Summery: A game of cat and mouse turns more and more deadly as Halsten, the man, pursuing them grows more and more determined to have his revenge.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of its characters.

Ziva sat in the chopper, her head resting back against the bulkhead, watching as a team of emergency medics did everything in their power to save Tony's life.

Everything felt numb and disconnected as she sat there. Only the pain from her fight, and the ringing in her head, remained to tell her that everything she had experienced this day had been real.

That and the blood. It covered her, soaking her clothes, and matted her hair. All of it was Tony's.

She looked away from him unable to bear watching as the medics hooked yet another bag of blood to the already growing IV tree, which had been assembled next to him. Her eyes settled on the other man who had arrived with the chopper. Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She didn't know how he had known about the chopper much less how he had managed to get on it before it lifted off, nor did she ask. It was enough that he was there.

He met her gaze steadily reaching out he captured one of her hands between his, his grip just as sure as his gaze. "He's going to be okay Zi…" he reassured his voice reassuringly soft. How it managed to cut through the noise of the chopper and the blare of medical jargon coming from the medics, was beyond her. But it did, and he did it without yelling.

She managed a wan smile, ignoring the pain as the effort tugged at her split lip. She'd been lucky. Very lucky. The man had been good. Quite possibly the best she had ever fought. It had been a long time since she had felt this way as a result of a fight.

The medics had tried to treat her too but she'd been adamant that they tend to Tony first. They had insisted on hooking her up to a bag of fluids, and one in particular had refused to leave. It had taken her very best, scary, Mossad, ninja death glare to get the man to back off, but finally he had relented. Somewhat pacified with the fact that she was at least hooked up to an IV. Still he sat at Tony's head holding it between his hands, while the others back-boarded him, casting worried glances in her direction.

She inhaled deeply, ignoring the medic, and tried to suppress a wince as pain flashed through her badly abused ribs. She was sure at least two were broken. She let out the breath in a low hiss ignoring the medic who her shot her a pointed look. Even Gibbs raised an eyebrow, which she also ignored.

"Have you found any leads?" she asked attempting to divert their worry. Gibbs just gave her a look that said he wasn't fooled, even as he smiled faintly at her stubbornness.

"Yeah. Back at HQ," he drawled, patting her hand and releasing it.

"Good, I want to see them."

"You will David, as soon as you get checked out," he replied his tone both amused and no non-sense.

Ziva frowned faintly but didn't argue. She knew better than to argue with the man. She knew she wouldn't set foot in the NCIS building until Gibbs was sure she was okay. That was non-negotiable.

"Did you get an ID on the man that was hunting you?" Gibbs demanded.

Ziva blinked at him, squeezing her eyes shut as she leant her head against the choppers bulkhead. Her skull pounded, from the blow the man had delivered to her head. She knew she probably had a concussion. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she resisted it powerfully. "Not precisely, no. I can tell you he's tall, and powerful. Very, very powerful. He looked and fought like ex-military. He was at the very least trained. Dark hair….," she muttered, forcing her eyes open, so that she could look at him.

"Did you catch his name? Or did he mention anything about 'The Family'. "

"No. He had an accent though. Thicker than mine. This means he's a more recent arrival. Central, or northern, European: German, Sweden, Denmark, Norwegian…. He could be from any of those places…. He was good Gibbs….Very Good. I haven't fought someone like him since Mossad…." She said angrier with herself than anything else for not getting more information.

"We're lucky we got out of there alive. If it hadn't been for Agent David he would have killed us," Chiara piped up from where she sat next to Gibbs. It was the first time she had spoken since getting on the helicopter. She had up until then sat quietly staring at her hands her eyes distant.

Gibbs glanced at her and smiled slightly, in that fatherly reassuring way of his.

"His rifle was the finest I've seen in a long time. Top notch equipment. One thing is for sure, these people are well funded, and they don't play games…." Ziva remarked eyeing the woman.

Chiara was shaken and haggard. She made an effort to smile at Ziva but the effort failed. With her hair in disarray, branches and leaves sticking out of it and her dirt smudged face; it was hard to believe this was the same elegant, composed woman they had found in the cabin singing Disney songs.

Ziva returned the smile if only slightly. Chiara had been extremely brave today turning the chase. Shouldering the burdens of a wounded agent and buffering the storm with a resiliency that spoke of deep rooted character.

"Don't you worry Mrs. Jensen; we'll find the people who did this to you. We'll find the man who killed your husband," Gibbs murmured, turning towards her.

Ziva listened to their conversation for a moment, but gradually lost interest. Worried and exhausted she let the low rhythmic sounds of the helicopter blades drown out her chaotic thoughts.

The helicopter touched down and Tony was rushed into the hospital, Ziva right behind him. Only threats on the medic's lives saved her from having to ride in a wheelchair. She hurried behind the stretcher until it passed through the double doors leading to the OR where she was stopped by an intimidating looking nurse.

She was led to a side room were her own injuries were tended. An hour later she was given medicines for the pain and told to go home. Something which she had no intention of doing. She walked stiffly into the waiting room and found McGee.

