Tony sat in the waiting room, his hands clean, his clothes fresh, but the feeling of Ziva's blood still clung to him like a weight he couldn't shake. No matter how many times he had scrubbed, no matter how thoroughly he had washed, he couldn't rid himself of the feeling. It was in his mind, staining every thought, every memory. He stared at his hands, feeling like the blood was still there, invisible but undeniable.
Tali and Rivka sat nearby, holding onto each other, their quiet sobs filling the room. Abby had arrived not long ago, crying along with them, her arms wrapped tightly around Tali. Gibbs and McGee were here too, standing off to the side, but Tony barely registered them. Everything felt distant, muffled, as if he were underwater.
His mind kept replaying the moment Ziva had collapsed. The way her body had gone limp in his arms, the blood soaking through his hands as he pressed down, desperate to stop the bleeding. He could still feel the warmth of it, as if it had seeped into his skin, impossible to wash away.
You should have told her.
The thought gnawed at him, louder now that there was nothing but time to think. He had been by her side for years, partners through everything, and yet he had never said the things that really mattered. Not once had he told her how he really felt—how much he cared for her, how much she meant to him.
He had joked, flirted, danced around the truth with movie quotes and banter, but never the truth. Because the truth scared him. What if she didn't feel the same? What if it changed everything between them? So he had stayed silent, keeping those feelings locked away. And now, she was fighting for her life, and he might never get the chance to tell her.
I should've told her. I should've said something.
The waiting room felt like a prison. The sterile walls, the too-bright lights—it all felt wrong. The only thing Tony could focus on was the ache in his chest, the overwhelming guilt that gnawed at him.
What if she doesn't make it? What if the last thing she remembers is me joking around, acting like nothing's ever serious?
He clenched his fists, staring at his hands again. They were clean, but he could still feel the blood, like a phantom memory. He couldn't shake the image of Ziva lying on the floor, the life draining out of her. And he had done everything he could, but what if it wasn't enough?
She can't die. Not like this. Not without knowing.
His mind raced, flashing through memories of their time together. Paris. Cairo. All the missions, all the late nights, the conversations that had skirted around the edges of something deeper but never quite crossed the line. He had held back, always afraid of what admitting his feelings would mean. And now, he hated himself for it.
He wanted to tell her how much she mattered to him, how she wasn't just a partner. She wasn't just a friend. She was everything—everything he didn't know he needed until she had come into his life. And he had wasted so much time pretending that what they had was enough.
I'm a coward, he thought bitterly. Too afraid to say it. And now I might never get the chance.
He glanced up, his gaze drifting toward the door to the operating room. No news. No word. Time was dragging on, and every minute felt like a lifetime. The fear gnawed at him, tightening his chest until he could barely breathe.
Stay with me, Ziva. Please, just stay.
The idea of losing her—of a world where Ziva wasn't there, where her laugh, her sharp wit, her presence were gone—was unbearable. He had lost people before, but losing her… he didn't know how he would survive it.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to push the thoughts away, but they kept coming back. You need to pull through this, Ziva. Just give me one more chance. One chance to tell you what I've been too scared to say.
But the silence of the waiting room was deafening. And all Tony could do was wait, staring at his clean hands, feeling like they were still covered in blood, and hope that Ziva would survive long enough for him to finally tell her the truth.
Tony couldn't take it anymore. Sitting there, motionless, was driving him insane. His legs itched to move, his mind whirring with too many thoughts—most of them dark and full of regret. He stood up suddenly, pacing the small waiting area. Each step felt heavy, like he was dragging the weight of his emotions with him.
Tali and Rivka were still sitting, their quiet sobs filling the room, but Tony couldn't sit there with them any longer. He glanced at them, feeling a pang of guilt for not being able to console them, but he knew he couldn't offer anything while his mind was spinning like this.
After several rounds of pacing, he couldn't resist any longer. He marched up to the nurse's station, hoping—praying—for some kind of news. As he approached the counter, the nurse on duty barely glanced up, her expression neutral, almost disinterested.
"Excuse me," Tony started, trying to keep his voice calm, though the frustration was bubbling beneath the surface. "Do you have any updates on Ziva David? She was brought in for surgery a little while ago."
The nurse typed something on her computer, barely looking at him. "Surgery takes time, sir. There's no update yet."
