Hi all, this doesn't really have a timeframe, it's just something that toxic-beetle and I came up with in Bristol. It was going to be a little one shot, maybe a bit of fluff, tiny bit of angst, but an hour of planning (and walking) later, with heavy shopping bags, we'd planned lots of angst, some shouting, some disagreements, and most importantly, there is some fluff in here (because, let's face it, this is me and i'm a fluff addict)...so what I'm trying to say in a very long winded way is that walking through Bristol town centre discussing shooting Tony and how that could possibly be used as an advantage to tiva is something you can only do with your greatest friend. Emmz, I love you, and this is the second story to be posted thanks to a week at your house!

Oh, and the lyrics used are LeAnn Rimes - Break Me Down

Chapter One: Break Me Down

Give me a moment here,

Just enough to catch my breath

It was raining. No, scratch that. It wasn't raining. There was no way this could be a simple rainstorm. No, the weather reporter had definitely gotten it wrong. She was soaked to the bone, exhausted, and pretty sure that she was slowly freezing to death up on the rooftop. It didn't help that there was an icy wind accompanying the even colder rain, but that was just one of the reasons why she'd never trust the weather predictions again. She never usually bothered with them, because rain or shine they'd up up with a body; usually inside if the weather was stifling hot or outside if it was like Dante's circles of hell freezing over. Today, she hadn't had a choice because the television behind Tony's desk was playing nothing but the weather channel which boasted high temperatures and clouded skies. Liar. She would hunt down that weather reporter and make him suffer.

"This is a really bad idea," Tony grumbed from behind her.

"It is the only idea," she pointed out over her shoulder.

"That doesn't mean it isn't bad."

"Stop complaining," she snapped.

He didn't, he just complained quieter so that she couldn't hear him over the wind and the rain. With nothing but their hats and jackets to protect them from the weather, she could see exactly why he thought this was a bad idea. Then again, anything other than curling up with a good book, in the warm, with a hot chocolate and five million layers of clothing seemed like a bad idea. It was only midday and she'd already had enough and wanted to go home. That never usually happened unless they'd worked for over twelve hours or if a case was really getting to her. This wasn't one of those times. But she was cold, and exhausted...she just wanted to get the job done and go home...

"Ziva, stop!"

Tony's hissed call just about reached her on the rooftop. She froze, looking at what was before her. There was a gap in the rooftop about twenty feet ahead of them, one that they needed to get through and quickly. If they didn't get through, their plan would fail. They needed to get into position for a major drug bust, one that was already dangerous enough without taking into account the weather. On top of that, the only way to get any closer to the gap was to walk across a metal scaffolding pole. Regardless of the danger, she couldn't have gotten any closer without taking that way across, so she stepped forward towards it.

Something is happening here

And it's scaring me to death

Tony grabbed her arm, hoisting her back rather roughly. "Are you crazy?" he asked her.

"It is the only way across," she pointed out.

"If you fall-"

"I will not fall," she assured him quickly. "I can hold on to the pole above to steady myself."

He looked at her for a moment, then at their situation. Gibbs and McGee were waiting at the side entrance on the other side, on ground level. If they didn't get through the gap and onto the walkway above the marines they were busting, and soon, they'd lose them. Ziva was right, it was the only way, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He sighed, but the sound was lost in the storm. "Just...be careful," he told her. It was almost a tender moment until he collected himself, realising what he'd just said, and added: "I don't want to have to explain to Gibbs why you're a broken puddle of mush on the floor."

You push me to the edge

Where I want to risk it all again

She shook her head, saying nothing as she broke away from his grasp and headed towards the scaffolding pole. She made sure that her grip was stead on the pole above every time she moved her feet along the bottom pole. The wind was getting stronger here, higher up with nothing to shield them from the blast. Each gust of wind made it harder to hold on to the pole, which was dangerously slippery from the rain. Every time she moved her limbs she realised how cold she was. The warm vision of her living room, central heating and hot chocolate filled her mind again, and she promised herself to make it a reality before the day was through.