"How are you?" McGee asked scooting over to make room for her on the couch.

"Sore, but alive. Tony?" She replied, sitting down next to him.

"They are operating. No news yet though," he replied turning slightly to look at her. She stared at the far wall, aware of his scrutiny, and not caring.

"Zi…. Are you sure you're okay?" His voice was soft and caring. Gentle. Typical McGee.

"My husband nearly dyed McGee….Could still die…. And, there is nothing I can do about it. I've never felt so helpless in my life…." She said trying hard to maintain control of her voice; her emotions threatening to betray her. Threatening to break through her mask, turning her voice into a fragile, cracked thing. She refused to turn towards him, flinching slightly when he took her hand. She didn't mean to, but she couldn't stop it.

She couldn't believe she had been so stupid. So foolish. She should have known the sniper was waiting. She should have stopped Tony from going out that door. It had been a rookie mistake. A rookie mistake that may have cost the man she loved his life.

"Zi…." McGee started giving her that look. That look that said he was going to try and reason with her. Pick apart her arguments, like he dissected his computers. She was not in the mood to hear it. She freed her hand and held it up a hand anticipating the word he would say, and shook her head.

"No McGee….. No…. I am Mossad and Mossad do not make mistakes. Mistakes mean death where I am from," she spat trying hard to keep her voice from escalating and failing.

Tim waited patiently, listening empathetically, letting her rage, letting her anger spend itself. Finally she trailed off, her jaw tight and looked away.

When she looked back Tim was still looking at her his gaze steady and understanding.

"You wouldn't remember this; it was before your time, but there was a case once where Abby was taken…." McGee began holding her gaze steadily.

At first Ziva tried not to listen, her anger drowned out everything else. But she found she couldn't help being drawn into his story as he told of a time when the team had almost lost Abby. He had never felt so lost or so helpless in his life. All of his technical skill hadn't been able to stop it from happening. In the end Abby had proven to be the wonderful, strong, brilliant woman he had always known her to be. In the end Abby had saved herself. With nothing more than a Taser-gun. McGee had only been able to help.

"I understand Zi….I really do... And trust me when I say that beating yourself up about it isn't going to do any good. Tony is strong. He'll make it through this. The best thing you can do for Tony right now is helping in bringing these guys down…." He murmured quietly.

ZIva sat quietly through it all, just listening, to McGee's story. When he was done she reached up slowly wiped moisture from her cheek. She hadn't realized that she had been crying. She looked at her damp fingertips for a moment, feeling both oddly detached and reassured by McGee's tale. Finally she looked up, her hand dropping away. She smiled at him, a slight tremulous thing, and nodded.

"Thank you McGee…." She murmured quietly.

He just smiled at her. That brief, goofy half smile of his, and moving suddenly, gave her a hug. She stiffened for a moment, uncertain, still slightly unused to such emotion. It didn't help that she tended to revert back to Mossad mode when she was upset. Taking a deep breath that made her ribs twinge, she forced herself to relax, and return Tim's embrace.

They sat for a moment longer then with a finally squeeze, that made Ziva wince they parted; just as a nurse entered the room.

"The family of Anthony DiNozzo!" A nurse called, looking around the near empty waiting room.

Ziva shot to her feet, followed by McGee.

"I'm his wife," Ziva replied walking up to the woman.

The nurse looked up from her clipboard her keen blue eyes passing over Ziva's collection of bruises and cuts, before looking back. "Mrs. Ziva DiNozzo?" she asked, looking up again a hint of skepticism in her professional voice.

Annoyance and anger flashed through her and she had to take a moment to master it before fishing her wallet from the pocket of her cargo pants. She flashed her ID at the woman, the shield she kept pinned there, glinting in the overly bright lights of the waiting room. She wore her main badge at her belt like most federal agents, along with her firearm, but both were currently concealed behind her coat and she was in no mood to incite a panic by showing she had a gun. Besides, the gun would not be necessary to handle the petite woman; who was both smaller and slighter than Ziva herself.

The nurse's eyes widened and she passed her eyes over Ziva's injuries once more, this time with understanding. "Mrs. DiNozzo I'm sorry I just wasn't expecting…." She stammered.

"It's all right. I know I am not the most reactive right now…." Ziva replied will ill feigned patience

"Attractive Zi…." McGee corrected softly, earning himself a dirty look.

The nurse smiled slightly and consulted her clipboard once more. "Your husband is out of operation and is recovering in his room. The doctor is waiting to give you the full details of his diagnosis. You may see him if you like."

Ziva nodded and without another word trailed after the woman, while McGee called to inform Gibbs, who had left with Chiara hours ago.

"The doctor will be in with you in a moment," the nurse murmured after a few moments of walking. She pushed the door open quietly, holding it for Ziva.

Ziva nodded once again as she squeezed by and attempted to smile at the woman; but found it died quickly. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the bed were Tony lay. A tangle of wires and machines were hooked up to the man she loved; they beeped and whirled and hissed like some obscene orchestra. Next to him an IV tree held bags of blood, fluids, and antibiotics.

