A/N: My first NCIS story! I've become incredibly obsessed in a relatively short time, and Ziva is my favorite character. So I decided to do a Ziva/Tony story, with some McGee/Abby thrown in for awesomeness.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, would I be writing this?

Ziva David swung her long hair into a ponytail and tugged an orange beanie onto her head. Kicking her front door shut with her foot and not bothering to lock it, she jogged down the steps and sped up as she hit the flat sidewalk. Running was her daily exercise, but it offered her time to think about things other than work. Or work, as was often the case, as her best friends were also her teammates at NCIS. Mulling over cases was also a common occurrence. Today she was thinking over Abby and McGee, how everyone could see how much they meant to each other except the two of them.

As Ziva neared the place where she had once seen Lt. Roy Sanders every day, her thoughts turned to him and the little time they'd actually spent getting to know each other. Her eyes tearing up, she reached up and fingered the orange beanie on her head. She sniffled quietly and rubbed her eyes, forcing the tears back.

"Sign of weakness," she mumbled to herself, smiling at one of the many Gibbs-isms.

After her run, as she mounted the steps to her house, she noticed something seemed a bit off. She couldn't place it at all, and against her better judgment, stepped inside the house. Suddenly a cloth bag was being pulled over her head. Ziva's Mossad instincts immediately went to work, but there seemed to be more people there than she could take out. Before she could even react to the sense that someone was behind her, she had been clunked over the head with something heavy and blackness was coming fast. She tried to think of a way to get out of this, but her brain fogged up and shut off as her eyes closed and unconsciousness overtook her.

Tony DiNozzo leaned back in his chair, grinning over at his colleague's empty chair. "I can't believe she's this late. I'd get my head bashed to the other side of the bullpen for this!" McGee didn't answer, and Tony immediately knew why – a sharp pain in the back of his head told him that.

"Shut it, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, sipping from his coffee as he sat down at his desk. As Gibbs opened his mouth to tell the two younger agents what to do, someone burst from the elevator, yelling, "Gibbs, Gibbs!" The older man turned slowly, not appreciating the interruption.

"An NCIS agent is missing!" the woman gasped as she skidded to a stop in front of Gibbs. He waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, he prompted her in an annoyed voice.

"Do you know who it is?" She nodded. He groaned. "Tell us!"

She quavered visibly, obviously scared by Gibbs' gruff manner. "Z-ziva David," she squeaked.

Gibbs' eye went wide, and he grumbled, "Get your gear," to McGee and Tony, who were already nearly ready.

"McGee, go tell Abby and Ducky what's going on. Then meet us outside. DiNozzo, come with me." They hustled off, leaving the messenger stunned and ready for some coffee of her own.

Ziva awoke suddenly, popping her eyes open to a dark and dusty room. As her eyes adjusted, she took stock of her situation. They had tied her to a heavy wooden chair in what seemed to be a basement somewhere, as the only window was high up near the ceiling. There was no cover on that window, and from the sunlight streaming in, she could tell it must be later in the morning, if not already afternoon, because she had no idea which direction she was facing. The sunlight illuminated the dust in the air, and her nose itched from just how much there was. At the moment she was the only one in the room, and she couldn't see a door, which meant it must be directly behind her. As she rolled her neck to stretch, she could feel a large bump on the back of her head. She groaned as the throbbing pain took over her thoughts.

Mumbling to herself in Hebrew, hoping her captors wouldn't understand, Ziva prayed that she would get out of this alive, that her team (for she thought of them that way always) would survive when they inevitably came looking for her, that Tony – especially Tony – would keep his head even as his impulsiveness could be her saving grace. She couldn't live if Tony died. She would go back to Israel, back to Mossad, and tell her father something stupid to get herself sent on a suicide mission.

Why am I thinking these things? she thought, imagining everything Tony had done to annoy her, to bother her. It's just Tony.

Tony drummed his fingers on his knee as the three remaining members of the team, plus Abby, drove to Ziva's house. He couldn't think of it as a crime scene. It just wouldn't click in his head.

He was out of the car almost immediately as it stopped. Sprinting up the steps that his Ziva (why did that suddenly pop into my head? he asked himself. She had never been 'his' Ziva) had jogged down only five hours earlier, he pushed open the front door. He stopped dead in his tracks as the read stains on the floor reached his eyes.

Tony DiNozzo had never been afraid or sickened by blood before. But he felt both as he looked at the blood that he knew must be Ziva's on the floor. Turning around, he stepped out of Ziva's house and sat down on the porch floor, putting his head in his hands.

"What is going to happen now?" he asked himself.

A/N2: Like it, hate it? Bad ending, too short, too long? Please review and give feedback! Constructive criticism welcome, but please no flames.