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After what felt like an eternity, the door to the surgery wing finally opened, and a doctor in scrubs walked into the waiting area. He scanned the room, clipboard in hand, and then called out, "Family of Ziva David?"
Tony, Gibbs, Tali, and Rivka immediately looked up, their hearts pounding in unison. The doctor's face was calm, but they knew better than to assume that meant everything was fine. Tony was the first to stand, followed closely by Tali and Rivka. Gibbs remained seated but watched with the usual quiet intensity as the group approached the doctor.
"How did the surgery go?" Tony asked, his voice tight with emotion, barely keeping his composure.
The doctor gave them a reassuring nod. "The surgery went well. We were able to remove the bullet and stop the internal bleeding. It was a delicate process, but she pulled through. Right now, she's still sedated and resting. It's important to give her time to heal."
Tali let out a small sob of relief, and Rivka wrapped an arm around her daughter, holding her close. Tony, on the other hand, felt his knees weaken with the release of tension, but he forced himself to stay upright. Gibbs gave the doctor a short nod, acknowledging the update with silent gratitude.
"Can we see her?" Rivka asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The doctor smiled gently. "Yes, of course. She's in recovery now, but she's been moved to a private room. Just keep in mind she won't be awake for a while."
They all thanked the doctor before he gestured for them to follow. As they made their way down the hallway, Tony felt a mix of relief and anxiety swirling inside him. She was alive, but the sight of her lying there in that hospital bed was going to hit him hard, he knew it.
When they reached Ziva's room, the doctor opened the door for them. Inside, Ziva lay on the hospital bed, pale but peaceful, hooked up to various monitors and an IV. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room.
Rivka walked in first, quietly sitting beside her daughter, holding her hand, while Tali stood by her mother's side. Tony stayed back for a moment, unable to move right away. He hadn't realized just how terrified he'd been until he saw her lying there, still breathing, still alive.
Gibbs gave Tony a nudge, and Tony finally stepped inside, walking to the other side of Ziva's bed. He stood there for a long moment, just looking at her, before he finally allowed himself to breathe again. She was going to be okay. They had made it through this one.
Gibbs stood just outside the doorway of Ziva's hospital room, watching as her family—Rivka, Tali, and Tony—gathered around her. He didn't need to be in there, not yet. It was their moment, and he'd learned over the years to let people have those moments. But his eyes never left Ziva. She lay there, unconscious, pale, hooked up to machines that were keeping her stable. She looked so fragile. It was an image that didn't match the woman he'd come to know.
Ziva. Tough, relentless, and sharp as a blade. Seeing her like this—it twisted something deep in his gut.
She was like a daughter to him, maybe more so than anyone had been since Kelly. From the first time she'd walked into the bullpen all those years ago, there had been a connection. Sure, she'd been a Mossad officer then, hard-edged, full of secrets, but Gibbs had seen something in her—potential, yes, but also vulnerability buried deep beneath all the layers. And as the years passed, she became family. More than just a member of his team, more than a partner on cases. She was his kid.
And now, here she was, laid up in a hospital bed because someone had tried to take her away from him.
His mind flashed back to when he first heard about the shooting. The moment Tony's voice came through the phone, strained and rushed, saying Ziva was down—Gibbs had felt his heart skip in a way it hadn't for a long time. He wasn't one to panic, never had been, but that fear, the fear of losing someone so close to him, that was something different. He'd already buried Shannon and Kelly. He'd be damned if he buried Ziva too.
He hadn't said much during the drive to the hospital, not to McGee, not to anyone. Just kept his focus on getting there, on doing something. But the whole time, his thoughts had raced, his grip on the steering wheel tighter than usual. The idea of walking into that hospital and hearing the worst—it had crossed his mind more than once. He hadn't known what he'd do if it came to that.
But it hadn't. She'd survived. And now, they just had to wait.
Gibbs took a deep breath, glancing at Tony across from Ziva's bed. Tony had been through hell too, he could see it. The way he was hovering, barely holding it together, pretending like everything was fine but knowing it wasn't. Gibbs knew that feeling all too well.
He shifted his gaze back to Ziva, and his chest tightened. She'd fought her whole life, against enemies, against herself, against the past. He hated seeing her like this, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that Ziva David didn't give up. She'd get through this. She had to.