She walked over to him slowly, her feet carrying her almost automatically to his side. "Tony…." She murmured reaching out to touch him and hesitating.

He seemed so peaceful. Laying there sleeping. His broad chest swathed in bandages, beneath his pink hospital gown.

She nearly laughed at the sight of him in pink. Tony would have had a fit if he knew. Not to mention he hated hospital gowns.

"My little hairy butt, "she murmured, a fond smile lifting the corner of her mouth, as she reached out and took his hand, sinking down in the chair next to his bed.

She was sitting there moving her thumb across the back of his hand in slow circles when the doctor arrived with the full diagnosis.

"Mrs. DiNozzo?" He asked pleasantly.

She nodded and he moved further into the room, not bothering to close the door behind him.

"It says here that both you and your husband are cops, is that correct?" he asked consulting a clipboard.

"Federal agents," Ziva corrected.

He pursed his lips and nodded, making a notation with his pen. "That would explain why your husband was shot then….. "He murmured.

Ziva said nothing just watched as he scribbled more notes on his clipboard. Finally he looked up after a few moments of consulting his paperwork.

"Now the bullet hit your husband in the upper right hand side of his pectoral muscle about an inch to the right and two inches beneath his clavicle. Now thankfully the wound isn't fatal, the bullet missed his lung by a good few inches. However the bullet was a large caliber and did manage to do some significant damage to his musculature. He should make a full recovery, but he'll need therapy to help him build up strength in the muscle."

"Do you still have the bullet?" Ziva questioned.

The man smiled, seeming pleased she had asked. "Of course. When we suspect criminal activity we always retain the evidence. I have it bagged and I'll have it sent over to your agencies headquarters for analysis. If you would just tell me what agency you represent I'll have it sent over immediately." He said pleasantly.

"NCIS," she replied and gave him the address, instructing him too specifically designate it for Abby's lab.

He wrote this all down, repeating it carefully when he was done. "Thank you Mrs. DiNozzo I'll see that this is taken care of…."

"Thank you."

He nodded, "well if there isn't anything else…." He said starting to back out.

"When will he be able to go home?" she asked stopping him with one foot out the door.

"We'd like to keep him here for the duration of his recovery from the surgery. Keep a close eye on him for a while. But he should be okay to go home in couple of weeks, three at most," he replied looking back at her.

She thanked him and he left, closing the door behind him.

She sat there for a moment her thoughts no longer a confusing jumble. The doctor said he would be fine. Three weeks was at most then a month or so in a sling, than the therapy sessions on top of that. All in all it wasn't that bad and she let out a relieved sigh.

Reassured beyond words she sat back in her chair and let her mind drift. They had been lucky this time. She promised herself right then and there that she would do more to let Tony know how much she loved and appreciated him, every single day.

Staring down at her hands which were interlaced around Tony's she watched the light play off her wedding band. Pulling one hand free she ran her thumb over the familiar, warm metal, and thought of the words inscribed inside. Akshav. Tamid. Tamiyd. Now. Forever. Always, and was even more grateful for the ordinary miracle that happened each day.

Halsten was fuming. He gritted his teeth, gripping the edge of the gurney he sat on, and held perfectly still while a nameless doctor worked on him. He had no idea where he was. The medevac had dropped him off at some small clinic somewhere in the middle of no-where. He hadn't even bothered to get the name of the place. He didn't need to know as far as he was concerned. Grandmother would have taken care of everything. This man was either Family, or he was very heavily bribed. Possibly both. None of that mattered though. The only thing that mattered was that he got back out there and found Jensen and those federal agents before they disappeared into the system.

Several blood bags had already been hooked up and tubes ran into his left arm at his elbow replacing the precious blood he had lost. Now the doctor worked on removing the bullet and stitching up the wound. It wouldn't be long now. Soon he would be on his feet and moving.

The doctor said nothing as he worked, which suited Halsten just fine, he preferred the silence. Silence allowed him to think.

The foreign woman, Agent DiNozzo, preoccupied his thoughts in spite of his mission. He knew he had to kill Jensen. He had to kill Jensen if for no other reason than to maintain his position of favor within the family. But DiNozzo was another matter entirely. He wanted her dead. More than dead, he wanted to take her apart piece by piece.

The fact that the Family wanted them dead suited his purposes, nicely. Killing them would only serve to further his position in the family. Through them he would secure a position in the family, and send a message to the world. A message to women everywhere.

Eventually the doctor stepped back, looking over his handy work critically before disappearing into another room briefly. He returned with a bottle full of painkillers and a clipboard. Silently he handed Halsten the pills and the top sheet from the clipboard. On it was typewritten a simple message.

Finish the job.

Clenching his jaw tightly Halsten crumpled the paper and opening the pills dumped a few into his hand; knocking them down like a shot of whiskey.

The helicopter had headed north, towards Bethesda Naval Hospital. He would start there.