Summery: A game of cat and mouse turns deadly for Tony and Ziva...

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS...

A/N: Things are getting dicey for our favorite couple... Will they live or will they die? That is the question.

There was a brief pause as Chiara broke away from the building, but all too soon the bullets started flying. They whizzed through the air like angry hornets as she ran for all she was worth. Coming so near her she could feel the wind of their passing.

Still she ran. She ran and didn't stop just like the Agent had instructed her. She didn't look back, she didn't rest. She just kept moving, putting one foot in front of the other even as the bullets sliced through the air and thudded into the trees that now surrounded her.

Still she ran. She ran because if she stopped, she was a dead woman. She knew it. She knew it as surely as she knew the agents who had come to help her were dead. They couldn't have evaded the bullets. Not with one carrying the other. Moving slower. They would have been an easy target.

Guilt and grief tore at her ripping a sob from her throat as she thought of them. They had been good people.… Fearless, selfless, wonderful people. They had given their lives for her. She wouldn't let them down. She would live if only so that she could see their deaths and the loss of her husband avenged.

She would survive so that their memory could live on through her and her progeny. She would make sure the world knew the truth about this so called Family. She would make sure the world knew about Tony and Ziva DiNozzo.

Halsten was half way down the mountain when they abruptly broke free of the cabin and ran for the trees.

Cursing, he had skidded to a halt and lifted his rifle to his eye only to find himself confronted with two separate targets. A lone woman running for all she was worth, and two others, one carrying the other fireman style, running in the opposite direction.

He hesitated, his sight traveling first from one to the other.

He was pretty sure the one on his left, the single girl, was Chiara Jensen. The other two were probably the federal agents. But he couldn't be certain. Maybe it was a trick.

In the end his hesitation cost him.

He swept his rifle to the left trying to pin the single girl who wove and dipped and ducked like a crazy woman. More than once he squeezed off a round, when he thought he had her in his sights, only to have her disappear or swerve at the last moment, complete throwing off his shot.

Then she hit the trees and he knew it was useless. He still tried but the trees were thickly clustered in this part of the park and in the end they took the bullets for the woman.

Cursing he swept his rifle right and tried to sight on the other two, but they had already disappeared into the trees. His opportunity to take them had been wasted trying to hit the girl.

Furious with himself he quickly slid a new five round clip into his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder, before pursuing the girl into the trees.

Ziva didn't know how long she had been running. She didn't want to think about it. She just kept going, forcing herself onward, her husband weighing heavily on her shoulders.

She didn't mind the weight. The weight was nothing compared to the worry. He would have done the same for her…. Had done the something similar for her on more than one occasion. But that knowledge did little to ease her fear.

His breath, labored and warm, against her shoulder was the only reassurance she had that he was still alive. Other than that he had been completely still and silent. It concerned her. Tony was never this quiet. If anything he talked compulsively. She would have preferred that to this eerie silence in which they traveled. Not even the bird sang to keep them company. They were as silent as the grave, watching the agents pass by with critical eyes. Perhaps a forewarning? Ziva didn't want to think about it. He couldn't be dead. He wasn't allowed to be dead. She wasn't ready for him to die yet. She needed him still. She had too many things she still had to tell him.

Distantly she knew her anger was blinding her. She knew it clouded her judgment. Her reasoning. Her ability to think clearly. But her anger was also one of the only things keeping her going. That and adrenaline. And who knew when that would wear out.

"Come on Tony. Stay with me." She grunted hefting him higher on her shoulders as she ran, thankful that they were at least on the same track the Chiara was on. She had circled back after a hundred meters and quickly found her trail. The woman was about as subtle as a bull in a china shop when it came to hiding her tracks.

It was almost laughable how easy she was to follow.