Still, the fear lingered. A fear he didn't talk about. Would never talk about. He didn't need to. But he felt it all the same.
He stepped into the room finally, standing just behind Tony, looking down at Ziva. His Ziver. He rested a hand on Tony's shoulder for a moment, feeling the tension beneath it. Tony barely reacted, lost in his own thoughts, but Gibbs squeezed once before letting go. Then, his eyes found Ziva again.
"You're gonna be alright, kid," he whispered, though it was more for himself than anyone else.
He had to believe it.
As Rivka stepped into the hospital room, her heart pounded in her chest, the rhythmic thump echoing in her ears. The sterile smell of antiseptic was suffocating, and the clinical white walls felt like they were closing in on her. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Ziva lying there, so still and vulnerable, her daughter's face pale against the starkness of the hospital sheets.
Rivka had always known Ziva to be strong—her daughter had been a fighter from a young age. But now, seeing her like this, a sense of helplessness washed over her. It was a feeling she had never wanted to experience, especially not with Ziva.
She stood close to Ziva, reaching out to gently touch her daughter's hand, the coolness of her skin sending a shiver through Rivka. She whispered a prayer under her breath, hoping the universe would hear her plea. "Please, let her be alright." Rivka looked around the room, her eyes settling on Tony, who looked equally haunted. It was comforting to see him there, but it made her heart ache even more. He cared for Ziva, and she could see it in the way he hovered protectively, ready to spring into action if needed.
Rivka wanted to scream, to demand answers from the doctors, to shake the world until it returned her daughter to her. But all she could do was stand there, fighting the rising tide of panic, willing Ziva to open her eyes and reassure them all that she would be fine. The silence in the room was deafening, amplifying her fears as she held onto Ziva's hand like a lifeline.
Tali stepped into the hospital room, and the first thing that hit her was the harsh brightness of the fluorescent lights. They felt like they were probing into the darkness of her mind, exposing the fear she had tried to suppress. As she laid eyes on her sister, lying unconscious and vulnerable, a wave of nausea washed over her. She could barely breathe as her heart dropped into her stomach.
Ziva, the fierce protector, the one who had always been there for her—seeing her like this felt surreal. Tali had pictured this moment a thousand times, all of them bad. She had spent years imagining what it would be like to lose her sister, and now it was happening right in front of her. The hospital gown, the IV drip, the machines that beeped in the background—they all felt like cruel reminders of how fragile life could be.
Her mind raced with questions. What had happened? Why was this happening? She glanced at her mother, who was visibly trembling, and felt a surge of anger rise within her. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to be safe, together. The thought of losing Ziva was unbearable, a void she couldn't even fathom.
Tali squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, willing herself to stay strong. Ziva had always been the warrior, the one who fought against everything that threatened to tear them apart. Tali had looked up to her; she admired her bravery and resilience. Now, as she watched her sister lying there, she felt utterly powerless.
She stepped closer to Ziva's bedside, gripping her mother's hand tightly for support. "Ziva, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You have to wake up. We need you." Tali felt tears streaming down her cheeks, a mixture of fear and heartbreak. She couldn't imagine a world without Ziva in it.
Looking at Tony, she saw the pain etched across his face, and a flicker of something deeper passed between them—an understanding, a shared grief for someone they both loved fiercely. Tali felt her heart clench as she realized how important Ziva was to so many people. In this moment, all she wanted was for her sister to wake up and tell them that everything would be alright.
McGee's Perspective
As McGee entered the hospital room, the stark reality of the situation hit him like a punch to the gut. He had seen plenty of injuries during his time at NCIS, but this felt different. This was Ziva—his friend, his teammate, someone who had fought beside him through countless dangerous missions. Seeing her lying unconscious, surrounded by the sterile environment of the hospital, made his stomach churn.
His heart raced with worry, each beat echoing the fear that had settled deep in his chest. He could still picture Ziva's fierce determination, the way she could tackle any challenge thrown her way. But now, that strength seemed fragile, almost non-existent. McGee had never been good at handling emotional turmoil, and the weight of this moment pressed heavily on him, almost paralyzing.
