AN: Just to clarify, these drabbles are connected. They will form one story.
...Of the Chase
It happens suddenly. Their suspects split, running in opposite directions. She takes one, he takes the other. There is no discussion needed. Professionally they are perfectly in sync.
His guy's heart must not really be into this whole "running from federal agents" thing, because he is easy to catch. Easy to subdue. He is cuffed and Tony stands. Ready to help his partner. Ready to gloat that she may be younger, but he is still faster.
Words wither on the tip of his tongue. He is watching her, and he sees what she misses.
It happens suddenly. Her guy stops, and Tony can tell she thinks it is because the suspect has given up. He finds his words just as the man she thinks she has captured brandishes the sharp, glinting metal he's been hiding all along.
His warning is too late, but he still believes it will be okay. You can't beat Ziva with a knife. Knives are her friends.
The man starts slashing and Tony's world turns red.
Knives are no one's friends.
And he is on his way to her, batting aside thoughts that he can't run fast enough, can't shoot straight enough.
He will not lose her. Not now.
Not in the middle of the chase.