Disclaimer: For the millionth time, no!

New chapter :)

Thank you so much for all your reviews! They make my day and motivate me to keep writing

Okay, now, anyone who doesn't want an awesome as TIVA spoiler look away now. For all who do, get excited!

SPOILER:

Question: The latest we've heard about Tony and Ziva on NCIS is Shane Brennan stating that their relationship will remain status quo. Please tell me they're not ending Tiva? —Jamie

Ausiello: Strange. That seems to contradict what I'm hearing. According to my hairy NCIS mole, the Jan. 26 episode finds Tony and Ziva hopping a plane to the City of Love. That's right, Tiva takes on Paris! And would you believe the hotel screws up their reservation and they end up sharing a room together? What are the odds?!

I don't think I need to tell you how totally excited I am! Bring on January 26! :D :D :D Yay TIVA! Now, onto the story.

As always, enjoy. :)

"Tony?"

She was alarmed. This was the first thing that struck him from his semi-conscious state. Not the words, but the tone. Ziva David was most definitely panicked. At least a little. And that was somewhat worrying. Ziva didn't panic.

He felt the pressure of two fingers on his neck.

"Tony?"

It was a bit louder this time, and right next to his ear. He could feel her hot breath on his exposed skin.

"Tony!" she finally shouted.

"Ughhh," he moaned and slowly cracked open one eye. The light hurt so he closed it again and spoke quietly, "What the hell happened?"

"What happened?" she asked rhetorically, and now he could not only hear the panic in her voice, but also the anger. A bright red warning sign flashed in his mind.

Step back, Tony, it warned. A pissed Ziva is never a safe Ziva.

"What happened?!" she said again.

Tony opted for silence.

"What happened, Tony, is that you crashed our car in the middle of nowhere and we have no way of getting out of here!" She paused for effect. "Oh, and yeah, we just came from one massive-ass shootout so Gibbs and the others will probably assume we are dead."

And then it all came back to him. Shooting, Running, Ziva...

With a renewed sense of panic, he tried to push up, but found that something was holding him back. He finally opened his eyes and saw Ziva hovering over him, her hand on his chest.

"I wouldn't recommend trying to get up," she said, dead serious. "If you injuries don't kill you, I will."

"Ziva!" he said urgently, ignoring her threat and pushing up anyway. She pushed him back down. "Your leg..."

Her eyes dropped to her thigh momentarily, which was out of his sight, then flicked back up to Tony. "It is fine," she said.

"You were shot!" Tony persisted. "How in hell can it be fine?"

She waved her hand, and Tony noticed it was covered in blood.

"Ziva..." he said again, his eyes unconsciously following her conspicuously crimson hand.

"Tony..." she mocked, her hand still firmly on his chest, holding him back in the seat.

Damn, she's strong, he thought.

He looked her in the face then, and for the first time realized how sickly she looked. Her usually flawless tan skin was now pale and sweaty, and her hair was slick with a mixture of sweat and blood.

"Ziva, your leg," he said again.

Sighing, she removed her hand from his chest and pulled herself up slightly so he could see.

He felt sick. Not because of what he could see, but because of what he couldn't see. Her entire thigh was covered in blood. Thankfully, though, it seemed to have stopped flowing for now.

"It is really fine," she said, her voice cutting into his thoughts. "I have checked it." She pulled the material of her pants to one side and he could see that she had sliced the pant leg up the seam with her knife. If the situation weren't so damn life threatening he would probably have made some obscene comment about her tearing her clothes off for him.

"It looked worse than it was. It wasn't through and through," she said. "It was just a glancing shot. Hit the side of my leg. Bled a lot, but I'll be fine."

Tony inspected the wound for a moment longer, ensuring that what she had said was actually correct, and then turned away, apparently satisfied that for now, at least, she wasn't dying.

She let the pant leg fall back over the wound and put her hand back onto Tony's chest.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked tiredly.

She sucked in a breath, but didn't remove her hand. "You probably can't feel it, because you are in shock-"

He cut in, indignant. "I am not in shock!"

She ignored him and continued, "Which is a physiological response to trauma, and there is so much adrenalin coursing through your veins that you are unable to really feel the full extent of your injuries yet."

"Injuries?" he asked. "I'm fine. I don't have any-"

"The car hit the tree mainly on your side," she continued, all clinical, as if giving a sit-rep, "so I escaped relatively unharmed."

"Relatively?"

"Cuts and bruises," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Yeah, and that bullet wound," he pointed out.

"Glancing wound," she corrected. "And that I had before you went and crashed our car."

"I didn't-"

"As I was saying," she said, raising her voice to cover his protests, "I am fine." She said the last word pointedly.

"Ziva," Tony cut in again. "You could be lying in a ditch somewhere, blind, with no arms and no legs, and still say you were fine. That word had lost its meaning completely."

She huffed. "Shut up and let me finish!"

He clamped his mouth shut deliberately in a mocking fashion, and opened his eyes very wide to show he was paying attention.

She rolled her eyes. "Child," she muttered under her breath.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she held her finger up.

"Shut it!"

He obeyed sullenly.

"Now, Tony," she said. "I want you to keep very still, okay, because if you move, I promise you your body is going to register some of that lovely pain that the shock-" she said 'shock' pointedly, "-is currently preventing you from feeling."

"Ziva," he said, suddenly serious. "What the hell is wrong with me? Is it life-threatening?"