Luckily there were no signs of anyone else's passage. Which meant either their sniper hadn't followed them into the woods, or was a far more adept tracker then Ziva had given him credit for and was actually following Chiara unnoticed; even to the highly trained Mossad officer. Or he had pursued her and Tony and lost their trail. But she doubted that. She certainly had been more careful about leaving markers on the surroundings. There wasn't much she could do about Tony's blood however. It ran down his arm, over Ziva's hand where she gripped him, and dripped from his fingertips. Slowly, ominously, inexorably. His life. One drop at a time.

She shook the thoughts from her head and refocused on the matter at hand. The sniper.

She highly doubted he had given up the hunt. If anything he was following behind them. Or he was waiting, perched in a tree somewhere, watching the road or the trails or any number of things. Waiting for them to make a wrong move.

She shuddered involuntarily at the idea of the man sitting comfortably in a tree, unhurried, well rested, watching them through the scope of his rifle, waiting to take the shot. Playing with them in some absurd parody of cat and mouse, in which he was the cat and they were the mouse.

The only problem with cat and mouse is that, unlike Tom and Jerry, the cat always wins eventually.

She was thinking like Tony. Relating everything back to movies and TV shows. It made her laugh abruptly, and she staggered, nearly falling. She regained her footing though and thankfully her calm and sense of reason came with it.

She forced Tony to the back of her find and focused on catching up to Chiara. Maybe she could find the woman and maybe just maybe if they could find each other, they would have some chance of actually winning this thing and getting out of here alive. Maybe.

Determination renewed she surged forward with new found strength,

Chiara ran and ran until finally she could run no more. Weary beyond imagining she splashed through a stream, sinking to her knees on the far side of the bank.

Dimly she knew she was horribly exposed. No trees nearby to hide her. But at this point she really didn't care. She was too tired to even think, much less move. Breathing hurt, sending painful stitches up her side.

She tried to breathe deeply and slowly like she had been taught in tennis, but her body demanded oxygen, and she gulped it in greedy gasps, ever desperate for more.

It took a good fifteen minutes for her to calm down enough to look around and take stock of her surroundings. She had no idea where she was.

She had shifted directions a number of times while running just like Ziva had told her, even running up a shallow stream a ways, just like she had seen in movies, until finally she had come here and been unable to continue.

Forcing herself to think was an effort but she managed it, finding the position of the sun, before crawling back to the stream to get a drink. She scooped water out of the stream in her palms, lifting them to her parched lips, like a man dying from thirst.

She was in the process of drinking when she heard the noise.

A sharp crack as someone broke a branch back the way she came. She was being followed.

Fear gave her new energy and she scrambled backwards away from the water finding shelter behind a tree. With shaking hands she took out the pistol Ziva had given her and pulled back the chamber. Absurdly she felt like some action hero from some movie, and she almost laughed.

Only terror kept her from doing so.

There was a rustle and a bush just across the stream shook, bust she couldn't see anything through the gloom of approaching evening.

The pistol shook and she tried to hold it steady as she trained it on the woods on the opposite side of the stream.

"Chiara….Chiara it's Agent David….can you hear me" a voice whispered suddenly cutting through the stillness like a knife.

It was such a shock that Chiara had to suppress a scream. She stifled it in her hand, muffling it slightly. It sounded like Ziva, but she couldn't be certain.

"Chiara if you can hear me….Its agent David….I have Tony, we're coming out. Don't shoot." The voice whispered again sending the bushes to rustling.

Chiara tried to breath slowly and steadily just like her father and older brothers had taught her when it came to shooting, and held the gun steadily on the place where the bushes were moving. This could be a trick.

Then suddenly they broke free and it really was Ziva and Tony and she let out a little exclamation of relief.

"I'm over here," she called hoarsely, leaning back against the tree, cradling the gun against her chest, and squeezing her eyes shut.

The thought that just for a moment she had been ready to kill someone was horrifying. It nauseated her and she had to force back her gorge.

There was some movement, and then suddenly Ziva David was there kneeling in front of her, Tony at her feet. "Chiara….Chiara can you hear me?" She asked her voice strangely distant in Chiara's ears.

She had never been so terrified in her life. Not even when her horse had thrown her had she felt this much fear. But then horses didn't carry guns or deliberately try to kill you. So that was a bad comparison anyways.