Tony felt his heart sink, but the lack of empathy in her voice stirred something else in him. Anger. She was talking about Ziva like she was just another patient, like this wasn't the most important thing in the world to him.
"Look, I get that surgeries take time," Tony said, his voice rising a little, unable to keep the edge out of it, "but I need to know what's going on. She's my—" He stopped himself before he could finish the sentence, but the pause didn't matter. The nurse didn't seem to care.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, her tone still flat, "but we'll notify you when there's news. You need to be patient."
Patient? Tony thought bitterly. He felt his fists clench at his sides, the frustration and helplessness turning into a tight knot in his chest.
"Patient? I've been patient! She's in there, and I don't even know if she's okay!" His voice was louder now, and a few people in the waiting room glanced over. "You can't just leave us sitting here, not knowing a damn thing!"
The nurse finally looked up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Sir, we're doing everything we can. Please sit down and wait for the doctor."
Tony opened his mouth to argue more, but he caught himself. He was too worked up, too frantic, and this wasn't helping. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to back down. But the anger still simmered beneath the surface.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Just… let me know as soon as there's any news, alright?"
The nurse gave a curt nod, and Tony walked away, his frustration still burning. He didn't even feel better for asking. He just felt more helpless, more out of control.
He paced a few more rounds, trying to burn off the energy that was threatening to explode. Every second that passed felt like another weight on his chest. Finally, he dropped into a chair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
Come on, Ziva, he thought, you've got to pull through this. You have to.
Ziva's mind was a blur of thoughts and sensations, a jumbled mix of pain, memories, and confusion. Her body felt distant, like it didn't belong to her, but her mind was racing, refusing to go quiet. She wasn't fully conscious, but somewhere in the haze, her thoughts kept flashing to random moments, faces, voices. She couldn't stop them, couldn't slow them down.
She saw Tali as a little girl, running through their home in Israel, her laughter echoing through the halls. Then Rivka's face appeared, the calm but concerned look she had when she told Ziva to always stay strong. Ima...
Suddenly, the memory shifted, and she was in the middle of a mission, her heart pounding as she chased a suspect through darkened streets. The adrenaline, the focus—it was so real, but then it wasn't. The pain in her side dragged her back to the present, a searing reminder that she wasn't on a mission anymore. This was different. This was worse.
Tony's voice cut through the fog next, distant but familiar. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but she could feel the emotion behind it. His voice had been there in the car, and even though she'd tried to joke with him, the pain had been too much. She couldn't shake the image of him leaning over her, his face lined with worry, his hands pressing down on her wound.
Stay with me, Ziva.
His voice echoed in her mind, mixing with the pain, and she tried to focus on it, tried to hold onto it like an anchor, but her thoughts kept slipping away.
She was back in Paris now, sitting with Tony at a café, the sounds of the city around them. It felt peaceful, so peaceful that she almost didn't want to leave the memory. She could feel the warmth of the sun, the comfort of his presence beside her. He'd said something that made her laugh.
Why didn't I tell him then? she thought, a sudden wave of regret washing over her. She had always kept him at arm's length, always guarded her feelings. And now? Now, it felt like she might never get the chance to say anything at all.
The pain in her side flared again, pulling her away from Paris, away from Tony's smile. The memories started to jumble again—her father's voice, a target in her sights, the smell of the ocean in Tel Aviv. But through it all, one thought stayed clear: I can't leave them. Not now. Not like this.
But her body was so heavy, and her mind was starting to slow down, the pain becoming a distant throb. She felt herself slipping, the memories fading into darkness, and all she could do was hold onto that last image of Tony's worried face as everything went quiet.
In the sterile environment of the operating room, surgeons worked with precision and urgency. The bullet had lodged deep in Ziva's abdomen, dangerously close to vital organs. Every movement was calculated, every decision critical. The lead surgeon, focused and steady, carefully navigated the delicate tissues, working to extract the bullet while preventing further damage. The tension in the room was palpable, as they worked to control the bleeding that was threatening her life.
Finally, the bullet was removed, clattering softly into a metal tray. A sense of relief passed through the room, but it was short-lived—there was still more work to be done. Ziva's internal bleeding was persistent, and the surgeons fought to stabilize her, their hands moving quickly to cauterize and stitch where necessary.
