Ch. 18 Rough Trip Part 2

Ziva awoke to the sound of water, gently flowing on the edge of her consciousness and the small of wood burning. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking. She then realized two things: it was nighttime and she hurt all over. With a groan, she weakly tried to sit up, finding the task incredibly difficult. Then she felt a hand on her back and she instantly tensed up. The voice that spoke was gentle.

"Easy. I'm just gonna help you sit up." Her muscles relaxed as Tony helped pull her up against a tree. She leaned her head back with a wince and a sigh.

"Here," said Tony handing her three pills. She took them and the waster he offered and swallowed them without question. That clued Tony into how much discomfort she was actually in. Normally, she would have fought him like a bear.

"Sorry they're just regular pain killers. Extra strength, but over the counter. They probably won't do much, but for now it'll have to do." Tony spoke without actually meeting Ziva's eyes.

In truth, he was nervous about her response to him being there. He knew that it was irrational, but he couldn't help it. He'd longed so badly to see Ziva again, but now that he did he didn't know what to do. She was obviously badly hurt and he would do his best to take care of her, but one thought plagued him: What if she doesn't want me here?

Ziva could sense Tony's discomfort and was unsure of what to do. He had made a huge statement back at the camp, but was he willing to follow up on it Ziva wondered.

"I, uh, better check that gunshot wound. And, um, I suppose anything else that needs looking at?" Stated Tony abruptly. His cheeks reddened at the awkwardness of his statement. Ziva couldn't help it. She let out a bark of laughter that almost instantly turned into a wince. Tony looked at her face and couldn't help but grin a little when she gave him a tiny smile. He pulled his bag to him and started pulling out first aid equipment.

"Tony, you make me think of Mary Boppins with that bag of yours," she remarked with an impressed look on her face.

"It's Mary Poppins and when you get back to DC, you have one Ms. Abigail Scuito to thank for that. She packed this baby with everything I might need, some stuff I might not and plenty of space for weapons and ammo. Even the SEAL who checked the bag couldn't find fault with it."

"SEAL?"

"Uh, yeah. Vance got your call. He sent the whole team. Actually, how about this. I'll let you take a quick wash in the river right there, and while I patch you up, I'll tell you the story. Ziva, nodded but was wondering how in the world she was going to manage washing without drowning in the river.

"Tony, I am going to have difficulty, um..."

"Standing?" supplied Tony.

"Yes, standing." finished Ziva.

"You can hold on to my arm? With, of course, my attention fixed on something other than you. At least then." Ziva smiled again. Tony bent over and helped pull Ziva to her feet. Slowly, with Ziva leaning heavily on him, Tony walked Ziva to the river. He kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pants, wading into the shallow water on the shore. He averted his eyes as Ziva pulled off her pants.

"Tony, you have other cloths I can wear, yes?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"Then give me your knife. I cannot lift my arms enough to get this shirt off." Wordlessly, Tony unsheathed a knife and handed it by the hilt to Ziva. He heard a ripping sound and felt the knife slip back into his outstretched hand. Then he felt a warm hand grasp onto his wrist, followed by the sound of slashing water. He did his best to move as Ziva did, keep her steady.

"Tony, your knife?" Tony was a bout to put it out when he withdrew his hand.

"Why do you need it again?" he asked his closed eyes looking in the direction of Ziva's voice.

"My hair is too long, Tony. It needs a trim. Please?" Tony handed her the knife and felt the grip on his wrist released. He fought the urge to reach forward and grab her hand again, missing the warmth that it carried. After a few moments she handed his the knife back along with the soap and cloth he'd given her to wash. He sheathed the knife and tossed the soap and cloth to the shore. Eyes still sealed, Tony helped Ziva back to the shore. Her grip on his arm was much harder indicating the tender frailty of her strength and the fatigue that a simple washing induced.

He grabbed a bundle of clothing and handed it to Ziva.

"Again, Abby to thank."

He kept his back to her and his eyes sealed until a soft rested on his shoulder. He turned to look at Ziva. She was in a pair of brown, baggy cargos that seemed to be able to unzip in sections, enabling them to change length, should the wearer choose. For a top, Abby provided a slightly over-sized bottom down white shirt. It was a soft light cotton that flowed slightly in the gentle breeze.

Tony pulled her arm over his shoulders and helped her back to the tree.

"Hold on," said Tony. He placed his bag on the ground and pulled out a blanket and laid it on the hard ground.

"It might be better if you lay back a little," suggested Tony. Rather than argue, Ziva, with Tony's help eased herself to the ground, gently laying her back against the backpack.

"You're gonna have to, you know," gestured Tony, his face slightly red again. Again, Ziva smiled at his awkwardness and undid the buttons of her shirt. What she didn't expect was an exclamation from Tony.

"Holy Hell, Ziva! What did they do to you?" Tony's eyes flashed anger and grief for his friend. Ziva took a glance down and grimaced. Her entire torso was covered in dark bruises. There were also cuts from the knife.

"We at Mossad call it interrogation Tony." replied Ziva, a smirk gracing her features.

"Yeah, well we at NCIS call it torture." Tony pulled the old bandage off and inspected the gunshot wound. It was more a deep graze than anything else. He took out more disinfectant and a needle and thread. As his hand went forward to clean the wound, Ziva's hand grabbed it, not allowing him to come in contact with her.

