Day 18: Write about someone slipping on the ice.


The thud his head made when it hit the icy pavement was nauseating. The fact that he didn't cuss, or grumble, or try to stand up, or even open his eyes, made her heart stop.

Ziva fell to her knees next to him, at least he was still breathing, and ran a hand through his hair saying his name. She dug out her cell phone, ready to call an ambulance when he groaned.

Cell phone forgotten, she urged him to open his eyes. When he finally did she exhaled quietly and briefly closed her eyes.

"What happened," Tony asked a bit dazed.

"You slipped," Ziva said, voice laced with relief. "I told you it was icy." She pursed her lips, and lightly punched his chest.

He looked confused, which worried her. "You hit your head pretty hard, you blacked out. We should have you checked out."

"I'm fine. A decade of Gibbs hitting me over the head has built up a callus."

She smiled despite herself.

"Still…you might have a concussion." She helped him stand up.

"See, this is why I married you, Ziva, when you're not threatening to kill me you actually care about me."

Her breath hitched and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She stared at him, frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights.

But then Tony guffawed and said, "The look on your face."

Her hands twitched when realization hit, and she crossed her arms. "That's not funny!"

He stood up straight and stopped laughing. "What isn't? Possible brain damage or the possibility of being married to me?"

She looked at him with what she hoped to be a blank expression. "Give me the car keys."

He looked at her doubtfully, then scoffed. "Because I played a prank on you?"

"No, because you hit your head and blacked out," she snapped. "Or was that part of the joke, as well?"

Tony shook his head sheepishly and handed over the keys.

Ziva turned sharply, ready to stalk off, completely forgetting how slippery the pavement was. If not for Tony's reflexes, she would've ended up on the ground. Once she had her footing again, he released her arm and looked at her apologetically.

"Truce?"

She wet her lips, and looked in the direction of the car. "Fine. But I'm still driving."

Tony's mouth curved upwards, and they carefully walked towards the car.

"Seriously, though, which would be worse; me having brain damage, or being married to me?"

Ziva's chest tightened at this slippery slope of questions, and she took a deep breath. "Shut up, Tony."