She breathed in slowly and nodded, cracking first one eye opened then the other, to gaze at the agent. The idea that this might all be a dream, some insane hallucination, terrified her. She had to resist the urge to curl into a ball, mightily.

"Are you okay?" Ziva asked holding her gently by the shoulders.

She nodded though she wasn't entirely certain she was being honest.

"Are you hurt?" The agent's hands drifted to her own, and gently pulled the gun from her suddenly numb fingers.

She shook her head, releasing the weapon without resistance.

"Thank heavens I found you. Listen I know you're probably exhausted but we can't stay here. That psychopath probably isn't far behind you. No offense but you left a trail a blind man could follow. "

The humor did more than anything to help pull Chiara out of her near hysterical state and she blushed, laughing in spite of herself. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. Weary and sweat soaked as Ziva David was, at the moment she looked like an angel from heaven.

"Where are we?" Chiara managed to ask, scrutinizing the agent in the fading light. With a start she realized that Ziva was bleeding.

"About five miles north west of the cabin, about eight from the road. You ran a good distance. I wasn't expecting you to come this far. "The agent replied sitting back on her heels to return the scrutiny.

"You're hurt." Chiara accused suddenly angry that the agent hadn't pointed it out earlier. Her tone must have surprised the agent because she rocked back and for a moment looked surprised by the accusation. Then slowly she lifted her hand to her temple probing the nasty looking scratch that ran from just beneath one eye back into her hair line. "I must have been hit by a branch. It's nothing to worry about. "She defended glancing at the blood on her fingers and dismissing it.

"You should let me look at it." Chiara argued.

"It's nothing really. I've had much worse trust me. "

"I should still look at it. It could get infected."

"I appreciate that you want to help me but we really don't have time Chiara. We have to keep moving. Unless you want our friend out there to find us." Ziva replied with a slight smile that wasn't lacking in sincerity.

Chiara frowned but relented in the face of the agent's logic. With a sigh and a little help she clambered to her feet leaning on a tree for support as the blood suddenly raced to her head, making the world spin crazily.

"You okay?"

"Vertigo. It'll pass."

Ziva made an agreeing noise and waited until she moved away from the tree to bend down and lift Tony back onto her shoulders.

"How is he?" Chiara asked watching worriedly and noting the pained expression that shot across Tony's face.

"He's alive. For now," Ziva replied shifting his weight to a more comfortable position on her shoulders.

"He'll make it Ziva," Chiara reassured, causing the agent to look up suddenly. For a long moment the other woman scrutinized her then slowly she nodded and even managed a slight smile. "I know he will. He's not allowed to die yet. Gibbs hasn't given him permission."

"Gibbs?"

"Our boss. Come on, lets' get moving," Ziva replied and without another word the group headed further into the woods. This time with Ziva leading, at a much quieter, much slower pace, and thankfully with what appeared to be some sense of direction.

Halsten was livid. He had followed the Jensen woman's trail to a wide broad stream, and then lost it. Apparently the woman was smarter than she looked, or maybe just watched a lot of Discovery channel, because she had been smart enough to use the stream to cover her trail.

It had taken him fifteen minutes to find where the trail had picked back up in the darkness. Night had crept up on him suddenly leaving him blind with the exception of the fickle light of the full moon that slowly filtered through the threes.

Now he moved along their trail carefully, keeping low and quiet, his rifle held ready.

As he walked he contemplated the other two agents who had disappeared into the trees. For a long while he had been worried that they somehow might have circled around behind him and he had gone from being the predator to being prey. The feeling of being stalked had haunted him. For a brief moment he had understood what his targets felt like when he followed them. But then he had found the spot where their trail rejoined with this one.

He had almost missed it. There had been no signs in the scrub itself. The only thing that had clued him in was a few drops of blood caught on the broad side of a leaf. He had to admit the foreign woman was good.

Or at least he assumed it was the foreign woman. The person running with their companion draped over their shoulders had been too small and shapely to be a man.