Her distraction meant that she wasn't prepared for a gust of wind that threw her balance off, causing one foot to slip from the pole completely. As she struggled to regain her footing as well as not slipping from the pole she was clinging to, she heard Tony's cry of her name. She looked up momentarily to see him starting out onto the same scaffolding, trying to reach her and help her regain her balance, but just as he reached her she fell completely, plummeting through the ceiling of the small warehouse.

For the first time in a long time

I'm throwing caution to the wind

Rather terrifyingly, she found herself in the middle of the drugs deal they were supposed to break up. Eleven shady-looking men, three of whom she recognised from their research on the case as being Petty Officers Miles, Dawson and Brinkly, looked down at her. Instinct took over, reaching for her weapon as she struggled to her feet. It wasn't working, though. Her ankle had been injured; a bad sprain her first impression from the pain that shot through her foot. It was a wonder that it wasn't broken considering it had taken the full force of her landing. She was confined to the ground, one leg limp and useless beneath her and her weapon in her hand. Unfortunately, her sig seemed insignificant to the eleven other weapons now aimed at her. The NCIS hat and jacket were an immediate disadvantage, as the men now knew they had been rumbled.

One of them, the main dealer she knew to be Kevin Ford, grabbed her by the collar, dragging her across the ground into the centre of the warehouse. He hoisted her to her feet, and she did all she could to stand on her own weight with her injured door. It was agonisingly hard but she managed it, trying to focus on the other pains instead of the one that would need medical attention; namely the warmth that was painfully returning to her frozen limbs or the way that her hair was being pulled because of the awkward, yet strong, grip that Ford had on her collar. "Where are the other agents?" he asked her, putting his gun to her throat as Petty Officer Dawson took her weapon from her. Her hands were so frozen that she barely felt it.

She said nothing in answer to his question.

You can break me down

If you want to break me down

"NCIS, drop your weapons!"

She wasn't sure whether she was glad or disappointed to hear Tony's voice. She was glad that he had played his part of her partner well, and watched her six, and it was a relief that he hadn't found himself in the same predicament that she was in. However, she suspected that he, too, would be parted from his weapon. Ten of the guns in the warehouse were now aimed at him, with Ford's weapon still pressed against the underside of her throat. You didn't need to be a ballistics expert or a doctor to know how much damage that one bullet would do, and it certainly wouldn't be reversible.

"Drop your weapons," Tony ordered again. "Put them down on the ground."

"You're outnumbered," Ford pointed out. "We'll be the ones giving the orders."

Doesn't really matter how this crazy thing turns out

"This building is surrounded by federal agents," Tony lied. "Surrender your weapons now and you'll only be arrested instead of shot."

None of them put their weapons down, but several of them hesitated; particularly the Petty Officers.

"Officer David," Tony asked professionally. "Are you injured?"

'Cause you take me there

Where I lose myself

She said nothing because of the gun against her throat, but she found it being pressed harder against her for a moment. "Answer him," Ford snarled.

"Yes," she nodded. "Not badly."

Just for a moment, if nothing else

Tony turned back to the others, but Ziva noticed the flicker of concern that crossed his eyes when she confirmed being injured. "This is your last chance. Release her."

You can break me down if you want to break me down

Again, nobody moved. Tony raised one hand, bringing his cuff up to his mouth so he could speak into the microphone. Gibbs would know this was an act, but it would hopefully be enough to convince Ford to release Ziva. "This is Tango-Eight, we have a hostage situation involving a federal agent. Do we have sniper visual?"

No reply came, but at least Gibbs would have heard what was happening from his position. It also successfully unnerved nearly all the men who surrounded Ziva. "Whoa, hold on a sec-"

Yeah, it's the strangest thing but it all makes perfect sense

"I'll call off the sniper unit," Tony told them, "if you release Officer David. Put all your weapons down and let her walk to me." He knew that the footsteps approaching him from behind were those of McGee and Gibbs, mainly because he received no warning gaze from Ziva, and she actually looked a little relieved when she glanced either side of him.