"Tony, before you help me any further, we have to talk." Ziva's throat was dry, but this time not from a lack of water.

"Ziva, you are really banged up. Can we talk later?"

"No. I will not allow you to help me if you do not let me talk." Tony sighed with exasperation and let himself plop on the floor. Part of him was relieved to see some of the old Ziva stubbornness shining through the voice of his very tired Israeli friend.

Ziva took a deep breath before speaking, willing her voice not to quiver.

"Tony, I have been unfair to you. I- I was angry at you. But that was no excuse to treat you like a traitor. I was the one blinded by my hope in Michael and my father. I should have known better than to throw my life back into my father's hands or even to trust Vance. None of this would have happened if I had listened to you in the first place and gotten Michael to leave. The fact is I did this to myself and you were not responsible for any of it, no matter how I made it seem." Tony looked ready to interrupt, but, though it was painful, Ziva tightened her grip on his wrist.

"Tony, I betrayed you. And Gibbs. All because I wanted to believe in a father who I have never truly trusted. You saved my life, Tony. I can never truly thank you. I know you had orders to come. If-if you do not choose to forgive me, I- I understand." By this point, Ziva had a slow line of tears running down her face and she let Tony's hand drop, no longer able to support it.. She stubbornly kept her eyes down, away from Tony and so she missed the look of relief that graced his features.

Ziva didn't move again until she felt the sting of the disinfectant on her side. She looked up at Tony, who wore a small grin as he worked.

"What, Tony?" asked Ziva sharply. His smile irritated her, but not in a way that was unwelcome. In fact she did welcome it, reveling in the feeling of normalcy.

"I was terrified to come get you. I thought that you wouldn't want me here after everything that happened in Tel Aviv. This is gonna hurt, by the way." replied Tony in a quiet voice. Ziva left off answering as Tony began to stitch up her bullet wound. Her tears were ones of pain as she clenched her jaw in a n effort not to cry out and held onto Tony's shirt, twisting it in a white knuckled fist as an outlet for the pain. After a few moments, Ziva felt Tony's gentle hands applying new bandages, taping them in place as to not cover any other wounds that needed attending. After caring for the bullet wound, Tony worked on the other cuts on her torso ans well as feeling around for crack or broken ribs.

"It wasn't just me you know. WE were all gonna come, but um, our dear Director Vance sent team Gibbs to deal with a hostage situation on the Ronald Reagan. I'm currently not on team Gibbs if you're wondering. We were gonna swoop in with a team of Navy SEALs too. Would have been cool, to give those terrorists what they really deserve." remarked Tony as he worked.

"So Gibbs does not hate me?" whispered Ziva in question.

"No, sweet cheeks, he doesn't. He gave Vance a busted lip when he found out how involved he was in everything." Ziva smiled at that.

Ziva then turned her attention to the hand that had been broken. She'd done her best back in her cell to make sure that the fingers were as straight as possible, but she hadn't had the time or ability to reset the one Hadar had broken.

"Zee, did they...break your fingers?" Tony asked, disbelief lacing his voice. Ziva could tell that the disbelief was borne of the fact he couldn't believe that human could do so much harm to another human.

"They did. Some were not so bad. This one happened yesterday and I could not fix it then."

"You know I'm gonna have to set it, right?" Tony was not looking forward to the task. Ziva simply nodded. Tony gently took her hand, noting it's swelling and dark bruises.

"One, two, three," he counted. After three, he moved the finger back into place, causing Ziva to scream and let forth a fresh wave of tears. Unable to lie down, she sat up, and buried her face in Tony's shoulder, her good hand again wenching and his shirt. Tony held her and took the opportunity to pull up the back of her shirt and find out what injuries lay there. He swore when he saw more cuts and bruises. Some of the cuts were long and deep. He did his best to clean them out and bandage them up. Finally he eased Ziva back.

His eyes shone with concern when he looked at her.

"You okay?" he asked, mentally kicking himself, knowing that the chances of her being okay were slim to none.

Ziva let out a small chuckle, knowing the conflict that played out in Tony's mind.

"I am better now than I have been in months, Tony." she replied, hoping to reassure him. He did offer a lopsided grin and stood to his feet. From somewhere in his small camp he produced his jacket and another blanket.

"It's gonna be a long day tomorrow, so I think sleep is in order." he balled his jacket up into a make shift pillow and lay the blanket on the ground.

"Tony," Ziva paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "Tony, do you think that maybe...It's just that--" Tony didn't wait for her to finish when he moved his "pillow" next to Ziva. And settled himself on the edge of her blanket. Gently as to not jar her, Tony pulled Ziva to himself until her back was to his chest, her head resting on his arm and his arm wrapped around her protectively.

"Thank you for coming for me Tony." she whispered. This time she felt rather than saw Tony's smile of relief.

"Thanks for letting me be the one to save you."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this installment. I know there's a lot of talk about what Ziva is going to be like after she gets saved, but as I am am the author of this particular story, I've decided that Ziva needs to trust Tony since they both know that Rivkin was truly a jerk. I dunno, that's just me. More later. Have a great day!