He had to admire her spunk and tenacity. It took one strong woman to carry a fully grown man several miles through the dense brush and shrubbery, and while running at that. He had to admit he grudgingly respected her for that. And, for the fact that the agent had refused to leave her partner behind even when Halsten was sure he had hit him.

He had seen the spray of blood as his high caliber bullet tore through his chest.

In some aspects he was excited to meet this strange woman. Excited to meet her and break her. The more she defied his perceptions and assumptions the more he wanted to put her in her proper place. The more he wanted to teach her what it meant to be a woman. To be inferior to a man. But not before he learned how she ticked. What she felt. The way she thought. What made her think that she could so audaciously take the role of a man and fill it. What made her think she could defy her natural role in life? That she could actually be something more?

It almost made him laugh.

This woman was a prime example of a strong, intelligent, independent, woman. Women like her were the reason the world was so confused. She was exactly the type of women he wanted to destroy. To break down. To return to her rightful place.

Women should be put away. Kept quiet and demure. Speak only when spoken to and only with permission from the man of the house and should never meet the eyes of the superior sex. They were meant to be sub servant to men. A subspecies. Slaves. Little more than property with little or no worth. Only then could they fill their true role in life. Only then would the world be made right, and balance restored.

She would be a primary example of this. She would be his message to a world of disorder and chaos. His cry of truth. His attempt to fix a world, gone wrong. Through her he would teach them all the true meaning of womanhood. She would be the first.

The grandmother and the mother would follow. His patience was gone. He was tired of waiting. It began today.

They had been walking for a little less than half an hour when Chiara broke the silence. "Where are we going?"

Ziva turned sharply, surprised, nearly dislodging Tony from his perch on her shoulders. "There is a clearing another quarter mile away, we'll go there radio for a medevac." She replied in a near silent whisper,

Getting the hint Chiara lowered her voice somewhat and replied "Do you want me to take him for a while. You must be getting tired."

Truth of the matter was that Ziva was exhausted. Her shoulders ached and were tight with knots that would take a professional massage-therapist a week to work out. She was covered in blood, both her own and Tony's. Mostly Tony's. But worse still she was being hunted by a crazy man with a rifle bent on killing them all for the sake of some vendetta imposed by a group of likeminded sociopaths.

She also doubted that the woman could handle Tony's weight. She only could have been five foot two and a hundred and fifty pounds at most. She was already dwarfed by the backpack she carried. Ziva couldn't imagine her carrying Tony.

But then the woman had proven surprisingly resilient.

"All right…." She finally conceded and carefully set Tony down.

He groaned but otherwise didn't stir.

Within minutes they has made the change, pausing to change his dressings. Ziva was surprised yet again when the stout woman was able not only to bend and pick Tony up, but to lift him onto her shoulders.

Grateful beyond words, Ziva shouldered Chiara's pack and started forward.

"So you've really had worse injuries?" Chiara asked walking closely behind Ziva so that her whisper could be heard,

"Yes. Keep your voice down. Sound carries out here." Ziva replied. She would have preferred silence. But it was clear the woman needed to talk. Needed to fill the stillness. Probably needed to drown out the chaos of her thoughts.

"Like what?" Chiara asked, obediently lowering her voice even further.

"I've been shot…."

"Shot!" Her exclamation was a bit louder than was wise and Ziva hurriedly hushed her eyeing the surrounding trees warily for a long moment.

Thankfully nothing moved and soon they proceeded onward. Still it was a moment or three before Ziva replied.

"Yes. Three times. About a year ago."

"Three times….You're lucky you survived….did it hurt?"

"I don't really remember much. But yes, what I remember did hurt. There is worse pain though. "

"How did you get shot?"

"Saving him." Ziva replied indicating Tony with a slight jerk of her head,

Chiara just stared at her then smiled slowly, softly.

"Is that why he married you?"

"No," Ziva laughed quietly. "No…Tony and I have….shared a connection…since I first left Mossad and joined NCIS…."

