Disclaimer: I own a really awesome new pair of boots. Sort of a consolation prize, I guess, because, barring some freaky yet fortunate turn of events, I will never, ever own NCIS.

New Goal: Survival

"You should have left me alone."

She is serious, and he is nearly furious.

And the thoughts whirl around and around at a feverish pace, like a dust devil in the desert storm of his mind. Whatever he expected upon finding her alive here, this was not it.

How can she place such little value on her life? How, when he places infinitely more value on it than on his own?

How can she think that any of them would have been content to leave matters so unresolved, so unavenged?

And how can she imagine—for even a second—that they wouldn't come?

That he wouldn't come?

…that he doesn't care?

Does she know what it did to him when he thought she was dead?

Does she know of the gaping hole that she left, the one that slowly but surely ripped away vital pieces of him, of his heart and soul, until the emptiness all but consumed him?

Does she know that in the moment he believed she was gone forever his entire life flashed before his eyes, past and future, encompassing everything he had hoped to have with her, and then spitefully vanished in an instant?

Does she know that it killed him, too?

She can't possibly know all of this. If she knew, she wouldn't still doubt his resolve, wouldn't question his presence.

But he doesn't tell her.

It may sound eloquent enough in his head but now is hardly the time to bare his soul, even if he was actually sure he wanted to. So he does his best to restrain himself, resisting the truth serum working its way through his veins.

"Ok. Tried. Couldn't."

And even that reveals far more than he intended.

"Listen, you should know I've taken some kind of truth serum, so if there's any questions that you don't want to know the answer to—" he shakes his head ineffectively, nearly biting his tongue to keep from going on.

"I did not ask for anyone to put themselves in harm's way for me." And damned if she doesn't lift her chin stubbornly as she meets his eyes, daring him to defy her, reminding him of all their past stare-downs. "I do not deserve it."

The gesture is the same, but the customary spark is still missing. This is Ziva, and yet not.

And frankly, this not-Ziva is beginning to unnerve him, just a little.

"So, what are you doing out here, some kind of a monastic experience?" he finds himself saying, hiding behind the smoke and mirrors that are humor as he wills the real Ziva David to please stand up. "Doing penance?"

And her solemn expression changes not at all, either not registering or, more likely, dismissing, his sarcasm.

"It is justified."

And he stares.

What can she mean by that?

Just what is she trying to prove?

Does she blame herself?

He tries to return them to some sense of familiarity, to bring them back down from this quasi-existential plane of discussion on which they never should have arrived.

"Get over yourself."

And it may sound harsh considering what he knows she must have been through, but he needs Ziva to be Ziva again, needs to pull her back to herself, back to him, because really, it's the same thing.

"I have."

And that answer is as uncomplicated and straightforward as it is multifaceted and profound.

It could mean so many things, but at face value he is afraid (so afraid) that it simply means that she has given up.

He has to be wrong, though.

She can't give up. She's Ziva. She's his crazy ninja chick with impulse issues, full of life and laughter and love (in her own unique way).

She's too strong to give up.

But right now, he's not sure that he's ever seen her look more fragile.

"Now, you tell Saleem everything he wants to hear, and you try to save yourselves. I am ready to die."

And those words set off something instinctive in him, something that overrides speech and conscious thought, and all that he can hear in his mind is 'no'.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, this is not happening.

No, he can't let this happen, not again.

No way is he walking away from here without her, no way.

How can she not understand that?

And it's not a matter of 'will he or won't he'; he's simply not capable of living without her.

If she is alive, he can go on living too.

If not, well, he knows by now it is out of the question.

If his heart ceases to exist, so must he.

But he would much prefer to live.