The male nurse, who had been assisting, carefully placed the bullet into a small evidence bag, sealing it before leaving the room. He made his way through the hospital corridors, heading toward the waiting area where he knew Ziva's team would be anxiously waiting.
As he entered the waiting room, Tony, Tali, and Rivka looked up immediately, their eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear. Gibbs stood with his arms crossed, McGee by his side. The nurse walked over, holding the small evidence bag with the bullet in it.
"We've successfully removed the bullet," the nurse said, his voice calm but not without concern. "She's still in surgery. There's some internal bleeding they're working to control. The next hour is critical."
Tony's eyes flickered to the bullet in the bag. It was a cold, hard reminder of the violence Ziva had endured. His stomach twisted, but he nodded, trying to keep his composure. "Thank you," he muttered, his voice strained.
The nurse handed the bag to Gibbs, who took it with a grim nod. "We'll keep you updated," the nurse added before heading back to the operating room.
As the nurse left, the room fell silent again. Tony stared at the spot where the nurse had stood, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. They had saved the bullet, but now they needed to save Ziva.
As the tension in the waiting room hung thick in the air, the doors swung open and Ned Dorneget stepped inside, his eyes quickly scanning the room. His usual easygoing demeanor was replaced with concern, his shoulders slightly hunched as he approached the team.
"Hey," Ned said quietly, nodding to Gibbs, Tony, and the others. "I just came from headquarters —any updates on Ziva?"
Gibbs shook his head slightly. "She's still in surgery. They've managed to remove the bullet, but she's not out of the woods yet. There's still internal bleeding."
Ned grimaced, his worry evident. "We'll keep pushing to find out who sent those men after you. In the meantime, I'm here to collect evidence. I'm supposed to take whatever you've got back to the lab for analysis."
McGee stepped forward, holding a large evidence bag containing Tony's bloodied clothes, Ziva's, and the bullet that had been taken from her. He handed it over to Ned with a solemn expression. "Here's everything. Tony's clothes, Ziva's, and the bullet they just pulled out."
Ned took the bag carefully, his eyes flicking to the items inside. "Got it. We'll run everything through forensics as soon as I get back. Anything else?"
Gibbs shook his head again, though his eyes flickered with something unreadable. "That's all for now. Stay on top of it."
Ned nodded. "We'll get this processed right away. I'll let you know the moment we find something."
As Ned turned to leave, he glanced at Tony, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. "Hang in there, Tony," Ned said, his tone softer than usual. "Ziva's tough. She'll make it."
Tony didn't respond at first, his eyes still fixed on the spot where the nurse had stood moments before. Finally, he gave a small nod, his expression hard to read. "Thanks, Dorneget. Just—keep me posted."
Ned gave one last nod before heading back out of the hospital, the evidence bag gripped tightly in his hand as he made his way to the car. The weight of the situation hung over him, but he knew he had to focus on the job. The sooner they got answers, the sooner they could make sense of what had happened.
Inside the waiting room, the silence returned, but there was a faint sense of movement—of something shifting, even if they couldn't see it yet. Tony stood still, his mind swirling, hoping against hope that they wouldn't be waiting much longer.
As Ned Dorneget was about to leave the waiting room with the evidence, Abby, who had been sitting with Tali and Rivka, got up and approached him. Her eyes were still red from crying, but her expression had shifted to one of determination.
"Ned, wait up," Abby called out, her voice firm despite the emotion behind it. "I'm going with you. We need to process this evidence right away."
Ned looked at her, knowing how much she cared about Ziva, but he also understood her need to do something productive. "Of course, Abby," he said, nodding. "We'll get to the lab as fast as we can. Every second counts."
Abby quickly hugged Tali and Rivka before turning to Gibbs, Tony, and McGee. "I'll let you know as soon as we find something. We'll work fast."
Gibbs gave her a small nod of approval. "Do what you do best, Abbs."
She then turned to Tony, who hadn't moved much from his spot since they arrived. "Tony..." she began, her voice softening. "I'll figure this out, I promise. We'll get them."
Tony met her eyes briefly, his usual sarcastic spark absent, replaced with gratitude. "Thanks, Abbs," he said quietly. "Just... hurry."
With that, Abby and Ned made their way out of the hospital, heading back to NCIS to work on the evidence. As the doors swung shut behind them, the waiting room grew quiet again, the sense of urgency now hanging in the air, alongside the hope that they were one step closer to getting answers.