"Mossad? Isn't that the Israeli special forces?"

"Yes," Ziva replied biting back a smart remark.

"Wow…. You must be really strong to have been selected as Mossad…."

"I really didn't have much of a choice in the matter," Ziva replied with a bitter smile.

"Why is that?"

Ziva opened her mouth to reply then abruptly stopped and pulled Chiara down, just as a bullet screamed past.

She swore vehemently grabbed Chiara, who grabbed Tony, and ran.

"How'd he find us?" Chiara yelled as they tore through the brush. It was hard running with someone on her shoulders but she didn't complain. Ziva had done it for miles without complaining.

"He's probably been tracking us for miles. Keep moving!" Ziva yelled back pulling her by the arm, helping her to keep going when she stumbled.

"He'll kill us!"

"Only if he catches us, now keep moving!" Ziva yelled propelling her forward through the trees.

Another bullet sliced through the air then another, and another as the man grew more confident in his shooting. These shots also came faster and softer which meant he was using a different kind of gun. This meant he was close.

"Keep running. I'll hold him off, "Ziva yelled pressing the long range radio and a piece of paper into Chiara's hand. She had trouble holding it as she was also clinging to Tony. "It's already set to the proper frequency. When you reach the clearing press the button and speak loudly and clearly into the microphone. Tell them you need an armed medevac a.s.a.p. at the coordinates on the paper." Ziva ordered.

"What about you!" Chiara demanded hesitating.

"Don't worry about me. I'll handle this. You go! "

"No! He'll kill you! I won't leave!"

"Don't argue with me just go!" Ziva yelled pushing Chiara forward just as a bullet thudded right where she had been standing. Chiara stumbled forward; glancing back when another gun rang out. This one crisp and clear in the darkness. Ziva was returning fire. It was all the motivation Chiara needed. She ran for all she was worth.

Halsten was so intensely fixated on following the trail of blood by the fickle moonlight that he almost didn't hear the whispering. When he did he thought he was imagining things. Could they really be so careless? But no he hadn't been imagining. They really were that careless. He grinned wolfishly even as he lifted his rifle.

It took him a minute to find them in the dark. His scope was not equipped with night or thermal vision. But find them he did. He was less than a hundred meters away to their right, a small stand of trees separating them. He couldn't possibly miss.

Then just as he was about to squeeze the trigger something must have happened because the foreign agent suddenly pulled Jensen out of his sights and he missed by less than an inch.

Furious with himself and her he squeezed off two more rounds with the rifle before giving up on it and switching to his pistol.

He was to close for the rifle to be effective anyway.

He tore after them, his long legs eating up the distance as he rapidly gained on them. He had been smart. He had conserved his energy switching from a light jog to walking as he tracked them. Now at the end he was energized while they were not.

He squeezed off round after round in pursuit of them. Gradually narrowing the window between them and him. Bringing his shots closer, and tighter. Soon there would be no missing and he would have his revenge and it would be sweet.

Then abruptly the foreign woman did something else he didn't expect. She sent Jensen and her partner ahead then whirled and started returning fire.

He was forced to skid to a top and dive for cover as the woman fired with tremendous accuracy.

He crouched behind a broad oak tree and slammed a new clip into his pistol, silently cursing this woman and whatever demons had spawned her. He steadied himself and slipped out from behind the tree, sighting where the woman should have been. But she wasn't there.

Momentarily confused Halsten didn't realize she was behind him until it was too late. Her kick came out of know where freeing him of his gun and he whirled only to receive her fist in his face. Stunned and caught off guard he staggered backwards guarding his stomach as she assaulted him with a flurry of blows.

He was quick to regain his footing though and returned the punishment the woman was doling out blow for blow.

She should have used her gun when she had the chance.

"Who are you?" he gasped staggering backward after a particularly nasty exchange of blows, wiping blood away from his lip.

She also wiped blood away glaring at him through the darkness. "You shot my partner," she growled circling him, arms up ready to go.

