A/N: Ah, yeah! I'm on a roll! Enjoy it while it lasts, people! Yes, I know this one is short again, but I'm thinking the next one will end up being longer. Never you fear. You'll see, when you read this one :)

Enjoy!

Ziva looked to Ethan, swallowing her apprehension.

She was standing under her own power, though her steps were stilted and limping. She'd been dragged from the cell she shared with Ethan and the others only twice, and the relative inactivity had given her ankles the time to heal just enough. But even so, she wouldn't last long in a Game.

She knew that, and looking at Ethan, she knew that he knew it too. The concern in his eyes was heartbreakingly tender, but she feared for him. If he was preoccupied about her safety, that meant he was not focusing on keeping himself alive. And she didn't know how well she'd be able to watch his back for him.

And she would have to, if the mass exodus of the Herd towards the Stadium was any indication. This would be the Game to end all Games, to get the Bloods ramped up and thirsting for War. When Worth had first told her his intent to wage war, her heart had nearly stopped beating. But a moment later it had become clear he'd forgotten Jethro and his Sanctuary.

Worth's search for her into the northern ganglands had sparked a turf battle that was coming to a head. In a matter of days, the Bloods would march North, and leave nothing behind. He'd punished her that day, for her role in sparking the battle, but he hadn't finished with her yet.

She would fight for her life along with all the others, and if she survived—a very thin if—then he would drag her North along with whatever other Survivors the Bloods felt like playing with along the way.

That was the reason she was hobbling along, subtly aided by Ethan, moving along with the rest of the Herd. Her shoulders bumped against those of countless others, and the eyes she met were wide with fear and uncertainty. But their brows raised in silent question, reminding her that Ethan had done as he'd promised.

He'd gotten the word out, and they wanted to know if this was it. They wanted to know if they were going to fight—not in the Games, but for their freedom. And she was faced with a choice that was no choice at all.

She didn't want to be the one to give the signal to spark the rebellion, not when there was no sign of Jethro. But there was no choice but to fight. Even if it meant their deaths, it was becoming increasingly clear that they would all rather fight for the taste of freedom Ziva had brought back with her.

They would rather die for that tantalizing scent of life beyond the City, than for the sport of their captors. And Ziva could not deny them that right.

So she nodded minutely towards each gaze she met, unable to hide the stiff reluctance of the motion. She was far from reassuring, and she berated herself for failing to emulate the leader she'd found in Jethro. He had taught her better than this, she knew, but this was the first time she felt physically incapable of carrying the burden of leadership. Her ankles hurt, her head throbbed still from her broken nose, and her heart ached.

She was so deep in thought that she almost missed the flashing glint of light blinking at her from a nearby alleyway across the street.

It could have been the sun off a broken bottle or windowpane, and as such she almost dismissed it. But as she passed her eyes caught the lurking shadow of a hidden form. For a long moment, her mind zeroed in on why a Blood would want to hide in an alley so close to the Pens. But then she blinked, and her thoughts caught up to her.

A Blood wouldn't be hiding in an alleyway.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and in an instant the weight lifted from her shoulders. She wasn't alone—she and Ethan weren't alone. Just maybe their fight would result in something other than certain death. Maybe they would survive one last time.

Because even if she didn't know whether the shadow was actually Jethro, he was somewhere in the City. She could feel it.

Looking back to the alley one last time, she delivered a solemn nod. Whether the shadow saw it, or knew what it meant, she didn't know. She didn't care. The hope was there, and it bolstered her where her physical strength could not.

Ethan sensed the change in her, and he glanced at her in question as they continued to move closer towards the looming Stadium, and whatever fate it for them within.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice low.

She offered him a smile, and it was immediately spied by the Survivors closest to them. Heads bowed together, whispering murmured words of motivation that spread outward like wildfire.

Good, she thought. Let it.

She met Ethan's curious gaze squarely.

"This is going to be one hell of a show."