I cannot do this without you.
If she thinks it hard enough, will he hear?
He seems so still lying there.
She takes a breath, releases it in a shaky gasp. Beside her, the machine pumps breath after breath into him. Irrationally she wonders if she saves her breaths, with the less oxygen she inhales there will be more for him to take a breath on his own. She squeezes her eyes shut as the sound of gunfire swells in her ears. It had been so loud in the warehouse. All she can remember is following the sound of his voice.
Ziva, look out!
She can't live without him, and it terrifies her and leaves her in awe; it happened slowly and all at once, how he intertwined himself with her, became her entire world. She feels it overwhelm her.
But she knows how this goes.
If she admits it allowed, surely he will be taken from her. She presses her lips even tighter together to avoid the temptation of admitting her great weakness. How can she hear him so clearly in her head?
It's not a weakness, Ziva. It's a strength.
That was his argument so many months ago. The night they finally gave in.
What had they been arguing about this morning? It seemed so trivial now. Does he know she doesn't care? She just needs him to open his eyes. What she would give up, if only he would wake. What are you waiting for? She wants to ask, demands with pleading eyes. Her gaze travels over his still frame, the hospital bed seems to swallow him whole. Are you waiting for me to admit it? She wonders helplessly. Her hand clutches tighter around his. Does she imagine the flutter of his fingers? She takes another, heavy breath. Drops her head to his shoulder peaking out from the hospital issued cotton. "I need you," she whispers aloud at last. Her voice full of conviction. "You promised to come back."
Come back.
"You could have died."
He would feel guilty for the tears she tries to hide, with her face pressed into his neck. But he knows all too well how he would have fared had she not made it. He's been there before. "You would have." As weak as he feels, he puts an emphasis on the statement, daring her to disagree. She would have had he not acted.
She slaps at his arm weakly, no malice in the gesture. With all the drugs he was on, he's sure he would still feel a true punch from the retired ninja. She mumbles something against his neck, her breath hot and her lips searching. He smiles at the silent Why? her mouth presses into his skin. He knows she would sacrifice herself to save him without a thought in the world. How does she still not understand he returns that feeling, tenfold? "Because," he sighs, gripping her to his body tighter. "Couldn't live without you, I guess."