He stood silently, taking in the sight of Ziva's pale face, the beeping machines, the quiet sobs from Rivka and Tali. A sense of helplessness washed over him. McGee had always prided himself on being reliable, someone who could be counted on in a crisis. But now, with Ziva's life hanging in the balance, he felt utterly powerless.
"Why her?" he thought bitterly. "Why did this have to happen?" A sense of anger bubbled beneath the surface, directed at the assailants who had put Ziva in this position, at fate for being so cruel, and even at himself for not being able to protect her. He had always viewed Ziva as a strong, capable warrior, but now he was reminded of her humanity—of how easily everything could be taken away in an instant.
He glanced over at Tony, who looked equally lost in his thoughts. McGee felt a wave of empathy wash over him. He knew how much Tony cared for Ziva, how deeply this situation affected him. They had been through so much together, and now they were facing the possibility of losing someone they both held dear.
McGee's mind raced with the memories they had shared—late-night stakeouts, training sessions, and the laughter they had exchanged. Ziva was more than just a colleague; she was family. The thought of her being taken from them left an ache in his chest that felt insurmountable.
As he stood there, helpless and filled with dread, McGee vowed to be there for Ziva, for Tony, for Rivka and Tali. He would do everything in his power to support them through this nightmare. He had to believe that Ziva would pull through, that the warrior he knew would rise again. But deep down, as he watched the medical staff move in and out of the room, he couldn't shake the nagging fear that things might never be the same.
As Gibbs and McGee made their way out of the hospital, the fluorescent lights flickered above them, casting a harsh glow on the sterile environment. The tension in the air felt palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. They had left Ziva's room a few moments earlier, and the image of her lying there, still and vulnerable, weighed heavily on Gibbs's heart.
Before stepping out, Gibbs paused beside Ziva's bedside, the hospital bed framed by machines that beeped in a steady rhythm. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. "You're going to pull through this, Ziver" he whispered, the promise lingering in the air. It felt more like a plea than a declaration. In that moment, she looked so small, so fragile, yet he could still see the warrior spirit that had always burned brightly within her.
Exiting the room, Gibbs took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He and McGee needed to return to NCIS and continue the investigation into the attack that had nearly claimed Ziva's life. It was their job, their duty, but leaving her felt like a betrayal.
Gibbs turned to Tony, who remained rooted by Ziva's side, lost in thought. "Later, Dorneget will be here to get Tali and Rivka for statements," Gibbs said, his voice low and steady. "I need you to focus on that report, but you can stay here with Ziva for now."
Tony nodded, the weight of the world etched on his face. Words felt inadequate, lost in the swirling chaos of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. All he could muster was a shallow breath and a slight nod, his mind too clouded with worry and frustration to form coherent thoughts. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to tear through the walls of this hospital until he found the monsters who had hurt her. But all he could do was stand vigil at Ziva's side, hoping for the best while fearing the worst.
Gibbs placed a reassuring hand on Tony's shoulder for a brief moment before turning to leave. McGee followed closely behind, casting one last glance back at Ziva, praying silently for her recovery. As the doors swung shut behind them, Tony felt a pang of loneliness settle in his chest. The sterile smell of the hospital felt suffocating, and he wanted nothing more than to erase the memory of the last few hours.
But he couldn't. He wouldn't. Ziva was fighting, and he had to be strong for her, to be the anchor she needed in this storm. So he pulled up a chair beside her bed and took a deep breath, ready to wait for her to wake up.
After a tense wait at the hospital, Ned Dorneget arrived to escort Tali and Rivka to NCIS. The atmosphere in the car was heavy with unspoken fears, the weight of what had happened still lingering in the air. Tali sat in the backseat, glancing nervously at her mother, who was trying to maintain a calm demeanor despite the turmoil swirling within her.
As they pulled into the NCIS parking lot, the familiar sight of the building brought a mix of emotions for both women. They were grateful to be in a safe place, but the reality of Ziva's situation hung over them like a dark cloud. Ned parked the car and turned to them. "We'll need to take your statements about what happened," he said gently. "Gibbs is waiting for you."
Rivka nodded, her hands clasped tightly together. "Of course. We understand."