"And our arrests?" Ford asked him.

"Oh, you'll be arrested," Gibbs announced.

Funny how life falls into place when you dare to take a chance

Ford grinned back. "Then maybe I don't wanna let her go," he taunted, pressing the end of the gun closer into her skin, so much that she winced.

You push me to the edge where I want to risk it all again

There were more negotiations exchanged between Ford and Gibbs, but Ziva kept her eyes trained on Tony. The plan remained the same, that she was going to be released and as soon as she felt herself free she would walk directly to him. She had done this before when suspects had naturally decided to use the female team member as a hostage. She knew the drill all too well; keep your eyes on your partner, walk straight to him, don't look back until you're behind him with another weapon in your hands. In moments, the hands around her disappeared and the gun dropped. She immediately stumbled, her ankle groaning in pain beneath her. Tony took a step forward because of this, still keeping his gun trained over her shoulder at Ford even though his eyes remained on Ziva. She sucked up the pain, taking shaky steps forward. As soon as she was in front of him he used one arm to protectively push her behind him, holding her in place for a moment before letting his arm drop. She didn't mind the rather chauvinistic act of male dominant protection because she knew it wasn't about that; it was about putting her where his spare weapon was.

So take me where you want to

I am willing to give in

In hindsight, it was strange how easy things became. Four guns to eleven, none of whom resisted until it came to Ford. All of the men lay on the fronts on the ground, their arms above their heads as they waited to be cuffed by McGee and Gibbs. Tony and Ziva stood to the side, their weapons trained on them so that none of them tried to make a run for it. The whole time, Ford glared at the two of them. Ziva had allowed herself to lean on her partner partially, taking the weight off of her injured foot. They were still waiting for another escort unit to arrive to take all the men into custody. It was then, when McGee and Gibbs were cuffing Petty Officer Brinkly, that Tony heard the sound of metal scratching along the ground. He whipped his head around, seeing that Ford had found his weapon, aiming it directly at the back of Ziva's head. Instinct took over, and he pushed her down to the ground.

A gunshot rang out through the building. Then several more.

Ziva groaned as she hit the ground, her ankle taking the weight once again. Pain shot through her, causing her to physically cry out. She waited on the ground for a moment, deciding that moving her ankle was probably unadvised. She was about to turn and hurt Tony for throwing her to the ground when he knew she was already injured, but then there were voices behind her.

"Stay there, try not to move-"

"McGee, put more pressure on it. EMT's are on the way."

There was McGee's voice...and Gibbs...and then...

"Ziva..."

It wasn't his voice, she tried to tell herself as she sat on the ground. His voice was full of laughter. His voice was full of jokes, and sarcasm and inappropriate comments. His voice wasn't a harsh, coughing gag that struggled her name out.

You can break me down if you want to break me down

"Ziva..."

"Ziva's fine," she heard Gibbs say.

"No, she's hurt-"

"DiNozzo, stop moving!" Gibbs told him forcefully.

That confirmed it. The first gunshot wasn't the one that had hit Ford. The following bullets were the ones that had killed Ford. She'd been thrown to the ground for a reason. A bullet meant for her. A bullet that was supposed to hit her. It hadn't. It had hit someone else. Someone who didn't deserve it. She turned her head over her shoulder, knowing that her leg was useless now and that she couldn't move. Lying on the ground, squirming in pain, was Tony. Blood had already pooled around him even though McGee was knelt beside him, trying to staunch the bleeding with his jacket. Gibbs was gone, as were the men that they'd arrested. She'd been pushed to the ground - by Tony. Tony had taken her out of the bullet's path, placing himself in it. Tony had saved her life. Sacrificed herself. Tony had been shot. Because of her.

Doesn't really matter how this crazy thing turns out

"No..." she whispered, unable to move, but more because of the shock now than the pain.