She was tough and definitely had training. Now that he was close he was able to place a face with the accent, and figured she was Israeli. Mossad if he had to guess. She certainly fought like one.

He had never crossed paths with a member of the elite and secretive branch of the Israeli forces before. But he was looking forward to it.

Grinning he straightened from his half crouch and launched a sudden flurry of blows that drove her back into a tree. He had her trapped there, arms raised and hunched over as she tried to protect both her abdomen, and head as he slammed into her, pounding her like a punching bag. He pulled back his fist about to throw a punch that would crush her skull when she ducked, suddenly, sending his fist into the trunk.

He yelped shaking his hand, sure he had broken at least one finger and spun on the woman throwing a punch out wildly.

She ducked and drove a fist into his rib cage. Hard. She was far from being beaten. He grunted and staggered back only to receive another blow and another as she returned the beating he had just given her with equal voracity.

She advanced on him mercilessly driving him back, driving him to the ground, when his hand found his pistol.

His fingers closed on the muzzle and he brought it up suddenly, slamming the grip into the side of her head. She crumpled and staggered backwards clearly dazed.

He grinned triumphantly as he rose, bloodied and bruised, reversing his grip on the weapon. He pointed the more deadly end right at her chest.

He was about ready to squeeze the trigger and end it when suddenly his radio blared to life. He spun towards it thinking more cops had arrived, momentarily forgetting his more immediate opponent.

"Hello! Can hear me. My name is Chiara Jensen and I need an armed medevac right away! Chiara Jensen's voice screamed through the radio.

The distraction was all that the foreign woman needed. She kicked him in the gonads, taking him to his knees. Swiping the gun free she stumbled slowly to her feet, swaying slightly. Taking out her own gun she steadied herself, sighted down the barrel and squeezed the trigger.

Burning pain seared through Halsten and he tumbled to the ground reaching vainly for his own gun even as he watched the foreign woman run off.

"What are your coordinates, over" a man's voice replied, calm and professional, but none the less urgent.

"450 South 315 East Douthat State Park, near the Headland trail."

Okay Miss Jensen, sit tight. An armed medevac is on its way. They'll be there in ten minutes."

"Okay! Hurry please! There's a crazy man! He's trying to kill us. He's got a gun! He….he already shot agent DiNozzo….and probably his wife too…." The other woman replied clearly scared out of her wits.

Dimly Halsten made the connection between the man and the woman and stored it in the back of his mind even as he staggered to his knees.

Groaning, and in immense pain, Halsten managed to get to his feet. Blood ran freely down his arm, trickling steadily from his fingertips soaking into the loam at his feet. She had shot him in the chest. That stupid woman had shot him in the chest. Right above the heart.

The shot would have been dead on if Halstens heart was where it was supposed to be. But it wasn't It was just a little to the right and down. More towards the center of his chest then the top left like most people.

Still she had probably done some serious damage.

Wounded and bleeding heavily he leaned on a tree for a moment catching his breath before turning his own commandeered radio to a private frequency.

"Home base this is Sure Shot do you read me?"

"We read you Sure Shot, what radio are you trans-ponding from over?"

"A long range hand held I lifted off a park ranger who got in my way earlier, don't worry its secure."

"Rodger. What's your status Sure Shot?" The receiver finally asked after a long silence.

"I'm hurt. Badly. Those agents they sent are tougher then I gave them credit for. I need an emergency pickup immediately, over."

Another long silence.

"Jensen?"

"Still alive. For now. A temporary setback I assure you. Tell the Grandmother that I'm still on it. But I need medical treatment first."

"Relaying your message now Sure Shot….."

The break in communications seemed to last an eternity as he sat against the tree, one big hand pressed over the hole in his chest. The other chopper had arrived and been on the ground for five minutes before the radio finally crackled back to life.

"A medevac is on its way …..oh and Halsten….. Grandmother says no more mistakes."

"Don't worry there won't be" Halsten spat into the radio staggering away from the tree and towards the clearing; his eyes following the other helicopter as it slowly lifted away.