They walked into the headquarters, and Tali felt the tension in the air. The usual hustle and bustle of the office seemed muted, overshadowed by the recent events. As they entered, Gibbs approached them, his demeanor serious yet compassionate.
"Thank you for coming in," he said, directing them toward a small conference room. "I know this is difficult, but we need to document everything that happened."
Tali exchanged a worried glance with her mother before they followed Gibbs inside. The room was stark, filled with a long table and a few chairs, a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous hours.
Gibbs took a seat across from them and opened a notepad. "Let's start from the beginning," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "Can you tell me what you remember about that day?"
Rivka began to speak first, her voice trembling slightly as she recounted the events leading up to the attack. Tali listened intently, feeling a mix of anger and fear as her mother described how they had felt during those terrifying moments.
When Rivka finished, Gibbs turned to Tali. "And you?" he prompted gently.
Taking a deep breath, Tali recounted her memories, trying to stay composed despite the emotions threatening to spill over. "We were just about to have dinner when we heard the car," she said, her voice shaking. "I thought it was just another evening at home."
As she spoke, Gibbs nodded, taking notes. He was careful to maintain a calm and focused demeanor, knowing how important it was for Tali and Rivka to feel safe and heard.
"Did you see any faces? Did they say anything?" he asked, keeping his tone soft yet direct.
Tali shook her head. "No, they just started shooting. I was so scared. I couldn't think straight." Tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, determined to stay strong for Ziva.
Once they had finished sharing their accounts, Gibbs leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Thank you for your bravery in sharing this with me," he said, his voice low. "I know it's not easy, but it's important for us to understand what happened."
Rivka placed a hand on Tali's shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "We just want to make sure this doesn't happen to anyone else," she said, her voice steady despite her visible distress.
Gibbs nodded, appreciating their resolve. "I promise we'll do everything we can to find out who did this and keep you both safe."
As they left the conference room, Tali felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. The statements had been difficult, but they had also been a step toward justice for Ziva. She just hoped her sister would pull through and that they could all return to a sense of normalcy soon.
Tony sat beside Ziva's hospital bed, his heart heavy as he gently caressed her face. The warmth of her skin beneath his fingers offered a fleeting comfort in the midst of the stark hospital environment. He watched her closely, tracing the familiar contours of her cheekbone, hoping to elicit some sign of recognition from her still form.
The room was filled with the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, a constant reminder of Ziva's fragile state. Each beep resonated in his chest, echoing his growing anxiety as he tried to hold it together. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the pen and paper that Ned had brought him, the weight of his task looming large in his mind. He needed to document everything—the chaos of the attack, the moments leading up to it, and the frantic drive to the hospital.
As he wrote, he found himself glancing at Ziva every few moments, his hand moving mechanically over the page while his thoughts spiraled. He wrote about how they had faced the attackers together, instinctively working as a team, and how he'd fought to keep her conscious during the frantic drive. The ink flowed, but his mind was filled with a storm of emotions—fear, regret, and a desperate wish to turn back time.
"Come on, Ziva," he murmured softly, hoping she could hear him, hoping she could feel his presence. "You're stronger than this. You have to wake up."
He paused to wipe away the tears that threatened to spill over. The words on the page blurred as his mind wandered back to the moments they had shared—every laugh, every argument, and every unspoken connection that seemed to tether them together. The thought of losing her was unbearable.
With each beeping pulse of the heart monitor, he could feel the tension in the room rising, wrapping around him like a vise. He set the pen down for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath. "Just wake up, okay? I can't do this without you," he whispered, leaning closer to her, his forehead resting gently against hers.
The weight of his unspoken feelings hung in the air, each heartbeat of the monitor emphasizing the urgency of his plea. He wanted to tell her everything—the fears he never voiced, the feelings he always kept buried. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him and how he couldn't bear the thought of life without her by his side.
After a moment, he opened his eyes, returning to the paper, and continued to write, his words flowing with a mix of urgency and desperation. "I should have been faster, should have gotten to you in time," he wrote, the ink staining the page as he poured out his guilt and fears.
But deep down, he also knew Ziva—she was a fighter. If anyone could pull through this, it was her. He believed that with all his heart.