"Where's Ziva?" Tony choked out, his voice already strained from the pain.

"Tony, stay still!" McGee told him.

"Where is she?"

"She's right here...right, Ziva?" McGee looked up at her, but she was frozen in place, staring at her partner. This was her fault. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't have a bullet in him. What if it was a deep wound? What if the bullet had his something vital? What if the EMT's didn't get there in time? What if he- "Ziva!" McGee called, trying to get her attention.

"Tony," she murmured, but neither of them heard her.

Tony reached out one arm, grabbing hold of McGee's jacket. "Probie," he struggled, worryingly weak.

"Don't talk, Tony, just stay still-"

"She's hurt," he coughed. "She's hurt. She told me she was hurt-"

"She's fine," McGee assured him.

"Where is she?" he asked again.

"She's right here," he repeated.

'Cause you take me there

Tony turned his head from side to side, looking around desperately and settling when he saw Ziva on his right about six feet away from him. He watched her with pained eyes, his face screwed up against the agony he felt. She found that she couldn't take her eyes off of him, but at the same time she couldn't get up and move to his side. She knew that he wanted her there, where McGee was, because he had released his hold on McGee and extended his arm over to her, letting it fall against the concrete when she didn't move. His eyes didn't leave hers. "Zi..." Usually, this made her smile. Somehow, he'd given her the nickname and it had stuck. No one else called her that, as it had become an unspoken rule that only Tony could call her that, but this wasn't a time for messing around and nicknames. This was serious now. She could see it in his eyes. He was scared. "Ziva-" he muttered, before throwing his head back against the concrete ground, crying out loudly from the pain in a way that didn't seem to suit him.

Where I lose myself

She inhaled shaky breaths, ashamed that what kept her from his side wasn't the pain in her ankle but the guilt that now flooded through her, numbing the ache in her muscles. She turned away from the scene, looking down at the ground so that it was only the sounds from behind her that continued to haunt her. She listened as McGee tried to get Tony to relax, to keep taking deep breaths even though he was going against it, holding his breath in a futile attempt to keep the pain under control. Every few seconds he would groan, sometimes weakly, but of the time in a sharp, agonising pain that made her shut her eyes tightly. Then, she could hear him struggling, McGee trying to calm him and repeating his name over and over. His groans became sickening gasps, his body desperate for air that he couldn't seem to find. The sound chilled her, but she still couldn't move. Shame rooted her to the spot. Her partner was injured, struggling for breath, and he was still only concerned about her. He could barely breathe, and she was too filled with guilt knowing that bullet was meant for her to go to his side. She knew how simple it would be to calm him, just enough for him to stop squirming around, trying to find her. She knew she could stop that just by being at his side so he could see her, but she couldn't move.

Just for a moment, if nothing else

"Tony. Tony, stop moving!"

"Ziva-"

"She's fine, Tony, just calm down. EMT's are almost here. You're gonna be fine."

She'd been responsible for many deaths over the years; deaths of people who deserved to be removed from life and deaths of those who didn't. Those who didn't, the innocents that shouldn't have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, used to haunt her when she closed her eyes at night, when she thought she'd left the day behind for a few short hours of rest. It had taken her many years to accept that sometimes, people would be killed as a result of her actions. It had taken her even longer to accept that this was all part of the greater good. She had done terrible things, unquestionably wrong things, but this...this was so much worse.

You can break me down if you want to break me down

Tony cried out behind her again. His cry was definitely filled with more pain each time it escaped him, something he wasn't trying to fight anymore, but at the same time it sounded weaker. As one particular cry ended in a pitiful whimper, Ziva hung her head. They had been through a lot over the years they had worked together, but she had never, not once, heard Tony sound afraid before. Over the sound of the sirens outside, signalling the EMT's arrival, she found that the voice in the back of her head didn't belong to her, but instead to Tony.

This was your fault.

Please read and review! I've gotta say, I love Tony and Ziva...but I have no trouble torturing them for the sake of a four chaptered story? Is that wrong?