Ziva shook her head. "No..." she said. "More, just, painful." Her eyes flicked down and to the right, where his arm was. "And disgusting."

He furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Nothing," she said. "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You have already shown you can move your neck, so I am going to say that is not broken. If you can, without moving the rest of your body, I want you to look down at your right arm."

Very slowly, dreading what he might see, he did.

"Holy shit!" he began, his eyes wide. "How the hell am I not feeling that?"

"I told you-"

"Yeah, yeah, shock, blah, blah, adrenalin, etcetera, etcetera..." he said quickly, mashing some of the words together, his eyes never leaving his arm.

It was just below his elbow. In the accident, his elbow had smashed against the side of the car with such force that the two bones in his forearm had snapped. When they snapped, his elbow had still been pushing against the car door, and as a result, the two snapped ends of the bones had broken through his skin.

"That is really very gross," he continued. "Bones should definitely stay inside the body." He attempted a weak smile.

"You are joking at a time like this?" Ziva said in disbelief.

"No time like the present."

She shook her head. "I do not understand you."

"Not many do," he said. "I'm just cool like that."

"I have another word for it."

He ignored her quip. "So what are we going to do about this?" he asked, gesturing with his head to his arm. Then he looked down at her hand, which was still on his chest. He cleared his throat. "Uh, you can probably remove that now," he said. "I'm in no immediate hurry to go anywhere."

She followed his eyes to her hand. "Oh," she said, mildly awkward. "Right, sorry." She pulled her hand away and settled back in her seat.

"Don't apologize," he said automatically. "Sign of-"

"Weakness, I know," she finished.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, "So?" Tony said. "What's the plan?"

She steeled her features and took a breath. "If your arm stays like that for too much longer you will definitely start to feel it and..." she trailed off.

"What?" he asked, confused.

She breathed out and cringed slightly. "You run the risk of losing it."

"My arm?!" he yelped. "No! I need my arm!"

"Tony, I know," she said. "That's why I hope you won't hate me for what I need to do next."

He stared at her. "Ziva," he said cautiously; slowly and deliberately. "What are you planning?"

"We have some pretty strong painkillers in our first aid kit…" she continued. "But," she hesitated, "it is still going to hurt, Tony. A lot."

"Ziva," he said again. "What are you talking about?"

"I have done it before. Once, in Mossad. The guy had fallen during a training exercise in the woods and the only help was hours away-"

"Ziva! You're rambling."

"Right," she said, wringing her hands. Then she leant over the back of the car, ignoring the immense pain in her body, and grabbed the first aid kit in the back seat. She wouldn't let on, but she'd been in a lot of pain since the accident. More than she knew was acceptable from her injuries. Nevertheless, Tony was the main concern at present.

"You know I can see your ass right now," Tony said, drawing her from her thoughts.

She smirked, despite their situation. "Good," she said, grabbing the kit and taking her seat once again. "Think about that while I do this."

"Yeah, about that," Tony said. "What is it you're doing again?"

She rummaged through the first aid kit. The supplies were the bare minimum. Figures, she thought and pulled out a bottle of painkillers. She put two in his left hand.

"Take these."

He just stared at the pills. "How many do we have of these, Ziva?" he said slowly.

"Does it matter?"

He pushed them back to her. "I can't take these," he said. "I'm not even in that much pain," he lied. "You take them."

"I am fine!"

"Liar," he said. "I saw you cringe when you grabbed the kit."

She rubbed her face tiredly. "Tony," she said in a measured tone. "It is my intention to manipulate your arm and snap it back into place. It will be incredibly painful, but it is necessary if you wish to keep your arm. I strongly suggest you take the pills."

The blood drained from his face. "Oh god…" he said softly, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Still, he didn't take the pills. "If that's what you're going to do then these wont help at all. We might as well save them."

Ziva glared at him and took the pills from him hand. Then, before he could react, she pulled his jaw open and shoved them in his mouth, holding it shut until he swallowed.

She let go and he spluttered. "You just wasted two perfectly good pain pills!"

"Not a waste," she said simply.

He wanted to disagree with her, but the pills were already taking effect. Despite himself, he welcomed a little relief.

"Ready?" Ziva asked, suddenly very nervous.

Tony swallowed and nodded.

She took a breath. "Okay," she said, looking around. "Grab the bottom of the chair with your left hand. Grip as tightly as you can."

He obeyed.

"Now," she said, and after a moment of contemplation, pulled her sweater over her head, leaving her in only a tank top.

"I get a show too?" Tony said, a weak attempt at humour.

Ziva folded the sweater. "Perhaps later if you're lucky," she said, humoring him.

Tony grinned slightly, but it faded.

"Okay," Ziva said. "Bite down on this." She held out her sweater.

He eyed the dirty, sweaty garment. "I'd rather not."

"Tony," she sighed. "Stop being argumentative."

"I like being argumentative." He was stalling. They both knew it. He looked at her and sighed. "Okay," he said, and she put it in his mouth.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she said absently, examining his arm.

He spat out the sweater. "What?"

She shoved it back in, annoyed. "Gag you," she said.

He glared at her.

"Okay," she said shakily. "Ready?"

He nodded.

She took a breath. "I'm sorry for this," she said, taking hold of his arm.

Then she jerked her arm violently and his made a sickening crack that she would never get out of her head.

A/N: So, what did you think? Good, bad, so-so? Comments, queries, suggestions, criticism?

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