointed out the various buttons for pain relievers, moving the bed and calling the nurse. Both women bade Tony and Ziva goodbye with Dr. Hayyim sternly ordering Ziva to get some sleep.
Once the doctor and nurse were gone, Ziva adjusted herself on the bed and let out a low groan. Tony looked at her sharply, worried about how she was doing.
"Are you alright? Do you need those pain meds? Should I call…"
"Tony." It was the first word Ziva had spoken since the phone call, and it actually made him jump. Her voice was much softer than normal, and he could hear a slightly strained note of pain in it. Still, her mouth was quirked upwards, and he could see a glint in her eyes. "I am fine. I hurt, yes, but I will live." She reached out with one hand and cupped his cheek. "Thank you," she murmured. His brow furrowed.
"For what?"
"For... for being you. For caring about me. For…"
He stopped her then, leaning down to kiss her on the lips. He heard Ziva's sharp intake of breath, the increase of her heart monitor and then she was reciprocating the kiss, running a hand over his stubble-covered cheek and through his hair. They stayed this way for several seconds, and then broke apart, both smiling softly. Tony wound his fingers through Ziva's own, lifted her hand to his face and brushed his lips over her knuckles. With his other hand, he reached into his inner coat pocket and produced Ziva's Star of David, placing it where she could see it.
"It's about time this came back to you," he said with a roguish grin. "May I?" He motioned in the direction of her neck. Ziva nodded and lifted her head so that he was able to set it around her neck. She placed her free hand on the charm, her eyes sparkling, and then yawned, the day's events clearly catching up to her.
"Sleep." Tony ordered gently, extracting his hand from hers and smoothing away some flyaway curls. "I've got you back Ziva." As she drifted off, he whispered, "Always, love, always."